#and afraid that she's dangerous to others around her

[myownwholewildworld]

12. MORNING DEW

chapter 11 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 13 (soon)

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: you and joel need to discuss what the future might look like for the both of you. whether that's together or on your own. a/n: HI! please accept my apologies, i know it's been like a month since i last updated this series. but fret not, here's chapter 12! hope you guys like it. as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, they keep us writers well fed and motivated! take care, lovelies <3 x warnings: 18+, mdni. fluff, some angsty hurt/comfort. smut because i got my period halfway through writing this. fingering. handjob. oral (m!receiving). edging. soft dom/sub dynamics. brief references to attempted suicide and attempted SA. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov. and a special guest’s pov too 👀 dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~6.5k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

It never seemed to be the proper time to speak to you, Joel thought. Ever since his fuckup last night, he had struggled to find the words, to explain what his thought process was. A few hours ago, he had talked himself into ripping off the plaster and apologise to you, but when he called your name and you turned around with a composed expression, he froze in place.

He didn’t want to lose you too. Joel was afraid he would say something wrong again that would push you even further away from him. And then he would truly be alone, all because of his own actions, his own words. That fear clamped around his throat, preventing him from saying anything. From reaching out.

It was stupid, really. He knew that. Knew you were expecting him to say something, anything. Your blank expression was just a façade, a wall you had built around your heart so he wouldn’t hurt you anymore.

Joel hated himself for it, for your concealed hurt. Hated he had broken that trust between you two and made you feel like he was no longer on your side. He was, always had been, always would be. But he had let fear come between you, an abyss so vast he didn’t think it was salvable. It had to be though ― couldn’t be any other way.

The possibility of being a father again laid in front of him like a path full of dangers. Joel understood how much he could lose, because he had already lost Sarah. How suffocating that experience had been ― still was, every single fucking day.

He was frightened to go through it all over again. Having to hug another dead child of his; having to witness the light flicker away from her eyes. Sarah had been his everything ― his hope, his pride, the love of his life, the reason he would wake up in the morning to go to work, counting his blessings. And it didn’t matter in the slightest how good she was ― she was taken regardless. This world was cruel and unjust and greedy.

But there was also a sliver of hope, of dull excitement, shimmering underneath. One he wouldn’t allow himself to feel.

He still felt like a failure of a father who could not protect his baby girl when she needed him most. That emotional baggage would forever be with him. And he wanted it that way, because it meant he still remembered. This grief he carried was a reminder of the love he held. And he hoped it stayed with him, that she would stay with him.

Joel could still vividly remember digging with bare nails the grave Tommy had prepared for her. Elbow’s deep in the dirt, his fingers reaching for her as thick tears blurred his vision. The wails ripping his lungs apart, leaving his throat raw and tender. And Tommy hugging him from the back, arms clamped around his shoulders ― crying, begging him to stop.

“Little Sarah is resting now.”

“Let her be, Joel.”

“Stop unburying her, dammit!”

“I’m sorry, truly sorry. God I can’t―”

“She’s at peace now, Joel. No more suffering.”

Tommy’s slurry voice still filled his ears. His little brother had tried his best to comfort him, but at that moment in time, Joel had been too blinded by the gut-wrenching pain, the unbearable loss. He never really thanked Tommy for that. Never thanked you for stopping him from killing himself either.

Being an ass to the people he loved, apparently, was his only strength. Just like he had been with you when you needed him most.

Joel watched you as you struggled to unzip your sleeping bag, the soft material catching on the serrated teeth. You yanked the pull, almost snapping it from the slider, mumbling something to yourself.

He covered your tiny hand with a broad one of his, lightly squeezing your fingers.

“Let me help,” he muttered as you leaned back away from him.

Your subtle physical rejection stung, but he knew he deserved it. His hurt was nothing in comparison to yours.

Letting go of the bag, you faked looking for something in your backpack, avoiding his eyes when they searched for yours. Joel felt that the void between you only grew and grew, like darkness gaining ground to the light outside.

Could he mend your relationship? Your trust? Your love?

With careful hands, Joel managed to release the pinch on the fabric and tested that the zipper worked how it should do. When he glanced up at you, handing over the sleeping bag, Joel caught the rawness in your eyes, the slight dampness clinging to your eyelashes like morning dew on a petal at dawn.

It was now or never. He was hurting from seeing you hurt. Couldn’t take it any longer, he just had to say something, apologise to you. Ask to start the conversation all over again. One more second of this and he would lose his goddamn mind.

“Sweetheart, I―,” he managed to say out loud.

“I’m tired, Joel,” you quickly interrupted him. “Just wanna go to bed now, if you don’t mind.”

Your words were like a sobering, cold shower after a few beers ― stopped him right in his tracks before he could even begin to express what he wanted to say. Slightly shocked, Joel watched you fiddling around with your sleeping bag before you got inside it and turned around, facing away from him.

His slack jaw was soon gritting. But that brief anger quickly shimmered away when reality started to set in.

Perhaps he had misread the whole situation; perhaps you were not waiting on him to talk.

Perhaps you were past that ― past him, his bullshit and his doubts.

Perhaps your relationship was truly beyond salvation.

He paled in the face of such possibility, his hands shaking as they gripped his own sleeping bag.

Joel was up almost all night, eyes transfixed on you as his brain worked out all scenarios.

You faked falling asleep, but rest evaded you for hours until you finally gave in to exhaustion. Didn’t last long though, because a couple of hours later, you were, once again, wide awake.

The whole situation with Joel was overwhelming. You had hoped he would come to the car as soon as you left him behind, but he didn’t. Then that night you waited for him to say something, anything, and yet again, he didn’t. Not a fucking word when you both woke up this morning either, except for your name falling from his lips like a regretted whisper. Then complete radio silence and nothing else.

The silence treatment he had given you today was unbearable. Even if your doubts had lingered, pushing you to postpone the inevitable, deep inside you had hoped his reaction would be different. Shocked, yes, but then he would be… perhaps not happy, but at least a bit more excited? And after the shock had worn off, he would have soothed you, calmed you, told you everything was gonna be alright.

Maybe you had expected too much of Joel, your little delusion blinding you. After all, he had already lost Sarah. So now, in retrospect, this announcement might have unearthed bad memories, but especially regrets.

Was that it? Had you unburied his most primal fear? You had been so focused on what laid ahead, you had not stopped to consider what laid behind ― what this would mean for Joel. You had briefly contemplated he could perhaps see this as a blessing or a curse, but didn’t dwell too long on the thought, preoccupied as you were with other pressing matters.

You felt sick and it had nothing to do with pregnancy.

And then, when he had tried talking to you before going to bed, you had shut him down. But you were so tired, so mentally drained, you didn’t have an ounce of energy left to deal with a conversation like that. Because you truly didn’t know what he would say ― he wore such an impassive expression on his face, it was really difficult to tell.

You turned on the hard, creaky, wooden floor and faced Joel. One of his arms was resting on the wooden planks, extended towards you, as if he was trying to reach for you in his sleep.

You were in an abandoned cabin just outside Oswego. It was bare and completely stripped of furniture, but at least had a roof that would protect you from the cold, wet weather outside. It also had a covered chimney, but being so close to civilisation, it had to stay put out. Sleeping in the bag was not ideal, but it kept you warm.

Taking a deep breath, you then felt some sort of cushion under your neck that had not been there before you fell asleep. By touch, you realised it was one of those inflatable travel neck pillows that you had seen people use in airplanes. Frowning, you gathered Joel must have found one and tucked it under your head in your sleep.

You carefully studied Joel’s handsome, weathered face from the safety of your sleeping bag. Even in his sleep, his eyebrows were bunched together, a deep wrinkle ploughing through his skin almost permanently, giving him a worried look. His aquiline nose was buried in the fabric of his sleepsack, his long eyelashes caressing the top of his cheeks.

He would roll his eyes at you every time you called him “gorgeous” or “handsome”, but he really was. You loved to tell him, to help him see through your eyes. You knew he sometimes needed to hear it, to remind him of his own humanity. It was normal to lose sight of it in the current world you lived in.

And you loved him, the whole of him and his ghosts, even though he was a tactless prick sometimes. You had come to learn that when cornered, Joel could react like a beaten dog ― crouched back and showing teeth, ready to bite at the slightest provocation. Couldn’t blame him, even if you tried.

Feeling restless, you carefully unzipped your sleeping bag, not wanting to wake Joel up, and put your boots on. God knew you both needed some rest. Silently you stood up and stretched your back and arms, then one hand mindlessly stroked your belly. It wasn’t swollen at all, but the idea of a life growing inside you sat snugly in the back of your mind.

“What are we going to do, little one?” you whispered to yourself before grabbing your coat.

Needing some fresh air, you walked outside in the middle of the freezing night. It had been snowing, because there were at least three inches of white fluff blanketing the ground. Which meant the car battery could quickly drain and leave you stranded, so you went to check on the hidden Jeep.

Joel’s body jerked uncontrollably, one leg shaking as if he was falling off a cliff. Instantly waking up, he nervously looked around him, trying to recall where he was.

His hand patted the wooden floor in the dark, and when he located your sleeping bag, his breathing hitched at finding it empty. Then he heard the front door creaking, a sliver of moonlight coming through.

Were you leaving him in the middle of the night? Had he completely broken your trust, your relationship? Had he no chance of mending his mistake? Were you so hurt you would go without a word, without saying goodbye?

God knew he deserved it. He wasn’t cut for a relationship; he always ruined it. Should have known better than falling for you and giving in, but you were so warm, so effortless to love, so natural… How the fuck could he not? He was only human after all.

With a deafening pulse in his eardrums, he kicked the sleeping bag off as he got up with jerky, edgy motions, running towards the door to stop you from leaving him. For you he would fight, he would give you a whole motherfucking speech of why he loved you and how sorry he was. He at least had to try.

Joel swung the door open, and a frosty breeze greeted him, his skin bristled almost painfully at the feeling of frostbite.

You were walking through the snow, wrapped in your coat and with the hood on ― you looked so ethereal, your side profile bathed by the moonlight like a night fairy. Your features glowed under the lunar lustre, and he couldn’t help but fall for you even more.

Barefoot he followed you, his soles numb after a few steps through the snowy mud.

“Babe, wait,” he muttered, one hand reaching for your elbow.

You startled at his touch, and Joel didn’t know if it was rejection or that he had surprised you.

Your big, beautiful eyes widened when you saw him there. You wore a tired expression, and he knew himself the culprit.

“Where are you going?” he questioned in a whisper, heart still and lungs empty.

“I―”

“Please don’t go, don’t leave. I can do better. I’m sorry,” Joel stumbled with his words.

Had never felt this exposed as he was about to split his core in half, to undress emotionally in front of someone, allowing himself to be hurt by the only person it mattered.

But it had to be done to keep you by his side. So he did.

“I panicked. I wasn’t expecting― it didn’t even cross my mind that you… well, could be pregnant. It caught me so off guard, the news didn’t sink in. I’m sorry I reacted like a fucking idiot; I know I’ve disappointed you because of it. It’s just… ‘s hard, you know?” Joel swallowed to dissolve the dense knot forming in his throat, “I already had a shot at fatherhood, and I fucking blew it. I couldn’t protect her despite loving Sarah with all my heart, so the possibility of having to go through all that heartache again… I just, I don’t―”

Joel took in a deep, trembling breath as he unconsciously palmed his broken wristwatch, trying to soothe himself. He attempted to read your expression ― your lips pursed and eyes teary. Was he breaking your heart even further? You were about to cry, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Anxiety was taking hold of his throat and gut, strangling him.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m fucking scared, so scared I don’t think words do it justice. But I’m also thrilled, baby, I swear I am. I owe it to you, to myself, to this baby of ours… I ain’t going nowhere. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you both,” he husked, almost breathless. “I’m sorry I said what I said. Neither of us have a choice, but even if we did… I wouldn’t change a thing. This baby is happening for a reason and whatever that is, I’m all in, come what may. I love you, I really do, and I hate myself for having hurt you like this. I just suck at expressing my feelings and―”

You placed a gentle hand on his naked forearm, which made him lose track of what he was saying. Your fingers gently squeezed his cold flesh as you took a step closer to him. Your free hand slid across his left hip, dipping under the tee shirt he was wearing, until it reached the small of his back and you pushed him towards your body.

His taut muscles visibly relaxed at your touch and hug, his lungs filling up as he drew in the deepest breath of his life. Wrapping his arms around you, he held you close to his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Joel, I wasn’t leaving,” you murmured, cheek nuzzling against him, a tentative smile lingering on your mouth.

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together. From his perspective, it was more than obvious that you were actually leaving.

“Oh? I thought―”

“I was just going to check on the car battery since it’s freezing out here,” you interrupted him, glancing up at him.

Joel pursed his lips together, then licked them nervously.

“Well, everything I said still stands. I am truly sorry, sweetheart,” he said, mouth lightly pressed on your forehead.

A deep sigh after, you took a step back, your hand travelling from his forearm to his fingers, intertwining them with yours. Your palm was so warm in comparison to his, he just realised how little clothing he had on.

“For being a man who “sucks” at expressing his feelings, dare I say you’ve just spoken like a professional orator?” you jested, a grin curling the corners of your lips. “And I am sorry for not being straightforward with you. I was afraid of how you would take the news, and, well…” you shrugged, “you can’t blame me, can you?”

Joel shook his head vehemently. He definitely couldn’t ― the proof was there for both of you to see.

“But I understand how frightening this is for you. I can’t even begin to comprehend how you must have felt when… when Sarah left us. I was so blinded by my own insecurities, I didn’t dwell for too long on how this would affect you emotionally. So I apologise and―”

“Don’t. Don’t apologise, please. That’s a pain for me to bear, you shouldn’t have to think about it.”

“But I do, Joel. I want to bear it with you, so you don’t have to do it alone. That’s the whole point of this, of us. After all, we are going to be a family now,” your voice dropped to a low hum.

A pang of nerves traversed his stomach. No, not a pang, more like… butterflies? Joel had not felt that―the purest form of ecstasy―in a long, long time. The idea of being a dad… it always called him, always felt like that was what he was meant to be, nothing else. Sarah had been the center of his world and while no one could ever change that for him, the possibility of having another child to shower with the love he had buried… it was so overwhelming it brought tears to his eyes, his breathing shallow.

“A family,” he repeated, voice raspy with emotion.

You nodded and laughed, teary eyes too.

“A family, Joel. You’re gonna be a dad,” you snickered, now sobbing.

He couldn’t help but join you, draping his arms around you to bring you against his chest.

He didn’t deserve you, your forgiveness. The second chance you were offering him, in all the senses. A second chance with you. A second chance to form a family. A second chance in life, really.

Joel cradled your flushed cheeks, tilting your face up so his mouth hovered over yours.

“I can’t believe my fucking luck, honestly. You, the mother of my child…” he didn’t finish the sentence because he would choke on his own words if so. Took a second to compose himself. “If I’m ever such a dick aga―”

“Are you planning on being a dick often, Joel Miller?” you said playfully with a cocked brow.

He laughed, feeling completely at ease.

“I hope not. But if I ever attempt to be, just kick me in the balls so I may come to my senses quicker, please,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

His thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks before bowing down to kiss you. A slow, loving stroke of his tongue over yours and he felt everything was right again. Your sweet taste soothed him, his mind finally at ease. How you achieved that for him with the mere brush of your soft lips, he didn’t understand.

You were the one to break the kiss, pecking his lips a few times before finally taking a step back.

“Let’s go back inside, you must be freezing only with those sweatpants and a shirt.”

And with that, all the anxiety, the mental struggle, was forgotten.

Joel took your tiny hand in his broad one and led you back inside the cabin. Dried off his feet quickly before helping you out of your winterwear and settle back in in the sleeping bag ― his sleeping bag. Luckily it was big enough for the both of you.

You hugged each other, trying to get back to sleep, but both of your hearts were fluttering so hard, it was difficult to ignore the excitement.

“I’m so thrilled right now, I don’t think I can go to sleep just yet. I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered with a beautiful grin.

Joel couldn’t help but notice how you were beaming now, how much worry you had carried the last couple of days because of him. He felt infinitely better now that the joyful spark had returned to your eyes.

Dragging his thumb across your jawline, tracing an invisible line on your soft skin, Joel tilted your face towards him, his heart swollen with love. He hadn’t felt this alive in ages.

“Neither can I,” he admitted in a rasp.

His right hand roamed your body under the sleeping bag until it found the perfect spot to rest: your belly. Joel splayed his fingers over your lower tummy protectively, wanting to shield you both from any harm.

You hovered one of your hands over his, your palm stroking the back of his hand in a light caress. It felt like such an intimate moment, a respite among all madness and darkness, that he knew he would treasure it forever. When days would become hard, he’d only have to think back to this exact moment in time ― both of you cocooned in a sleeping back, warm and loving, calm and happy.

Fuck, was he happy and grateful. It still felt like a dream, but this was real. You were real. Yes, he was fucking scared out of his mind too, but the joy he was feeling right now eclipsed everything else.

With rough lips, he coaxed yours apart, the tip of his tongue tentatively swiping your teeth so you would let him in ― the place where he felt most at home. And you happily complied with a subtle sigh. Your tongues curled around one another, your sultry taste and sweet scent overtaking all his senses.

Joel felt your hand dragging his downwards and only took him one second to catch on. Soon his fingers were buried under your panties, his hand cupping your mound possessively while his middle finger dipped in your slit ever so slightly to faintly stroke your hooded clit.

Just one stroke.

“Joel,” you cooed, and he inhaled your breathless plea.

“I know, baby,” he hummed back, gifting you with another light stroke.

Your thighs trembled around his hand, and you parted them involuntarily, your body telling him everything he needed to know.

So he obliged, his finger slipping from your clit to your crying hole, gathering the wetness on the tip to bring it back up to your sensitive nub. With languid touches, Joel paid precise attention to your bundle of nerves with his thumb, while his index and middle fingers rubbed your dripping furrow incessantly, his fingertips hitching in your entrance from time to time.

You gasped, chest heaving and back arched, when Joel finally dived those two fingers in your slick, warm entrance. He groaned at your responsiveness, your eagerness, always ready for him. He could never have enough of you; of that he was fucking sure.

Joel nipped your neck, his stubble tickling your skin, then lapped at it while the rhythm of his hand increased. He knew you loved it when he curled his fingers, stroking that heavenly spot that would drive you wild with lust.

Then he suddenly stilled and you grinded your wet pussy against his palm, desperate for release, your hips tilting underneath.

“Joel, please,” you begged in a whisper, your walls clenching around his digits.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“I wanna come, please let me,” you pleaded with half-lidded, glassy eyes, melting under his touch.

“What a good girl, asking for permission,” he grazed your slack jaw with his bare teeth, then soothed the bite with a kiss. “No, not a good girl, a good momma, aren’t ya?” he corrected himself, his erection swelling at the thought. “Not yet, baby.”

He teased you a bit more, dragging the pleasure, letting it build and coil inside you the way he knew you liked it.

“F-fuck… Joel…” you moaned, his fingers still and deep buried inside you, your hole squeezing uncontrollably.

Your pleas worked, because soon enough Joel was fingering you relentlessly, pumping in and out of you fast ― your gushing cunt making obscene, squelching noises under the sleeping bag. Your moans grew louder as the pace between your thighs increased, your back so arched Joel feared you might break it.

“You can come now, baby,” he spoke softly, knowing you were holding back until you got his permission.

Then your walls furiously fluttered around his digits, choking and clamping and clutching. And Joel fucked you with his fingers through your orgasm, his thumb smothering your clit, applying the right amount of pressure. You keened, breathing heavy, as you came down from your climax, eyes shut and mouth agape.

Joel leaned to kiss you, his wet, pruney fingers still embedded in your leaking hole while your hand teasingly caressed his tummy, his muscles straining in anticipation.

“Feeling calmer?” he asked, the tip of his crooked nose nuzzling your ear as his fingers slid out with a pop.

“Mhmm, way calmer now,” you husked, tipping your face to trap his mouth with yours. “Let me help you relax too, gorgeous.”

A deep rumble coursed through his chest as your tiny fist dove and wrapped around his swollen girth, your thumb gently caressing the leaky head under his underwear.

He was ready just by working you, that was the power you held over him and Joel was fully aware of it. And he didn’t care one bit, he loved that you could get him hard just like that. It was lust, but it was love too; a deep, shared connection ― something he’d not felt before with anyone else.

You pumped him slow at first, your teeth scraping the skin over his Adam’s apple, then his jawline, until you hunted down his lips, swallowing his gruffy moans. Your playful hand stroked him faster, your fingers gripping harder, and he was close to losing his mind.

Then you licked his neck and nibbled his earlobe, and Joel had to summon all strength he could muster to not come there and then. You giggled at his intense reaction ― his muscles so tight he could snap at any moment, his breathing heavier and erratic.

Your hand imposed a devilish pace upon his throbbing cock, jerking him off fast and furious now, seeing how far you could take him before he broke. His balls felt tight and heavy, ready to spill his warm load on your hand.

Joel couldn’t stop groaning even if he fucking tried ― it had only been five days since the last time he fucked you, but those were too many days already. He pursed his lips together, eyebrows knitting in concentration to not come yet, while your mouth ghosted his. A few moans ended up slipping out and you breathed them in as you masturbated him with a tight grip.

And whatever cue he gave you, you knew he was close ― his orgasm imminent. Swiftly you dived your head under the sleeping bag and Joel lost sight of you. You freed his erection and a second later he felt your plump lips seal around his mushroom head.

His hands curled into tight fists, your little licks, taps and laps maddening. Then you suckled the swollen tip as if it was your personal pacifier.

“Holy fuck,” he huffed, shutting his eyes, as your wicked tongue commended him to come, your hand working his shaft dextrously.

