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ophelieverse · 7 months ago

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please please please i need you to write something for my man Aegon I love how you write for him😭

➳♡before fire takes it all

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

-summary:normally Aegon would ignore Helaena and her strange behavior but,since his wife Y/n got pregnant,he can’t help but think about the words his sister said the moment he announced the news.

-warnings:set in season 1,pre blood and cheese and luke death,teen pregnancy(both Aegon and reader are sixteen),talk about child death,Aegon being paranoid and keeping secrets,Helaena predictions,classic asoiaf warnings,reader can be of whatever house you want.

-thank you so much for the request and let me know what you guys think,send you all my love🩷

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It hurts.

Love,Aegon thinks.

Love hurts.

His heart bursts,his heart explodes,his heart climbs down his throat and assaults his temples, squeezing and compressing them until his eyes darken,until it scars the tormented irises and pupils.

Loving too much is fatal.Or not?

Isn't that so?

Live well,live badly.Does he lives at all?

“I don't know”,his conscience responds.

Aegon would like to know,but he doesn’t know.He doesn’t even think he knows what the right way to live is anymore,he’s terrified that he doesn’t know what it means to live anymore.

How can he live?How?

How can he pretend that everything is alright?That everything,in the future,is going to be alright?

Normally Aegon wouldn’t think about these sort of things,he used to live day by day dictated by his own selfish desires.But since he had got married two years ago,something in him changed completely.He started to understand what it meant to love and live for someone else,to wake up every morning early to just watch her sleep so soundly next to him,to stay sober at every hour so that he could remember her kind words,her sweet face and calm voice.Wanting to be a different version,a better one,of himself only because she showed him that he deserved happiness and love like everyone else and in return he only wanted to give her the best he could.

But golden necklaces,earrings,beautiful flowers and the most expensive dresses could not fill the hole that was slowly opening under their feet,a hidden tragedy ready to swallow them whole and to break their hearts and souls forever.

Aegon wasn’t one to listen to his family,he longed for his mother love and his father attention,he despised his older half sister,made fun of his younger brothers and mostly ignored his other sister.Only this time,something happened,something made him look in Helaena direction for the first time and his ears had caught every single word that she had whispered to herself.

His wife,Lady Y/n,the most beautiful and kind woman,a innocent young girl with a heart too big for her body,was pregnant.It was true,what they said about expecting women,she was glowing like the most precious diamond and her happiness about becoming a mother,the mother of the lover of her life child,couldn’t be contained by her shiny eyes and big smile.

«The Maester said that signs suggest is going to be a boy.»Aegon had announced one day at the breakfast table.

His mother had smiled kindly and Aemond had nodded giving his shoulder a warm squeeze.It was still too early in the pregnancy to understand whether is was going to be boy or a girl,but still Aegon had hoped that the Maester was right.Having a son was a dream that he never dared to imagine or to say out loud until then,the living proof that he was going to be better than his father ever was for him.

Helaena was sitting next to him,quietly playing with a wooden butterfly,all lost in the secret gardens of her mind when she muttered something: «A son for a son.»without even understanding her own words.

As their mother and brother were talking,Aegon turned slightly toward her.Usually he wouldn’t pay attention to his sister and her strange behavior,he was disgusted by all of those insects that she so lovingly brought everywhere like some pet on a leash and he was so relieved when his father had betrothed him to Y/n instead that her.He wouldn’t even lister or look over her if in the past,her silent words of warning weren’t revealed to be the sour truth.Aemond had lost an eye just like she had said.Maybe if back then he had listened to her,he would have helped his brother and nothing would have happened.

«What does it mean?»Aegon had whispered to her confused.

Helaena wasn’t looking at him,her fingers gracefully tracing the toy«They only want the boy,not the girl.»she said as if she didn’t heard him,nodding to herself.

Aegon left the spoon that he was holding,a sensation of nausea was crawling up his stomach,his heart beating faster«The boy?My boy?Who wants him?»he asked.

His sister stayed quiet,every second felt like an agony for him.His mind became of stone and a part of his was laughing for the fact that he was actually really listening to her,to her crazy words and empty head.But still,something,maybe his father instinct that was already part of him,told him that what she was saying was another dark truth.

A boy and a girl,she had said.He was going to have both,twins.He couldn’t even imagine it,praying that they would take after their mother soft and gentle spirit but also his fierce nature.Y/n would have been delighted to know that they were about to have twice of the love,but what would she said if she knew that someone wanted their son?

«The rats.»Helaena answered then,her eyes bore holes in his as she turned to look at her older brother,shiny lilac flowers watered in fear and condolences.

It had been months since that conversation and Aegon couldn’t stop to think about it.Every night,as he watched Y/n sleep next to him while he so gently caressed her belly where two new lives were growing,he could still feel his sister horrified stare on him and her heavy words in his ears.

Y/n is talking to Aegon,while they were lying under the covers of their bed.Her head is on his chest,her hair smelled of flowers and peaches,her voice sleepy and always so tender as his hand was staying on her swollen stomach.She's talking to him about her day and he can't listen to her,he can't even see her behind his pale eyelashes that lower,behind his tired eyelids that are threatening to close tightly.

With the fingers of his free hand he massage them,the nail of his index finger finds a tear that was hidden there,at the corner of the right eye,and uprooting it,let it be dried out by air.

Aegon was exhausted.He had difficulty to sleep when every sound made him jump,every shadow in the corner gave him a heart attack.

He would like to stop thinking,he would like to find a way to turn off his mind,to blow up the candle that kept his brain from sleeping and this crazy thought makes him understand that he had become even more incredibly pathetic than he already was.

Aegon was terrorized.If he already ignored Helaena,now he was avoiding her like the plague in fear that she could say something else,or worse,talk about her thoughts to Y/n.

Y/n,his beautiful and sweet wife,already had so much to think about.Being eight months pregnant was taking a toll on her,even though she never stopped smiling,he could see that she was tired and that her body couldn’t bare it anymore.He couldn’t let her worry about something that his weird sister said to him,not when the Maester said that she needed peace,calmness and affection.And even if he hadn’t said that,how could Aegon tell her what was keeping him awake at night?

He set more and more knights to follow his wife around to make sure that nothing happened to her and his children,the Maester came to check on her at least once a day and when he wasn’t with her,his mother would keep her company in the solarium.He had personally hired people to hunt the rats of the Red Keep.Aegon so often dreamed of being just like the armors that Ser Arryk wears,cold, motionless,empty,that he has come to believe that it would be beautiful,it would be fulfilling,to be something without emotions and rest in a corner without light.

Aegon had still to meet his son,both of his children,after he had dreamed of him,of them,for so long.And yet already someone wanted to take his baby away from him.

The flashes of the veins on his forehead tingle and he clash,he crush himself,against an imaginary expanse of water that slaps his brain,crushes his lungs with long ivory tusks,disfigures his face.

Aegon was blocked.

He was stuck in some claustrophobic scribbled box,in a rusty bubble of his faulty soul,and he was afraid see beyond.But he could see the future,the one that Helaena had tried to warn him about.

He could see beyond and,the certainty is disconcerting,he clearly see that the worst nightmare of any human being,what wakes up men in the middle of the night and scares children with simple shadows,is the awareness of being chased:no one can ever escape from themselves,no one has ever escaped from destiny.

Not even him,especially him.

Because Aegon knew already,tasting it on the tip of his tongue,that what will happen is was going to be his fault.Certainly not because of Y/n.

«Am I boring you?»Y/n voice was tired but still sweet«Forgive me,my days are monotonous,predictable and highly boring.»she huffed,caressing his hand above her stomach.

Ever since she had started showing,her husband treated her like the finest and most delicate porcelain.All she could do during the day was read in their chambers,walk through the gardens and pray with the Queen.Not exactly a vivacious life,especially since Ser Arryk followed her every move.

She yawns,she apologizes,and Aegon finally slam the lumpy eyelashes and look at her.

Y/n is smiling,innocent,carrying his children and then his body moves by itself,he act instinctively, and get her closer to him.

A hand behind her nape,a strong and fast grip, almost stuttered,and Aegon feel her words on the palate,he eat them between his lips moving on her open mouth.He kiss her badly,and he hurt himself,he will hurt both of them,he kiss her following the dull rhythm of his ears,he kiss her and he pass the noise of his thoughts to her.

Aegon feels a hole in the center of his throat,a knot of cries,and this makes him sway and covers his eyes with torn red lightning here and there,it breaks his mind.Yet he keep kissing her.He have to kiss her.

Kissing Y/n scratches his soul,kissing her stirs up his fears and reminds him,in the pause of one of her breath,the so natural way in which pleasure and pain mix,get tangled,whenever pieces of skin graze and play with the tongues and crests of a fire.Fingertips caressing purple flames,white sheets reduced to blackened shreds,a plate of ice lying on the jigular.

Kissing Y/n now is like taking a sip of salt.Filling her mouth,having her under his palms,feeling the boiling heat of her cheeks against his nose and against his upper lip.

Y/n forces Aegon to give her every good part of himself,even those he thought were lost by now,and she does it with twisting tongues or with an annoying clash of teeth.All it takes is a simple touch and he’s willing to give her the world.She makes him wanting to be a better person and he so scared to fail her,that he wouldn’t be able to protect her and the most precious things that they created together.

«Aegon.»she whispered on his lips,eyes fluttered closed.

«I love you.»he said without thinking«I love you and our children.And I didn't think I could ever love,not this way.»he confessed,his voice trembling as his mouth was on hers again.

«I love you too.Are you alright sweetheart?»Y/n asked placing a hand on his warm cheek,she could read him like a open book but sometimes even her couldn’t understand him completely.

Aegon wished he could tell her all about what was going on in his mind.To share with her his deepest fears,to let her hold him and tell him that everything is going to be alright and that they will be safe and together for all of their lives.

But when she starts kissing him in a different way,like a helpless girl who would let herself do anything from him,when she starts kissing him with a teenage heat,a heat so in love and so lost, then he would like to do something else.

He would like to yell all the terrible words that Helaena told him,he would like to tug on her and burst her stupid and crazy soap bubbles in front of her eyes and he would like to do it just to remind her who he really was.To remind his sweet Y/n that so willingly loved,accepted and cherished him,that believed that with him nothing could touch her,that he was still a dragon and dragons are known to burn people.

Aegon doesn’t answer her,he just lets his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.

«You don’t have to worry.»Y/n murmured against his skin«You are not like your father and our children already know that,they love you just like I do.»she promised him,their hands interlaced on her belly.

He had voiced his concerns about fatherhood the moment she told him that she was with child,his child.Children now.And she had spent countless nights reassuring him that he was going to be a good father,a better one,unlike his.That he was going to be there for them,but now he knows that he can’t escape his own fate.His father shadow will forever be there to remind him that they are just the same:bound to fail their families.

“Stop it,please.Stop holding my heart so tight in your hands,that's enough.”Aegon thought.

It was in moments like these that Aegon remembered that Y/n was just a girl,a frightened sixteen years old who lives every second with her chest open,her heart too visible to anyone,too exposed.The feelings,the emotions,painted between her bright eyes and lips,make her an easy target,a sacrificial lamb,a too good person who can easily be stabbed in the back.

Her goodness and naivety makes her vulnerable and Aegon knows it,Gods,he knows it.

Because Y/n is not,in the slightest,capable of defending herself,she is not even able to understand the reality of the universe,she does not come to terms with the subtle and treacherous truths.She does not accept the existence of evil in the world,she does not accept the possibility that often what is considered good and right,is not really good,is not really right.

So how could Aegon get her away from the black that drips from his nails,scars,thoughts?Y/n thinks she knows how dark his soul is,she thinks she's got it,but he know she doesn’t.

It will never be like this.

«Aegon.»she calls for him again as soon as she realizes that his mind is wandering too far.

Y/n throws his name on his skin and he swallow the panic that warms his esophagus,which runs through his every rib,as he block her head in his hands,almost in a trap.

Aegon push her to lie on the mattress,make her collapse between the pillows almost as if he had beaten her in a duel,and he hovers on top of her relaxed body,carefully holding her stomach.

Y/n doesn't tremble.

He’s are literally assaulting her and she lets him do it,she agrees,she welcomes him between her legs,in her heart,in her mouth that moves a little away from his and then falls on his eyelids that are still closed.

Aegon wish he could tear his eyes out,blind himself with huge metal spikes.He doesn’t let anyone get so close to him,he’d never done it and now more than before he wished didn’t do it.Because now they would see it,they already saw it.It was evident,under the lights and everyone eyes that his legacy was about to be born and die all in once.

Even the rats will see it.If someone dared to direct their steps towards Aegon,if someone dared even raise their head towards him,they would see his pupils and find Y/n and their children in there.

At the center of all his thoughts,of all his hopes:the end of an entire life that has bent over itself in the hope of scraping together some more time and living it with them.

So what's wrong?What binds his eyelashes in a white spider web?Could Helaena be right or he was being paranoid again?She was right about the fact that Y/n was carrying twins,the Maester had confirmed it months ago,but could she be right about the rest?

Then he felt it,against his warm palm and his heart skip a beat.A little kick,yet strong and determined to be felt.

«Looks like someone woke up.»Y/n giggled,looking down at her body.

«I didn’t mean to wake them.I’m sorry.»is all that Aegon can whisper and he doesn’t even know what he’s really apologizing for.

Y/n listens to him and suddenly recognizes something in the tone of his voice.She relaxes her limbs under him even more,completely wipes away any trace of tension as if someone had just cut the thin threads that moved her body,and she sulks as she touches his lilac eyes that he still deny her,stubbornly.

«Why are you so sad?What happened?»she said,concern covering all her beautiful face.

It’s not what happened,but what could happen.

Aegon forced a smile on his lips«A bad dream.That's all.»he lies,shaking his head.

Thats what he prayed every night,that it was all a nightmare and that he would wake up soon.

Y/n rubs her fingertips on his eyelashes and he feel her lips lying against his cheekbone.She’s smiling.

«Don't worry.I just found the last sleep crumbs that were hiding from you and threw them away. They were the ones who held back the bad dream and now they are gone.»she explained to him,peppering sweet kisses on his face.

Aegon eyelids rise on their own and he clash with the flickering image of his wife looking at him and bringing to his face her index finger on which one of his eyelashes is placed,almost a crescent moon caught in the air and hovering towards the earth.

«Do you want to make a wish?My mother always told me to do it,but I have to admit that almost none of my wishes ever came true in this way. Maybe I was asking for impossible things,out of my reach.Same thing with the shooting stars.Do you want to try anyway?»Y/n was rumbling,now he remembered why she was friends with his sister.

Aegon leverage his elbows,without getting too far away from her and look at her strangely«What?»he asked confused.

His cheeks mottled red and it seems to him that the way she bites her lips is yet another punch against his anesthetized emotions.

«Forgive me,it's such a stupid thing.Please forget it.»and while she is saying it she moves her nail in the act of throwing away his wish that has taken on the common form of a pale eyelash.

Y/n gesture makes the eyelash roll down and it swirls over itself and chases the earth,chases its tail,forms several open circles into which he stick his dream,his nightmare,his hidden thought.

The eyelash is lost on the red carpet and Aegon don't see it anymore.

He look for Y/n gaze again as she pushes him back into kissing her.She asks him,clumsily,to let go of those silly words of hers.The words of a girl that was still too young and forced by her father to grow up too fast,a girl hat was still a child herself with all of her fantasies and fairytales.A child that will raise children soon.

Because Y/n was better than Aegon,she is,even if she doesn't know it,and she showed it to him so many times that he has now lost count of the occasions when he felt at fault.Occasions when he realized he don't deserve her.

Aegon prefer to ignore this reality of the facts,he prefer to put his lips on her collarbone and bite slowly,resume and rummaging through her fertile body,one hand in her hair and the other under her nightgown,and grab as much as much as she offers him.

And Y/n offers Aegon everything,always.

«No wish was ever fulfilled?No one?»the question comes out of his teeth before he can control it,it pours out as his mouth moves over her belly that he suddenly feel quiver.

She is laughing.All three of them are,he realizes as he start tracing with his fingers his children imaginary features on the skin of her stomach.

«Maybe two of them.»Y/n says,referring to the lives she created inside of her«But I found out that my wishes only come true when I look at myself in a puddle.»she laughs again with her mouth open and then moves her head into a pillow.

His fingertips tingle on contact with her skin and his stomach closes into a knot the moment he notice how the intimacy that his movements has turned into familiarity.Because that is what they were going to be soon,a family.

«When did you looked at yourself into a puddle?»Aegon suddenly asked,giggling a bit when another kick met his hand.

Y/n hand found its way into his messy silver locks«The day that my father had accompanied me here for our betrothal.»she tells him,a warm feeling in her chest at the memory.

«It was raining.»he said,he remembered perfectly the first time he saw her.

He remembered her father fussing all over her wet hair,trying to adjust her dress and to make her look presentable.But she was still the most beautiful and vulnerable creature that Aegon had aver seen.A little wet bird in a golden cage.

She nodded«Before entering the Keep i took a deep breath and,as I stared at my reflection into a puddle at my feet,I secretly wished that the husband i was going to have would love him as much as I love looking at the star.»she smiled lovingly down at him.

It came true.Aegon felt his heart exploding in his chest,he loved his wife more than anything in the world.It was so easy for him to love her,how could he not?The thought that she had to wish for something like that,for something that for him was like breathing made his eyes flutter with little tears.

Aegon moved an arm and he already knew that he will hold her hand,remaining palm to palm,as he already know that her fingers will chase his,that they will squeeze,gasps.Wrists banging against wrists,veins in contact.

The time of a whole life that slips away.

«I have never made a wish.»he confessed then.

He just took,he just wanted.

Oh Aegon,what a stupid mistake.

He stole the dreams of his future child,he had plundered entire experiences of the past,and yet he could have simply asked.With courtesy,with kindness.With a little humility.

What a stupid mistake.

«You must have had a really bad dream.»Y/n whispers in her voice broken by his caresses,and then leans and puts her forehead against his as he rise to look at her«But it’s never too late,you can still have your wish.»she reassured him.

No he couldn’t and maybe they should stop talking,stop wasting time.They both should just exchange their saliva and shut up.Pant,moan obscenely and stop everything else.Eliminate among them the layers of soul,the remnants of some childish hopes,and join like empty bags.

It would be better this way,Aegon recognize this too,just below the surface,just below the peel of his chest,at least admit with himself that it would be better that way.He should stop discovering her hips with words,with confessions,with Helaena confusing words,with half-truths:it's too risky.

He should just close himself and unite with her only the bodies,discover the consistency of the painless choices and stay there stationary,inside an empty and deep gap in which the arms and legs move frantically without ever finding anything to hold on to.

This was his life once,before her.

Aegon had endless possibilities of oblivion,between the broken lines of the light palms,he had everything a young,spoiled prince could ask for.

The simplicity of superficial human relationships flowed through the buttonholes of his fingers and he continued to be unhappy,stubbornly perpetuated his pursuit of unhappiness,but he didn't know it,and therefore he really wasn't.

Or maybe yes?Maybe a part of him knew that?Is that why his chest is burning now?Because now he was finally happy for the first time and he didn’t wanted it to end?

Because now Aegon has Y/n and he managed to create something pure and innocent and beautiful with her,giving them all of the good qualities he didn’t knew he possessed.

Y/n seems to listen to his every secret and fear,to feel his breathing change and become noisier,deeper.She place a hand on his abdomen, slowly,she traces with her fingertips first his palm and then also his wrist,then also the blue vein,and repeat his name,repeat his name,repeat his name again.

Aegon enchant himself in front of the movement of her mouth and listen to the ticking of her heart that stretches until it pulls a painful fist on his gums.

He’s an adult now,a husband and a father.He should behave as such and leave the butterflies to the kids and remember that him,in his stomach and belly,only have the worms of rotten apples.

This happens to those who never make a wish. Didn't he know that?

«I would kill for our family,even innocent people if this means keep the three of you safe.»Aegon suddenly said,voicing his thoughts out loud«Would you still love me after that?»the question is sour in his mouth.

Y/n opens her eyelids to the sound of his question,frantically slams her eyelashes,those eyelashes,and swallows with difficulty.The cheeks are even redder and the ears are also red,the eyes are shiny.Atoms of soul and innocence:they agglomerated together and formed her,a little girl composed of glass and cobwebs,bubbles and feathers.

The bravest Lady he had ever met.

«Of course I will love you.My heart is your for eternity.»she replies and doesn't hesitate for a moment«And I would do the same for us.»she added with a whisper.

Her love for him is equivalent to a black hole in which he could immerse himself and observe a boundless horizon of stars broken and stuck in an icy ground.

She loves him.

And she knows that Aegon loves her too.But right now he can't even answer her,to tell her that he’s sorry,that he’s scared,that he reciprocate her feelings with the same intensity or that maybe he reciprocate them in an even more desperate way than her,crazier.He wish he could tell her that he wished they had more time,that he wasn’t who he is,that he wished that they were born in a different place and had different lives to share forever.

Y/n face is beautiful,her forehead is smooth,no flickering lines to scar her tranquility,and the skin near her eyes is crumpled from the day they got married and started to live a life together.It's the restrained cries,the sleepless nights,the quarrels,the misunderstandings,the voracious kisses left on them like square pieces.

Y/n looks at him,her eyes are still shiny,and with her fingertips and palms she clings to his camisole.

Sh clings to him and Aegon doesn’t feel any weight,he doesn’t feel any pain,no discomfort.Then at least one thing shines certain and bright in his mind:she has become the very consistency of his body.She has entered his limbs,without him noticing,and she is so close to him,beyond the blood and the breaths,that her hand is now an extension of his,her chest is his,her back is his,her lips are his.

And they would be able to see it,all perfectly together in the faces of their children.

And it is not a mere matter of possession,just an arranged marriage to unite two houses,this is not the truth and it will never be.It is something ancestral,like being destined to meet her,being destined to belong to it,being destined to live there,despite time and space.

Aegon and Y/n were sitting on the opposite ends of a timeline,at two distant points in human life, so far away that they saw each other like blurred halos,and they wanted so much to find the other,they have desired it so much,so much,that they have decided to tilt the axes of existence,to hang on to them,and to reunite with an interweaving of hands.

They had bent their faces,touched their souls by ticking of nails,and nothing was the same again.What a stupid mistake they made,something that their innocent son will pay one day.

Aegon felt like he was on fire,his whole body was trembling and his heart ached in his chest«Y/n…I…I-»but what could he tell her?

He could push her away from him,go ahead and just do it,but on his bones he will still find her shape and her footprints.If he looked for her,looked for her in him,he would find that she was everywhere.

«Y/n,I’m…I’m really sorr-»he tried to choke out what he could.

«Do you know what I wanted when I first looked inside a puddle?»Y/n didn’t let him finish,instead she kept stroking his face lovingly to help him calm down.

Aegon doesn’t move and she puts her index finger against his right temple,light.He knew that,from where she was from,it usually rained during the end of the summer and that she loved playing outside with her siblings and mother.She was the one that taught Y/n to look inside poodles and to dance in the rain,something that she would teach her future children too.

«I wished I could see myself.I wanted it intensely,I really wanted it with all my strength,as I never wanted anything in life.»Y/n started to explain him.