Joel couldn’t hold it any longer. With a deep moan, he blew his sticky load in your mouth, and you drank eagerly from him. He felt your plush lips pecking his balls, then his column, and finally the tip, showing gratitude to his softening dick. Tucking his cock back into his underwear, you patted his bulge, gently, for a sweet second.

Then you popped your head out of the sleeping bag with a sinful grin, your thumb swiping across the corner of your mouth to gather a drop of his cum and guiding it back inside. Joel cupped your chin to bring your face closer to his.

“Thanks, baby. Always so thoughtful,” he joked before tasting himself on your tongue.

“Anytime,” you snickered.

You settled across his chest, warm bodies and calmer hearts, and a comfortable silence filled the room. Soon after that, you both fell into a peaceful slumber.

You woke up first, Joel’s arms draped around your shoulders in a solid hug, almost suffocating you. The first morning light filtered through the bare window, casting elongated shadows of the trees outside across the floorboards. Morning dew condensed on the windowpane, frozen like tiny, sparkly snowflakes. Some birds chirped, their melody pacifying. The whole scene was so tranquil, you didn’t want this moment to end.

Loafing about, you nuzzled Joel’s sternum, his thorax slowly rising, then coming down. His heart beat steadily too, so calming it almost lull you back to sleep. Something about Joel sleeping so profoundly made you feel at peace. Both of you had a very much needed rest after a tense couple of days.

You stroked the hairy trail down his belly button absentmindedly.

Joel grunted and stirred under you, his curved eyelashes fluttering a few times before his beautiful brown eyes stared at you. A boyish smile curled the corners of his lips before he closed his eyes again, hugging you closer. Joel buried his nose in your hair, then inhaled audibly.

“As much I’d love to stay here forever with you, I think we should get going,” you laughed, palming his chest.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. He wasn’t a morning person.

“Alright. I’ll get up just ‘cause you’re asking nicely,” he conceded, one hand reaching out of the sleeping bag to unzip it.

The cold air hit you both and you regretted your decisions, but if you wanted to find Tommy soon, you were not going to achieve that from this cabin, as idyllic as it felt to be here, in your bubble with Joel.

Half an hour later you were both up and fully awake. Joel was packing away the sleeping bags when he suddenly stopped.

“Fuck. You didn’t check on the battery last night, did you?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You bit down your bottom lip and shook your head no.

“Shit. No, I didn’t. I, well― got distracted,” you replied apologetically, a nervous chuckle slipping.

“You mean I distracted you, right?” the teasing edge to his voice made you smile. “Don’t worry, love, ‘s alright. I’ll go check on it before we go into town.”

Joel brought you in for a hug, his hands lacing on the small of your back. He brushed his lips against yours in a chaste kiss and you wanted to laugh so badly, you sniggered. This man, pretending to be so decent now.

“What’s so funny?” he enquired, a cocked brow, not letting you go of his embrace just yet.

“You being so gentlemanly and proper now with your decorous kissing, as if you didn’t make me come with just your fingers last night. As if I didn’t eat yo―” you jested bluntly, butterflies filling your belly.

Joel growled at your provocation, interrupting you, his hips flush with yours.

“That nasty mouth of yours is gonna be my downfall one of these days,” he muttered. Then he kissed you, his tongue quick and ravishing. “Enough. Stop being so damn tempting.”

He let go of you, taking a step back and turning around. You took the opportunity to smack his ass before he walked off with a smirk on his lips.

You stayed inside, gathering all the bits and stuffing them back in your backpacks. You were going to venture into Oswego today again, stake out the town and the area where Joel thought Tommy and his group would most probably be.

Shuffling through your belongings, you found the pregnancy test you took a few days ago. The digital screen was still displaying the positive result ― one you dreaded, but then embraced.

In the span of forty-eight hours, you thought your relationship with Joel had crumbled down and reduced to nothingness, to then come back stronger like a phoenix rising from its ashes.

The look on his face when he thought you were leaving him still haunted you ― you hoped he would forget that feeling sooner rather than later. His confession had tugged at your heart so much, you had forgiven him after the first sentence. But you had let him keep on talking, because the self-indulgent part of yourself wanted to hear him say all those things. It wasn’t often that Joel Miller would make use of his mouth to verbally express his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, tremendously happy with how the situation had turned out in the end.

Throwing your backpack over your shoulders and Joel’s hanging from one arm, you walked outside with the pregnancy still on your hand, daydreaming ― your grin now permanently sculpted into your features.

Then you heard a voice you quickly recognised.

Tommy’s.

You froze halfway through the three steps on the porch, your gaze scanning the area until you found them.

Joel had a very schooled expression, almost blank, while Tommy frowned, gripping a shotgun close to his chest.

“You’ve been following me?” the younger Miller asked, visibly upset.

“Yes, we have, you dickhead,” Joel replied, his voice restrained. “You just left a―”

“We?” Tommy scoffed, taking a step back. “You’ve not ditched her body yet?”

Joel’s hazel eyes found yours, still glued to the steps. A silent plea for you to go back inside, sensing this would not end well. And you tried ― you took a step back to run back into the cabin, but Tommy was quicker.

Tommy turned around and almost jumped back as if he had seen a ghost. Probably because he thought he had.

You raised your hands up, showing him you were no threat.

“Hey, Tommy,” you greeted him with a feeble smile. “If you keep pointing that gun at me, I’m gonna start thinking it’s personal,” you joked to diffuse the situation.

“Tommy,” Joel’s firm voice made his brother looked at him askance, his pupils fixed right back on you. “Hey.”

Joel’s fingers wrapped around the barrel, pushing it down so it wouldn’t point at you anymore. You could see Tommy’s stiffness from the distance, ready to do whatever it was necessary.

When Joel yanked at the shotgun, Tommy broke eye contact with you to stare at his brother, not letting go of the shotgun.

“How’s she alive?”

“It’s a long story, bu―”

“She’s fucking infected. You’re fucking infected!” he screamed in a panic, stumbling back with his own feet and then directing the gun back at you.

Joel tried to approach him while you stayed as still as possible, your breathing hitching. Would he shoot? You hoped not, but he looked scared enough to do so.

“Tommy, listen to me―” Joel attempted to talk to him again.

“What’s that you’re holding?” Tommy snapped at you, ignoring his brother.

You paled. You had forgotten the pregnancy test was on your hand, lost as you were in your train of thought when you had walked out of the cabin.

No words left your mouth ― your orbs quickly found Joel’s. Both of you, frightened to death. Not for yourselves, but for your baby.

Tommy wouldn’t hurt you, would he? Unconsciously, your free hand dropped to your belly, wanting to protect this new life you were harbouring, growing.

Tommy’s façade fell, his jaw slack.

“You’re PREGNANT?!”

Joel reacted first, standing in the way, the barrel kissing the center of his chest. Then he pushed Tommy back, his composed expression gone. He was angry, you could tell. Really angry. You had only seen him that irate the night those two men almost raped you.

“If you ever point that gun at her again, I swear to fucking God, I’ll kill you myself with my bare hands, Tommy,” he growled.

Tommy blinked rapidly, his resolution coming back as he cocked the gun again.

“You both have lost your fucking minds,” Tommy scoffed, walking backwards towards the woods. “Don’t follow me anymore. Leave me the fuck alone.”

A minute after, the younger brother disappeared between the trees and Joel rushed to your side, his anger transforming into urgency.

“We gotta go.”

His words were impregnated with the same panic you were feeling.

Unbelievable, Tommy thought.

Had his brother gone mad? What the fuck was he thinking? And how were you alive? What kind of sinister magic was that?

He had so many unanswered questions, his head throbbed with an impending headache. Tommy needed the distance and the time to think this through. At first, he had been elated at seeing his brother after so long, but the excitement quickly shifted the moment he saw Joel accompanied by you. And fucking pregnant, by the looks of it.

Shaking his head, Tommy hooted like an owl, letting the people keeping watch know that he was approaching the two houses they all had been living in. The two buildings were on the forest boundary, far enough of other homes but close enough to town.

Bursting in through the doors, Laney met him in the corridor, hands on hips.

“So?”

“They are here. And what’s worst, she’s alive and pregnant,” Tommy almost spit the last word out.

Laney’s scowl deepened.

“Pregnant? Like, with a fucking zombie-like monster growing inside of her?”

The emphasis on that specific word made Tommy frown. He wouldn’t go as far as to say that. Laney could be a little dramatic sometimes.

“Well, I don’t know. No, I don’t think so? I mean, she looked fine, so I guess―” Laney walked past him, interrupting what he was saying. “Where are you going?”

“On patrol. Need to go into town for some supplies.”

“Need a hand?”

“No. Stay here, keep watch.”

And with that, she stepped out and closed the door behind her, leaving Tommy in the middle of the hallway with a nagging doubt picking at the back of his brain.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

[d-z20]

What We Have Left

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: After surviving the Witches' Road, you and Agatha find solace in caring for each other as you navigate the aftermath—her haunted by nightmares and you recovering from near-fatal injuries. (canon-divergence)

Warnings: physical hurt (R), emotional hurt (A), comfort

Words: 1.4k

A/N: Another request fic :) It took me so long to figure out how Agatha and Reader could survive without taking away from Agatha's character arc so it's as close to canon as possible.

AO3 | Master List

After the chaos of what happened with Rio and Billy, you don’t know exactly how you survived. The last thing you remember is the weight of magic swirling violently around you, the air crackling with danger. Agatha had been ready to sacrifice herself, a final act of redemption that would have consumed her completely. But something had shifted in the moments before her fate was sealed—your desperate magic, unpredictable and wild, surged in response to her intent. In a flash, it felt as though time bent, reality warping around you both. A surge of energy, as if the universe itself had decided you were both not yet finished, had pulled you from the brink of destruction.

But it had also sent you flying backward. 

You’d crashed into a jagged outcrop of stone, your already fragile body sustaining more injuries. A deep wound had opened along your side, nearly severing you in half, and your chest felt like it was caving in with each strained breath. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the real fear that you wouldn’t make it. You were too close to death, the darkened edge of your vision creeping in, when Agatha’s hand in yours had pulled you back from that final brink. You weren’t sure how, but it felt like she was holding you together in those final moments before you slipped into unconsciousness.

—

Your injuries keep you from being able to get upstairs, so you spend your days and nights on the couch trying to recover. Agatha promises to stay close, swearing she’ll sleep in the armchair beside you. But every night, you wake to find her pacing instead, her movements restless and agitated, her silhouette framed by the faint light above the stove.

The house is quiet tonight, save for the rhythmic sound of Agatha pacing in the next room. The soft creak of the floorboards betrays her unease, a subtle sound that feels much louder in the stillness. You know the routine by now—she doesn't scream out or cry, but she can’t seem to stay still. She’s trying to outrun something, her breath coming quicker, hitching in the air as though there's a monster that won’t let her rest. The nightmares are worse tonight. You can feel her anxiety through the walls—a tension in the house that makes it hard to breathe.

You lie back on the couch, a thin blanket draped over your legs, shifting carefully to avoid pulling at the bandages wrapped around your ribs. The dull ache is persistent, a reminder of what the Road has taken. What it has demanded.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice startles you, and you turn your head to see her standing in the doorway. She looks dishevelled, her hair wild and her lips chewed raw. Agatha Harkness, once a picture of control and sharp wit, seems smaller these days. Her sharp, calculating eyes are clouded now.

“So are you,” you reply softly, watching as she crosses the room and lowers herself into the chair beside you.

She looks at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “I didn’t mean to wake you. The dreams... They’re worse tonight.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing hers gently. “You didn’t wake me. Couldn’t sleep from the pain anyway.”

Her eyes flick to your bandages, her gaze lingering on the blood seeping through them. Her face tightens in frustration, but there’s something darker beneath the surface—a flicker of panic in her eyes. Her hands tremble as they hover near your side, as though she wants to help but is afraid to make things worse. She’s breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling with each uneven inhale. “You’re still in pain.”

“It’s manageable,” you lie, though you know she can see right through you. She always does.

Agatha stands abruptly, her movements sharp. “Let me change the dressing. It’ll help.” She doesn’t wait for you to agree, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with the first aid kit.

She kneels by your side, her hands surprisingly gentle as she helps you sit up, unwrapping the bandages with practiced precision. Her fingers linger on the jagged cut running along your side.

“This one’s healing slower than the others,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

You wince as she cleans the wound, but you keep your focus on her face. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line. She is concentrating, but you can see the tremor in her hands.

“Agatha.”

She doesn’t look up. “Almost done.”

“Agatha.” Your voice softens. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her hands still. For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, uneven and shallow. Then she shakes her head. “It was, though. I led us there. I put you in danger.”

“And we both survived,” you counter. “That’s what matters.”

She finishes rewrapping the bandage in silence, her hands lingering on your side before pulling away. She sits back on her heels, staring at the floor.

You reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering toward the window as if searching for an escape. But then her gaze softens, and she looks back at you. “I see them, you know,” she says quietly. “In my dreams. The ones we lost. Lilia, Alice, Mrs. Ha—Sharon... I see them; I hear their voices.”

Her voice cracks, and she quickly looks away, but not before you catch the glint of tears in her eyes.

You lean forward, wincing as pain flares in your ribs. “They don’t blame you, Agatha. None of them do.”

“How would you know?” she whispers, her tone tinged with bitterness. “You can’t know.”

“Because I know you,” you say firmly. “And I know you did everything you could.”

Her expression crumbles, and for a moment, she looks so much younger, so much more fragile than you’ve ever seen her. The indomitable Agatha Harkness, finally undone by the weight of her own guilt.

You cup her face with your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear that slips free. “Agatha,” you murmur, your voice soft. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“And what about you?” Her eyes open, sharp and searching. “You’re the one who nearly died, and you’re still acting like you have to take care of me.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say simply.

“I’m not sure I deserve it,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. Her hands shake slightly as she tugs at the hem of her sweater, the fabric clutched too tightly in her fists as if trying to steady herself. She won’t look at you, but you can see the tremor in her jaw. It’s a subtle thing, but you know that she’s fighting against something much bigger than just guilt. There’s a panic beneath it, a fear that maybe she can never escape what happened, that the person she is now—the one who’s failed so many—is someone who doesn’t deserve forgiveness, or love, or even peace.

“Too bad,” you say with a weak smile.

Agatha’s hand comes to rest over yours, holding it against her cheek. “You’re a stubborn witch,” she says, a hint of her usual wit breaking through.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, your smile growing.

For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but filled with something softer.

“I didn’t actually know what I wanted from the Road,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Agatha’s eyes open, and she looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I wanted knowledge,” you admit. “Or power. Or maybe to finally understand myself.” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “My magic’s always been... all over the place. Never strong enough in one area to fit anywhere. Protection spells don’t hold long, potions are hit or miss, divination’s a disaster... I thought the Road could give me something to make me belong.”

“And did it? Since Billy’s maybe made it real and all that,” she asks softly.

You nod your head. “Yes. It gave me you.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, you think you’ve said too much. But then she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it makes your heart ache.

It isn’t a kiss born of desperation or passion. It’s something quieter, something fragile. A shared promise that, no matter how broken the two of you might be, you’ll face it together.

When she pulls back, her hand lingers on your cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmurs.

“You do,” you say firmly.

For a long moment, she’s silent, her lips pressed together as she absorbs your words. You can almost see her mind racing behind her eyes, calculating the weight of your reassurance. Her expression shifts just slightly, and for the first time since the Road, you see a flicker of something like peace in her gaze—a brief, fragile relief that she doesn’t have to bear the whole world’s weight on her shoulders alone. It’s like she’s finally starting to believe it. Then she exhales a shaky breath and stands, pulling the blanket up to cover you more securely.

“Get some rest,” she says softly. “I’ll be here.”

“And you?” you ask, catching her hand before she can pull away. “Will you sleep?”

Her lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe.”

“Liar,” you tease gently.

She sighs, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll try. For you.”

She stays by your side that night, her hand clasped in yours as you drift into a fitful but comforting sleep. Whatever the Road has taken from you, it has left this: a bond forged in fire, unshakeable and enduring.

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter thirteen: "I've never known a normal day in my entire life"

Summary: Spencer's mother moves in with her son and wife. This is exactly when things start going south for the Reids. Word count: 9.750 Warning:  Sad Spencer, violence, sadness, angst.  A/N: My poor babies... at least Spencer isn't alone during these sad times.

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter (post date: November 27th)

(Y/N)'s point of view

After Hotch's departure and everything that it meant, I really wasn't at my best. It took me a few days to get into the right mental state again. I was scared the entire time, honestly. I kissed my babies every morning before dropping them at daycare, thinking anything could happen to them while we were at work. And Spencer knew it. The way he looked at me, he was worried, I could tell. But he wasn't saying anything. He wasn't dealing with it. He was waiting, I guess. Waiting for anything to happen, and force us to deal with what was happening around us.

And work, of course, didn't help at all. A few weeks after Prentiss' arrival as our new Unit Chief, Mr. Scratch targeted our team, again. That time, he kidnaped and tortured Tara's brother, Gabriel, while brainwashing and drugging a poor guy called Desmond Holt, and convinced him he was Gabriel.

It was one of the hardest cases we had to deal with in the last months, 'cos that guy didn't know he wasn't Gabriel, he was sure he was Tara's brother. And he knew everything about them. Even their secret handshake. I couldn't even begin to think what Mr. Scratch had done to Gabriel to get all that information. It was everything I had been afraid of in the recent weeks, starting from the second Prentiss said:

- "I've placed protective details on Hayden and Joy, Sofia and the babies, and Will and the boys. We need to assume that Mr. Scratch is targeting this entire team."

I refused to make eye contact with Spencer that minute, though I could feel him watching me. I knew our workline was dangerous, and things could get serious from one minute to the other. I just didn't need a reminder. So I did what I do best. I focused on work and refused to think of anything else until the case was solved.

Ironically, I became Tara's rock during the investigation. I remained by her side, or at the other side of the mirror while she interrogated Desmond. I repeated countless times how everything was going to get better. That we were going to find her brother Gabriel safe. I stayed with her father and buried any fear I had about my family's safety 'cause it was the right thing to do at work.

But I was getting fed up with what Scratch was doing to our team. He was making me feel a fear I didn't know before, and he was pushing us, playing with us, and getting away with it every single fucking time. That's why, when we got ready to catch him and bring Gabriel back safely, all I kept thinking was killing that son of a bitch.

- "Please, chipmunk, be safe."- Spencer whispered as he checked on my bulletproof vest, the same way he did every time we were out on a mission.

- "You too, Batsy."

- "Always."- he replied and kissed the tip of my nose. I made sure his vest was secured as well and looked at him.

- "You are making dinner tonight, by the way."- I reminded him, just to get out of my head for a moment.

- "So we are eating take-out tonight"- he joked under his breath as the rest of the team gathered outside the elevator.

- "Healthy and balanced dinner for Raven. I'm expecting veggies, protein... Maybe some fruit."- but it wasn't the time or the place to be sweet. We had to focus. The elevator's door opened and we all got in but Tara. She had a short and emotive conversation with her father before stepping. As soon as the doors closed and we started descending, Emily said:

- "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm getting tired of losing to this rat-faced son of a bitch."- I turned to her and nodded, biting my lips not to curse, 'cos I knew Tara was going through hell, and we had to keep our shit together. - "He's not gonna take anyone else away from us, not on my watch. Am I clear?"

- "Yes boss."- I replied and Prentiss nodded at us.

- "Let's get to work."

Like every cliché unsub we had tracked, Mr. Scratch hid Gabriel in a warehouse. Who would have known they'd pick such an original location? We got there with a SWAT team, ready to deal with whatever trap that mother fucker had set for us. Spencer found out as soon as we cleared the perimeter where the controller of the main trap was. He just needed to figure out how to dismantle it, which did in a matter of minutes and we were lucky to bring Gabriel back safe and sound. However, we didn't get even close to catching Mr. Scratch, and my fears became stronger. That mother fucker was out there, and he knew who we were, our weaknesses, and how to get to us.

- "Mommy, can we go to the park?"- Raven asked me when we picked her up from my mom's that evening. We made it out early, and I wanted to enjoy every single second of the day with our babies.

- "Of course!"- I replied as Spencer secured her in her chair in the car, and I did the same with baby Vinny.

- "And then we could grab some ice cream."- my husband suggested.- "And maybe a new book to read before bed."

- "Yes!!"- our daughter has always been excited when it comes to a trip to the bookstore. She is very much like her dad, and I love that.

- "Are you available for dinner sometime this week?"- I read Frank's text as I sat behind the wheel, and Spencer looked at me almost scared.

- "Please don't tell me we have a case."

- "No, Frank wants to meet for dinner this week."

- "That'd be nice."- Spencer's answer surprised me. I don't know why I thought he wouldn't be in the mood to meet with the guys considering the stress we were under. - "We could use a fun evening with our friends."- which was true.

- "I love Uncle Frany!"- Raven yelled from the back seat, making me chuckle. Call me crazy, but knowing my daughter and my best friend had a close godfather/goddaughter relationship had always made me happy. Those are the sweet, beautiful things in life I didn't want anyone ruining. Never.

Spencer's point of view

I tried to keep my wife calm and happy. I kissed her and told her I loved her as many times as I could every day without transgressing any PDA rules at work. I cooked dinner three times a week, did every one of my chores, played and read bedtime stories to my children, went grocery shopping, and made love to my wife looking into her eyes and telling her how much I loved her. But work didn't help, and neither did reality. Life was getting harder, messy, and more challenging, no matter how hard I tried to make it all perfect.

Over a month after putting my mother into a new facility in Houston, Texas, to be part of an experimental group of investigation that had incredible research and promised to stop and basically heal patients with Alzheimer's, I got a call that ended my mental peace and brought me back to reality.

We were working on a case in Yakima, Washington. I was all alone in the police station, staring at the board with the information of the victims, waiting for (Y/N) to come back with Rossi from the field, where they were talking with the parents of the unsub's first victim. We were making progress, but we were against the clock, as usual. My head was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of ways to locate the unsub, until my phone rang. It was my mom.