All of her life was planned for her,from the moment she came to the world,by her father that only saw his daughter as piece of chess to move on the board in order to gain power.She didn’t even knew who she was if not Lady Y/n,a proper and polite young girl ready to marry in the royal house.But now she knew who she was,what she liked to eat,to read,what to do in her free time and it was all thanks to Aegon that had shown her how to be selfish for the first time and to live for herself.

«And I see myself now,I can see myself,but I'm not happy.Because I have a new wish,much more important:that you can see yourself in the same way I see you,the way our children already see you.Then yes,i would be happy.We would both be happy.»she told him,sincerely with a little smile on her beautiful face.

Y/n had plundered his last feelings,which were nothing more than bread crumbs left attached to the eaten crusts.If the world fell,the sun fell,all the snow,the hail,the rain and the lightning fell,even the rainbow.He will make fire pour from the sky,he will spill blood just to keep his family alive and safe besides him.

Aegon doesn’t say anything,he moves forward on top of her and kisses her one again.He has a wish now:time.The only thing he wanted was time,more time to see his children grow up and become beautiful people,time to spend with them and to teach them how the world works,to help them and hold their hands,to protect them when they were scared and to remains them that he will love them forever.More time with Y/n,to love and cherish her,to grow old with her,to make her smile and laugh at the most inappropriate times,to caress her sweet face at night as he watches her sleep.He just wanted more time,he deserved it.

«How about,the next time that rains,we go outside,just us.»Aegon murmurs on her lips«I have a wish to make.»he continued with a small smile.

And he prayed the gods,whoever could listen to him,that it would become true the moment Y/n giggled and nodded her head.He hoped but hope can do nothing against an already written destiny and then he will be ready to go to war.

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maidragoste · 4 months ago

Text

Aerion

Age up!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader (Daeron's twin sister)

Part 3 of I miss you

I honestly didn't think it would take me more than a year to decide if I wanted this to have a happy ending or not lol

Reblogs, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥹🙏🏻💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

The gods are cruel, Alicent Hightower thought as she watched her youngest daughter enter the throne room. The plan was that Larys would get you out of here with Aegon, Jaehaera, and Maelor but of course, the cursed baby had to ruin everything again. You went into labor and couldn't get away.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” said Alicent, horrified as she saw how the traitorous golden cloaks escorted you. It was obvious that you had barely finished giving birth and were brought here to swear loyalty to Rhaenyra. They hadn’t had the decency to let you clean yourself or wait for you to rest. Your always perfect hair was now a mess. Sweat and blood could be seen on your nightgown and legs. Not only that, but you looked like you were about to collapse. If it weren’t for the master holding your body, you probably would have fallen. Even though you wanted to appear strong, Alicent knew you and could see that you were confused and scared. No one should see a princess like that.

Alicent wasn't the only one horrified by the situation. Rhaenyra was too, remembering how she once had to bring Joffrey to the queen after his birth.

But the most shocked one was Jacaerys. For months he had been going crazy because no one could get any information about you, worried about your well-being and it turns out that you were pregnant with his child. He had no doubt that the baby you hold against your chest was his because he knew that if it were another man your family would have instantly made you marry but when it was him, Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen's bastard, they hadn't wanted the news to spread.

“This is a shame! We are dealing with a princess of the kingdom!” said Jacaerys furiously at the guards as he approached you, drawing the attention of the court and disturbing the newborn.

“¹Ziry iksos sȳz, ziry iksos sepār aōha kepa,” you whispered, trying to reassure your baby. Jacaerys had missed hearing your voice so much but what moved him most was being called Kepa for the first time. He never thought it would be possible to have this with you, of course it wasn’t the best time being in the middle of a war and the child having been born out of wedlock, but he couldn’t help but feel happy. Was it wrong that after months of so much misery and loss, he felt happy to know that now in the world there was someone who was half the woman he loved the most and half his?

“Ñuha jorrāelagon, ivestragī nyke gūrogon ao naejot aōha chambers. Ao should clean bē se rest” Jacaerys said, ignoring the glances of his mother and stepfather. He knew he would have to have a conversation with them later, but right now all he cared about was you.

You nodded, moving away from the maester and Jacaerys took you in his arms and lifted you being as careful as possible. You felt your body relax as you rested your head against his shoulder. Finally, after months you felt something other than sadness and fear, you felt warm and safe with Jace. You needed him so much during all this time.

Alicent hated Rhaenyra's bastard for dishonoring you, with this scene everyone would now know that your son was his bastard, but as she watched you leave the room in his arms she couldn't help but feel grateful to him for being the only one to come to your defense. She knew you would be safe from Rhaenyra as long as Jacaerys was by your side, he wouldn't allow anything to happen to you.

As soon as the handmaidens left, your old handmaidens before you got pregnant, you burst into tears. Of course, as they helped you bathe you and your baby, you filled them with questions about what had happened during all those months that you were locked away. You knew there was war in your family but it was still a shock to hear about the deaths. You were shocked to hear what they did to your nephew Jaehaerys. Poor Helaena, poor Aegon. Your dear brother was the only one who had mercy on you and came to see you during your confinement. You thought he was angry with you when he stopped coming but in reality, it was because he ended up so wounded in battle that now Aemond is Prince Regent.

The doors opened again, startling you and you instantly rushed to wipe the tears on your face with your hands. Not wanting to show yourself weaker in front of Rhaenyra and Daemon. You turned around and your body relaxed when you saw that it was Jace. The maids must have told him that both you and the baby were already clean. You didn’t think he would come until later. You were sure he would be busy for hours being questioned by his mother and your uncle.

“We will marry and my mother will legitimize our son,” Jacaerys announced, approaching you with a smile, but you could still see the tiredness on his face. You had no idea how he had managed to convince Rhaenyra to accept, but it couldn’t have been easy or a pleasant conversation. He must have had to endure everyone’s reproaches. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at you worriedly when he noticed that you were crying.

“Is it safe for us to do that?” you asked instead. You should be happy after all, you always wanted to marry Jaehaerys but now you were just worried “Won’t it make Daemon even angrier? I don’t want our child to end up like Jaehaerys or for Daemon to end up poisoning me so you can continue your engagement to Baela.”

Jacaerys tensed at your words. And his head began to fill with different scenarios with you and the baby hurt or worse dead. He couldn’t bear to live with himself if that happened. He already lost his brothers, he couldn’t bear to lose you and his child. “That’s not going to happen” he declared caressing your hip. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you or our child. I will fight with fire and blood to protect you.”

“We will fight with fire and blood,” you corrected him.

He smiled at you and you couldn’t take it anymore. You kissed him, like you had dreamed of doing for all these months and it felt even better than you remembered. It was intoxicating, passionate, and warm. You wanted to kiss him forever, you would never get tired of the taste of his lips or his touch. You could feel his love and devotion for you and you loved him.

Then the baby started crying and the two of you instantly pulled apart. The two of you looked at each other before laughing at each other for being so scared by a simple cry.

“Can I hold him?”

“Of course,” you replied, feeling your heart race as you watched him take the baby out of the crib. You had thought that Jace would never meet his son and now you were witnessing him holding him in his arms for the first time. Thank goodness you were alone or you would feel foolish for watching with tears in your eyes as Jace held his son.

“What is his name?” Jace asked, staring in wonder into his son’s violet eyes, the same eyes as yours. That seemed to be the only thing you shared because later the baby had his nose and brown hair.

“I haven’t named him yet,” you admitted, feeling embarrassed at the surprise in his eyes. “I was waiting for you to choose his name.”

Of course, you had thought of some ideas during your pregnancy but now that you had Jace by your side you wanted him to choose the name.

“That's kind of you,” he said, feeling touched by such a gesture.

For a brief moment, Jacaerys considered naming him Lucerys but rejected the idea, not wanting his son's name to be laden with sadness and loss. His son is joy and hope in the midst of this dreadful war.

“Aerion,” Jacaerys said finally, kissing his son’s forehead, making a silent promise that he would always keep him safe.

¹It's fine, it's just your father

²My love, let me take you to your chambers. You should clean up and rest

Taglist: @dornishannie @bellstwd @cookielovesbook-akie @si1versamurai @julimariett @newtmyhusb @dewvenus @alwaysholymilkshake @lokiofasgard12

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works:

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1

@joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15

@impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8

@ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2

hotd masterlist

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butteronabun · 7 months ago

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i just want you to take me where your heart is

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader highschool au.

overview: and who could possibly be the golden boy’s type?

wc: 2k

notes: imagine diluc with his hair down in this one. and also. diluc’s father hasn’t d-worded in this au so he’s the happy diluc we all know and love before shit hit the fan ( we still love him even after shit hit the fan tho )

Diluc Ragnvindr is prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker.

And of course, he’s every girl’s dream guy.

“. . . And yet, he’s still single,” Kaeya remarks with a smirk, and his friends around him laugh in unison.

Currently, he’s eating lunch with them in the campus’ outdoor park — a place of tranquility where some students prefer to hang. Instead of being involved in the hustle and bustle of what goes on in their cafeteria, be it your average food fights or impromptu musicals incited by a certain twin–braided man, said outdoor park was a better option for these lads to unwind.

“You know, I used to think that he and Jean would look good together,” a friend of Kaeya says, and they all turn to him. “She’s just like him: elegant and grades conscious. Takes part in student governments and volunteers to school events. Plus, she’s drop dead gorgeous! With her brilliant blue eyes and smooth blond hair, oh, if I was Diluc - I would not hesitate to date her!”

“Nah, I think Lumine is better,” They all glance next to their right. “She’s sporty, and she can definitely keep up with Diluc. She aces her tests without any difficulty, despite doing a part–time job every night with her brother in a nearby coffee shop, and it’s rumored that she makes the best drinks! Moreover, she’s a beauty. That’s why she keeps on receiving loads of love letters during the Windblume Festival every year, so it will not be surprising if she’ll be getting them again!”

Ah, yes. The Windblume Festival is fast approaching—now that January is about to end, in the next two weeks, Brightcrown High School’s air will surely be filled with nothing but endless romance.

Kaeya gazes up above, where a giant tree shadows their figures with its bright green leaves. The sunlight filters through the gaps and he basks into this moment of peace. He then adds playfully, “And Diluc will be busy tidying up his locker once more, because it will be filled with chocolates and letters.”

“What?! Does he even eat them? Tell him that he can donate, you know!”

Kaeya huffs, “My brother won’t even give me a piece, what makes you think he’ll hand you one?”

He remembers the time that Diluc had been so overwhelmed by the plethora of sweets, and yet seemed so appreciative about it. Father was just proud of the older son’s popularity. Kaeya offered to help him consume them all as a joke, but Diluc shook his head vigorously, saying that he shouldn’t, and that “they all worked hard for this”, and it was right that he only eat them.

How adorable of him, really.

Plus, Diluc even read the letters one by one. No matter how cringe or sickeningly sweet they were, Diluc read them all. And Kaeya wasn’t even shocked that there was no judgment in his face.

Diluc was just grateful for the gifts. Bashful, indeed, and sometimes he was not sure what to feel, but he was grateful.

“So, Diluc. Who will it be? Jean or Lumine?” Kaeya questions with a grin that afternoon, when the Windblume Festival is finally in full swing.

Diluc raises his head from the paper he’s answering — it’s a survey given to him by one of the juniors for their research subject — and frowns. “What brought this on? Why am I suddenly choosing between two friends?”

“Oh come on, you weren’t even listening!” Kaeya pouts, before sitting on a nearby desk.

After exploring the premises for some snacks and attractions, the brothers decided to stay inside an empty classroom for a while. They can hear some cheers from the outside, loud declarations of love and squeals from the majority, that surely Diluc thinks would be a delight for Kaeya, but has opted to accompany him instead.