- "Hi, Mom. I was gonna call you a little bit later. How are you..."

- "Spencer! You have to help me!"

- "What?"

- "They are missing! Someone took them!"- my mother's voice was frantic, almost hyperventilating.

- "Who's missing?"- I narrowed my eyes, trying to imagine who could be taken from a clinic, and how.

- "Pat and Grace! I haven't seen them in days! I need your team to help me find them!"

. "No, Mom. Pat and Grace live in Las Vegas. You're in Houston, at the Anderson clinic. We moved there last month, remember?"- I could feel my heart breaking as my mother spoke those words. She was having an episode. She was absolutely lost.

- "In... in Texas? I'm living in Texas?"- her confusion was palpable, as well as my defeat. She wasn't getting any better. If anything, she was worse.

- "Yeah, in Texas."

- "Oh... I'm sorry Spencer. I'm... not feeling very well, my head... maybe I should lay down for a while."

- "Absolutely. A nap sounds like a really great idea. Why don't you get a little bit of rest and I'm gonna call you back later, ok?"

- "Yes... how are the kids? Raven is going to school already?"

- "They are great, mom. I'll tell you everything later, ok? Just get some rest. I love you."

- "I love you too, honey."

I stared at the phone after I hung up, thinking - overthinking sound about right- about all the calls I had had with my mom in the last month. Until that second, I was sure she was doing better, but clearly, she wasn't. The complete opposite, in fact: my mother was having an episode and she sounded as lost as possible.

- "Is everything all right?"- JJ walked into the room holding two cups of coffee. I kept staring at the phone in my hands as she moved closer to me and gave me one of the cups.

- "It's my mom."- I confessed and placed the phone back in my pocket.- "She was confused. There she was and she was convinced that her friends had been kidnapped. She wanted us to investigate."

- "Spence, I'm sorry."- she whispered and stared at me with honest sadness.

- "This was my biggest fear, you know, about getting her into the clinical trial. I think she's getting a placebo."- it wasn't something I would talk about much at the moment, but right there, I just needed to get that off my chest 'cos it was shocking, and it hurt like a stab in the heart.

- "But you said she was getting better."- JJ moved even closer and kept her eyes on mine.

- "She was. Or I... I was... I don't know, I was fooling myself into thinking that. Maybe I wanted to believe it so much that I was experiencing the placebo effect, too."- I rambled thinking I had been a fool.

- "Is there anything I can do?"

- "I don't know."- I sighed and felt JJ wrapping her arm around me. So I hugged her back and felt like a failure. No matter what I did, I just couldn't help my mom.

- "I'm so sorry, Spence."

- "Hell...o."- (Y/N) opened the door and stared at us hugging. Rossi walked along with her and raised both eyebrows. JJ let me go and stared at my wife in panic like she caught us doing something awful, I don't know why.

- "Everything ok?"- David asked and I shook my head.

- "I just..."- I opened my mouth and kept my eyes on my wife, who looked like she needed an explanation. - "I just got a call from my mom, she was having an episode."

- "What? Seriously?"- (Y/N) seemed as affected as I was by the news.

- "Could you... excuse us for a second?"- I moved to her and held her hand as I walked her out of the room, to a more private place. Rossi and JJ nodded and didn't say a thing, but JJ smiled at me sadly when I looked at her before I closed the door behind my back.

- "What happened? What did she say?"- my wife asked and sat on a desk in the bullpen of the police station. I stood close to her, staring at my hands, and biting my lips, trying not to cry.

- "She thought her friends were taken hostage. She didn't know where she was, she thought it was Las Vegas. I hadn't heard her so lost in months..."

- "Honey..."- my wife wrapped her arms around my waistline and moved me closer to her body. I rested my head on hers and simply sighed. - "You should put an eye on her."

- "I know..."

- "Maybe you could bring her home. Take care of her until we decide what to do next."

- "We have a baby and a toddler. You are under enough stress, I could never..."- (Y/N)'s eyes stopped me from saying another word. She moved and looked at me with such love and care I nearly cry

- "Remember when I said "In sickness and health" while getting married? It didn't just mean your health, but our family as well."

- "Technically, you didn't say that. We wrote our own votes, and you quoted Emily Bronte."- I argued and made her roll her eyes.- "I don't wanna put you through something that I know won't be easy, chipmunk."

- "We are not together just when things are easy, we are stronger when life gets shitty."- my wife whispered and lodged a small kiss on my lips.

- "What did I do to deserve you?"- the question wasn't meant to be said out loud, I just asked myself the same thing at least once every day.

- "You deserve all the good things that happen to you, Spencer."- (Y/N) replied and caressed my cheek as she stood in front of me. - "Now let's work and we'll talk to Prentiss when the case is solved."

We were lucky to wrap up the case in a few hours, so as we flew back home, I made two cups of coffee and walked to our Unit Chief to do the unthinkable.

- "Coffee?"- my voice shook as I stood by her seat and handed her a cup.

- "Oh, you are a lifesaver."- Prentiss replied with a warm smile and I sat in front of her, rearranging the words in my head in the process. And, of course, she noticed.- "What's going on?"

- "I need to take some time off."- my voice was soft as I went straight to the point. I wanted to explain to her what had happened with my mother while she was gone, but at the same time, I didn't want to share more than what I had to with her.

- "Ok. When?"

- "As soon as we get back."- my reply surprised her, her jaw dropped and she kept blinking, processing what I was saying. - "I normally wouldn't do this, especially with everything we have going on and the new agent, but it's my mom. I don't think the clinical trials are helping her."

- "Spence, I'm so sorry."- Em whispered and her hand found mine as she tried to comfort me.

- "I need to see for myself what's happening in Houston, and, you know, talk to the doctors, try to figure out what's next."

- "As you should. Did you talk to (Y/N) about this?"

- "Yes."

- "Are you going alone?"

- "Yes, she has to stay with the kids, and help the team."- Prentiss nodded. I think she could read on my face and gesture how I didn't want my wife to carry the burden of my mother's disease.

- "Listen, we'll be fine. And we'll support (Y/N) with the kids. You take as long as you need."

- "Thank you."- it was the only thing I seemed to be able to say.

- "I have one condition. I need you to check in every day, no matter what. I need to know you're ok."

- "It's understood."- tears filled my eyes and threatened to fall as I fought to keep them at bay. I didn't want to cry in front of Emily, or in front of anyone. I just wanted to get home and put an eye on my mother.

(Y/N) knew I was keeping things to myself. That's why that night, after our babies were in bed, she wrapped her arms and legs around me as we lay on our bed and I immediately buried my head on her chest.

- "You are not alone, Spencer. I love you."- she whispered and kept running her fingers through my hair very slowly.- "Please, let me in."

- "I'm just worried about my mom."- I whispered and bit my tongue.

- "Remember last time something really bad happened and we thought Emily was dead?"- oh no.- "You tried to be the man you thought I needed, kept all your emotions to yourself, and ended up getting Dilaudid behind my back."

- "Chipmunk, I'm not getting Dilaudid."

- "I know, I know. I'm just saying... I don't want you to think you have to be strong for me. I just want you to share how you feel, the way I tell you when life is too shitty for me."- I stayed quiet, all I could hear was the beat of her heart against my ear as she held me close. I knew I had to let my wife in, but I was still very scared she was going to think I was weakling.

- "I don't want to overwhelm you."- that was the best I could do.

- "Give it a try."- she replied.- "I'm with the FBI. I've seen shit."- she replied and I chuckled for a second. She kept me close to her, making me feel like she was able to keep me together. - "We were best friends for many years before we became a couple, and back then you used to tell me everything. Don't hold yourself back now. I'm here to help you, to love you, no matter what."

Those were the words that broke me. I could feel my walls going down as the tears started falling from my eyes.

- "I don't... I don't know how to fix this."- I finally confessed and simply sobbed in my wife's arms, not knowing what else to say, or do. I had no idea what to do with my life, with everything. What was the use of being so smart if I couldn't help the ones I loved? It was so frustrating and unfair.

- "It's ok, honey bunny."- my wife kissed my forehead and wrapped her arms tighter around me.- "Just let it all out."

I don't know how long I cried in my wife's arms. A part of me felt it was embarrassing, but honestly, it actually made me feel better. I did as she asked and let it all out. All the tears and all the fears.

- "It's just so unfair."- I whispered once I had calmed down a little. (Y/N) had her arms locked around my body and I hid in her neck. - "She already has a mental disease, why did she have to get a second one? Life has been hard enough for her! Now I have to sit here and just watch all of our memories together fade away forever."

- "I'm so sorry, honey."- my wife kissed my face and held me tighter.- "I'm so sorry this had to happen to you."

- "And it's just worse knowing it could be my fate as well."- I confessed and felt like crying again.- "I mean, it's in my genes, like schizophrenia, and we would never know until I start showing the first signs. Or I could have passed it to our babies... and one day they'd..."

- "Shhh, don't go there, honey. Don't. There is nothing we can do about it, not about you, or about our kids. It is what it is and we can't change it."

- "But this is not what you deserve!"- I whined and started sobbing again.- "This is not what I wanted to give you."

- "But I wanted you. All of you. Not just the good part. The hot doctor with all the answers. I wanted this other side too." - I didn't know what to say, so I just sighed and cried as she held me.

- "I wish..."- I whispered after a few seconds.- "Things were easier."

- "We can't complain."- she replied and I could almost hear her sweet smile as she spoke softly.- "So far, we've had fun. We've been healthy, we have smart babies, we've got the chance to travel. We have friends who love and support us. We just need to get a bigger place and we would be peachy."- I chuckled between tears at that last remark.

- "You really wanna move?"

- "Don't act all innocent, we've talked about this before."

- "I know..."- I replied and moved from her neck to look her in the eyes.- "I still have to make peace with the idea of leaving this apartment. But I know we will have to do it eventually"- and she just nodded.

- "We don't have to figure it out all tonight, honey bunny."- and she kissed the tip of my nose. - "How about you try to get some sleep now? You have an early flight tomorrow."- I nodded and sighed as she cuddled me underneath the covers of our bed.

- "I love you so much, ma cherie."

- "I love you more, honey bunny. Thank you for trusting me. I will always be here to help you. No matter what. You don't have to carry any burden on your own."

And as hard as it is for me to realize, she was right. I wasn't alone.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer's departure to Houston wasn't easy. We both knew what he was going to face during that trip, and it was clearly something for longer than just a weekend. Mom helped with the kids, as she usually did, plus Garcia and Emily were my rocks. They took care of the little things I didn't have much time for, like packing my own lunch, helping me clean and even changing a few diapers.

- "I'm not sure this is why you moved from London"- I said to Prentiss one morning she showed up earlier to give me a hand getting the kids ready.

- "I mean, changing baby clothes with vomit wasn't on this year's bingo card, but I'm not complaining."- Em replied as she held Vincent in her arms after finally getting him dressed and we walked to the kitchen.

- "I'm sorry."

- "(Y/N), please. I love to help. It's extra time we get together, and I feel like I've missed so much in the last few years."- Prentiss kissed Vincent's cheek a few times and added- "Garcia kept me updated with the news, but it's not the same as watching your kids grow up. I mean... you and Spencer have two kids already! I feel like it was yesterday you two were in denial of your feelings and we had to push you to face them."

- "Those were the days."- I said as Raven ran into the kitchen holding her bag and opened her arms to me.

- "Up mama!!"

- "Are you ready for school, Birdy?"

- "Yes!"

- "Let's make sure I packed all of your favorite snacks then, and we'll be ready to go."

- "When is dada coming back?"- Raven asked as she wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my chest, completely melted.

- "He will come back very soon, birdy. We should call him tonight and make sure he knows how much we miss him."- I kissed the top of her head, and added some more apple slices with peanut butter in her lunch bag.

- "Can we ask him to read us a bedtime story tonight?"- Raven asked innocently, as she stayed in my arms.

- "Sure! Now let's go to the car before we are too late."

Emily helped me load the car, lunches, kids, and my go bag, which I knew wasn't going to be of any use while Spencer was out of town. I was staying in Quantico, helping from my desk until my husband was back from Texas.

- "See you in a while at the BAU."- my friend said with a big grin after waving goodbye to my kids. - "I have to help Stephen with some paperwork. He is still getting used to this new position."

- "Bye Em, thank you"

Stephen Walker had joined the team the day Spencer left for Houston. He had been transferred from the Behaviour Analysis Program, the BAP. He was charming, with over 20 years of experience working for the Bureau, and a friend of both Prentiss and Rossi. They were thrilled to have him, especially if we considered we were one agent down and I couldn't join them on the field.

Besides, he helped through a very shitty time in the BAU: Rossi's birthday. The man hated that date, and each year we tiptoed around it. That year was even worse considering Tommy Yates, the serial killer he had a deal with on his birthday, was out on the loose. He was supposed to give Rossi the name and location of one victim every day on that date every year, ergo why Papa Pasta hated that date so much. Yates had killed over 40 victims that we knew, but he claimed it had been over 100. I think Rossi felt guilty not to get more names and give peace to the families of so many missing girls. That year, Yates started killing again around Rossi's birthday, and instead of going back to jail, he ended up dead in David's backyard.

I'm sure Rossi will never enjoy his birthday. He will always think of the lives he couldn't save. I get that feeling. No matter how many lives we actually save.

- "Chipmunk, I don't know if I can do this"- Spencer whispered at the other side of the line. He had been gone for two weeks and we were both exhausted. I was lying on our bed, Raven was asleep, softly snoring next to me and Vicent was in my arms as I breastfed him one more time.

- "Why don't you bring her here?"- I suggested one more time. I had told him to do that at least five times since he was away, but he always refused.

- "I told you, it would be too much work."

- "We can handle it! She is my family too and I wanna help."

- "I know, ma cheriè but..."

- "But what?"- Spencer sighed at the other side of the line, clearly trying to gather the right words to explain his mind.

- "I don't think it's fair."- he finally whispered, and that was not what I was expecting to hear.

- "Fair?"

- "Yes..."

- "Life isn't fair, Spencer. You know that."

- "But having to take care of my mother it's not what... it's not the life I wanna give you."- it was a little heartbreaking hearing that. No matter what I did, Spencer still couldn't understand I was there for him, through sickness and health.

- "So you think we are just taking care of your mother?"- I asked him and chuckled.- "Spencer Walter Reid, one day my mom will be sick and old and we will have to take care of her as well, and probably my father too, 'cos Phoenix would never be that kind of son."

- "I am not sure it's the same thing, chipmunk."

- "Hey! My parents could have an awful old age!"- I joked and I could almost hear him smiling as he said

- "It's not a competition, baby"

- "I know it's not! I'm just trying to make you understand this is not a one-way. It's not just me helping you with your mother, we are a team, and we tackle these issues together. Today it's Diana, tomorrow Sofia, who knows!"

- "What about the babies?"

- "What about them?"- I whispered and looked at them. Raven was still asleep, hugging the stuffed unicorn Mikey had gotten her and Vincent was slowly falling asleep against my breast.

- "Having my mom around would make things harder for us and for them as well."

- "We can manage. We are a team. We handle far worse things at work daily. And we can hire a caretaker for your mom. That way she wouldn't be alone while we are out."- there was silence on the line for a few seconds. Spencer was most likely trying to think of all the scenarios that could happen. Until he finally whispered.

- "You are not gonna let this go, are you?"

- "I'm never going to stop fighting to help you, especially when you are being stubborn."- I smiled and bit my lip thinking I just wanted to have him back home as soon as possible so I could hug him and kiss him.

- "I love you, Mrs. Reid."

- "I love you too, Mr. Reid."

Spencer came back on a Thursday. He and Diana took a cab home while I was at work. I got some groceries to make dinner and picked up the kids from my mother's. We turned Vinny's nursery into a guest bedroom for Diana, considering our baby wasn't using it at the moment. We were going to be cramped, but maybe it was the way I could finally convince Spencer to move into a bigger place. A house outside town, where our kids would ride their bikes and play with their friends like I had done growing up.

- "Dada!!"- Raven ran to Spencer as soon as I opened the front door, carrying Vincent and the groceries with me.

- "Birdy! Look at you!"- he held her in his arms and lifted her from the ground, kissing her cheeks and wrapping his arms around her. - "I missed you, Raven."

- "Missed you too, dada"

- "Guess you were just asking for you."- Spencer rushed to me and grabbed the baby carrier with baby Vinny in it from my hands and kissed my lips, still carrying Raven in his arms. He was literally holding his entire family at the same time.

- "Welcome home."- I whispered and hummed against his lips as I felt him smile.

- "Where is my beautiful granddaughter?"- Diana's voice took us back to reality. Raven nearly jumped from Spencer's arms and ran to Diana.

- "Memaw!!"

- "Raven Marie Reid, when did you get so tall? You are the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen!"- I smiled as I looked at the sweet scene in front of me. Diana kissed our daughter's cheek and turned to me with one bright smile that slowly turned into a frown.

- "I'm so happy to see you again Diana."- I said with a big smile before I noticed how bad things were going.

- "Whose baby is that?"- she pointed at Vincent with harsh eyes.- "Did you have another baby and never told me? Why are you excluding me?"

- "Mom, mom"- Spencer took a step closer to Diana and softly moved Raven out of the way.- "This is Vincent Spencer Reid, our baby. You've met him before. We actually went on a trip together."

- "Don't try to play me for a fool, Spencer. I had never seen that baby before!"- I moved my arm and grabbed Raven's hand as she looked at the scene unfolding in front of her in pure confusion.

- "Come on Birdy, memaw is tired from the trip. Let's go to your room and play for a while before we make dinner."- she didn't question me, which I will always be thankful for. I walked with her and Vinny and left Spencer alone with his mother, to help her clear her head. If it was even possible.

That brief moment was the first approach to how difficult the following weeks were going to get.

Spencer's point of view

Dealing with my mother was harder than I imagined. And I had imagined the worst. The first night she didn't recognize Vincent and for a solid hour, she argued I had been lying and keeping her in the dark about my family 'cos I was ashamed of her. Ashamed as the time I had put her away in the mental facility when I was eighteen.

And it didn't get easier from there.

While I was away, (Y/N) interviewed some caretakers and selected three. The first one I hired lasted one morning and left before I could even leave the house to get some groceries. She claimed my mother was impossible, and that she couldn't help her. It didn't matter how much I begged and promised she would be good, that poor woman stormed out of the apartment and never looked back.

The second one lasted two days. I was hopeful and even decided to return to work. That morning, Mom looked great. The caretaker arrived and we left to drop the kids at daycare and then drove to work. Me and my wife felt hopeful things were going to work out. We were trying our best, of course, things had to go well.

- "I'm gonna get you a nice cup of coffee."- (Y/N) said as soon as she left her things on her desk, right in front of mine. - "I missed having you here."

- "Trust me, I missed the sight from my desk the most."- I held her hand and stole a small peck from her lips before she walked to the kitchenette, smiling and blushing. I followed her with my eyes for a few seconds before I started unpacking my bag.

- "Hey! Welcome back!"- JJ's voice took me from my task. She sounded happy to see me as I turned around and gave her a bone-crushing hug.

- "I missed you so much!"- I said with a big smile and then turned to her companion. - "You must be Walker"

- "It's great to finally meet you"- he said with a warm smile- "Your wife and the team talk so much about you, Dr. Reid."

- "Please, just call me Spencer. And it's great to finally meet you too, I've heard nothing but wonderful things from you. (Y/N) told me how much of a great addition to the team you've been."- I turned to look at my wife, who was still in the kitchenette, now talking with Anderson.

- "Speaking of wonderful things, how is your mom doing?"

- "She is ok, you know. We have good days and bad days."

- "So, are you still going to Houston to visit her on the weekends?"- but before I could explain there was no need for me to do that anymore, 'cos she was living with us, my cell phone rang.

- "Excuse me"- I said to JJ as I quickly picked up.- "Dr. Reid here."

- "Dr Reid, I need you to come back home! Your mother flooded the entire apartment!"

- "What?"

- "She keeps saying I'm spying on you, and she is locked in the bathroom!"

- "All right, stay there. I'll be right..."

- "Please hurry!"

- "I'm on my way, ok? Thanks."- I didn't even turn to JJ or Stephen, I just mumbled "Sorry, guys, I have to go," as I ran to my wife and grabbed her arm.- "There's an emergency and I have to go home."

- "What happened?"- her eyes were wide opened in a second, alarmed

- "Mom flooded the apartment. The caretaker called me."

- "I'm coming with you!"- but before she could start walking to her desk to grab her thighs, I held her hand and stopped her.

- "No, chipmunk. I'll take care of this.

- "Shit! Take the car!"- she ran to her purse and brought me the keys.- "And if anyone asks, I'll tell them a pipe broke in our apartment, ok?"- I nodded as I felt her hands on my face and her lips on mine, for a short second.

- "Love you."

- "Me too"- she whispered and smiled as I started running again, making my way back home.

The entire place was a disaster. I had to talk with our downstairs neighbors and compromise on paying for any flood damage in their place. The caretaker quit, arguing my mom had threatened to kill her. And my mother had a crisis. I don't think I had ever seen her act that way. She wasn't herself anymore. Clearly, no med was helping her.

- "Is she gone?"- Mom rushed out of the room, almost hyperventilating.

- "Mom, what did you say to her?"

- "She was trying to get information from me. Kept asking questions!"- the way mom slammed our front door and stood against it, like stopping anyone from entering the place (though I knew no one was trying to do it) was... not the worst that happened that day.

- "Of course she was. She's supposed to!"- it was ten in the morning, and I was already losing my patience.

- "I told you to be careful about the people you bring into this house. There are spies everywhere!"- I sighed as I stood in front of her, trying to calm myself down.

- "She's not a spy. She was here to help you."

- "Shh! She might still be out there listening."- she whispered, nearly in tears. She was worse than dealing with my kids, and she was my mother. I had to take several deep breaths to stop me from yelling- "Don't ever let her come back in here again, please. Promise me!"

- "I will promise you that because she is never coming back! She walked out!"- and even though I tried, I ended up screaming anyway, 'cos after a few days, my mom was already driving me crazy.

- "Good. Because we can only trust each other now. Nobody else. Just you and me."

I stared at my mother as she opened the door and peeked out to the hall, to make sure no one was there, spying on us. I already knew delusions may occur in middle- to late-stage Alzheimer's. Confusion and memory loss can contribute to these untrue beliefs, but one thing is knowing the theory and another very different is dealing with your mother in that state.

(Y/N) and I had talked about what to do in that kind of situation. How to handle a crisis. I knew I didn't have to take offense. I had to listen to and try to understand Mom's reality. Never argue or try to convince her. Instead, I had to acknowledge her opinions. But at that minute, all I could think of was "What am I putting my children and my wife through?"

Saying that things were going to be harder than I thought was an understatement. Apparently, I had been in the dark about how bad things were getting for her Alzheimer's... or I had been in denial for a very long time. The second option was more likely the correct answer, though I didn't want to recognize it.

But as they say, denial is not only a river in Egypt. Back then I was sure I could help cure my mother's disease one way or another. I just needed to put my mind to it. I had already gone to the extreme with this thought. Bringing my mother home, going behind my wife's back, and traveling to Mexico with my personal passport instead of my FBI documents to get her some alternative medicine. I was all over the place, and it was showing.

Mom went to her room and I continued cleaning the water mess in our living room. Some of my books were ruined, and some of the kid's toys were all wet. It was overall, a massive chaos I didn't want my wife to witness. And yet, I knew keeping it from her was way worse.

- "Hey honey. How are things going back home?"- (Y/N)'s sweet voice on the other side of the line made me relax my shoulder muscles immediately, almost in relief.

- "It's..."- I looked around and sighed- "It's bad."

- "How bad?"

- "Andrea, the caretaker, quit as soon as I got here."

- "At least she waited for you to get there."- my wife whispered, trying to make me smile, I think.

- "She was the third to leave us in a week."

- "We just haven't found the right one."

- "Stop being so positive, please."

- "What do you want me to say, honey? "Take your mom back to Hustoun?" No way! We are doing all we can to help her! We knew this wasn't going to be easy, and she is just settling in."- my wife paused and sighed.- "Shit, JJ heard me."

- "Where are you?"

- "On the jet. We are going to Tampa."

- "Oh shit, we've got a case."- I rubbed my hand against my face, thinking I was failing the team and my family at the same time.

- "We do."

- "Ok, can I be on speaker during the briefing?"

- "Turn on the computer, I'll have you patch in on video call with Garcia."

- "Thank you, ma cherie."

- "I miss you."- she whispered and my lips curled up in a tiny smile as soon as I heard her.

- "Me more."- I replied in a lower voice and took a deep breath.

- "Me most. But right now, by the way, JJ is looking at me, I'm guessing I have to explain to the team what is going on back home."

- "Ok chipmunk. I'll be here, waiting for the briefing. Love you."

- "Love you too. Take good care of Diana."

As soon as I picked down the phone, the anxiety kicked in again. That whole day, my entire body didn't seem to relax. I was on edge. My mother stepped from one emotion to another. Each time I talked to her, I didn't know who I was going to deal with. Before I took the call from work for the briefing, she reappeared in the living room and apologized for making that mess.

- "Your books are ruined. And the kid's toys too.."

- "It's ok."

- "No it's not. That's not the grandma I wanted to be for them." - she sighed, holding Raven's soaking teddy in her hands. It broke my heart 'cause I knew she hadn't done it on purpose.

- "You want to maybe lie down for a little while and get some rest?

- "Yes, that's a good idea, honey. I need rest."

But an hour later, when she came back from her nap she was absolutely lost and angry. She didn't recognize her own scrapbook. The one she started in high school. Her eyes were fearful and angry, and her hands kept shaking. She knew who I was, but didn't trust me completely. It was so painful I did the only thing I could think of.

- "It's time for your medicine."- and by medicine, I meant the experimental drugs I had gotten in Mexico behind my wife's back from a doctor I met in Houston, named Nadine Ramos.

- "No. No. It tastes terrible. What if it's poison?"- Mom started arguing right away, and I had to hold both her hands to try to calm her down.

- "Mom, it's not poison. Remember when you first started taking it in Texas? It helped. You felt so good that we were able to go on that trip to San Antonio."- she just stared at me, with a blank expression on her face. I used my softest voice, to try and help her calm down.- "It's not poison. Just wait right here."- I added and walked quickly to my and (Y/N)'s room. I had hidden the bottles in a sock in my drawer, which was clearly a sign I was doing something wrong by keeping it a secret. I added three drops to a glass of orange juice and gave it to her. Mom just stared at me, suspicious. Like I would poison her.

- "Are you going to stand there and watch me?"- she asked seriously

- "Yes."- I replied and smiled at her, 'cos there was a part of it all that was funny. My grown-up mother acted exactly like my four-year-old daughter would. She drank the whole glass, looking disgusted by it, and then opened her mouth to show me she had swallowed it all.

- "You don't have to do that."- I almost chuckled as she did, but then, she broke my heart.

- "Of course I do. I have to do whatever you want."- and just like that, she locked herself in her room again.

While she was away working on a case, (Y/N) called the agency and managed to get another caretaker to come home for an interview with me for the position. Of course, my mother was a complete disaster around her, threw a tantrum and left, slamming the door behind her back as she left me talking on my own.

Luckily, nurse Cassie Cambel was an angel, and decided to take the position and help us with my mother despite the awful first impression mom made. She was aware of how challenging things were and didn't hesitate. She even said she would get someone to take the night shifts. She gave me hope. I called my wife as soon as she was gone and gave her the good news. Then worked the case for a while and talked to the team, because no matter what was happening at home, we were still trying to catch a serial killer.

And it was all good for a good hour until I realized there was something odd going on, Mom had been quiet for too long. That's always a bad sign with the kids, and I figured it was also a bad sign with my mother.

When I finally found her, locked in our ensuite bathroom, she was throwing the medicine I had struggled to get in Mexico for her.

- "Mom, don't do that! Don't do that! Stop that!"- I nearly jumped and tried to take the bottles from her hands, but the liquid was mostly gone.

- "Leave me alone! Stop, stop! Give it back to me! Ohh!"- Mom was yelling and fighting as if her life was in danger. I fought to stop her, but it was useless. We ended up fighting for them on the bathroom floor. I didn't want to hurt her, but she kept holding onto those glass bottles and screaming. She finally gave up but stood up and ran to the door, trying to escape our apartment. I followed her and stopped her by the door. I grabbed her waist and then her wrist, trying to make some sense of what was happening.

- "Mom! Why did you do that? Why?!"

- "I hate that stuff! And I hate you!"- she yelled with so much anger that if I didn't know how sick she was, I would have been brokenhearted.

- "Do you have any idea what I went through to get that medicine, Mom?"- I yelled at her with the same amount of anger for a second, but I did my best to gather myself and try to talk to her in a softer tone. - "It can't be replaced. Do you realize that?"

- "Good! I want to go back home!"- she yelled as tears of desperation started falling from her eyes

- "This is home!"

- "No, it isn't! I want to go back to where I was before!"- she pleaded, like a little girl

- "You said you hated Houston!"- I screamed, frustrated by the entire conversation.

- "No, I want to go back to where I was before before! Before!"- she let go of my hands aggressively and slapped me right on the cheek. She stared at me with such anger, that I knew she wasn't herself. Still, it hurt. She raised her hand to hit me again and I stayed still, not arguing, not fighting back. Leaving my cheek right there, so she could hit me one more time, and all the times she'd like.

Some things never change. Especially the bad ones, I guess. When I was a kid, I had grown used to her episodes. How she sometimes hurt me. I knew she didn't mean to, so I never held any hard feelings against her. But it was a painful flashback of my childhood. One I didn't want my kids to grow up with.

During our fight, I managed to save one tiny bottle of medicine. One wasn't going to help much, which meant I had to get more. I didn't know if that medicine was actually helping her. I didn't know what could. The fact was, I was desperate and I would have done anything to help bring my mother back to herself.

If that had happened a few years earlier, when I was still single, still living on my own, I would have flown to Mexico in the blink of an eye, no questions asked. But at that moment, "anything" had some limits. And those limits came with my wife and my two kids. I had to think carefully about what I was going to do next. 'Cos I couldn't hurt them.

My phone buzzed on the table and I sighed. We were still working on a case, and I had to focus. But I was wronged. It wasn't case-related. It was JJ.

- "I'm here whenever you need someone to talk to."- I read those words and replied "Thank you" text and stared at her words on the screen for a little while. I knew things hadn't been easy in the last few years, but it felt so good to have a friend like JJ and a family in the BAU. At least we weren't alone. I knew my wife was with them and they were going to support and comfort her. Us. They got our backs.

- "Well, that was just what I needed."- my mother's voice took me from my thoughts. She walked out of the hall and smiled at me. I looked at her, confused from the dining room table, where I was trying to get some work done.

- "Uhmm..."

- "My nap. It really did the trick."- she explained and gasped, standing next to a couch. - "Oh, my goodness. My scrapbook. Oh, I've been keeping this since I don't know when. I have no idea how it got here.

I just stared at her in silence. She seemed to be herself. She knew who I was, and where she was and even got excited to see her old scrapbook. Was it the medicine? Was it the nap? What made that change?

- "Ohh, honey. What did you do to your face? It's all red."- and she had no recall of what had happened

- "Probably bumped into something."- I used the same old excuse I always used when she noticed any bruises on me growing up.

- "Oh, you need to be more careful. It's really awful."- she carefully touched my face as she sweetly smiled, and stood in front of me, holding her scrapbook close.

- "I will."- I whispered

- "You know, you always were so clumsy. Smart as a whip. But I used to call you Crash. You were always bumping into things."- mom told me the story of how I hid how much she hurt me from her, and walked to the closest couch. I stared at her, trying to understand why this was happening to her, and how I could stop it. What was the use of being so smart if I couldn't help my own mother?

- "Honey, what is this?"- she asked after a few minutes in silence.

- "Oh, it's a ticket stub."- I said as I sat next to her on the sofa arm

- "What is that?"

- "A ticket stub? When you go to a concert or a movie you get a ticket so they'll let you in. (Y/N) has a large collection with all the ticket stubs of the shows she has been to."

- "Maybe I could help her make a scrapbook with those."- Mom suggested and smiled at me- "She is so sweet, letting me stay here with you and the kids."

- "I'm sure she'd like that."- I replied and kissed the top of her head. She turned the page and kept staring at her memories.

- "You saw Elvis in concert?"- I asked her, surprised. That sounded like a good story I had never heard.

- "I don't know. I did many things when I was young."- she simply replied. - "Who is he?"

- "Elvis Presley."- I explained, disappointed that her memory was failing again. - "He's a very famous rock and roll singer."- all her memories were fading and I couldn't stop it even if I tried. What a failure of a genius son.

- "Ah! Oh, my gosh!"- she got incredibly excited all of a sudden and pointed at the cutting of a tightrope walker with something glued to it. - "I'd almost forgotten about this!"

- "What is that?"- her excitement made me smile, I hadn't seen my mother that happy the entire day.

- "When you were a little boy, I took you to the circus, and after that, all you could talk about was that you wanted to be a tightrope walker when you grew up."- that story didn't ring any bell in my head.

- "I thought I wanted to be a magician."

- "You did. That was later. This was first."

- "Really? I don't remember that at all."- was she making it up? Was it real? I wanted to think she knew exactly what she was talking about.

- "Oh, no wonder. You were no more than 3 or 4!"

- "What's on its head?"- I asked her, pointing at the scrap. And she just laughed.

- "It's you!"

- "That's me?"- I moved to take a closer look, and yes, it was a tiny picture of me, glued to the clipping.

- "Yes. You glued that on there yourself."

- "Why did I do that?"

- "Well, here."- Mom grabbed my hand and showed me my wrist. - "See this little scar right there on your wrist? That's from when you fell when you were trying to balance on our backyard fence. You were so determined to make it the whole way. And I'll never forget looking out the kitchen window, watching you out there as you were trying to make a balancing pole from a broomstick. Calculating how long it should be and making adjustments. My little budding genius."

Mom caressed my arm as she told me that story, and it warmed my heart hearing her telling it in so much detail as she could actually see me. And the fact she had said the words "I'll never forget" as if it was some kind of promise. Like she could decide which memories she could keep and which ones to let go.

- "Did I ever make it?"- I asked her, I needed to know more about that story.

- "No. And you were heartbroken. You see, the problem was, you were so smart, you were so brilliant, you really believed that you could solve anything if you just put your brain into it. But that tightrope... No, you just couldn't figure that out. But you were meant for bigger things, Spencer. Now, how do you tell that to a 4-year-old boy?"

How could I tell that to my 35-year-old self? There are things I can't figure out, no matter how smart. Maybe I should have made my peace with that thought earlier.

Later that night, I brought my mom a cup of tea when she was already in bed. And she didn't know who I was. I didn't know how I was going to do it. Help her and keep my own mental sanity in the process. How much should I tell my wife? She was going to find out anyway, no questions asked. I shouldn't keep her in the dark, life had shown me that had always been the wrong path to follow.

I don't know what time it was when I felt (Y/N)'s hand on my arm. I had fallen asleep on a rocking chair close to the bed and had tied one end of a scarf on mom's wrist and the other to mine, so I would know if she moved. My wife smiled at me and leaned in to kiss my cheek.

- "Welcome home."- I whispered and caressed her cheek. - "I missed you."

- "Me too, hon..."- she hummed and kissed me one more time. - "Wanna have a cup of tea and tell me about your day?"

- "Why don't you get some rest first? You are just getting home..."- I whispered and untied the scarf from my wrist to walk her out of the room. - "Where are the kids?"

- "I asked my mom to take care of them for the night. I was coming late and I didn't want to take them out in the middle of the night."

- "That was a good choice."

- "So, how was your day? And be honest."- my wife stood in front of me and I just sighed.

- "It was... challenging."

- "You can give me the real version, Spencer Walter Reid, I can take it."- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as she stood in front of me, in the middle of the hall. I tried to find the right words to explain to my wife about my day. But as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, I broke down into tears and fell into her arms. 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

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[etherealeowyn]

"It's going to be okay" - Elrond (Rings of Power) x Fem Reader

When taking a walk in the woods surrounding Eregion, Elrond and Y/n come face to face with danger.

Angst + Fluff

Word Count: 863

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

As the sun regressed behind the dark, billowy clouds, the once-vibrant hues that decorated the lands appeared dull. Everything was still, unnaturally still. It was bizarre for a riparian environment, such as the one the elves were occupying, to be so devoid of life. The birds were not chirping, and Elrond noted there wasn’t a single fish that could be seen in the river as they had followed it to their destination.

“Something is off,” Elrond spoke, turning his head towards Y/n. “I’m sure of it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she responded uneasily while moving closer to him.

Just when those words had escaped her lips, the heavens decided to open and drops of rain began to fall upon Middle Earth. Briefly, they stopped in their tracks and gazed up at the overcast sky, feeling the sensation of the cold droplets hitting their faces. Elrond gently pulled Y/n’s cloak over her head, preventing her hair from getting soaked, before raising one of his hands and wiping the water off her face with the pad of his thumb.

Interrupting the moment, the cacophonous cawing of a crow cut through the silence, making Y/n tense up and stare at Elrond with worry prominent in her eyes. Similarly, he looked at her, both aware the crow was a sign that orcs would be there sooner than they would like.

Distorted voices began to sound from the tree line, and an arrow whistled past the couple, lodging itself in one of the oaks behind Elrond. He didn’t get the chance to say anything to Y/n, rather he just grabbed her hand and began to run with her through the forest. She didn’t hesitate to follow Elrond’s lead, for she trusted him with her entire being, and she knew he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. Y/n would certainly do the same for him, though her skills with the blade were considerably worse than his.

Suddenly they stopped, and Elrond pulled her underneath a fallen tree that he prayed would be completely and utterly invisible to the orc’s eyes. He grabbed his sword and tightly gripped it, desperately hoping that the orcs wouldn’t get close enough where he would be forced to use it. Elrond attempted to push away the guilt that was currently rising within him, when he had first embarked on this walk with Y/n, it didn’t even cross his mind that they would come face to face with danger.

Though she was filled to the brim with fear, she knew good and well that the more afraid she appeared to Elrond, the worse he would feel about the situation. The last thing that Y/n wanted was to be the reason why his mind was clouded and unable to function to the best of its ability in the case of an attack.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, reassuringly placing her hand on Elrond’s thigh.

“Yes, it will,” he responded, his voice sounding shakier than he had planned.

She grabbed his free hand and began to rub it with her thumb, and she could see the elf become visibly less tense. Y/n didn’t say anything else, fearful words would only worsen the situation. Plus, she didn’t want any orcs to hear them and find their location.

A mixture of harsh voices and footsteps could be heard semi-close to where the pair were hiding, and neither made a single sound. Even their breaths taken were hushed fearing that the orcs' ears would be attentive enough to find where they were even from that slight sound.

Elrond watched as Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, blocking the unfolding situation from reaching her. Instead of closing his eyes, he stared at her, tracing every inch of her face with his grey eyes, knowing that it was the best distraction in Middle Earth.

When the rustling of leaves and other things around them had stopped, Elrond figured that the orcs had left, but just in case they were still close, the pair sat under that fallen tree for about an hour. Verbally they didn’t say anything, but the way their bodies were pressed against each other said more than words could convey.

When the rain had lightened, Elrond felt as if the coast was clear to try and escape back to the city of Eregion.

“Y/n, it should be safe to head back now. I haven’t heard anything in a while,” he whispered, watching as she opened her eyes, relief replacing the fear that was once hidden within them.

She nodded in response, still nervous to speak, since they weren’t certain that all the orcs had retreated from the area.

Elrond got up and scanned the tree line around them, not seeing anything unusual. He let out a sigh of relief before stretching his hand towards Y/n, who immediately took it and let him pull her to her feet.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his body, nestling her head into the crook of his neck, deeply thankful for all he had done for her. He returned the hug, letting some guilt he carried dissipate now that they had made it through the worst of the situation.

[ramblinscramblin]

How would the mercs.. let's say – Demo, Snipes & Engineer act if they are father's? Your writing is really good!!

→Mercs as fathers!

Genre: fluff

Characters: Sniper, Demoman, Engineer

Hi anon! I wrote for a prompt pretty similar to this, so you can check that out too if it interests you! That being said I will still drop a few headcanons here! Enjoyyy!

Sniper

Sniper had a relatively good upbringing, so he is well adjusted enough to make a good father.

Still pretty anxious that he’s doing everything wrong.

Is honestly just afraid that his kid will turn out to be antisocial like him and be outcast, he prompts them to get involved in extracurricular activities often. Won’t force them though.

Sniper is very supportive of his kids, if they have some strange fixation/interest he will do anything to make sure they can continue with it. Will also try and get into it himself so he can bond with his kids.

Most of his fatherly love is shared in quality time, he likes to spend most of his hours with his kids even in silence, he just loves them so much.

Protective papa bear, this much we know.

Doesn’t let his kids around the other mercs, thinks their crazy will rub off on them.

Engineer

As I have said before I think he would make a really great dad.

Teaches his kids very hands on life skills, they must know how to fix a car at least.

Likes cooking them breakfast in the morning, as I feel like bacon and eggs is like one of the only things he can actually successfully cook.

Supportive, doesn’t really care about anything so long as his kids are happy and safe.

Likes to have his kids with him while he works, it’s important quality time for him and it keeps him from getting too sucked into what he’s working on.

All the other mercs become what is essentially uncles to his kids, he brings them around semi often. He understands it’s dangerous work though so he doesn’t let them get too involved.

He loves it if his kids turn out to be very artistic, might try and teach them all music, wants them to try at least one instrument for a year to see if they like it.

He’s got this father thing down.

Demoman

He’s got a lot of issues to work out before he can become a father.

I do feel like being a dad would really put his life in order though, he would definitely drink a lot less. He doesn’t want his kids to be an all messed up from having a drunk dad.

Wants his kids to feel connected to their Scottish roots, frequent visits to keep them immersed in the culture.

They spend a lot of time with grandma, she absolutely adore them to the moon and back, Tavish has to fight her at the end of the night to get them back. They often whine because they want to stay with grandma.

Demoman likewise keeps the other mercs in his children’s lives, he genuinely believes them to be good role models. Well most of them anyways.

Is the super playful dad, think Bandit Heeler from Bluey. Will go to insane lengths to make sure his kids are having fun, even at the risk of embarrassing himself.

Urges his kids to be involved in some kind of sport or extracurricular, he wants them to have structure.

Can’t cook for shit, so he takes them to diners and restaurants frequently. They love it though so there’s no harm, it’s good quality time.

His kids are rambunctious but so is he, so he’s got this.

Thanks for your request! Short and sweet, I love these guys so mucchhh.

[wildskissed]

HOW ARE YOU RUINED?

ruined by loneliness

you are so lonely. you are miserable in your solitude. you hate that you cannot bring yourself to reach out, to ask for help. you will be forgotten by all who never knew you. your biggest fear is that you will die alone, and you know this fear will be seen to fruition. you refuse to extend yourself beyond the box that others put you in. and it is a box that no one dare come near. you are lonely because you are afraid of yourself.

tagged by: @galefcrce & @alittlebitofmuse tagging: @emeraldruid, @shadovan, @miidnighters, @arcanecast, @dxnse-macabre, @luposcainus, @fereldensheroes, @altrxisme, @wolf-eyes-wolf-soul, @lunespariah, @taleswritten, & YOU. Consider yourself tagged if you wanna do it.