“I was.” Diluc purses his lips, and hears laughter echoing through the halls as students run and get chased by disciplinary officers. “You and your friends were talking about the girls and I. I just don’t understand why you want me to choose. And be careful, you might fall. Don’t move so much.”

“Cooome on, Diluc,” Kaeya groans as he leans, “We’re sixteen, aren’t we? Father says we’re at that age, after all. By that, I meant, where we’re all supposed to be dating and courting?”

Diluc feels his cheeks slightly heat up from the words that escaped from Kaeya’s mouth. He returns to his duty of answering the survey. ( As if he needed to, when he was already done. ) “And I told you countless times that I’m not interested. Need I remind you that I don’t have the time for it. You know I still have to prepare for college, and that I have to keep an eye on my varsity scholarship, and—“

“Yadda, yadda, yadda——“

“Don’t yadda me, Kaeya. That’s just how it is.”

“You seriously aren’t interested?” Kaeya prods.

Diluc shoots him a firm stare. “Absolutely positive.”

And Kaeya sticks his tongue before hopping from the desk and making his way to the door. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.” Diluc watches his retreating back. “I’ll make sure to find you a lady, and it’ll be your type, and you’ll fall in love.”

Kaeya pulls the door open. He confidently says, “It’ll be inevitable, Diluc. Inevitable!”

A small smile creeps its way to Diluc’s lips, finding this all amusing. “Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Kaeya huffs, not liking that Diluc seems so smug and unbothered by it, then leaves.

Diluc waits for a while. And waits.

And waits, until he blinks, checks his survey, before sighing heavily.

A brilliant shade of red coats his pale cheeks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Dating. Courting. The type of lady Diluc likes? Yeah. Diluc already has found his type.

( Kaeya doesn’t have to know yet. He hates lying, but it’s too soon. Maybe someday. If Diluc can face his feelings first. )

So, hear, hear! He’s not missing out, in spite of what his friends say.

This person is not what everyone expects; it’s not the formal and polite Jean who can deliver a speech eloquently, nor the radiant and loyal Lumine that they want to push toward his direction.

Instead. . .it’s someone else.

And that someone else dropped a bowl of soup to Principal Varka’s white slacks. That someone else triggered the anger of a certain math teacher because she climbed the roof so carelessly during class to fly a kite. That someone else got into detention and instead of writing I’ll be good from now on one hundred times, spent the day with the others in that session to tell ghost stories.

That someone else was you, who wasn’t like Jean or Lumine. That someone else was you—the you, who was his exact opposite, and yet managed to capture his heart.

You are one of Mond High’s known troublemakers, and apparently, he has fallen victim to your charms.

Maybe it began when you were just snickering with your buddies in the library despite the librarian‘s persistent shushing. He was solving his quadratic formula worksheets back then, and he was impressed that even if you were fooling around, you were in the library to actually learn more about the cardiovascular system, with the help of a fellow friend.

(“I will be proud to say that the one that carries the blood away from the heart is. . . arteries!”

“You’re right!”

“Yay!!”

“Shh!”)

Or maybe it began when you witnessed that one student who humiliated himself by accidentally slipping on the wet floor in the cafeteria, and everyone sans Diluc laughed. Then you came to his rescue, marching in the middle with all the attention on you.

You didn’t offer your hand.

But you purposefully slipped instead, and even had the most embarrassing fall. The cafeteria became noisier because of you, and Diluc, baffled at first, found himself chuckling soon after.

Actually, no.

He didn’t fall in love with you during those times. These were the times in his life that led to this one very moment—

When the Favonious Birds lost the tournament, Diluc was sulking in the playground, all by himself. He took the blame despite Kaeya and his friends denying it, but he knew better. If Diluc had just made it quickly to the ring, their team could’ve been victorious and brought the trophy home.

But alas, it was just an if. It didn’t happen.

Then, something wet drops in his hair. Then his arm. And nose. It was about to rain, and Diluc just grunted, not caring one bit. He was sure Adelinde would make a fuss about it, or his father would pester him for his carelessness, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave his spot just yet.

Let the rain wash away his sorrows.

Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter.

“Don’t match with the gloomy weather now.”

Diluc slowly lifted his head, wondering who spoke and what covered his pathetic and hunched form that was wallowing in despair. And his eyes grew wide when he saw you, almost bending with an umbrella in hand, sheltering you and him from the incoming downpour.

You smiled down at him, “There it is. Keep your head up, King! Your crown is falling.”

And Diluc’s heart skipped a beat the same time a thunder rumbled from the distance. “W–what. . . ?”

You continued, “I don’t know what got you all so sad, but everything will be fine soon! I’m sure of it! After all, once the rain passes, there will be a rainbow!” Then, you grabbed his cold and even bigger hand, and Diluc, at that split second, felt the static. You didn’t even react. But your hand was warm, and Diluc’s chest was, too.

Dumbfounded, he let you guide his fingers. It only came to him long after that he was gripping a metal handle. “Have my umbrella! I hope this will make your day a little better, and if it doesn’t. . . well, at least I tried. But I have to go now!”

You quickly put the hood over your head when the rain grew stronger. Diluc, concerned over your well–being, finally regained his composure to protest. “But what about you— hey. . . !”

He watched you run and wave, bidding farewell. “You don’t have to return it to me! It’s all yours! I really have to go, so see you, maybe? Bye!”

“But. . . !”

And Diluc. . . Diluc could catch you if he wanted. He could sprint and return the umbrella to its rightful owner, but he didn’t.

Instead, he remained in his position.

And his heart— oh, his heart. His heart couldn’t stop pounding that day.

You are Diluc’s first love.

That is established.

The thing is, this is a secret. No one knows yet. Just him.

He’s never felt this towards anyone before. You are his first.

( And hopefully the last. )

You’re different from everyone else. You’re different from him. You have your own unique methods of doing things. You have your own way of paving your path. You are the artist to your own canvas; the director of your own film.

You are like the sun. You brighten everyone’s day with your presence, and you also shine, because Diluc can’t keep his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the vicinity.

He knows that this is really an unexpected outcome – him, who was definitely out of your league and vice versa, catching feelings for someone like you.

( Someone like you who is free in life, and Diluc wants to feel that, even just for a bit, with you. )

But like before, all he can do is merely daydream and wonder about the what–ifs. What will it be like to be your friend? Will he experience all the shenanigans that you ensue? Will he also fly a kite with you? Will he get into detention?

Yet this is unbecoming. Improper. Inappropriate for someone like him—for the eldest son of the Ragnvindrs and for the next heir of the winery. He can’t indulge into lighthearted affairs or mischief. He’s supposed to be responsible and disciplined. A man of propriety.

So all he can ever do is have these thoughts. Just thoughts. He has more important matters to attend to, like college applications, training, lessons in handling the in winery business. . .

And . . . there’s no way that you’ll approach him again, right?

Diluc knows to himself that can do it instead, you know. He can approach you if he must, but . . . he’s just so shy.

And a lot of people are always around you. So who is he to burst your bubble, when you seem so finally content with your life?

Diluc peeks from the open windows and sees couples holding hands and sharing kisses. Briefly, he imagines what it would be like to experience romantic love during Windblume.

He feels his cheeks steam again.

Kaeya will surely have a field day once he sees his older brother being lovesick like this.

You really are one of Mond High’s troublemakers. And it’s not only because you prank your friends or piss off the teachers, but you make it hard for him to focus.

Just thinking of you never fails to make his heart perform somersaults.

He is Diluc Ragnvindr. Prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker.

He is not every girl’s dream guy.

Because unfortunately, the girl he likes doesn’t even see him in a romantic light.

#diluc x reader #melted.butter #WRITING DEBUT!!!#listened to take me where your heart is while revising this #agjdjd i just love diluc so much #i would like to write more of this concept since i can’t draw it LOL #many thanks to all my friends who supported me for my cringe ahh diluc simping #and now i’m gonna write fics abt him #diluc writers and lovers feel free to interact with me <3

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werecreature-addicted · 1 year ago

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I have been waiting for this! This has been stuck in my head since you mentioned how there's too many werewolf x bunny fics.

Imagine there's a village of prey hybrids. All the villagers that live there are some kind of prey animal.

The village is very peaceful, but is the target of a tribe of predator hybrids that dwell in the deepest part of the forest.

Every year, these predator hybrids would attack the prey village and would kidnap any villager unlucky enough to be caught.

These attacks typically happen around mid to late spring, from dusk to well into the night.

The prey villagers always hide around this time, but at least one to three people end up being taken.

Last year was one of the reader's friends. A sweet little sheep that was said to be taken by a large male black wolf. Poor girl was likely eaten by that horrible beast! (In a way she was eaten~)

This year, it is reader's turn.

Reader is a deer hybrid that got caught while out gathering food in the forest. Only to be jumped by a strong and handsome male mountain lion hybrid and taken back to his tribe.

There reader finds her friend as well as other people from her village, all well and alive and with large clearly pregnant bellies as well as a few children.

Turns out the predator tribe has been taking people from your village as their mates. Even treating their prey mates with the utmost care.

Something the reader will understand fully once she's been bred with her first litter of cubs.

your parents had always warned you to be careful when you left the safety of the village, especially during spring when nearby predators would go into heat and kill little deer girls like you to feed to keep up their strength. You were so careful, the fastest in the herd, the best at running away, no predator could ever catch you....other people weren't so lucky. Every year a few people would go missing, trail too close to the border, stay out foraging after sunset, and disappear.

Most of the time, you don't know the prey who gets taken, but sometimes you do, like when your best friend got dragged off by a horrifying wolf. You grieved the loss of your friend and redoubled your commitment to safety... but you got cocky. you were the fastest in your age group, no one could catch you, especially not some heavy, slow predator.

It's a warm spring evening, the breeze gentle and sweet, smelling like honeysuckle and green grass. the sunsets casting the valley in golden light, your basket is full of fat wild blackberries. how could anything go wrong on a day like this? A twig snaps to your right, and you turn and freeze, looking carefully at the tree line. you don't see anything... but your heart is still racing, by the time you spot the hungry green eyes peering up at you it's already too late. you take off running, but for once, you aren't fast enough.

The mountain lion pounces and lifts you off of your feet, throwing you easily over his broad shoulders, you freeze, your heart beating faster and faster, you need to think, he hasn't killed and eaten you yet- maybe you could escape, you just need to keep your head.

It's a much shorter journey to the preditor village than you would have thought, you'd never traveled far from home so you had no idea that they were so close this whole time. What's even more surprising is the amount of prey animals, wandering around town and looking happy. A rabbit boy with big floppy ears hanging off the arm of a buff-looking wolf, a deer hybrid like yourself flirting with two different lions, and a sheep- a sheep that you recognize. Your eyes go wide as it clicks into place. the people being taken weren't being killed at all.

The mountain lion puts you down and looks at you closely, evaluating you. "I wasn't too rough was I? You're not hurt?" he asks. you shake your head slowly

"n-no. I'm not hurt just- scared," you admit shyly. He nuzzles you comfortingly,

"awe, don't worry my mate, I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you, no one else will touch you while you're with me," he purrs and you shift, embarrassed to tell him that it was him you were afraid of. although you had to admit if this big scary mountain lion is guarding you, and claiming you as their mate, you do feel a little safer.

#monster imagine #monster #monster fucker #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #werewolf x reader #werewolf boyfriend #werewolves #werewolf

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cherry-pop-elf · 5 months ago

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He Goes To Another School, I Swear!

Viktor Krum x Reader

With surprise appearance of best friends Golden Trio!

Sum: You always told everyone your boyfriend was Viktor Krum. Of course no one believed you, even with letters from him. Made you a massive target for bullying. Especially for your looks on why ‘anyone in general’ wanted you. Look at their faces when the Tri Wizard Tournament comes.