[thewatcher727]

Writing Description Notes: Voice/Tone

Updated 26th May 2024 More description notes

His voice drifted into her ears like a soft melody.

A giggle slipped out of her lips.

He had his hands cupped around his mouth, trying to amplify his voice however he could.

The words broke through her thoughts like a knife, cutting a path where before there was none.

His voice was laced with concern.

Her voice lifted at the end to signify the question.

A few very colorful expletives leapt to the forefront of John’s tongue but he knew speaking them would end the conversation.

In spite of his insipid words, John’s voice was free of malice.

He noted the way she carried herself in her voice. While she had grown far more comfortable with others, Jane still carried her loyal lineage proudly.

As if offended by the words.

A sing-song lilt entered her tone.

She cursed the confusion in her voice

As much as the towel kneaded at his ears, the sympathy pouring from Jane’s every word stayed unfailingly clear.

His voice was dangerously calm.

The smaller man finally decided to say, hesitant sycophancy in his voice.

His voice dropped an octave lower.

The voice did not enter through Jane’s ears but arrived directly in her head

The voices raised up as if on ever spread wings.

Her pitch was soft, but there was no mistaking the bitterness and emotion behind those words.

His words flowed like a gentle stream, soothing her troubled mind.

He spoke with the authority of a seasoned leader, every word carrying weight and importance.

A hint of mischief colored his tone, as if he had a secret to share.

Her voice was like a warm embrace, offering comfort in times of need.

A shiver ran down her spine as his voice took on an eerie, otherworldly quality.

She spoke with a measured, deliberate cadence, every word carefully chosen.

His voice was as smooth as silk, effortlessly persuasive.

Her words dripped with sarcasm, a sharp and cutting edge to her tone.

He muttered under his breath, the words barely audible but heavy with frustration.

The tension in the room was palpable, and their voices reflected it, strained and on edge.

They spoke in hushed tones, as if afraid to be overheard.

His voice carried a sense of resignation, as if he had accepted his fate.

She sang her words, the melody of her voice enchanting those who listened.

[parracosms]

Tag Dump 3

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

! ── BABY DADDY!JASON TODD who can't come around more than once or twice a year. His way of life isn't sustainable for a home, and it certainly isn't safe for a daughter. You and him decided it was best to part ways before that positive pregnancy test, and since he discovered a kid he helped make it didn't change his level of involvement. He's got a lot of eyes on him, and he can't draw attention to anything important to him.

! ── Your daughter adores him. She squeals with delight every time he visits, running full barrel towards him so he can scoop her up. Unbeknownst to her your concern with how he found you again, and how he broke in to the apartment. Apparently running and hiding is not enough when you face the Red Hood. You reluctantly greet him with a half-assed kiss on the cheek, wrapping your arm around his neck to incline him towards you. Your daughter on his hip takes full advantage of hugging you both at the same time, and pressed against your former lover makes you tight-lipped.

! ── He's dangerous for a number of reasons that span beyond what any angry enemy of his would do if they found out where he's been going. You're most afraid of what he's able to make you do the longer you're with him. Only able to hold onto your anger for so long until he melts that cold exterior and somehow convinces you to let him warm your bed again.

! ── He's got it down to a science. As soon as you give him that scathing look, he tells your daughter to run along because "Mommy and Daddy have to talk." while she thoughtfully strokes his chin with her little hand, only to nod with an audible sigh, shaking out her wild hair she won't let you brush. With a little push to her back, she scampers off to her room and he stands to his full height. "I just wanted to see her." he tells you, with that pleading tone you've fallen for countlessly because he knows you're going to say: "It's not safe." for the thousandth time.

! ── He'll tower over you, incline towards you while you scold him under your breath. A hushed argument ensues that your daughter tries to listen in on, and can only hear bits and pieces about how she's not owned, and her dad should get to see her. Stuff she doesn't understand, especially because she can't understand his lack of presence being such a complicated thing when she has no sense of object permanence. If a dad refuses to be there more, it's a problem. You want to cut Jason out completely. That's not fair, as he'll tell you, to the daughter you get to keep.

! ── It's in the way he stands next to you. He's so much taller than you, broader, and muscled. He bulks up more and more every time you see him. He doesn't use his size to intimidate you, rather takes advantage of something else. Big hands stuffed in his back pockets make his leather jacket sit on his wide shoulders exquisitely. His hair is windblown from his motorbike and just the smell of him has a dangerous Pavlov effect on you. Like your eyes want to flutter as they roll into the back of your head and lightning shoots straight down to your core, stinging at the memory of what it's like to be filled by him. The longer you're with him, the thinner your resolve becomes. It evaporates in front of you as he sweeps a hand through his hair, and his posture slacks. "C'mon." he drags out the word playfully, advancing on you. Your hand interrupts him, bracing on his firm chest to keep him from coming closer. "Can't we talk about something else? You're getting me all worked up. Missed you."

You roll your jaw, that resolve slipping. Addicted to him, you're reticent as his tongue darts out to wet his lips while he's eyeing yours. "Jay..." you murmur, and he can hear the defeat in your voice.

! ── "Lucky we got a sitter, huh?" Jason's smug voice cuts through the wet sounds of sex that fills the room. "Now I get some time with my other little girl." That sick delight causes you to reach back, weakly banging your fist against his thigh. He snickers, wolfish and husky resounding from the back of his throat. "Mommy's been missing me, huh? Can feel her clenching down on me like a fuckin' vice."

His thick cock hurts stretching you out, but you needed that pain. There's something about Jason that keeps you saying yes, and it pushed through your requirement of foreplay, unbuckling that belt in haste, comfort be damned you wanted that dick. You're on all fours and he's giving it to you from the back, just how you like it, fucking you like a dog while his hand tangles all up in your hair. He yanks you back by it, and you can't even think of what to say other than mindless pleasured babbles.

"You let me do this every time I come over. Seems like you fuck with me or something." It's true, regardless of the cruel insults you've thrown at him to get him to stay away from you, it's all because you can't say no to him. It's the reason you got pregnant, it's the reason you can't run away far enough, and it's the reason you fuck him every time he comes to visit the kid he helped make.

[ghelgheli]

In contrast with professional drag queens, who were only playing at being women onstage, [Esther] Newton learned that the very bottom of the gay social hierarchy was the province of street queens. In almost total contrast to professional queens, street queens were "the underclass of the gay world." Although they embraced effeminacy, too, they did so in the wrong place and for the wrong reason: in public and outside of professional work. As a result, Newton explained, the street queens "are never off stage. Their way of life is collective, illegal, and immediate." Because they didn't get paid to be feminine and were locked out of even the most menial of nightlife jobs, Newton observed that their lives were perceived to revolve around "confrontation, prostitution, and drug 'highs'." Even in a gay underworld where everyone was marked as deviant, it was the sincere street queens who tried to live as women who were punished most for what was celebrated-and paid-as an act onstage. When stage queens lost their jobs, they were often socially excluded like trans women. Newton explained that when she returned to Kansas City one night during her fieldwork, she learned that two poor queens she had met had recently lost their jobs as impersonators. Since then, they had become "indistinguishable from street fairies," growing out their hair long and wearing makeup in public-even "passing" as girls in certain situations," in addition to earning a reputation for taking pills. They were now treated harshly by everyone in the local scene. Most people wouldn't even speak to them in public. Professional drag queens who didn't live as women still had to avoid being seen as too "transy" in their style and demeanor. One professional queen that Newton interviewed explained why: it was dangerous to be transy because it reinforced the stigma of effeminacy without the safety of being onstage. "I think what you do in your bed is your business," he told Newton, echoing a middle-class understanding of gay privacy, "[but] what you do on the street is everybody's business."

The first street queen who appears in Mother Camp is named Lola, a young Black trans girl who is "becoming a woman,' as they say'." Newton met Lola at her dingy Kansas City apartment, where she lived with Tiger, a young gay man, and Godiva, a somewhat more respectable queen. What made Godiva more respectable than Lola wasn't just a lack of hormonal transition. It was that Godiva could work as a female impersonator because she wasn't trying to sincerely live as a woman. Lola, on the other hand, was permanently out of work because being Black and trans made her unhireable, including in female impersonation. When Newton entered their apartment, which had virtually no furniture, she found Lola lying on "a rumpled-up mattress on the floor" and entertaining three "very rough-looking young men." These kinds of apartments, wrote Newton, "are not 'homes.' They are places to come in off the street." The extremely poor trans women who lived as street queens, like Lola, "literally live outside the law," Newton explained. Violence and assault were their everyday experiences, drugs were omnipresent, and sex work was about the only work they could do. Even if they didn't have "homes," street queens "do live in the police system."

As a result of being policed and ostracized by their own gay peers, Newton felt that street queens were "dedicated to "staying out of it" as a way of life. "From their perspective, all of respectable society seems square, distant, and hypocritical. From their 'place' at the very bottom of the moral and status structure, they are in a strategic position to experience the numerous discrepancies between the ideals of American culture and the realities." Yet, however withdrawn or strung out they were perceived to be, the street queens were hardly afraid to act. On the contrary, they were regarded by many as the bravest and most combative in the gay world. In the summer of 1966, street queens in San Francisco fought back at Compton's Cafeteria, an all-night venue popular with sex workers and other poor gay people. After management had called the police on a table that was hanging out for hours ordering nothing but coffee, an officer grabbed the arm of one street queen. As the historian Susan Stryker recounts, that queen threw her coffee in the police officer's face, "and a melee erupted." As the queens led the patrons in throwing everything on their tables at the cops-who called for backup-a full-blown riot erupted onto the street. The queens beat the police with their purses "and kicked them with their high-heeled shoes." A similar incident was documented in 1959, when drag queens fought back against the police at Cooper's Donuts in Los Angeles by throwing donuts-and punches. How many more, unrecorded, times street queens fought back is anyone's guess. The most famous event came in 1969, when street queens led the Stonewall rebellion in New York City. Newton shares in Mother Camp that she wasn't surprised to learn it was the street queens who carried Stonewall. "Street fairies," she wrote, "have nothing to lose."

Jules Gill-Peterson, A Short History of Trans Misogyny

[fortunekookie07]

Are requests open? May I request a sylus x wife reader (not the mc) where she is afraid of him and feels like he doesn’t love her cause of his cold and intimidating nature. Then mc arrives and she’s hurt and shocked with how he treats her. Now convinced that he doesn’t love her and hates her she keeps her distance and sits alone everyday on the rooftop. Barely eating anything nor sleeping properly she lost the will and strength to sleep next to him and sleeps on the couch or on the rooftop (after she saw him pin down mc onto the bed ya know that scene) . Even starts to think of packing up and leaving telling herself to “prepare” whenever he divorces her.

But one time she gets kidnapped for bait and injured yet sylus hasn’t come for days so she tells her kidnappers “ it’s a waste of time cause sylus won’t come for me, i mean nothing to him , he was already planning to get rid of me. so you might as well kill me right now and save your breaths.” Not knowing that her husband overheard her when he entered before she passed out due to lack of food and exhaustion.

Did You Ever Love Me?

The day you married Sylus was the happiest day of your life. You had been by his side for 3 years. It wasn't the easy life you had once dreamed of, but this was the reality of the N109 Zone. Nothing was easy, and everything had a price.

You still remembered the day you had first met, what a blood bath that had been. Your family had been one of the most influential in the area. Having long established their authority when it came to weapons dealing. Only supplying top-notch weapons.

From a young age your father had made sure you knew the business, drsminf of having you take over. He taught you everything he knew. From the making of the orders, to quality check, and even materials secured.

That day it was your parents 25th anniversary and a big party was thrown for them. Business partners and friends were all invited to the event.

The only thing your father had not warned you about, was the extensive dangers of the N109 Zone. He'd tried to shield you from just how dirty the world could be.

A rival family had crashed the party with a seemingly endless group of thugs. Before anyone had realized what was going on, gunshots filled the air. People started screaming and running in a desperate attempt to get to safety. Pushing and shoving others out of their way as they went.

A stray bullet hit your arm and blood immediately started pouring from the wound. You grunted as the pain slammed into you and momentarily lost your footing just a another bullet whizzed past the air where your head had been seconds ago.

You heard your father calling your name and pushing through people trying to get to you. You could see your mother sitting on the ground near one of the stairs columns. She was tying a makeshift bandage around someone's leg. Trying to staunch the bleeding.

You felt like your life was running in fast forward as you watched your father continue to push through the crowd and then he suddenly stopped moving as his eyes widened and he looked down. Blood was blooming across the white shirt of his suit and staining the black jacket. In the center of the stain was a hole. You felt sick seing that hole pierced through his chest over his heart.

"Father!" Your scream rang over the gunshots and panic as you tried to run to him. The long him of your dress got stepped on and you fell to the floor landing hard on your side. Pain zipped through your body at the hard smack to the unforgiving marble floor.

You desperately fought to get to your feet as it finally seemed like the crowd was thinning out. Thankfully no one stepped on you or your clothes again. Just as you reached your father the gun shots stopped and the following silence seemed to bring the air of dread.

The scent of blood was strong, making you gag as your stomach heaved. You push the feelings back and reach out to the injury, hands shaking as you try to staunch the blood flow. He grunts with the pressure and his eyes open slightly. You start muttering words but even you don't believe what you are saying.

"It's ok father, we can fix this. I'll get help, the doctor will fix you right up and then everything will be ok." Tears arr pouring down your face as he smiles weakly. He reaches for your face, trying to touch your cheek. Just before his hand can touch you a great force yanks you back.

You scream out at the pain, pulling you scalp. A heavy fist has gripped your hair, yanking the strands hardly and then a voice is in your ear. "I'll blast a hole in your head if you move a muscle." The voice growled near your ear as he tightens his grip on your hair. Your cried our in pain and he just tugged harder, you bit back the second cry as hot tears rolled down your face.

His arm grabbed your hand and forced you to your feet, perking you to face the way he wanted. He kicked the back of your knees forcing you to kneel in front of a man. Tugging your head back as he allowed you to stare at the man clearly responsible for this entire plot.

Fear stuck you as a cold, malicious smile stretched across his heavily scarred face. His eye was like flat steel. No luster or shine to its grey depths. A scar cut through his left eye and down his cheek, going all the way down to his mouth. Burn scars were also intermingled on his face.

His eye itself was an ugly milky color, it held no pupil or iris. On the right side of his face three long jagged scars could be seen stretching from his ear down to his chin. Little tremors went through your body. This man had an overwhelming presence and the sense of evil wrapped around him like a cloak.

"Well, well, well if it isn't the little princess. Your father was careful to hide you away from me. Protecting his biggest weakness. I must say I do admire him for that."

In contrast to his appearance his voice was smooth, a slight rasp clung to his words. Whatever had attacked and scarred him had obviously affected his vocal cords. He worked it to his advantage, speaking in a way that soothed you on the surface. Even if his words were unsettling or foul.

He reached for you, his fingers and thumb just barely brushing your face when a loud caw shattered the silence. With the bird cry black and red mist began pouring into the wide space and the air got heavy. As if gravity itself was pushing down on everyone and everything in the room. The mist covered and hid everything in its path. Blinking you realized you couldn't see the man in front of you.

A deep, suave, sexy voice seemed to come from no where as helped had seemed to arrive. "It seems you did not learn your lesson. I don't mind teaching it to you agiain, Osric." The mist wrapped around him, holding him still. Footsteps tapped across the floor, the occasional sloosh as he stepped in a puddle. Your body shuddered, knowing exactly what liquid he stood in.

It took a few minutes before you realized that the man who had been gripping your hair was no longer touching you, or even anywhere near you.

The mist began swirling into the center of the room, right next to you. Looking into the mist you could just make out a tall silhouette. As rapidly as the mist had spread it was now retreating.

A tall well built man was standing right beside you. Silver hair carefully styled. Red eyes piercing and promising danger. The right one seemed to be glowing.

"You have some guts, touching something of mine, I don't take kindly to thievery. The man, Osric, was hoisted into the air with the mist. He gasped and sputtered clawing at the mist to no avail.

Two men appeared by your side then. One offered his hand, bit you hesitate. Both are wearing black crow masks with subtle red lines on the face of the mask and a red tipped beak. Two red horns poke through the hoods they wear and a gold ring is on one of them. The two are slim and tall, you can tell nothing of their appearance. Clothing and masks make it impossible to discern any identifying features.

The first guy is still holding his hand out to you, he seems neither impatient nor upset that you haven't accepted it yet. Finally seeing no consequence to taking his offered hand you lightly place your palm in his. He gently but firmly grasps your hand and assists you in standing. He let's go after you are steady on your feet and positions himself at your side. The second does the same on your right. Like they are bodyguards.

"Screw you Sylus"! Osric sputters out, still trying to break free of the mist. His fingers are bloody from his efforts to free himself. "Luke, Kieran, see to it that she comes to no harm." The silver haired man says as he squeezes his hand. The mist constricts around Osric further cutting of his air flow completely.

One of the two lightly grabs your arm and spins you around just as a sickening crunch reaches your ears. This kind of thing happened a lot here. Those with power ruled over the weak. It was nothing new.

You had long grown accustomed to the way Sylua dealt with traitors and rats. He did not tolerate disloyalty and gave no second chances.

The events of your parents 25th anniversary party had happened five years ago. You often wondered how your life would have gone if you had never accepted his hand when he gave it. Your father had been supplying weapons to Sylus' organization for years. He'd apparently stuck some kind of deal with Sylus, that had involved your protection.

Sylus had married you, per your father's request and now he owned almost half of your family business. Haven acquired your mother and father's shares. He'd left yours to you.

At first you'd been absolutely terrified of him. His aura radiated danger, almost like he was a living grim reaper. He so often came back to the manor covered in blood. The twins were his direct subordinates. They followed his every command quickly and without hesitation. But at least they had a personality and could provide a sense of calm.

It had taken almost a year before you could approach Sylus without feeling nervous. You hadn't been able to understand your fear of him. He'd posed no restrictions on you, didn't make any ridiculous demands and had never threatened you with harm of any kind.

The turning point had been the day he'd come home injured and concern over his bleeding wounds had overrode the fear. Despite his insistence that he didn't need any first aide treatment, Sylus had not pushed you away or tried to stop you from cleaning his wounds.

After that he began spending time with you and talked to you. Before you knew it you looked forward to when he would come home and just talk to you for awhile. These little gestures and act of kindness had resonated in your heart and little by little you felt yourself falling for him.

He'd granted your request to be touched by him and he spent a night with you. Thinking that he too had given his heart to you, you lived your days believing that he loved you back. That was until she appeared.

In an instant his entire demeanor changed. He made her his top priority. Spending any and all time he had with her. Most nights he didn't even come to your room anymore. His side of the bed was often unspent in.

You hadn't officially met her yet, only seen her in passing. She was beautiful. Long dark hair hung in neat and straight lengths down to her very slender waist. Piercing eyes almost the shade of jade framed by thick dark lashes. She was on the shorter side, even you were taller than she was. This woman held some kind of connection with your husband and the knowledge that your place was very quickly being stripped away gnawed at you from the inside.

Wandering aimlessly through the manor one day you discovered the ladder that lead up to the roof. Even though it was cold outside, you still sat there on the roof. Wondering how long it would be before you were forgotten completely.

Despite the cold and the swirling snow, you dozed off hugging your arms to your sides. What seemed like minutes later you were woken up by a piercing light. The sun was beginning to sting your eyelids, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun's first rays of the day, you tried to sit up straight. Your whole body was numb and cold. It took several minutes to rub feeling back into your fingers.

Carefully moving away from the edge of the roof you stood up. Your legs shook from the movement. Having been in the same position for too long, they had gone to sleep.

You did some light stretches and gradually the shaking and numbing little stings subsided and you felt more sure on your feet.

Finally you made your way to the roof latch, having left it open all night there was a pile of snow at the base of the ladder and it was freezing cold to the touch.

You descended the ladder and walked around the manor. It was quiet, most everyone was asleep at this time. Feeling the desire to see Sylus, you turn around and head to his room. He was usually there at this time. You hesitate at the door. Whenever you'd come to his room he was usually accompanying you.

Just as your about to knock, a voice addresses you from behind. "He's not here, Sylus went out for work. I've been waiting for him to return since last night." Turning around, you see that woman. Feeling angry for a reason you can't quite grasp, you turn around

and storm by her. Purposely bumping into her on the way by. She stumbles but you keep going.

Your sour mood lingers throughout the day killing any appetite oyi might have had. Your wandering leads you back to the roof and you sit in the same spot from the night before.

From your spot on the roof, you can hear his motorcycle approach the manor and you sit their contemplating what to do. Finally after another two hours you head back to his room. When you get there the door is adjacent and you silently push it open. You feel your heart stop.

There on the bed is Sylus on top of her. She's pinned down and it's very obvious what is going on. His naked back is to you and her equally naked leg is wrapped around his waist. Their kiss is intense that you feel your heart break. His hand is twined with hers and pinned above her head. You back away and run down the hall and go to the roof.

Hot tears are streaming down your face as you realized that Sylus had never loved you. He'd just been indulging you for the last several years because you were useful. He could even hate you for all you knew. The one he truly loved was currently tangled with him on his bed.

You feel your heart break further as you realize that with no family or friends you have nothing. You had only ever been useful to Sylus because of you family's business. That was not love and never could be.

You cry yourself to sleep on the roof again, completely defenseless and unaware of the eyes watching you. When you wake up again, there's a dull ache in your head and a ferocious growl in your stomach, but you have no desire to eat or even move.

You sit there watching the stars for what seemed like days. Eventually the sky begins to lighten as the sun begins its ascent across the sky. You continue to sit, even as heavy clouds roll in. Another snowfall is coming, you remembered from the weeks forecast you had read a few days ago. But still you don't move.

It's only when the wind cuts through you, chilling you to the bone that you get up. Once again you rub feeling back into your frozen limbs and head down the ladder. You avoid your room and his. Just the thought of sleeping in a bed you had shared with him makes your stomach turn. Your entire body burns with the feeling if betrayal, but you can neither act on it or alleviate it. The feeling simmers in your stomach driving away the need for food.

Eventually you end up on the couch. The warmth from the fire burning in the hearth slowly warms you up and a drowsy feeling over comes you. Stretching out and pulling the throw down over you, you manage to drift off into a restless sleep.

After what feels like minutes, your body is shaken awake. It's that woman again, hate burns through your veins. You want to tear her apart and rip her to shreds. You glare at everything.

"Hey, the cook said you didn't eat dinner. So I brought you some food" She offers the plate to you. It's all your favorite things. A light fruit salad with beautifully cut fresh fruit and a stack of golden waffles topped with whipped cream and raspberries. Your anger overtakes you and you sit up and shove the plate away from you. She's so surprised at this action that she stumbles back, dropping the plate as she does. The delicate China shatters on the floor as the fruit scattered and the waffles sit there on top of the broken peices.

She looks at you with hurt on her face. "Why did you do that?" She asks just as Sylus enters the room. He looks annoyed at the mess on the floor. Concern overtakes him as he comes closer. Of course none of it is for you, she's the only important one in his eyes. A shard of the plate had bounced of the floor and put a cut on her arm. She had a line of bright red blood blooming out from the slice.

"Did you really think I would accept anything from YOU?" You spit the words at her like venom and stand up. "I know your not so stupid as to be unaware that Sylus is my husband." Your words are as cold as the ice outside. Red blooms across her face as realization strikes her.

You turn to leave the room and just as your about to step into the hall something grabs your arm and yanks you back. Your head whips around and your suddenly face to face with Sylus angry expression.

"She is my guest, you will treat her with respect. Don't lay your hands on her again." You rip your arm from his grasp. "You must think I'm an idiot. She's getting a hell of a lot more than hospitality from you. I owe her NOTHING. She is nothing to me but a sneaky slut that wormed her way into a married man's bed. Both of you disgust me." You storm from the room. As you leave, you take notice of the twins. They are also watching you, but you do not care.

You return to your room and begin to make preparations. You're almost certain now that Sylus hates you. "Divorce is pretty much guaranteed." You say out loud to no one. As you look around the room you realize that nothing in it is truly yours. Everything had been given by Sylus after your marriage. "What a joke I am. I must be the biggest idiot in all of the world. I never should have married him. He was a complete stranger. What a fool!" You kick the dresser in anger, the pain just spurs you on.

After ripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them to the floor your anger had only increased. Grabbing the nearest object, your hurl it to the floor. Feeling satisfied as it shatters. You begin throwing things all over the room. In minutes the neat, beautifully decorated room is in shambles. Glass, sheets, books, jewelry, makeup, and nick-nacks are all over the floor. You turn and leave the disaster you made, making sure to slam the door as hard as you can on your way out. The paintings on the wall tremble from the force.

You storm through the manor headed for the stairs again. You don't recognize the lightheaded woozy feeling that has over come you and you feel dizzy as you reach the ladder that goes to the roof. Halfway up, your foot slips. Before you fall, in a burst of adrenaline you manage to grab the ladder securely. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you cling to the rungs. "That was too close," you mutter taking deep, steady breaths.

Undeterred, you climb the ladder anyway, resolute in seeking peace on the roof once more. It takes a lot more effort to climb up than it had in previous climbs. Your huffing and puffing by the time you manage to get up.

As you walk to the ledge and glance at the snow covered ground below, you realize something is off. The footsteps in the snow are not yours and since it had been snowing for hours, the ones from earlier would have long since been hidden under more snow.

You whirl around ad your mind screams danger. You hands fumble through your layers of clothing to grab the knife you always kept with you. It was a custom blade and designed to attach to your bra. Although it was small, it was very sharp and could easily cut and stab in defense. As your hand manages to grab the handle a figure appears from the top of the roof. He easily jumps down to where you are.

"To think that the infamous wife of Onychinus' boss would be so easy to get to. No bodyguard?" He asks in a taunting tone. The man is dressed head to foot in black. His entire body is covered save for his eyes. Black as a blank night sky and soulless. He points a gun at you. "Drop the knife, or I'll put a bullet in you right here." He says his finger twitching on the trigger.

Having been taught how to fight from a small age, you fein dropping the knife as he moves closer. Just as he's within reach you spin it around and drive it into his upper arm. Unfortunately he was prepared for your tricks and fires the gun. The bullet burries itself deep into your thigh. You cry out and collapse to the ground clutching the wound. Blood seeps between your fingers and down your leg. Falling upon the snow.

"You're going to regret that." The man says as he pulls the blade out of his arm and flings it to the ground. He reaches out and grabs you. You're enveloped in a blinding light and then everything fades away. Sight, sound, and feeling are gone.

It feels like you're floating in darkness for a long time. You struggle to move, bit something is restricting you're movements. A rattling sound is the first thing you can hear as your senses come flooding back. The pain slams into you again and you groan. You realize that you've been blindfolded with a thick cloth.

"She's finally awake. I would really like to know about that blade she stabbed you with. It really did a number on your arm. It must have been very sharp.

"Shut up and just do your job. The boss needs information and she's going to have it. He said do whatever it takes to get it out of her. Just don't kill her." A gleeful cackle made you shudder and then footsteps came closer to you.

"Darkness makes the pain more intense. You will tell me what we want to know." The man says and then you can hear metal being moved around. Your heart begins to race. There is nothing for you to tell them. Sylus had always made sure that you knew nothing of his business and plans. You had only ever overseen the production of weapons. You didn't know their purpose or intended use.

"I imagine I'll get away with it if I do kill you though. Osric was his brother just so you know. Boss has a personal grudge to pick with you and Sylus. This is going to be delicious. Let's begin. We'll start with something easy." He said and then you could feel him standing at your side.

Hours had passed since the torture had begun, but no matter what question he asked the result was the same. You didn't know.

He had tried a variety of methods to break you. The first had been pulling you fingernails our. It had been excruciating and you nearly passed out several times. The he had tried whipping you. Your back was a raw bloody mess from all the cuts. That had made you pass out. His ways of waking you up again were resolute. Dumping ice water on you seemed to do the trick.

Your mind felt like it was going to snap if this went on much longer. Your voice was raspy and hoarse from the hours of screaming and crying. At first you had tried to hold back, but this maniac had taken it as a challenge. Several times he had said you were boring him with your instant responses.

"You're n-not going to-o get any.. anything fro-om me. I have nothing to tell. Even if I wanted to." This was not the first time you had said those words. It's just they fell on deaf ears. "Ju-just kill me al-ready. I I'm useless to yo-ou. He-e doesn't ca-are about me. Ju-just end it already. I-I don't kn-ow anything." This went on for days. You knew time was passing but you had no idea how much until finally a different person entered the room.

"Boss is fed up with you. He wants to know why she hasn't spilled her guts yet. He's tired of waiting for what he wants to know. Can't believe three days and she hasn't cracked once." His voice sounded disappointed and uninterested.

You'd lost count of all the methods they had tried to get you to speak. Several times you had begged him to just kill you but he'd only laughed in response. Sleep had been allowed a few times and sips of water had been given.

They had never removed your blindfold, and you were glad that you could not see what had been done to you. Even if you could feel every injury, being able to see them would have made it ten times worse.

Just as he was getting ready to start again, the door was blasted open. It sounded like it had been ripped right off the hinges. Chaos ensued with whatever had cause the door to explode, and the man started yelling.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" Crashes followed the words, and then a guttural sputter followed. Seconds later, you felt hands touching you, and you flinched, thinking that more pain would follow. To your surprise, the restraints on your arms and legs were removed, and then someone was carefully helping you sit up. A pair of hands touched the blindfold and then dim light hit your eyes. You screwed them shut feeling that it was painful.

Every part of your body hurt. Stinging and burning sensations were running rampant all over and you just wanted it to end. "We need to move." A familiar voice said in your ear. You open your eyes, ignoring the pain from the light and look at the voice. To your complete surprise Luke and Kieran are by your side.

"We've come to get you. Boss is so angry. I don't want to stick around here." The twins had their usual care free attitude as they watched you. "Why?" You asked looking at the pair. You could sense their confusion. "What do you mean why? You're Boss's wife. Of course he will take back what is his." One of them said as the other drapped a blanket over you and then carefully picked you up.

You grimaced and tried not to show the pain. "M-my leg is broken." You managed to get out between gritted teeth and gasps. They said nothing as they took you out the door.

Having never seen any of the place you were in, you were surprised at the twisting hallways and maze like route that you were taking. But the twins seemed undeterred and walked quickly. Before long there was a heavy metal door in front of you. It was all dented and it looked like an explosion had hit it. The door was already adjar and upon further investigation, you notice that it's hanging off the hinges.

Walking down another short hallway you come up into a large room. With a start you realize that blood is everywhere and there are bodies scattered through out the room. At the front leaning against a table is Sylus. He looks irritated and he has blood spattered on his face. He stands up straight when he sees you and the twins. His gaze hardens as he looks you over.

"Why did you come?" He looks at you blankly, his face giving nothing away. He just looks at you like he's staring right through you.

"Did you ever, even for one second love me?" You ask after several tense minutes go by. He still says nothing. Feeling the unsaid confirmation of what you had thought to be true now a reality you close your eyes against the tears.

A minute later and you open them again. "I am over this. I just want it to end. I don't care about anything anymore. I no longer want anything as I also posses nothing. You can have it all. I just want it to end." After letting go you feel like a weight has fallen off your shoulders. All the hate and resentment you'd felt several days ago has disappeared.

"Take her to the manor and contact the dr." Sylus finally says after many moments. The twins immediately move out. Despite their best efforts you get jostled several times and the pain makes you pass out. You surrender to unconsciousness, thankful to escape for however short a time it will last.

Over the next several months you are confined to bed to allow you injuries to heal. The scarring isn't as bad as you had though it would be, but it extends over most of your arms legs and back. The whip scars will never disappear and serve as a constant reminder to never show your back to anyone.

Eventually the day arrives that the dr tells you all of you injuries have healed and he discharges you from his care. Eight months have passed since that day and finally you are back on your feet. Having packed a bag with a few sets of clothes you grab the strap and the papers you had asked for a few days ago.

Without hesitation you go to Sylus' office and open the door. He is sitting at his desk reading some documents. You walk over and set two things down. One of them reads Transfer of Assets and the other says Annulment of Marriage. Placing a pen on top of it you say resolute "sign them and then you'll never see me again." You take a step back and wait.

He sets the papers down and looks at what you have placed on his desk with a raised eyebrow. "What is this?" You inwardly sigh. "Sinc you do not love me and I have no desire to play second fiddle to anyone else I am not staying. Clearly there is no place for me here. This is to repay the treatment I was given. You owe me nothing and I owe you nothing." You're confidant that with relinquishing your rights to your family's business and everything you endured being at his side will more than repay him.

He appears to be lost in thought as he reads over the papers. "You really want nothing in return?" The only thing you had asked for in the divorce agreement was that he not seek you out and that your paths never cross again. You nod and finally he moves to sign them. You turn on your heel and walk out of the door, out of his manor. This corrupt part of the city and out of his life forever.

A sense of peace washes over you as you get into your car and turn the ignition. Ready to begin your own life.

****************************************************

And thus ends another one. I did make some tweaks to the original plot line I was given because it flowed better in this way. I do hope you don't mind. I stuck to what you gave me as much as possible. I hope you enjoyed this one

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[d-z20]

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 13

Summary: The time has come for Rio to face the music and tell Agatha who she really is.

Warnings: angst with a happy endning (they finally admit they love each other!!)

Words: 2.6k

A/N: This one is a little emotional but I promise there's a happy ending!!

AO3 link | Master List

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The Confession of Death

The air in the cottage hung heavy with stillness, the faint scent of smouldering wood lingering in the hearth. Moonlight filtered through the small window, casting silver streaks across Agatha’s face as she slept. Curled beneath the patchwork quilt, her chest rose and fell in an unhurried rhythm, her usually sharp features softened by the veil of sleep.

Rio stood by the doorway, leaning against the frame with an expression that no one—least of all herself—would have expected. Her usual sardonic grin was nowhere to be found. Instead, her dark eyes traced every line of Agatha’s face, their depths filled with something dangerously close to reverence. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak, knuckles whitening. She had faced countless battles, countless endings, and yet none of them terrified her the way this moment did.

“I long to tell you,” she whispered into the darkness, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the dying fire. “But what if you don’t want me anymore?”

The words felt foreign, almost laughable on her tongue, but the fear was real—too real. For someone who had spent lifetimes indifferent to human connections, the weight of this singular bond was crushing. She pushed off the doorway, pacing soundlessly across the room, her thoughts tangling with every step.

Rio knew that this couldn’t go on, this precarious balance of secrets and stolen moments. Agatha deserved to know the truth about her. But what if that truth shattered everything? What if, after all this time, the woman who looked at her with such fierce intensity, who teased and challenged her at every turn, suddenly saw her as something monstrous?

—

As dawn crept into the sky, Rio slipped out of the cottage, needing space to think. The air was crisp, the faint tang of dew settling on her skin as she wandered down the familiar path. Behind her, the cottage stood silent, a haven that now felt like it was closing in on her. She couldn’t stay—not with the weight of her truth pressing so heavily on her chest.

The nearby village was quiet, the world still heavy with sleep. Rio walked without direction, her feet carrying her over cobblestone and grass, her thoughts replaying moments she both cherished and feared. Agatha’s laughter echoed in her mind, sharp and unrestrained as they’d argued over the merits of wine versus mead. It wasn’t the memory itself that haunted her, but the realisation that every laugh, every quirk of Agatha’s lips, could be snuffed out the moment Rio revealed who she truly was.

Her pace slowed as her eyes turned toward the riverbank, the same place where so many of their shared memories had taken root. The dark water shimmered faintly, catching the pale light of the rising sun. She stopped, staring into its ripples as if they might hold an answer she was too afraid to voice. She could still hear Agatha’s voice from that day—teasing, coaxing her to step into the cold water despite her grumbled protests.

“I’m not getting in there,” Rio had said, crossing her arms as she leaned against a tree.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha had shot back, her tone carrying that infuriating mix of mockery and affection. She’d waded in with all the confidence in the world, water swishing around her calves. “Come on, Rio, what’s the worst that could happen? You melt?”

Rio had eventually relented, her reluctance fading in the face of Agatha’s relentless enthusiasm. That day had been easy. Simple. Agatha had splashed her, her wild curls dripping water as she laughed like she hadn’t a care in the world. That laugh—that genuine, unguarded joy—had lodged itself deep in Rio’s chest. Even now, the memory of it tightened something inside her, an ache that was both sweet and unbearable.

Rio sank onto a fallen log near the river’s edge, elbows resting on her knees as she raked her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t go back to what she’d been before Agatha—distant, untouchable, a mere shadow of existence. For so long, she’d been nothing more than a name whispered in fear, a force that ended things but never began them. She’d always accepted it, even embraced it, because it was easier to be alone when no one wanted you anyway.

But Agatha wanted her.

It didn’t make sense—none of it did. Everyone else always hated her, reviled her, cursed her name as their final breaths left their bodies. But Agatha? No, she was different. When Rio walked into her life, her eyes didn’t fill with fear or anger. Instead, they lit up. Her smile widened, her voice softened, and her embrace felt like warmth Rio had long forgotten was possible.

And now, Rio had to destroy it.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms. She had always been the end of things—an inevitability no one could love. If she stayed, if she let herself believe in the fragile beauty of what they had, she would only taint it. And yet, the thought of leaving was unbearable, a hollowing out of something she didn’t know she had until Agatha had filled it.

Rio stared at the river, her reflection rippling across the surface, fragmented and distorted. Wasn’t that all she was? A distortion of life, a shadow in its wake? She had spent centuries perfecting the art of not caring. And now, in the face of Agatha’s laughter, her stubbornness, her maddeningly beautiful way of seeing the world... she cared too much.

The sun rose higher, its golden light casting long shadows over the still village. But Rio felt no warmth from it, only the cold certainty that she was on borrowed time.

She buried her face in her hands, the weight of her turmoil threatening to crush her. For the first time in lifetimes, she wanted to stay. But how could she, when staying would mean breaking the one thing that had ever truly made her feel alive?

—

By the time she returned to the cottage, dusk had fallen, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold. Agatha was waiting, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. Her eyes tracked Rio as she approached, sharp and knowing.

“You’ve been gone all day,” Agatha said evenly, though her tone hinted at the irritation she’d likely been nursing.

Rio offered a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Needed to stretch my legs. You know how restless I get.”

Agatha stepped aside to let her in, but her gaze lingered, studying Rio with a scrutiny that made her want to bolt. Instead, Rio busied herself with the hearth, stirring the fire back to life as though she could avoid the weight of Agatha’s attention.

“Rio,” Agatha said after a moment, her voice softer now, but no less direct. “What’s going on? Where do you disappear to??”

The question hung in the air, heavy and expectant. Rio laughed—too loud, too sharp—turning to face her. “What, can’t a girl have a brooding walk through the woods without being interrogated?”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play coy with me. I’d prefer you just spit it out.”

Rio hesitated, the mask slipping for a brief moment. She opened her mouth, the confession bubbling at the back of her throat, but the words caught, stuck behind the lump of fear that threatened to choke her. “It’s nothing,” she said finally, her voice strained. “Just… things on my mind.”

—

Later that night, the fire burned low, and the shadows stretched long, flickering across the small cottage with a restless energy. Agatha was seated in her chair, a book balanced on her lap, though she hadn’t turned a page in several minutes. Her gaze shifted occasionally to Rio, who stood across the room, her back turned, seemingly lost in thought. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

Agatha finally broke the silence, her tone sharp but edged with concern. “Alright, enough of this. You’ve been acting strange all day, and frankly, I’m tired of the guessing games. If it has anything to do with where you disappear to so often, now’s the time to say it.”

Rio stiffened but didn’t turn around. Instead, she let out a short, humourless laugh, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “What’s the point in asking questions you don’t want the answers to?” she replied, her voice low and guarded.

Agatha closed the book with a decisive snap, rising to her feet. “Stop deflecting, Rio,” she demanded, stepping closer. “Something’s eating at you. If you think I don’t notice, you’re more of a fool than I thought.”

Rio turned sharply, her eyes blazing. “You think you want to know, but you don’t, Agatha. Trust me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Agatha shot back, her voice rising. “You’ve built walls so high you can barely see over them yourself! Why don’t you stop running and let me in for once?”

The argument escalated, both women’s voices ricocheting off the walls of the small room. Rio’s demeanour flipped between nonchalant, erratic, and painfully needy, her usual confidence unraveling.

“You think I’m just running?” Rio shouted, her voice cracking with the weight of her words. “Maybe I am! Maybe that’s all I’ve ever done because staying means watching everything you care about fall apart!” She spun away, her hands raking through her hair as if trying to ground herself.

Agatha’s gaze softened, but her determination remained firm. “You’re not running now, are you?” she said quietly. “So stop pretending like you don’t care. I see through it.”

Rio froze at that, her back still to Agatha. When she finally turned, her expression was a warzone—panic and defiance battling for dominance. Her lips quirked into a shaky smile, but her eyes betrayed her, shimmering with unshed tears.

“You wanted to know why I keep disappearing?” she said, her voice uneven, a thin layer of dark humour coating her words. “Well, darling, I’m out reaping souls. I’m not just a green witch, I’m the green witch. I’m Death, sweetheart. Surprised?”

Rio’s hands trembled, and she clasped them tightly behind her back, as if restraining herself from reaching out to Agatha. Her voice, usually dripping with sardonic humour, cracked at the edges. “I’ve seen it before, you know,” she added softly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “That moment when someone realises what I am. The way their face changes. Fear. Loathing. Sometimes they’re polite enough to pretend, but it’s always there, that flicker of revulsion. And I couldn’t bear to see it on your face. Not yours.” She blinked rapidly, swallowing hard.

The confession hung in the air like a storm cloud, the weight of it pressing down on the room. Rio’s eyes welled up, and her voice cracked as she continued. “And now you know. So go ahead, Agatha. Say it. Say you don’t want me here anymore.”

For a moment, Agatha didn’t speak. Her sharp features softened as she absorbed the words. Rio could almost see the thoughts racing behind her dark eyes, and it was torture—she’s going to send me away, she has to send me away.

Instead of horror, a slow smirk crept across Agatha’s lips, the edges of her mouth twitching as though she were holding back laughter. “You’re telling me I’m sleeping with Death?” she said finally, her tone wry. “Well, that explains why you’re so relentless.”

For a moment, Rio’s expression faltered, caught between disbelief and heartbreak. “You think this is funny?” she said, her voice rising in frustration. “This isn’t a joke, Agatha. I’m telling you to your face that I’m everything people fear—the shadow in the corner, the end they can’t escape. And you’re standing there smirking like it’s a fucking game!”

Rio turned away, gripping the edge of the mantle so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Remember the river? The way you laughed when I refused to step into the water, calling me a coward?” She huffed a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not afraid of water, Agatha. I was afraid of losing that moment, that laugh—of you seeing through me. For centuries, I’ve been everything people run from, and I didn’t want to ruin the one time I felt... alive.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling as if willing the tears to stay where they were. “I just wanted to stay in that moment with you.”

Agatha stepped closer, her voice losing its teasing lilt as she continued. “Do you really think I’d turn you away? I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Like I’m something precious. How could I ever hate you for something you never chose? For something that makes you… you?” She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against Rio’s hand, though Rio flinched at the touch. “You’ve never given me reason to fear you, Rio. Not once. If anything, I’m more terrified of the idea of losing you than I ever could be of who you are.”

“Stop it,” Rio said, her voice trembling. “Stop pretending. You’re just… you’re lying, or—” She faltered, her emotions spilling over. “Don’t mess with me, Agatha. I can’t cope with that.”