Warnings: Bullying, Viktor being the biggest himboist sweetheart ever, long distance relationships

“So how’s your ‘boyfriend’ doing? Hm~?” A girl would cackle at you, before throwing a bread roll at your face. Socked you in the nose. Wasn’t like it hurt, but the intent that she wanted it to was what made that sweet biscuit sting.

No one ever believed you that you said Viktor was your boyfriend. All except Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Made sense they would. Harry bloody potter was all three of your’s best friend. They knew you wouldn’t lie, and were there at the Quidditch Cup.

Who do you think was able to give them all free tickets?

Ron, ever the one to defend his friends, was soon standing up. Ready to throw a full on breakfast at the girl, but Hermione had to yank him back down. As if they needed to lose points, but also she needed to distract her own hands from punching someone all the same. She was a lot more subtle with her rage.

“Just ignore them. They are looking for a fight. Don’t give them the time of day.” Harry would try and comfort you, but damn it gets under your skin. You know you shouldn’t care, that they are just bullies. But it’s still a lot to handle. It makes you go crazy. The human brain can only handle so much. Even with the truth is right there, a million lies can bury everything.

Made you lose your appetite. Not even Fred and George’s latest candy inventions could perk you up.

But Dumbledore could.

“Attention everyone, we have a grand announcement to make! This is the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This is also the year that we have been given the grand honor of hosting it here to Hogwarts. Please, everyone, give a roaring applause to the schools that come.”

That had you perk up a bit. You remember Viktor talking about the tournament. You knew he would try and join. He was such a strong, determined, man. Oh your man was perfect in so many ways. Just so kind, loyal, sweet, sensitive, you could go on for hours about him.

But any chance you could, those damn bullies would step in to fight it.

Said bullies were still being annoying, as the Headmaster would tell everyone to give a warm welcome to Durmstrang. Making mocking kissing faces at you, as they cleaned up their makeup. Wanting to look their best. Just made your blood boil, until you heard the doors open.

There you saw him.

Viktor was leading the parade, next to his headmaster, with an expression that could kill. Face stern, cold, and hard. A man that was ready for war. Had all the girls, and guys, just swooning at such raw power he would display to everyone. This being of pure muscle and fight. Truly what a solider is envisioned.

That’s until his eyes locked with yours.

His face was so quick to soften, and a smile broke through the mask of intimidation. Just this childlike glee was filling those dark eyes, and making them come alive. He was so happy to see you. He nearly stumbled over himself, as he was distracted. Had to get a fellow student to bump his hip to get him back in line.

You couldn’t help yourself in a giggle.

Oh how you couldn’t tear your eyes off him, and how he struggled to focus on his performance. Trying so hard to not let you keep him from his calculated movements. It’s hard though. He was utterly smitten by you, after all. He just couldn’t stop throwing eyes your way.

Shame that your bullies were also in that same direction, and figured his puppy dog eyes were for them.

You couldn’t even pay attention to the girls from that French school come in. Your eyes were meant for Viktor, and his yours. It was all returned in his gesture. Smiling, and just utterly drunk in love for you. Oh how his body itched to move away from where he stood. To come your way and sweep you off your feet.

But a solider does what a solider is ordered.

“Please welcome your new fellow students with open arms, everyone. Treat them as you would with your own. Enjoy your dinner everyone. Be kind, be respectful, and be what you are. Students.” Dumbledore would finish, as Mr. Karkaroff finally dismissed the students.

The way he bolted was truly a statement to his seeker abilities.

“VIKTOR-! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! VIKTOR-!” His fellow Durmstrang students would laugh, as they were very well aware of his pure excitement. His adrenaline just rushing to finally get to you. And NO ONE would get in his way.

Out right said ‘fuck walking around the tables’ he JUMPED from one table to another. Caused quite a scene, and show, but it was entertaining to say the least.

He hadn’t seen you in person in so long. Even the Quidditch Cup wasn’t enough. Could only watch him from the stands, before the Death Eaters showed up. Ruined any chances of you two to hold hands.

Not today.

“INCOMING-!” Harry shouted, as the golden trio made sure to get out of the way. Just in time for you to pretty much be tackled, and scooped into his strong arms. Lifted high into the air like a ballerina, before into a swooping dip. Just so full of kisses.

You swore if he had warn lipstick your face would end up a solid shade.

“VICKY! We’re in public! These are my classmates!” You cackled, as he just wouldn’t stop kissing you. You swore he traded breathing for kisses in that moment. Just unable to let you go, and kept you in a grip like no other. Just kisses, hugs, and Bulgarian chants of pure love.

Your bullies sure were left dropping their goblets at the sight.

“Breathe man, breathe-!” Ron shouted, as he patted the seeker’s back. Just all a cackle with your friends. With Hermione herself smirking, and possibly flipping the assholes off, as Viktor finally calmed down enough to function. Sorta.

You were still in his iron grip, as he snuggled you close. His head buried in your neck, as he kept whispering about how much he missed you and loved you. It was just endless affection, and you were so happy to get it.

“You are playing this up, aren’t you?” You whispered to him, as he gave a deep chuckle into your flesh. Had a shiver run down your body, as he laced his fingers with yours. There to compare hands.

“What? Me? Pretend to act a certain way in the public eye for the paparazzi and reporters to eat up? Never.” He would play his sarcasm well, before he planted another sweet kiss to your cheek. Just left you so giggly, as you two finally sat down. Well, more so you snuggled in his lap as he kept praising you in affection.

The students at Hogwarts sure learned a valuable lesson that day.

Don’t fuck with someone who has a Durmstrang boyfriend.

448 notes · View notes

andvys · 7 months ago

Text

Dancing with ours hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty three ⭐︎ And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink? fluff, lots and lots of fluff!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Your first date night leads to another confession.

Word count: 12k+

Author's note: the whole date was all sweet Roe's idea, give her big creative mind a kiss, and give her some love too cause she's always helping me with this amazing story ♡ thank you @hellfire--cult

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

You’re met with complete silence when you wake from your sleep – no rain, no thunder, no howling wind and no flashing lights greet you this morning. Sunlight peeks through Steve’s drawn curtains, the golden color kissing his skin, letting it appear even softer.

You blink the tiredness away and shift in his arms, prompting him to pull you even closer, for a moment you think he is already awake but his calm breathing and his closed eyes indicate that he is still sound asleep. His arms are wrapped around you, all night they have stayed there, his hands on your back, legs tangled with yours beneath the thin sheets and your head in the crook of his neck. You needed to feel one another, you needed to be close and you are certain that even if you moved in your sleep, you didn’t let go of each other.

You rest your palm on his chest, over his beating heart and lay your chin on the top of your hand. You raise your other hand up towards his face, caressing his cheek, grazing his skin with the tips of your fingers, you admire the pretty man before you as you push his hair out of his face.

Memories of the previous night start rushing in, making your heart beat faster.

No one could have prepared you for his confession, for the feelings he harbored for you, for the love he felt for a while now. You hoped there was something and yet it shook you to your core when he blessed you with those three words and told you of the future he pictured you in by his side, the little infatuation he had with you even when he never wanted to admit it to himself.

Your eyes burn with tears of happiness, you think of the girl you once were, before the upside down, before Billy’s death, when all you did was admire the man who holds you in his arms now, refusing to let go.

You wonder how things would have gone had you known of his little crush on you, you wonder if maybe then you would have found the courage to ask him out.

Steve’s hands move to your waist, giving it a squeeze before he wraps his arms around you again, hugging you against his chest, he peeks his eyes open, his lips curl into a smile the moment he sees your pretty face staring at him and feels the touch of your hand on his cheek.

Today he wakes up knowing that you are his, that he no longer has to pretend the way he started to.

“Caught you,” he whispers.

His words make you blush, though they hold more meaning than you think.

He caught you, not in this moment, not after waking from his sleep to catch you staring and touching his face, no, he caught you – after years and years of falling, he finally opened his eyes, he finally stepped forward after recognizing true love, he finally reached his hands – his arms out to you, he finally pulled you into his embrace.

Steve cups your cheek, his brows pull together when he notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers, looking at you with nothing but worry in his eyes, “what’s wrong?”

You smile at his question and you shake your head, leaning towards his palm, you press your lips against it, giving him a kiss, “nothing,” you whisper, an unwanted tear falls from your eye, he catches it with his thumb, not letting it roll down your cheek. “I’m just so happy,” you whisper.

Steve’s eyes soften, something deep within his chest stirs the longer he looks at you. The same vulnerability that flickered in your eyes the night before, is still there, still the same, if not more intense.

You are not afraid, not anymore.

He holds your face gently and leans in, kissing you softly, something he can now do freely, whenever he wants to, whenever he feels like it.

He is happy, just as happy as you are.

“So am I,” he whispers against your lips and reaches for your hand, holding it in his own as he entwines his fingers with yours, “you make me happy.”

Your hand gets lost in his much larger one, the size difference making your stomach flutter. You give it a squeeze and peck his lips once more, you lean closer to him, nuzzling your nose against his cutely.

Steve’s eyes light up and a chuckle falls from his lips, one of surprise and adoration. Just like on the night of the fourth of July, you kiss him gently and continue to rub your nose against his, giggling as you do so.

Who would've thought that the girl with the rough exterior is secretly so adorable, that the alcohol in her that one night brought out the real side of her and not some drunk version of her that normally doesn’t exist.

Steve wraps his arm around you, and runs his middle finger up and down your spine.

“So, you’re really like this huh?” He grins, feeling giddy about getting to see this you.

At that, a blush creeps to your face, one that you hide by pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

“Oh no, baby,” he whispers, reaching for your chin, he pinches it between his thumb and his index finger, tilting your head back up again so he can see your face and look into your eyes again, “don’t hide from me. I love it. I knew I was fucked when you acted like this on the fourth of july.”

Your cheeks heat up even more but the adoring smile on his face makes it hard for you to look away again.

“Shit, I’ve been making love to you since that night, baby.”

Steve watches the way your eyebrows draw together, the way surprise flickers in your eyes along with the love and the happiness that drives his heart crazy.

“You have?” You mumble, just above a whisper, like you can’t believe his words despite what happened last night.

He can’t hold back from kissing you again, that’s all he wants to do now, kiss you, hold you, touch you, love on you.

“Yeah, you stole my heart, darling,” he whispers in happiness. “It’s all yours, I’m yours.”

He said these words last night, he said these words now, he will say them forever.

Your lips curl into the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, a delightful giggle escapes you. You cup his cheeks and lean in, peppering his whole face with soft kisses, making him now giggle too.

“I love you,” you whisper softly, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington.”

His heart could burst at any second, the feeling of your touch, your kisses, your words, you, you drive him crazy and he still isn’t sure if you realize just how deep his feelings are, if the words he gave to you the night before were even enough for you to understand the weight of the love he feels for you.

To hear you say these words, to hear them from you, from the someone he admired from afar, in secret and in bitterness, the girl he thought could feel nothing but distaste for him, the girl that pushes away most people has and always had a soft spot for him – a soft spot for the guy that most people can’t even bring themselves to like yet love.

But here you are, happy to be in his arms, crying tears of joy, unable to stop smiling and saying those three words he was hoping to hear from you, hoping all day and night that this dream might come true.

And now it’s here, you are here and you are all his.

The future he wished for is finally no longer out of reach, no longer something to unrealistically long for, it’s right in front of him.

He remembers the future you told him of, the wishes and dreams you have, the ones so alike to his.

“I love you,” he whispers along with your name that rolls off his tongue so beautifully, “and I hope you know that I’m never letting you go.”

“Good, you better not–”

He presses his finger against your lips, shushing you, he looks into your eyes intensely, squeezing your side as a sudden rush of overwhelming emotions crashes over him.

“You’re mine now, forever.” He flips you over and pushes you underneath him, getting on top of you, he leans down to kiss your neck, pressing his lips to the spot that makes you whimper. “My Blondie,” he whispers possessively and kisses under your ear.