Agatha’s expression softened, though her voice remained steady. She reached out again, this time gripping Rio’s face firmly in her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze. “I want you, Rio,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you here. I want you to stay. I want you. All of you. Let me to see you as you have seen me: whole and unashamed.”

Rio’s shoulders sagged as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had finally slipped free. She met Agatha’s gaze, searching for even a glimmer of doubt, but all she found was steadfast certainty. Her lips trembled as a tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. “I’ve spent so long convincing myself I didn’t need anyone,” she whispered. “But you... you make me wish I could stay. You make me want to be more than this.” She gestured at herself, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “More than just an ending.”

Agatha reached up, cupping Rio’s face with both hands. “You’re not just an ending,” she said firmly. “You’re my beginning. My middle. And I’ll fight you on it if you say otherwise.”

The seriousness of her words broke something in Rio, and she could no longer hold back her tears. “But why?” she asked weakly, her voice raw with emotion. “Why do you want me?”

Agatha’s eyes shone with an intensity that made Rio’s knees nearly buckle. “Because I love you,” she said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of unshakable conviction. “I don’t care who you are. You are mine, and I love you,” she repeated, her voice breaking just slightly on the last word.

The intensity of the moment shattered the tension like glass. Rio surged forward, capturing Agatha’s lips in a kiss that was both a question and an answer. It was messy and desperate, their emotions spilling out in every movement. They clung to each other as if the world outside the walls of the cottage had ceased to exist.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Rio let out a shaky laugh. “You’re insane, you know that?”

Agatha smiled, her fingers brushing against Rio’s cheek. “And you love it.”

Rio laughed again, the sound lighter this time, filled with something that felt dangerously close to hope. She pulled back just enough to look into Agatha’s eyes, her voice soft but steady. “I love you, Agatha,” she said, the words carrying the weight of centuries’ worth of longing.

Agatha’s smile widened, her fingers lacing through Rio’s. “Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me now.”

Sub-Chapter (NSFW) >

Next Chapter >

I told you there'd be a happy ending :)

[kedreeva]

Today in measuring your peahen, Bug is casually 2 foot, 3 inches tall (she can stretch a little taller when she REALLY wants a treat). This is just tall enough to see over a tray table and pull things off of nightstands and end cabinets.

Bug is also a little over 3 feet long from tail tip to beak tip. Most of Bug is made up of tail and neck. There is a 6lb dead weight in the middle somewhere that she knows how to directly place onto the ball of one foot while standing on you.

Bug's wingspan is around 3.5 feet, thought I didn't get a measurement. It will be over 4 feet as an adult.

Bug is growing in her spurs. As a Spalding (hybrid) hen, Bug will likely have one inch bone knives conveniently attached to her tarsometatarsus. This is technically fused foot bones, not a leg bone. Curiously, pure Pavo cristatus hens have spurs, and pure Pavo muticus hens have spurs, but many domestic Pavo cristatus and low-percent Spalding hens lack them. This is one of the indications of domestication in the cristatus species. As I prefer the wild type, I prefer my hens spurred, so this is a good sign!

Bug's toes measure a smidge over 5 inches from the tip of her rear-facing to to the tip of her longest front facing toe. Try measuring that on your hand.

Bug's nails measure 1/2-3/4 an inch long, depending on the toe. That's almost as long as one finger section for most people.

When I had snakes, I got asked all the time if I was afraid of them biting me. The answer is no. I have been bitten by a 6 foot long, 20lb boa constrictor, and have no scars to prove it. Meanwhile I have so many scars from peafowl sitting on me, particularly on my forearms, that I have had to reassure people I am not a danger to myself.

I post these photos as a reference, but also as a precaution. This is a BABY peafowl, and a female at that. She is only 6 months old and weighs a little over 6lbs, which means she's about 2/3 of the way grown, and adult hens are typically 3/4 the size of an adult male. These are BIG birds that can do a LOT of damage, even accidentally. When they become aggressive, as in the case of hand-raised males or poorly bred birds, they become a potentially fatal threat to any other fowl you have. Unlike chickens, they are more than capable of (and prone to!) jumping to human face level before they flog (kick with their feet in a way that allows their spurs to hit home), which means they could easily take out an eye or cause other serious facial injury if they get a lucky strike. I have seen more than a few people end up with stitches, and more than a few birds end up euthanized because people think they are gonna be cute cuddly friends.

I know that Bug is a cute bird, but I also want to stress that a) she has an outstanding personality as a result of breeding choices and socialization b) she hasn't hit maturity, and won't do so for another 2+ years, so her personality could change considerably still and c) I have been raising peafowl one way or another for my entire adult life, which has been structured around keeping them. I love my birds, and I would love for more people to keep peafowl as they are great animals, but they are not casual animals. They are large and potentially dangerous farm fowl that take a lot of space, care, and knowledge to keep.

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

[thinkinonsense]

TALK, TALK₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: fluff, sweet logan

a/n: inspired by the charli xcx song<3 everything in spanish and french is from google translate so if it's incorrect, that why.

you were no stranger to crushes. they always showed up out of the blue; you couldn't help it. all it took was one glance, a smile, a bit of small talk, anything really. none of this changed when he entered your life.

maybe cupid had struck you in the ass at some point.

for weeks, everyone in the mansion knew where your feelings had floated. normally, you try not to develop any crushes on the people you see daily but this guy was different. even sort of dangerous; the thrill excited you.

"you don't understand, storm." you groan, helping her train downstairs. "there's just something about him. i can't explain it."

your dear friend laughs, swinging at the boxing bag again. "i'm not saying not to go after him... just be careful is all."

"well, there's nothing to worry about because he hasn't even talked to me." a small sigh escapes you.

"he hasn't talked to you?" she questions. you shake your head. "that's odd. i wonder why not?"

"well, he keeps to himself." you shrug, thinking of excuses besides the fact that he likely doesn't share the same feelings you do.

"hm... have you tried talking to him?"

"nooo." you giggle nervously. "absolutely not! you know how i get when i actually have to talk to people i have crushes on."

"i know." storm joins in on your laughter. "it's like someone set you on top of a stove; you just start melting."

"it all comes out like, 'blah, blah, blah'."

"you never know, maybe he speaks 'blah, blah, blah' too."

little did storm know that her words would linger around in your head every time you see him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

obliviousness was not a trait logan had. he noticed everything; whether he liked it or not. in this case, he didn't mind noticing everything about you.

it started when he saw a shadow following him to the cafeteria, down the hall, and to the training room. he tried to be polite and ignore it; too afraid to scare you off entirely.

a couple days after your talk with storm, charles sent the older mutants out on a mission. this included storm, scott, logan, and yourself. upon the return, all of the older mutants gathered in the kitchen to unwind. you, storm, and kurt sat together at the table. the two of them bickered back and forth about something silly that happened during the mission.

it wasn't fair how good logan looked during the mission. the tight black spandex did wonders for his form. it felt like some high school crush. butterfly's always in your stomach when he looks at you.

on the other side of the room, logan sat in a wooden chair next to hank, with a cigar dangling from his lips. it must've felt like you were burning holes into the side of his head. even storm had to nudge you to look away from him, telling you to stop giving him 'heart eyes'.

"think someone's got a crush on you, pal." hank teases logan. "heard she's been waiting for you to talk to her."

you looked pretty, sitting at the table with a slight red stain on the inside of your lips, matching the flush of red on your cheeks when you notice him catching you staring. logan couldn't think of anything that compare to the ethereal sight before him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

the glass of red wine on your hand was now empty, allowing you to excuse yourself from their conversation for a moment. at the counter, you pour yourself another glass; finishing off the bottle. when you turn to toss the bottle in the trash, you bump into someone.

"s-sorry." you squeal before realizing that it was logan that you bumped into.

"no need to apologize." he assures.

one of logan's big wide palms places itself on your waist, helping keep you upright. all of the wine flooded your mind, unable to form a proper sentence.

"dios mío, eres tan hermoso." you ramble drunkenly shooting stars from your eyes.

*oh my god, you're so gorgeous.

logan couldn't be more confused by your suddenly language switch but he found it awfully amusing. it wasn't a total surprise, he knew you were incredibly intelligent. charles always sang your praises. if you were even a little bit sober right now, you would be mortified.

"whatcha' thinking about, sweetheart?" he smirks, loving how flustered you became.

little did you know, the 200 year old mutant has definitely picked up on some different languages over his lifetime. to logan it didn't even matter whether or not he understood what you meant, he just wanted you to keep talking.

"je veux embrasser ton joli visage." your tongue runs over your bottom lip.

*wanna kiss your pretty face.

"hm... tell me more." logan purrs into your ear. completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.

"he estado enamorado de ti durante meses, ¿sabes?"

*i've had a crush on you for months, you know?

"je pense à toi tous les jours." you step closer, drunk with confidence. "pendant les entraînements, en mission, seule au lit... tout le temps."

*i think about you everyday. during training, on missions, alone in bed... all the time.

"such a smart girl, aren't 'cha, honey?" he groans softly at your words.

it took everything in logan not to kiss you right here, right now. he wanted you to remember the first time he kissed you.

"je veux être ta copine, logan." you whisper in his ear.

*wanna be your girl, logan.

"¿puedes guardar mi secreto?"

*can you keep my secret?

he never wanted you to stop talking; loving every word that falls from your foreign lips.

it wasn't long until storm, pulls you away hoping she caught you before you said anything you would regret. logan didn't mind, too excited to see you in the morning.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

when you woke up, your head was pounding. nothing worse than a wine hangover. you couldn't remember anything after jean poured you a third glass of wine. you took two aspirins and laid in bed for an extra hour before you finally made it downstairs for breakfast.

logan smelled your lavender scented shampoo the second you stepped out of your room. he had been downstairs waiting for you. everyone had already started their day, off either teaching or training. not him though, he had different plans for his day.

"morning." logan said to you as you walked into the kitchen. your heart fluttered, he could hear it.

"good morning." you reply meekly as you grab a plate and some utensils.

he sips on his plain black coffee while you place two waffles and some fruit onto your plate. theres a small stack of books next to logan on the table but you don't give it a second glance.

"wanna sit?" he asks you.

this was a completely different side of logan compared to the usually grumpy version of him that everyone sees.

"sure."

"did you have fun last night?"

he needed to test the waters on what you remember. by the late arrival to breakfast, logan's guess was not much.

"would you believe me if i said that i can't remember much?" you giggle nervously as you bite into a strawberry. "i was probably being boring in some corner."

you couldn't have been more wrong, logan thinks to himself. the two of you have some small talk for a while, enjoying each others company. this wasn't helping your crush from spreading.

once you cleared your plate and logan finished his coffee, both of you get up to place your dishes into the sink when you noticed the books in logan's hands. one spine read 'beginners guide to french' and the other read 'spanish for dummies'.

in a flash, everything came hurtling back at you full speed. this wasn't yours and logan's first conversation alone together.

"¿Qué pasa cariño?" logan asks, voice filled with desire as he cages you against the sink. his lips ghosted over your own; tempting you beyond your strengths. "je pensais que tu voulais que je te parle ?"

*what's wrong, sweetheart?

*i thought you wanted me to talk to you?

"et merde." you whisper before pulling on the collar of his flannel, smashing his lips into yours.

*fuck it.

the sheer taste of the other drove both of you insane. the mix of logan's coffee and tobacco contrasting with your sweet syrup and fruity taste was intoxicating. you pull back, needing to catch your breath. logan's lips moved south, sucking a dark purple bruise on your pulse point.

"better than i imaged." logan groans, obsessed with your every being.

"imagine si tu m'avais parlé plus tôt ?" you wink down at him.

*imagine if you had talked to me sooner?

logan chuckles, bending to pick you up. "love that mouth of yours, sweetheart. lets see what other languages it speaks."

[wholoveseggs]

Pretender

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} Working in a brothel was never easy, but when a man claiming to be the prince comes to visit, it can be downright dangerous.

7.5k words - Warnings: smut, whore!reader, mild dubcon, oral sex m!receiving, face fucking, riding, ffm threesome, rough sex, mentions of rape, graphic violence, choking, gold cloaks, deception & Daemon being Daemon...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡♡ Hey! If you don't want to be tagged in Daemon fics just let me know! He's a much different character than Elijah & I don't wish to waste your time ♡♡

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

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@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer

There were far worse fates than being a whore. If it meant that you were able to make it another day in this world, you were willing to do it. Even if that meant selling yourself for a few crowns.

It wasn't all bad, there were some who treated you with kindness and respect, others who didn't, and some who weren't even sure how to treat a woman. They were the ones you felt most sorry for, the ones who just wanted to feel a bit of kindness and were too afraid to go and get it from elsewhere. Or simply had nowhere else to turn.

Tonight was one of the quieter nights. Most of the men were either gone or asleep. You could hear the low murmurs of the few that were still awake, soft moans from the rooms next to you as they had their fun. The smell of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, it had become something you'd grown accustomed to over the years.

You were lounging around with the other girls, laughing and talking as the night dragged on, when you heard the sound of hooves against the dirt outside, and the creak of a cart.

One of the girls, named Lina, came stumbling in, she was extremely drunk, almost tripping over herself as she tried to regain her balance. Her dress was askew and her hair was messy.

This was a common occurrence for her these days, ever since her man had died she had thrown herself into a bottle, trying to forget. You couldn't blame her for it, she was in pain and she needed an escape, you just wished that her solution didn't cause such destruction.

She plopped down onto the floor next to you and laid her head in your lap. "You're always so warm and soft, just like a pillow" she giggled and rubbed her head into you, like a cat seeking comfort.

You softly ran your fingers through her hair, untangling the knots as best you could. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

"I feel great," she slurred. "Any work?"

"Not at the moment, no" you sighed.

"That's a shame," she said, looking up at you with big, sad eyes. "I'm low on coin,"

"We all are," said another of the girls, a pretty blonde girl by the name of Kari. She was less sympathetic to Lina's situation than you were.

"If you don't have coin, then leave. Don't stay here and take up our space," she snapped.

"Kari" you hissed, trying to get her to back off, but she ignored you.

"What? I'm right" she scoffed.

You were interrupted by a group of men entering the brothel, loud and obnoxious. They were all dressed in fine clothes, reeking of alcohol and crowns, just what you had been waiting for.

Lina was instantly on her feet, swaying a little but keeping her balance as she walked over to greet the newcomers.

"What can I help you with, my lords?" she asked, her voice a low purr as she batted her eyelashes.

Kari gave you a pointed look and went off to tend to another customer, leaving you alone to deal with the new arrivals.

They all looked like typical nobility. Clean-shaven and dressed in silk. You had a good eye for these sorts of things. It was easy to spot the difference between a merchant and a noble, and these men were definitely nobles.

They were also clearly drunk, slurring their words and stumbling around the place, laughing at everything.

Lina was already leading two of the men away, no doubt eager to earn a few coins and keep her drinking habits intact.

You turned your attention to the man standing to the side of the group. He was tall and slender, with fair skin and long blonde hair. His eyes were a piercing blue, like two pools of ice.

He smiled at you and stepped forward, extending a hand towards you. "Have you ever had a prince before?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You took his hand and returned his smile. "No, my lord, I can't say I have,"

You have heard many men claim to be one noble or another, sweet little lies they tell you as a way to seem important. It mattered very little to you, they were all the same when it came down to it.

Kari came sauntering back into the room, her dress slipping off her shoulder as she walked. She looked over at you and the blonde man and raised an eyebrow.

You smiled at her and leaned in closer to the man. "Kari, this one is a prince, isn't he handsome?"

Kari's eyes widened and she let out a small gasp, bowing dramatically, her dress slipping even further down her chest, revealing her cleavage.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen," he announced, his chest puffed out.

"I've never met a prince before," she said, her voice filled with awe. She was over doing it just a little, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at her performance.

"Oh, but I can change that," he replied, a smirk on his face.

Kari grinned and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his.

"I'm sure you can," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his side.

You felt a tingle run down your spine, he was quite handsome and you could see the appeal of bedding a prince, even if you didn't actually believe his claim.

"Why don't we all get comfortable," he said, his voice low and deep.

You and Kari exchanged glances, grinning at each other, rich men usually pay well.

 The two of you led the prince up the stairs, his arm still wrapped around you, his hand resting on your hip. The three of you entered the room, the door slamming shut behind you. He wasted no time in grabbing hold of Kari and kissing her, his hands roaming her body.

You watched with fascination as the two of them kissed and touched each other, their bodies moving together. Without looking at you, he reached out and grabbed you, pulling you towards him and kissing you passionately.

"Double the pleasure, double the coin, my prince," Kari stated gently, breaking the kiss and stepping away from him. She was always keen on making the payment clear, before the fun could begin.

"Are you questioning my generosity?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kari shook her head. "No, of course not. I would never do such a thing,"

You nodded in agreement.

The man looked at the two of you, a slight smile on his face. "Do you think a prince cannot afford two whores?" he asked, his tone playful.

You smiled at him, "No, we know you can," and you hoped that you were right.

He grinned and kissed you again, a little more aggressive this time. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin.

"Kneel for your prince," he commanded, his voice firm.

You and Kari exchanged amused looks, then both kneeled before him. She began to untie the laces of his trousers while you looked up at him with innocent eyes, your tongue running across your bottom lip.

"What's it like? To ride a dragon," you asked him, genuinely curious.

"Like nothing else," he replied.

You could tell that he was getting impatient, his eyes darkening with lust. His hand ran through your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling your head back.

"Suck," he ordered, and you obeyed, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. You slowly took more of him into your mouth, using your tongue to pleasure him.

"Gods, that feels amazing," he moaned, his hips bucking forward.

He was rough and demanding, but it was nothing you and Kari couldn't handle. You continued to suck and lick him, while she stroked him and kissed his thighs.

The two of you worked in tandem, bringing him to the edge and then pulling him back. You could feel him growing more and more frustrated, his hand gripping your hair tighter.

Finally, he could take it no longer, he grabbed Kari by the hair and pushed his cock all the way to the back of her throat. His hand pressed against the top of her head as he fucked her mouth hard.

She gagged and coughed, but still tried her best to please him. You could see her discomfort and you slowly stood up, kissing his neck and touching his chest, trying to calm him down.

After a few more moments, he released her, shoving her back. She fell back on the floor, coughing and sputtering.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild. Without a word, he pulled down your dress, revealing your naked form beneath. He was on you in an instant, pushing you down onto the bed and climbing on top of you, his hands on your throat.

Your head spun, and the room seemed to grow hazy as the pressure on your throat increased. He parted your legs with his knee and pressed himself inside you, groaning with pleasure as he buried his cock deep within you.

He was a wild man, taking you roughly, with no thought of your own comfort or pleasure. Grunting and growling like an animal as he claimed you. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes as his hand tightened around your throat.

"How does it feel to fuck a dragon?" he asked, his face mere inches from yours. You couldn't reply, his hand still holding your windpipe in a vice-like grip. His eyes were cold and calculating, the passion of a moment ago now gone.

You scratched at his wrists, but he just laughed, slamming into you with a savage ferocity. He was like a beast, taking you for all you were worth.

When men were rough like this, a part of you would disappear inside yourself. You would no longer feel as if it was you who were being manhandled, the parts of your body no longer connected to your mind.

You could smell his sweat, feel his hands on you, hear the low rumbles of his voice, but you were no longer here. Your body was simply an object, a vessel, and your mind had retreated somewhere far away, watching from the shadows.

Kari had composed herself enough to join the two of you on the bed. She climbed behind you, running her hands along your body. You were just lying there, allowing yourself to be used, but Kari's touch was a small comfort.

He slammed into a few more times before climbing off of you and grabbing Kari, flipping her on her stomach, pinning her down. He wasted no time entering her, thrusting in and out like an animal, the sound of slapping flesh filling the room.

You lay there, listening to the sounds of the two of them, trying to make sense of things. He didn't last long, men like this rarely did. After a few minutes, he let out a strangled groan and pulled out, his seed spilling out onto her back.

He rolled off of her, panting and laughing to himself, a satisfied grin on his face. She sat up and brushed some hair from her sweat-soaked forehead, looking over at you.

She crawled towards you and wrapped her arms around you, kissing your cheek gently. Her hand intertwining with yours. The two of you had certainly experienced worse customers than him. He didn't appear unhappy with what you did. You were fortunate in that sense.

"I shall take you both on my dragon, fuck you on his back while we fly," he said, a wicked grin on his face.

You had no idea how one would manage to do such a thing, but you were certain he was just trying to impress you.

"That would be something," Kari replied, a smile on her lips.

He was sitting there, his hand lazily stroking his cock as he watched the two of you. "Kiss," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You and Kari exchanged a look, then leaned in and kissed each other, the feeling of her soft lips against yours making your heart skip a beat.

He was watching the two of you with rapt attention, his eyes dark and hungry. He reached out and pulled you away from her, his lips crashing down onto yours. His hands roamed your body, his touch rough and demanding.

"That's a good girl," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

He grabbed a tankard of wine from the nightstand, drinking it down and tossing it aside. You observed the muscles on his back, the way they flexed in the dim light, you could see long scars down his back. They looked like the marks caused by a whip, you knew the scars well, having seen them on many of the men and women in the brothel.

"My Prince, forgive me, but those scars, where did they come from?" you asked, unable to contain your curiosity.

He flinched at your question, not looking at you. "Tourneys," he said sharply, bending over and grabbing his shirt from the floor.

You didn't press the issue, he clearly didn't want to talk about it.

He pulled his shirt on, the silk material stretching over his muscular frame. Then he collapsed onto the bed, pulling you down with him, wrapping his arm around you.

You looked at him and saw a haunted look in his eyes, the same look that many of the others in the brothel had. He was running from something, or someone.

"Call me your prince and tell me you love me," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

"Of course, my prince," you replied, and the words felt hollow.

"I love you my prince," Kari purred, cuddling up to him.

"Yes, I know you do," he said, his eyes glazing over.

The two of you stayed with the prince all night, his talk turning into ramblings, bragging about dragon riding, flying in the clouds, great battles and tourneys he had won. He talked of nothing but how good he had it, how great he is, of all the wonderful things he owned.

While it was not the worst experience you'd had, it wasn't a pleasant one either. Kari kept encouraging him to keep bragging, praising him and showering him with compliments. All you wanted was to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, but his obnoxious voice made it nearly impossible.

By the time the sun came up, he was fast asleep. His snoring so loud you were sure he was going to wake up the rest of the brothel. 

You and Kari were counting the coin he had given you, making sure it was all there. It wasn't as much as you were expecting, considering his claims of royalty. But you'd make do, it'd tide you over for a while. You would certainly sleep comfortably tonight.

Although he was Prince Daemon, you didn't want to fuck him again, not for any amount of coin. If he returned to visit, you would simply make yourself scarce.

Much to your disappointment the prince had turned into a regular at the brothel. At least once a week he would return, bringing with him a small fortune and a lot of drink.

Lina was very pleased, she was the one he favored most of all. And as long as she was getting her coins, she was happy. You supposed she was too numb from drink to feel the pain or humiliation of his treatment.

You and Kari, on the other hand, were less enthusiastic about the prince's presence. Always trying your best to avoid him, finding ways to keep yourselves occupied while he was there.

But you had a feeling that he knew what the two of you were doing, and that you were avoiding him. He didn't seem upset by it, but there was a look in his eye that made you nervous.

He was in the main room tonight, with Lina in his lap, the two of them drunkenly talking about who knows what. But his eyes were on you, and it made your skin crawl.

You quickly got up and looked for a place to hide, not wanting to be caught in his sights. He was a dangerous man, you could sense it, and you had no interest in being alone with him.

You made your way through the halls, between tapestries of silk and dimly lit rooms, keeping your head down. It was almost too easy to disappear here, to find the dark corners and hide away from the world.

You weren't looking where you were going, and you found yourself crashing into someone.

"Sorry, sorry," you muttered, moving to continue walking.

You felt a hand grip your arm, and you looked up at a man dressed in dark clothing, a hood covering his face. There was an air of danger around him, the way he held himself was confident and commanding.

He looked you over, his gaze roaming over your body. From what you could see of his face, he was handsome, with a strong jawline and sharp features. His hair was blonde, resting on his shoulders.

"No need to apologize, little dove," he said, his voice deep and rich.

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers brushing against yours. "Come, let's have a drink," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded, grateful for any excuse to get away from the prince. You could also do with some extra coin, and this man seemed willing to pay.

He followed you to one of the private rooms, the curtains hanging around the bed were a soft blue, the room dimly lit by candles.

He gently leaned his sword against the wall, his fingers tracing over the hilt. It had an odd looking pommel, the metalwork intricate, the hilt the shape of a gold dragon.

He turned and sat on the bed, his hood falling down, revealing his face.

He was handsome, his blonde hair tumbling over his shoulders, his eyes sharp and bright. He was tall and lean, with a muscular build.

"So, what brings you to a place like this?" you asked, standing in front of him.

"Curiosity," he replied, reaching out and pulling you into his lap.

You gasped, your face inches from his. He smirked, his fingers wrapping around the silk ribbon around your waist, untying it. The thin dress fell open, revealing your chest.

"You are a pretty thing," he whispered, his eyes raking over your body.

You blushed, your heart beating faster. You were used to men commenting on your looks, but something about the way he said it made you feel warm.

"I bet you tell all the girls that," you teased, your hand reaching out and resting on his chest.

"I bet you pretend to enjoy it," he countered.

"And if I do?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck.

"I'll know the difference," he said, leaning in, his breath ghosting over your lips.

"Is that so?" you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his other hand coming up and resting on your lower back. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours.

He was surprisingly gentle, his lips soft, his hands caressing your body. He kissed you like a lover, not like a man who was paying for a whore.

You melted into his touch, your hands moving up and tangling in his hair. He groaned, his fingers digging into your skin.

You knew the brothel had men of all shapes and sizes, some kinder, others rougher, but he was a different breed altogether. You were enjoying yourself in a way you never had before.

"See? You're not pretending,"he whispered against your lips.

You laughed softly, your eyes fluttering open, looking into his. He was staring at you with such intensity, it made your heart skip a beat.

He smiled at you, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. You could feel the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms around you.

"What kind of men do you usually entertain?" he asked, his lips moving to your neck.

"All kinds," you replied, letting him undress you, the silk pooling at your waist. "From beggars to princes," you said.

"Princes, hmm? I suppose a prince would have more coin than most," he said, gently cupping your breasts, his thumbs grazing over your nipples.

"Some," you replied, trying to keep your breathing steady. “The prince does come here often. Although he is not the most agreeable of men," you explained.

"You know a lot about the prince?" he asked, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

"Indeed, he told me he would show me his dragon," you said, smiling, tracing your finger down his chest, playing with the hem of his shirt. "Caraxes, is it's name," you added, taking hold of his shirt and pulling it off.

"Oh? That's an interesting promise," he replied, his lips pressing kisses along your shoulder, his teeth nipping at the soft skin.

"He said I could ride it too," you said, feeling his lips curve into a smile against your skin.

"I'm sure you would be more than capable," he breathed, his nose brushing over the curve of your neck. "Perhaps you can practice on me," he murmured.

You giggled, a warmth blooming between your legs. He was handsome and charming, his touch gentle, he knew what he was doing. His hands moved over your skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they went.

You shifted on his lap, feeling his arousal pressing against you. "Is that so?" you asked, your lips ghosting over his.

"Mmm," he groaned, his eyes darkening, his lips claiming yours.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you close. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue, his kiss full of passion and desire. Your hands went to his breeches, unlacing them and pulling out his cock.

You stroked him, feeling the velvety skin beneath your fingers. He groaned, his lips breaking away from yours.

"If I were to ride you, I'm not sure I would be able to walk away afterwards," you whispered, looking down at him.

"Maybe that's my plan," he said, as his hand slipped between your legs.

You gasped, the pleasure rippling through your body. You had a feeling this was going to be the best coin you had ever earned. It was always a nice treat when you could be with a man that you actually enjoyed touching.

"You're bigger than most of the other men I've had," you purred, running your hand up and down his length.

"I bet you say that to all the men," he teased, his fingers dipping into your cunt, feeling the wetness there.

"I'll say whatever you want me to," you said, kissing his neck, his jawline.

"Such a sweet little liar," he said, his hand cupping your cheek, tilting your head up.

You looked at him, your eyes meeting his. They were a deep blue, almost purple. There was a gentleness to them, but also a fire.

"Am I bigger than the prince?" he asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Would it be treason to say yes?" you whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe.

"I won't tell him," he said, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

You smiled into the kiss and slowly rocked your hips, rubbing your slit against the underside of his cock. He groaned, his hands gripping your waist, his thumbs brushing over your hip bones.

You pulled away from the kiss, sitting up slightly and lining his cock up with your pussy. You sank down onto him, keeping your eyes locked with his.

You began to ride him, slowly at first, then you increased the pace. He let out a low groan and his hands squeezed your ass, helping you bounce on his cock.

You leaned down, capturing his lips in another passionate kiss. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

You pulled away from the kiss and rested your forehead against his.

"Fuck," he hissed, his fingers digging into your thighs.

You let out a breathless laugh and began to ride him faster, grinding down onto his cock. You could feel his length pulsing inside of you, his breath hot against your neck.

He suddenly flipped you into your back, your hair splayed out across the pillows. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs back, sinking his cock inside you once more.

You moaned, feeling him pound into you. He leaned down and captured your lips in another kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. Your hands went to his arms, they were made of pure muscle, the corded veins bulging under his pale skin.

His hips started to falter, a sure sign he was close to his release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a low and desperate groan. You could feel his cock throb as his seed filled you.

"I can see why the prince likes you," he said, a small smile on his face as he rolled off of you.

You chuckled, moving to cuddle up next to him.

"Oh? What makes you say that?" you asked, nuzzling into his chest.

"The way you fuck," he said, his lips curling up into a smirk. "It's truly fit for royalty,"

You giggled and buried your face into his chest, the smell of his sweat mixed with sex intoxicating.

"You are a far better lover than him, perhaps living up in a castle all his life has spoiled him," you said, tracing patterns on his chest.

He smiled, his arm wrapping around your waist, his thumb rubbing circles over your skin.

"I don't even know your name," you whispered, your hand reaching up and stroking his cheek.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" he asked, his voice low and soft.

You watched him, wondering why a man would pay for a whore when he could easily get a woman willing. But then again, you knew the type of men who came to a place like this, perhaps he was married, or didn't have time for courtship.

He sat up and poured himself a cup of wine, the dark liquid spilling into the glass. He took a sip, then handed it to you.

"Thank you," you said, sitting up and taking a drink, the taste of wine sweet on your lips.

He leaned in and kissed you passionately. You hummed softly and cupped his cheek, his stubble scratching your palm.

He moved off the bed and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head. He picked up his sword, strapping the sheath to his belt.

You laid back, propping yourself up by your elbows as you watched him dress. He looked at you, a smirk on his face.

"You look lovely like that," he said, his voice a low purr.

You nodded in thanks, giving him a gentle smile and watched him pull out his coin purse.

"Keep the change," he said, tossing the bag onto the bed.

"Thank you, ser," you said, watching him walk out the door.

"Ser," he chuckled. "I am no ser," he said, looking back at you one last time before shutting the door.

The following evening was a busy one, you had spent most of the night serving drinks, the men rowdy and full of ale.

The drunker they got, the more coin they would spend, but that also came with its risks. Some of the men would become violent, the women in the brothel would often have bruises, sometimes it would be a black eye or busted lip.

You had gotten good at handling the rowdy customers, a few sweet words and a soft touch was enough to keep most men docile.

You hadn't seen Lina since yesterday, which was odd, usually she was down here, drinking and entertaining the men.

"Have you seen Lina?" You asked Kari, who was collecting a number of empty tankards.

"She's probably passed out in some room, drunker than a sailor," Kari replied, shaking her head.

You frowned, that didn't seem right. Lina had a habit of drinking, but never enough to not show up for work.

Kari could see the concern on your face and placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Don't worry about her, she'll be fine," she said, giving you a reassuring smile.

"What if Prince Daemon comes in? I do not wish to deal with him," you whispered.

"Then don't," she said, pouring herself a glass of wine.

"I cannot refuse him, he would make my life a living hell," you sighed.

"Then you best stay out of his way," Kari said, patting your shoulder.

You nodded, but knew that was easier said than done. If he showed up tonight, you were sure to run into him.

You continued to serve drinks, doing your best to avoid the more aggressive customers. You felt a hand grip your wrist, and turned to see one of the regulars.

"Come sit on my lap pretty girl," the man said, tugging on your wrist.

You smiled sweetly and sat down on his lap, resting your arm on his shoulder.

"How have you been, my love?" you asked, batting your lashes.

"Better now that you're here," he said, his hand resting on your knee, his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh.

"That's sweet," you said, trying not to flinch at his touch.

You leaned in and whispered into his ear, "What can I do for you tonight?"

He smirked, his hand sliding further up your thigh, he looked over your shoulder and paused. His eyes were fixed on something behind you, his expression one of shock and disgust.

You turned to see Lina stumbling through the main room, her hair a mess, her clothes torn, blood trickling down from a wound on her head.

She was muttering incoherently, her eyes wild and unfocused. She stopped in the middle of the room, looking around, a terrified expression on her face.

"Lina?" You immediately got off the man's lap and rushed to her side, placing your hand on her shoulder.

She screamed, slapping your hand away and staggering back. Her eyes were wide, her breathing heavy, she was looking at you as if you were a stranger.

"Lina, it's me," you said, trying to calm her.

She shook her head, backing away, her eyes darting around the room.

"You're alright," you said, stepping towards her.

She raised her hands in front of her, as if trying to shield herself from something. You could see the bruises on her wrists and her hands were trembling.

You reached out to her, but she flinched, moving away from you. She backed into a table, knocking over a tray of drinks.

The noise drew the attention of the patrons, everyone was staring at her, murmuring to each other.

You grabbed her arm, gently leading her to the stairs. She let you lead her, her body tense, her breathing rapid.

You opened the door to her room and led her inside. You could see the dried blood and cum on her thighs, and the tears in her clothes.

"What happened to you, Lina?" you asked, but she remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.

You went to the washbasin and dampened a cloth, sitting next to her on the bed. You began to clean the dried blood from her face, gently wiping the cloth over her bruised skin.

"You are safe now," you said, trying to soothe her.

"It was him," she suddenly said, her voice quiet and strained.

"Him who?" you asked, dipping the cloth back into the water, the blood turning it pink.

"Prince Daemon," she said, her voice cracking.

Your eyes widened, the cloth slipping from your fingers and landing in the basin with a wet splash.

"Daemon did this to you?" you asked, a pit of anger forming in your stomach.

Lina nodded, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking. "You mustn't tell anyone, he will kill me," she cried.

"Lina, I...," you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

You wrapped your arms around her and held her close, letting her cry into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice breaking.

She pulled away, her eyes red and puffy, her lips quivering.

You felt your chest tighten, a wave of rage and despair washing over you. Daemon was a vile, evil man, and the fact that he had hurt Lina, filled you with an overwhelming anger.

You clenched your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms, a stinging pain spreading over your skin.

"I... I lost all my coin...He took it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You wondered why a prince would bother stealing coins from a common whore, surely he had enough coin of his own.

"You can have whatever I earn tonight," you said, your tone serious.

"You don't have to do that," she said, shaking her head.

"Of course I do, you would do it for me," you said, gently cupping her cheek.

She nodded, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

"Stay here, get some rest," you said, helping her lay down.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, curling up into a ball, her body still trembling. You left the room, closing the door quietly behind you.

You walked back down to the main room, a burning rage coursing through your veins. You spotted Daemon, sitting at a table, drinking wine and laughing with a group of men.

You wanted to confront him, to pour hot tar over his head and watch him scream and writhe in pain. You looked around the room for a weapon, anything you could use to inflict harm upon him.

Your eyes landed on a serving tray, you picked it up, the metal cool against your palm. You were about to do something rash, something you couldn't come back from, when the man from last night caught your attention.

He was sitting at a table by himself, nursing a drink. He was wearing the same leathers as last night, and his sword was strapped to his hip.

He looked up, as if he could feel your gaze on him, and gave you a small smile. He gestured for you to come over.

You placed the tray back on the table, and walked over to him. You needed the coin for Lina, and he felt nice and smelled good, it would be a pleasant distraction.

"Back so soon?" you asked, swallowing your rage and fear, turning it to soft words and flirty touches.

You sat down on his lap, wrapping your arm around his shoulders, kissing his cheek and smiling sweetly.

"I missed you," he said, his hand going to your waist.

"Liar," you whispered, a playful smirk on your lips.

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He looked around the room then back to you, his gaze roaming over your body.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes," you replied, sliding off his lap and taking his hand.

He followed you to the stairs, his hand on the small of your back. You glanced over your shoulder at Daemon, a scowl on your face as you walked away from the opportunity to harm him.

You quickly led the man to your room, shutting the door and leaning against it, letting out a sigh.

"Are you alright?" He asked, setting his sword down and untying his shirt.

"Fine," you said, watching him undress.

His chest was pale and well muscled, his body lean and strong. He looked up at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Lying once again," he said, unbuckling his belt.

"My friend was attacked," you said, walking over to him, running your hands over his bare chest.

"I am sorry to hear that," he said, his gaze focused on you, his hands reaching up to cup your face.

"She was beaten and raped by Prince Daemon," you said, leaning into his touch, his calloused palms rough against your cheeks.

He stiffened at that, but just for a moment, before untying your dress and letting it pool at your feet.

"You shouldn't say things like that," he said, his hands gripping your ass and pulling you closer.

"Why? It's the truth," You replied, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your naked body against his.

"It can get you killed," he said, his voice low and his breath hot against your ear.

You shivered, his words sending a chill down your spine. "I do not care, he deserves to die," you hissed, nipping at his bottom lip.

He smiled and lifted you up, carrying you to the bed and laying you down. His lips were soft against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth.

"Tell me, do you always have such violent thoughts?" He asked, his hands roaming over your body.

He gripped your hips and pulled you underneath him, his erection pressed against your pussy.

"When men like him exist? Yes," you replied, moaning softly as he ground his hips against yours.

"And what would you do, if you had the power?" He asked, his fingers ghosting over your clit, making you moan.

"I would cut him open, and feed him his own guts," you replied, arching your back, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. "Or perhaps burn him alive," you added, a dark smile spreading across your lips.

He chuckled, a wicked grin on his face, his eyes flashing with desire.

"And what of me? What would you do to me?" He asked, his fingers slipping inside of you, moving slowly, his thumb circling your clit.

You kissed him, hard and fierce, nipping at his lip, a small bead of blood forming. You could taste it, sweet and coppery, the smell of iron filling your nose. He chuckled at your roughness, his fingers moving faster.

"You've not wronged me, yet," you moaned against his lips, your hands going to his cock, the speed of your strokes matching his.

"Yet?" He chuckled, a low and seductive sound.

"There is time," you teased, pushing him off you and onto his back.

You straddled him, lowering yourself onto his cock, moaning as you felt him stretch you. He gripped your hips, guiding you as you began to ride him, his eyes watching you intently.

You arched your back, rolling your hips, grinding against him, your hands on his chest. You could feel him hitting that spot inside of you, making you moan and pant.

He sat up, his hands gripping your ass, his lips finding yours, a soft and passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close, his warmth enveloping you.

"Harder," you pleaded, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He obliged, his grip tightening, his hips thrusting harder, deeper, filling you completely. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries of pleasure, your body tensing as you came.

He grunted, his cock throbbing inside of you, his hot seed spilling into you. You held each other close, panting and sweating, the room silent save for your labored breaths.

He captured your lips, a soft and gentle kiss, his fingers stroking your cheek. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his, a contented sigh escaping your lips.

"Is he here now? This prince," he asked, a bitter inflection to his tone.

"Yes," you replied, running your hands through his hair.

"Will you point him out to me?" He asked, his grip on your hips tightening.

You looked at him, a curious expression on your face. "Why?"

"Just curious," he replied, his fingers tracing circles on your lower back.

You looked into his eyes, a strange fire had crept into his gaze. You could feel a change in the air, the tension thick and heavy, the room seeming to grow darker.

"Okay," you said softly, a hint of trepidation in your voice.

"Good," he said, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

He helped you off his lap, standing and gathering his clothes, pulling his trousers and shirt back on.

You watched him, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, his eyes focused and determined. He seemed to be lost in thought, his gaze distant, as if he was planning something.

"Who are you?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't respond, just held out his hand for you. You took it, and let him help you off the bed, your fingers intertwined.

You descended the stairs, the tavern full and bustling, the air thick with the scent of sweat and ale. You led him towards the corner where the prince was, his table surrounded by a group of men.

"Them," you said, pointing to the prince and his entourage.

He nodded, and pulled you close, kissing your cheek and placing a large bag of crowns in your hand.

"For you and your friend," he whispered, before releasing you and disappearing into the crowd.

You stared after him, confused and intrigued. You didn't know what was going on, or what he was planning, but you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement.

You went over to Kari who was in the lap of the regular from earlier, her hands wandering over his broad chest.

"Where did you go?" She asked, glancing at you, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Upstairs, with the man from last night," you replied, showing her the coins.

She grinned, her eyes wide. "Look at you, making the big coin," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Suddenly there was a loud crash, the sound of breaking glass. You turned to see the prince on the ground, his table overturned, a shattered bottle of wine next to him. The men he was with nowhere to be seen.

A number of gold cloaks had come storming in, and were surrounding the table, their swords drawn.

You watched the man you had just been with appear behind them, making his way through the gold cloaks, they parted for him without question.

The prince looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear, his body trembling.

"What are you doing? I'm the prince! Prince Daemon Targaryen!" He stammered, trying to back away.

The man laughed, and looked around at the gold cloaks, who were smiling and laughing with him.

"Funny," he said, looking down at the prince. "I could have sworn that was me."

The man who claimed to be the prince looked horrified, his eyes wide with shock.

"That's right, your grace," the man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've been caught," he continued, the smirk turning into a sadistic grin.

You watched in horror and amazement as the pretender prince tried to scramble away, only to be stopped by a sword being plunged into his stomach.

He let out a gurgled cry, his blood spraying out onto the floor, a look of pure terror on his face. You and Kari screamed and looked away, covering your mouths in shock.

There was a horrible, visceral wet sound as the real prince Daemon cut open the pretender's stomach, and pulled out his innards, feeding them to him.

The room was silent, save for the sound of the dying pretender, gagging and wailing, his blood pooling around him.

"Let this be a lesson to all those who would dare to impersonate a prince of the realm," Daemon said, his voice booming across the tavern. "All pretenders shall meet the same fate."

The pretender had fallen silent, his body lying in a pool of his own blood and guts. Daemon wiped his hands and sword on the pretender's clothes, and turned to the gold cloaks.

"Clean this up, and dispose of the body," he said, his tone commanding.

The gold cloaks bowed, and began to drag the pretender's body from the tavern. The real prince looked around the room, his eyes landing on you.

You immediately looked to the floor, bowing before him, your heart pounding. You couldn't believe what had just happened, that the prince was a pretender and that the real Daemon had just been in your bed.

He walked over to you, and you kept your gaze down, not daring to look at him. You felt his hand under your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I'll be sure to burn him too," he said, a small smile on his lips.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. He smiled and released you, turning and walking away.

Everyone was in a state of shocked silence, people staring in awe and disbelief. Kari looked at you, her eyes wide and her face pale.

"What just happened?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I... I don't know," you replied, your own voice shaking.

It was a lesson, one you never forgot. That even among whores, the truth would always find its way to the surface. And for that, there was no mercy.