His deep, husky morning voice and the possessiveness behind his words make all your insides flutter.

You cup the back of his neck and tug at his messy hair, arching your back and tilting your head to the side, allowing him more access to your neck.

“I’m all yours,” you whimper when you feel his hand on your thigh, he is gripping it tightly and you instantly start spreading your legs for him, feeling the heat in your stomach rising quickly and intensely. “I always just wanted to be yours.”

Steve’s heart swells in his chest, his lips twitch against you as he continues to kiss your neck, sucking on your skin and marking you up without a care in the world. You no longer have to hide. Nothing is official yet but it’s very clear what you both want.

A shaky sigh falls from your lips when you feel his hand dangerously close to your heat, when you feel him throbbing against your thigh.

This is the first time you woke up naked in each other’s arms since your first time, it never happened again.

Steve moves up from your neck, pressing his lips back to yours, he kisses you slowly and deeply, savoring each second of this morning. His fingers move closer and closer to your core.

He loves the heat of your body against his, your soft bare skin so close against his.

“New rule,” he mumbles against your mouth, opening his eyes to look into your pleading, hungry ones, “we always sleep naked from now on.”

“Really?” You giggle.

He smirks, shrugging, “hey, easy access,” he whispers before he finally touches you, slipping his fingers through your already soaked folds, teasing your entrance and collecting your wetness before he brings it up to your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles around it, making you gasp and whimper in pleasure.

“O-Oh fuck,” you breathe, tugging even harsher at his hair and pulling out a groan from his lips.

“You’re so wet, darling,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face, he cradles your cheek and kisses your lips, admiring you and the way you get lost in the pleasure so quickly because of him. You are putty in his hands. And you are so beautiful, even more so when your lips part and your brows scrunch together, nothing but an awestruck, pleasured expression on your face as moans fall from you. “My beautiful girl,” he whispers as he slowly drags his fingers down, keeping his thumb pressed against your clit, even as he slides two of his fingers into you, making you gasp out even louder.

Steve doesn’t know where to look, your gorgeous face as you fall apart for him or the way your body reacts to his touch, the way your chest moves and your stomach contracts, the way you clench around his fingers, the way you got them soaked and dripping already.

“Feels so good but–” you pause with a whimper, pushing yourself up on your elbows, you look down and watch for a moment, the way he fucks you with his long fingers, splitting you open for his cock. You pull your brows together strongly, biting your lower lip as waves of pleasure crash over your body. You see him, you feel him poking into your thigh, his length hard and throbbing against you, his tip red and leaking. You need him, you need to feel him inside of you.

“But what, hm?” Steve murmurs, loving the way you squirm beneath his body, the way you look at him with big eyes, begging for more, begging for him. He grabs your cheeks, holding them with one hand, “tell me what you want, honey.”

His chest hair tickles your skin, brushing against your hardened nipples, making you whine even more.

“You–”

A gasp tears from your throat when he curls his fingers inside of you, just the right amount. His thumb pressing against your clit as his fingers start moving vigorously.

“Fuck,” you whimper and shut your eyes, taken by the pleasure, completely enveloped by it. You thread your fingers through his hair, holding onto it as though your life depended on it. You throw your other hand around his wrist and open your eyes again to look at him.

He won’t take his eyes off you, he watches you with pleasure.

“I-I need–” your voice cuts off again, a vibrating feeling crashing through you when he moves faster, flicking his wrist back and forth, fucking you deeply and roughly, nudging your legs open further with his knee as he leans down to wrap his lips around your nipple, teasing you with his tongue before he sucks on it, not taking his eyes off you, not even for a single second.

“Oh! Steve!”

Steve’s stomach flutters at the needy tone in your voice, the slick sounds that make his dick strain even harder against your skin – he needs to be inside of you or else he will cum just from pleasuring you.

“P-Please, I need your cock, I need you to be inside of me,” you beg, nearly crying out from desperation, you are so close already, tears burn in your eyes, your walls are tensing around his long fingers and your stomach is burning in need. “Please, Steve! Fuck me!” You grab his waist, squeezing him as you try to pull him back up against you.

And who is he to deny his darling?

You cry out again, but this time due to the loss of his fingers inside of you, the emptiness that takes over for just a moment before he grabs your hips and adjusts on top of you, breathing heavily as he uses your wetness to stroke his length. He licks his lips and looks at you through hooded eyes, giving you a slight smirk when he slips it through your folds, prompting you to pull him even closer, pouting at him so adorably that he can’t tease you any longer. His hand holds your hip firmly, he sucks in a sharp breath and watches the way your glistening pussy takes him, the way you suck him.

You watch his face, watch the way desperation clings at him, the way his lips part and moans escape him.

It’s hard for you to keep your eyes open when he splits you open and pushes in so deeply to the point that your mouth waters.

He says your name, he says it so beautifully and he repeats it like a prayer, his eyelashes flutter and his eyebrows furrow in concentration.

His right hand snakes up to your chest, squeezing your boob and pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Stevie… fuck…”

“Your pussy is sucking me in,” he groans and looks down, watching just how much his cock is glistening when he bottoms out before pushing back in, faster and rougher this time, making you jerk against him.

You don’t know how you find the strength to but you wrap your legs around his waist and bring him closer.

Steve smiles lazily when he moves fully on top of you, caging you in with his arms, pressing them on either side of your head as he leans his forehead against yours, “hi baby.”

You snake your arms around his neck, needing to feel him closer, needing to feel his lips on your, his chest against your own.

“Hi baby,” you whisper, giving him a smile before you press your lips against his, closing your eyes and kissing him with all your love. Your lips mold together perfectly, your tongues meet. There is no roughness behind this kiss, just a deep passion that makes your heart beat stronger.

And it’s all so perfect.

When he starts moving, he rolls his hips slowly at first, blessing you with deep thrusts, making you both moan into the kiss but it doesn’t stay slow for long, you are both desperate and needy. Your breaths quicken, your bodies heat up, your moans turn into whines and his slow strokes move into deep and fast thrusts, he knocks the breath out of you so hard that you are unable to continue kissing him.

Your mouth falls open, your eyes stay closed, you fear your vision would be blurry anyways if you tried to open them. He is so deep, so deep inside of you that you can feel him in your stomach.

And he keeps kissing your lips, even if you are unable to kiss back now, he keeps on moving his lips against yours, breathing into your mouth, moaning.

His chest hair brushes against your skin, his hair falls in front of his face and tickles your forehead, he keeps a protective hand over your head, cupping it so you don’t accidentally bump it against the headboard behind you when he fucks you a little harder after each thrust.

He is guided by a possessiveness he hasn’t felt before, he now knows that you are his, wholeheartedly. And now it drives him crazy, in the best way possible.

‘Mine. Mine. Mine.’ That’s all that echoes in his head as he gets lost in you, in the pleasure you feel because of him, in the way you cling to his body and whine against him, in the way he feels by making love to you.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispers against your lips and opens his eyes again to find tears of pleasure running down your cheeks, tears that he doesn’t hesitate to kiss away.

You open your eyes as well and look at him through your tears, tearing a gasp out of him when you clench around his cock.

You swallow harshly when you feel waves cursing over your body, burning in your stomach and making your legs shake. You still grab at his hair, tugging and holding onto it as you gaze up into his hazel eyes.

“Show me… how much you love me.”

He wastes no time to reach for your hand, gently taking it off his neck, he presses your palm against your own chest and keeps his own over it, slipping his fingers through the gaps, he holds it tightly and slides it down your stomach, stopping just above your belly button.

“Can you feel that, darling?” He breathes, getting cut off by his own moan when he presses both yours and his hand stronger against your stomach, feeling just how deep he is inside of you.

You nod your head quickly, biting your bottom lip as the burning sensation in you grows even hotter.

“Y-Yes! I-I can feel you! You’re so… You’re so deep!” You babble, losing your composure completely, “f-feels so good, Steve, so good…”

“Yeah? You like that huh?” He whimpers as he changes his pace, opting for rougher, slower and deeper thrusts now, “I’m gonna do this every morning, honey, gonna wake you up and remind you how good we fit together, how we were made for each other.”

“P-Please do,” you whimper as you cling to the hand that keeps your body pressed against the mattress.

Steve leans his forehead against yours, he nuzzles his nose with yours and looks into your eyes as he brings both you and himself to edge.

“Gonna fill you up and claim you, over and over again,” he whispers against your lips, letting go of your hand so he can press his fingers against your aching clit. “Gonna show you just how much I love you.”

Your body shakes beneath his but he keeps it in place, holding you down with the weight of his body and his strong arms, he leans down to kiss your face, every inch of it, he rubs your clit and fucks you roughly, hitting the angle that makes you see starts.

A string of I love you’s fall from your lips as you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, begging for him to release with you.

“I’m gonna show you too, Steve,” you whisper breathlessly, pushing yourself up enough to kiss his pretty lips, “but first, I need you to cum inside of me, baby, I need you to fill me up with your cum… please.”

Your begs and your pleas only make his dick throb harder, his balls tighten and his hips move deeper, harder, faster.

He admires the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your eyebrows scrunch together even stronger than before, your jaw falling slack, your boobs bounce with each thrust of his hips and you squirm beneath him, whining in need.

You feel every inch of him, the veins around his length, his tip brushing that one spot that turns your vision blurry from the pleasuring shock waves in you, his fingers that work on your clit. He kisses you, pecks your lips over and over again.

“I can feel the way you’re clenching around me,” he whispers against you, unable to hold back the sounds that fall from his mouth as he comes closer and closer, “your tight little pussy is begging to be filled up with my cum, huh? You want me to breed you, don’t you, princess?”

You don’t know whether it’s his words or the strong thrust he delivers that makes you come undone – your back arches, your eyes shut tightly as your fingers cling to his hair, pulling harshly, your walls flutter and clench around him stronger than ever before as you scream his name in pleasure.

“O-Oh fuck,” Steve groans as his eyes roll back and his stomach contrasts when he feels you cumming around him. He can’t even hold back anymore, he grabs your hips and pushes up higher on his knees, tilting your pelvis up the slightest bit before he starts pounding into you, chasing his high but aiming for your second, as well.

“Oh my god, Stevie!” You cry out, your arms falling by your sides as weakness takes over your body. You feel sensitive and overstimulated already, and yet, you can’t get enough of him, of the feeling of him inside of you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy with rough and deep strokes, your name falling from his lips so beautifully as he moans because of you.

You watch him, the way his chest heaves up and down, the way his forehead is coated with sweat already, hair hanging in front of his eyes as he pounds into you like he had gone feral, strong, veiny hands gripping your hips so harshly, sure to leave marks on your skin, his dark eyes flicker back and forth between your own and the part that connects you and him.

“J-Just like that, you’re doing so good for me,” you manage to croak out with a shaky voice, ignoring the tears that spill down onto his pillows and just like before, you manage to push yourself up on your elbows, biting your lower lip as you feel the need to watch, watch the way he fucks into your sopping pussy, the sight of it only adding to the overwhelming pleasure in you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, looking at you with the eyes of a man in love and in desperation. He traces his fingers down to your knee, unwrapping it from his waist, he nearly makes you squeal when he hooks it over his shoulder instead, pounding into you from a different angle now as his lips latch onto your ankle, kissing you there but never taking his eyes off yours. “I fucking adore you.” How his voice still sounds so steady and confident surprises him, he could bust right this second but the need to drag this out is so strong, even when his body is screaming for release. “I’m so fucking in love with you, you have no idea what I’d do for you, honey.”

Your bottom lip trembles and your whimpers grow stronger when he presses his thumb back to your clit. He keeps this pace for a while, holding your leg firmly.

Just the sight of you alone could make him come undone.

He needs more, he needs to feel you again, so he gently places your leg back down, “keep your eyes open for me, come on, I know you can do it,” he whispers, unable to stay away from your lips any longer, he presses his chest back to yours and kisses you, “look at me when I fill you up with my cum.”

You throw your arms around him again, looking up desperately as you grow weaker and weaker.

“That’s what you wanted, didn’t you, darling?” He murmurs, against your lips, whimpering himself when you squeeze around his cock, gripping him tightly.

“Y-Yes! Please do it, cum for me, Steve, fill me up, give me your cum, daddy!” You whimper, needily, your body letting go once more.

Steve’s eyes grow wide, pleasure shocking his body, begging to let go but he manages to keep his composure, wanting, needing more. Your words wake something in him, a side that has yet to be explored – he holds your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, he bottoms out almost all the way before he snaps back inside of you, roughly and harshly, making you squeak and hold onto him like you never have before.

"Daddy, huh?" Steve breathes as his thrusts become merciless, “that’s right, baby, I’m your daddy.”

You are nothing but a babbling mess at this point, whimpering his name, whimpering those three words, calling him by the name that just turned him into a man who has gone absolutely feral.

And you love it, you love every second of it.

You are barely able to keep your eyes open but you force yourself to, wanting to see this, to see him and how he takes control in a whole new way, fucking you disrespectfully yet looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes. His arms look so strong, veins appearing thick on his skin, the muscles in his stomach are tense, he is towering over you, he is so big, so much bigger than you.

You feel him so deeply that it makes you drool, your stomach burns in a satisfying way.

And Steve, he can’t hold back the whimpers, the needy noises that he would have felt embarrassed about if he wasn’t so lost in love and pleasure.

You can tell that he can’t hold back anymore, that he needs to cum, so you grab his face and kiss him roughly just as he loses control and spills inside of you. His merciless thrusts slowing down when his hips stutter, your walls continue to flutter around him, intensifying the pleasure in him even more.

He kisses you deeply, swallowing each moan of yours as your tongues clash together, needily, desperately and you kiss each other until you no longer can, until your breaths are knocked out of you and your hearts are pounding harshly, lungs begging for air.

You pull away just enough to breathe again but you keep kissing one another, pressing soft pecks to each other's lips as lazy smiles appear on your faces. You’re running your fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp with your nails, giggling when he nuzzles his nose against yours this time.

“Good morning, Steve.”

He huffs in amusement, smiling brightly at you, his eyes crinkle, his dimples show, “good morning indeed, darling.”

You giggle again, wrapping your arms around him tightly as you pull him down against you to hug him, not caring about the mess you both made, you need a shower anyways.

He puts his head on your shoulder, happily falling into your embrace, enjoying the feeling of your fingers running up and down his back now. He is still inside of you, twitching and throbbing but he doesn’t want to pull out, loving your warmth.

Steve tilts his head and looks up at you, his heart skipping a beat when he finds you staring with a loving smile on your lips.

You reach your hand up to his face, brushing away his hair so you can see his hazel eyes better.

“You called me daddy,” he says, causing your hand to freeze and your cheeks to heat up.

You hide your face behind your hands but he quickly wraps his hands around your wrists and keeps you from hiding, “uh uh,” he shakes his head at you, smirking at your blushing face, “don’t hide from me, baby.”

Shame flickers in your eyes, your cheeks are glowing and you can feel the embarrassment flushing through you.

“I don’t know what’s gotten–”

“I fucking love it, honey,” he cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, “almost made me bust right away when you said it.”

His eyes light up when you giggle loudly.

“Always kinda had the fantasy of you calling me that, for a moment I thought this was all just a dream.”

You shake your head at him, licking your lips as you stare at your man. You place your hands on his neck and tug him even closer, giving him a short but deep kiss, “no, it’s all real… daddy.”

Steve groans when he feels his cock throbbing in you, overstimulating him now, especially when you squeeze around him again.

“Fuck… I gotta pull out or else I’ll cum again.”

You giggle once more, driving his heart crazy with your pretty noises.

“We made a mess already, I won’t mind another.”

He raises his eyebrows at you, grinning at you.

“Oh yeah? You want me to keep you in bed all day, huh?” He murmurs and slowly brings his hand up to your cheek, cradling with his large hand.

“Mhmm what if I do?”

“Then I gotta give my girl what she wants huh?”

Your whole heart flutters, your stomach does too, a warmth you only feel with him curses through your veins as giddiness and excitement settle into you.

My girl.

You have always been his girl.

You nod your head, your eyes flickering between his own and his lips.

“Yes,” you whisper before you smash your lips back against his.

And you do stay in bed, the whole morning you stay there, touching and kissing one another, repeating your actions from the night before, growing hungry and desperate for each other, not caring about anything else in the world but this moment.

Minutes and hours go by without you noticing just how much time has passed already, the room smells like sex and the crumpled, messy sheets are evidence of everything that you have done.

Your body is littered with marks, just like his as your lips chase to leave hickeys on every spot you haven’t marked up just yet, putting great effort into it as though it will linger like a tattoo. No fear of anyone seeing them now, no nervousness of leaving them in appropriate places no more.

He has to carry you into the bathroom by the end of it, too shaky are your legs to walk yourself, he finds pleasure in lifting you up into his arms though just as he does in being the one to wash you, all while stealing kisses from you the whole time. He washes your hair and massages your scalp, wearing a smile on his face the whole time, he is careful not to get anything into your eyes. He washes your body, using your favorite scent, he takes his sweet time, loving to take care of you, loving the thought of this being only the beginning of it all, that this is not a one time special thing, it’s something that will follow you both into tomorrow, into forever.

You take your turn too, washing his hair with excitement bubbling in you, you’re both a giggling mess the whole time, when he has to bend down to make it easier for you, low enough for his face to be right in your boobs, he wiggles his eyebrows at you as he grabs them, squeezing tightly.

“You’re such a dork!” You giggle and slap his shoulder playfully, the foam of his shampoo on your hands landing on the glass doors behind him.

“Yeah but I’m your dork,” he grins and leans in to kiss your chest.

“Yes, you are,” you smile, proudly, unable to contain the happiness in you and it turns his smile bigger as well.

You are both in bliss.

When you are done, you don’t get out right away, he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly against him, he holds a protective hand over your head, pressing it against his pecs while you wrap your arms around his waist.

You both stand there under the stream of the water, enjoying the warmth of it and each other. His fingers run up and down your spine and he keeps murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, reminding you of his love for you.

He doesn’t stop there, he makes you sit on the edge of the bathtub while he puts lotion on your skin, not holding back from kissing every inch of your body, making you giggle yet again. He helps you into one of his shirts before he carefully combs through your hair, refusing to let you dry your own hair after you get up and reach for the hair-dryer.

“My own personal hair stylist,” you grin at him through the mirror, admiring the way the towel hangs low on his hips, the way water still drops from his hair and down his chest.

“Mhmm, I’ll take good care of your hair,” he murmurs, winking at you. He places his hand on your waist and leans closer, reaching for the small glass bottle that is inside the box with all his hair products.

“What’s that?” You ask, watching as he squirts some of it on his fingers before he places it back into the box, he rubs his fingers together before he runs it through your hair.

“It’s hair oil, honey,” he says nonchalantly, “it’s gonna make your hair all soft and shiny.”

“Huh.” You nod as you look at everything that he owns for his hair, it’s surely way more than you own, no wonder his mane is always so perfect.

“You don’t use any?” He furrows his brows.

You shake your head, sighing at the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

“See, your hair needs me too.”

You giggle and lean your head back against his shoulder, tilting your head to the side to look at him.

Steve grins, letting go of your hair, he slides his hand under your jaw and cups your cheek, he leans down and kisses you softly, you are still smiling and so is he.

All of this still feels so surreal, just a day ago, he believed this would be impossible, that this is something he could never have, not after Robin told him that it was just sex for you, that you had no feelings, no wishes to deepen the bond between you — he has to talk to her but not today, today belongs to you and him.

He glances at you through the mirror, catching you staring at him with a big smile on your lips. Before he can say or do anything, you turn around and cup his cheeks, rising to your tippy toes, you steal a kiss from him.

“I adore you, Steve.”

He grins at you, pressing his forehead to yours, his hands find home on your waist.

“Yeah? I adore you, Blondie.”

He watches the way you gaze into his eyes, the happiness and the love so evident in yours, the excitement you can’t seem to contain coming through – feelings you have kept locked up for so long finally being let out, a side of you that you have buried underneath all the layers you have shown for so long, finally shining through. You feel safe with him, safe enough to show him that side that you were afraid of letting others see.

But here you are now, kissing him, cuddling him, being clingy with him – something he thought he could only dream of, not long ago.

You hug him from behind and kiss his shoulder while he prepares your coffee, you make ‘breakfast’ for you both late in the afternoon and you spend a long time sitting at the round table in his kitchen, talking and eating your first meal of the day, holding hands and laughing with each other.

Robin calls and Steve watches the way you tense up when he speaks her name into the receiver. He doesn’t know what happened between you both, what Robin had said to you, you didn’t talk about it yet, you didn’t want to and he respected that, this day is about you two and that’s what he tells his best friend, as well.

“You’ll apologize to her later. For now, she is with me… just the two of us.”

He is not angry at her, he knows she only wants the best for him but he doesn’t want to see her right now, he only wants to be with you.

And he doesn’t want to talk about the bad things, about the things he believed before you showed up and stood beneath the pouring rain, ready to fight for him.

You were the first.

The first person to fight for him.

To love him without expecting something in return.

And now you are here and you are his – officially soon.

The date he planned so spontaneously was one that he had dreamed of since the night at the fair, where he wished to kiss you in front of everyone, where he thought of taking you on the ferris wheel and admire the fireworks with you on the very top, where he wanted to win you a bear and see those beautiful eyes of yours light up because of him.

It didn’t take him long to decide where he would take you tonight.

Anything would be perfect, a date at the movies, at the restaurant, a picnic on the lookout or even just movie night in his bedroom, the latter seems the most relaxing – but he really wants to take you out, hold your hand in public and kiss you breathless, not a single care in the world about who could see.

The excitement in him keeps growing, even when he begrudgingly lets you go so you can get ready at your house – he doesn’t let you go easily, showering you in kisses and cuddling you at his front door before you even manage to take a step outside and even when he does let you go, he doesn’t waste a single second before he runs upstairs and starts getting ready as well, doing his hair as quickly as he can, picking out an outfit that is sure to impress you. It takes him approximately thirty minutes before he is standing on your porch with flowers in his hand and a wide smile on his face.

While he is fully ready, you are still clad in his shirt, makeup only halfway done and hair up in rollers. You giggle when you see him, “I said an hour!” You throw your hands up, though there is nothing but excitement in your voice as well and you reach for his wrist, pulling him into your home.

Your eyes light up when you look at the flowers he got for you, the thought of him hurrying around his house, getting ready and making a quick stop to get you flowers makes your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

“I’m sorry, honey, I couldn’t wait,” he grins and leans down to press his lips to yours, tasting the strawberry chapstick on your mouth. “Besides, I can watch my girl getting ready.”

“You’re so cute,” you smile and reach for the flowers he picked, pink tulips. You raise them up to your nose, looking into his warm eyes as you breathe in the scent. “I love them, thank you, Stevie.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer, kissing your forehead softly, “you’re welcome, Blondie.”

You place your hand on his shoulder and tilt your head up, pecking his cheek before you move away from him and make your way into the kitchen to put the flowers into a vase.

Steve follows, his smile never falling, he hears the music coming from your room, he can see the happiness on your face and all because of him.

You fill the vase with water and carefully place the flowers inside, removing the string that ties them together and for a moment, you stare at them. He got you flowers, Steve got you flowers after he asked you out on a date, after he confessed his feelings, his love for you.

Who would’ve thought that jumping into the water that night, would bring you here.

You take the flowers up into your room and place them on your bedside table, a smile appears on your face again when you feel him coming up from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. His breath hits your neck, his lips follow and he nuzzles his nose against your neck, “you look so fucking hot.”

You tilt your head to the side, careful not to hit him with the rollers in your hair, “with my makeup half done and those granny rollers?”

“You always look hot, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your neck again, he trails his lips down lower and lower over the marks he left this morning, “especially when you’re wearing my clothes.”

“Steve,” you sigh, your eyelashes flutter, moans threatening to spill from your lips, “I-I gotta get ready or else we’ll never make it to the date.”

His chuckle vibrates against you, he squeezes your waist before he lets go of you and puts some distance between you when he sits down on your bed, smiling up at you.

“Alright, baby.”

He leans back, looking you up and down with awe in his eyes, watches the way you blush for him, the way you step forward and tap his nose before you walk away and sit down in front of your vanity, picking up one of the brushes and your eyeshadow palette, continuing your makeup.

His heart skipped at your cute action. He is still filled with surprise to see you act so carefree around him, to get to know more and more of this side of you.

For a while, he sits on your bed and watches you in contentment, following every step of your routine as you apply glitter to the inner corner of your eyes, the way you draw the eyeliner so effortlessly, the way you put lipstick on your lips as though it won’t smudge in a few minutes again.

You look so beautiful, it drives his heart crazy.

He can’t wait to take you into one of the photo booths and take his first pictures with you – making up for the day when he could not find the courage to ask for pictures with you when you were taking them so happily with Nancy.

Those pictures are on the clipboard over your desk now, Jonathan had printed them for you and you wasted no time putting them up, he was here when you did it. He should have known then that there was a side to you that no one had seen yet.

He walks over to your desk and takes a look at all your favorite memories, at the polaroids of your best friends, ones of Billy, some of Eddie, the teens during movie night in your living room, Jonathan and Argyle smoking pot on the swing in your backyard, there is even a picture of him with Robin, she was wearing your heart shaped sunglasses and he gave her bunny ears. He wishes that there would be some of you with him.

“Whatcha looking at?”

He turns to you, you have taken out the rollers in your hair while he was distracted by all the memories you have kept on your wall. For a moment he stares at you, his chest filling with warmth, his heart skipping several beats. Your makeup is all done, your hair is framing your face gorgeously, you reach for one of your many perfume bottles and spray some on your neck and on your wrists before you dab some of it behind your ears.

His stomach bubbles with excitement knowing that watching you getting ready will become a part of his everyday life now.

Steve smiles, pointing to the picture of you and Nancy, “I wanted a picture with you that day.”

You turn in your chair and raise your eyebrows at him, tilting your head in question, “hmm?”

“You took pictures with everyone… except for me... I was building up the courage to ask for a group picture to at least be in the same one as you.”

Despite everything that has been said since the previous night, you still feel the shock in you, the surprise that takes hold of you as you digest his words.

He wanted to take pictures with you, on a day when things between you were still so fresh.

He was building up the courage to ask for a picture.

Your chair scratches against the hardwood floor when you push it back and stand up, making your way over to him with a soft look in your eyes and a slight pout on your lips.

He looks so cute standing there, admiring the photos on your wall and wishing there’d be ones of him. You can’t help but snake your arms around his waist and hug him tightly.

“I always wanted some with you too,” you murmur and look up at him.

He wraps his arms around you, cupping the side of your head, he is careful not to ruin your curls.

“yeah? We’ll take some today.”

You raise your brow at him, “oh?”

You don’t know where he is taking you, he wants it to be a surprise.

“Yeah so get your sweet ass in some clothes so I can take you on the date,” he grins and moves his palm down to squeeze your butt.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart swell in his chest, the touch of your hand on his, making it beat faster. You pull him towards your closet, opening the door, and you give him a smile, “pick a dress for me.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

He squeezes your hand and steps forward, taking in the colors and the amount of clothes that are way too much for this closet.

“Jesus, Blondie,” he whistles and reaches his hand out, searching for the perfect dress, “your closet is gonna bust soon, where do you even get that many clothes?”

You cross your arms over your chest as you shrug, “Indianapolis has some nice stores, besides I have a lot of free time.”

“I can tell.”

“Hey! We all got something, you got your hair products, I like buying clothes, don’t judge me!”

Steve chuckles at you, “I’m not judging, don’t worry, honey. You can buy as many clothes as you want, I’m just saying you need a bigger closet.”

“Are you gonna build me one?” You joke.

“Yeah, someday,” he grins.

He stops at a pink dress, one he hasn’t seen you wearing before, it’s a sundress, one he’d normally want to see you in if the dress on the very last hanger didn’t catch his eye. The blue color suddenly stands out to any other, capturing his attention completely.

Something settles in the pit of his stomach, feelings of guilt and regret from the day when he watched you walk away from him after you had come in so nervously, after you had stuttered whilst trying to talk to him. He was so awful to you, he said such rude things to you while you stood before him in this beautiful dress – how did he not fall to his knees back then? How was his stubbornness stronger than any other emotion in him? How could he be so awful to you when all you wanted was to talk to him?

Talk… Is that all you wanted though? If your feelings had been there for so long, was talking to him really the only goal for you that day? Or was there more? Was there a reason why you walked away with sadness in your eyes?

His heart starts dropping the longer he thinks about it, the longer he thinks about the day he missed the greatest opportunity that he had.

“W-Why don’t you wear this one?” He asks and takes it out slowly.

The smile that stayed on your face this whole time falls a little and that is all the confirmation that he needs.

There is a sadness in your eyes that flashes for a split second, your throat bobs when you swallow. You uncross your arms and reach forward, pinching the dress between your fingers. You haven’t taken it out once since then.

Billy picked it out for you.

You wore it with such excitement, one that was ruined.

Steve watches the emotions that flicker in your eyes, the memories that go through your mind the longer you look at it.

He feels the need to make it right, make it better.

If he wasn’t such a fool, if he didn’t mess up that day, you’d be his for a while now.

“Let me finally see what I have missed this past year for being a fucking idiot,” he says with a smile, yet remorse in his features.

You huff and chuckle at him. You take it from his hands and look up at him, at the fond smile on his lips, the apologetic, soft eyes he looks at you with.

How can you not grant him this wish?

“Alright.” You smile and step away from him, “I’ll be right back.”

You get changed in the bathroom, taking a moment to yourself, you put the dress on, not looking at yourself just yet, you zip it and fix the bow on the cleavage, taking slow but steady breaths.

A year back, you stood here like you do now but instead of happiness and excitement, you felt nervousness and anxiety burning in you, everything that could go wrong plagued your mind, your hands were shaking and your chest hurt but now… things are different, you feel nothing but giddy, your stomach doing somersaults, your heart keeps fluttering, you are happy.

You take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror, at the smile you can’t even contain knowing that this is it.

You no longer have to fear anything, you no longer have to hide, you no longer have to wish for something thinking that it will never be.

You got what you wanted, nothing stopped you and now he is yours.

The look in his eyes is one of love and awe when you step outside, his cheeks heat up, a pinkish glow now adorning his pretty face. He steps forward in excitement and he reaches for your hand, “my beautiful girl,” he murmurs and presses his hand to your hip, “you are so gorgeous.”

“Steve…” You giggle, rolling your eyes playfully when he makes you twirl for him before he pulls you against him.

“I thought the same thing about you back then, Blondie, I was just an idiot.”

You place your hands on his chest and glare at him, “stop calling yourself an idiot, I was kind of a bitch to you too.”

He snorts and shakes his head, “don’t, I deserved that.”

“No, you didn’t and you’re not an idiot anymore so… let’s go!”

Amused by your impatience, he leans down with a chuckle and pecks your lips before he grabs your hand, “yeah, let’s go, darling.”

On the way to his car, Steve notices something, feelings he had never felt before a date, comfort, warmth, peace. And he had gone on so many dates before but something always felt off, he could never pinpoint what it was but it just never felt the way it was supposed to feel, not even with Nancy who until you, he thought was the one for him – nothing ever felt this real, this delightful, this happy with her.

A simple car ride with you can bring out feelings in him that he had never experienced in his life before, not with anyone.

Colors he never thought he would see are right before him now that you are his, the touch of your hand makes him feel protected and safe. You can drive his heart insane but you can also calm it down like nobody else, you can light a fire inside of him yet mend it at the same time with a simple kiss.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the kind of love he feels for you, not even if he tried.

But he can safely say that you are the one for him and this time he knows that it’s real – he would put a ring on your finger right this moment.

Everything you do, every smile, every reaction of yours makes him smile in a way his cheeks hurt, he blushes, something he had never done until you, he feels a giddiness in him he hasn’t felt since he was a kid.

When you arrive at your destination, he watches you closely, the way your eyes widen when you see the flashing lights, when you see the rides, the ferris wheel and smell the cotton candy.

“An amusement park!?” You yell, eyes lighting up like the ones of a child on christmas day.

You grab his hand and squeeze it tightly, smiling excitedly at him.

“Do you like it?” Steve asks despite already knowing the answer to his own question.

You respond with a kiss and he does not hesitate to wrap his arm around your waist and kiss you back, smiling against your lips, feeling his heart racing from his own excitement. He keeps you close, he does so all night, keeping your hands and fingers entwined, stealing kisses every few seconds or so, unable to stop himself.

You spend the night getting sick on the rides, eating ice cream and corn dogs, giggling at each other like two lovesick teens.

When he finally spots the photo booth, he excitedly pulls you towards it, brushing past the crowds of people and the laughing children with you, he slides open the small curtain and gets in first before he grabs your waist and pulls you in with him, dragging you down on his lap.

“Someone’s eager to get those pictures,” you say with a giggle as you shut the curtain again before you push back against his chest and wrap your arm around him. His breath hits your skin, his large hand grabs at your hip.

“I am eager, honey,” Steve murmurs against your shoulder, pressing his lips against it, “I wanna take pictures with my girl.”

My girl seems to be his favorite name for you now, every stop you make at any ride or food truck, he calls you that when he orders for you both.

‘A ticket for me and my girl.’

‘Two ice cream cones for me and my girl.’

‘One diet Pepsi for my girl, please.’

It made you giggle every time while he smiled proudly every time he gestured to you during each order.

You flinch in surprise when the first flash goes off and you feel his lips on your cheek and his arms tighten around your waist. You didn’t even notice when he slid the dollar in and pressed start.

“I wasn’t ready!” You giggle, staring at the countdown on the screen, you quickly pull back a little and turn to face Steve, he is already staring at you, smiling. You cup the side of his face and look into his eyes.

“Where’s your pretty head at, hm?” He whispers and gazes into your eyes.

The flash goes off again, capturing a perfect moment of the two of you.

“Always with you.”

“Me?” He murmurs and cups your face, pulling you down, he buries his face in your neck and kisses over your marks, “I’m right here, darling.”

You tilt your head to the side and wrap your hand around his wrist, closing your eyes when the feeling of his lips puts you into a state of bliss.

The flashing light following each perfect moment of yours.

Steve tucks your hair behind your ear when you pull him back from your neck, pressing your palm back to his cheek, you lean your forehead against his and nuzzle your nose against his, making him grin.

“I feel like my heart bursts every time you do this,” he mumbles against your lips.

“What?” You whisper and nuzzle your face against his again with a smile, “this?”

He squeezes your hip and chuckles, nodding against you, “yeah, it’s so fucking cute.” He presses his lips against yours and you both close your eyes as you start kissing, getting lost in it so quickly, forgetting the flashing lights and the small space you’re in, forgetting the people outside and drowning out the noises.

Your lips taste like ice cream, his taste like the pepsi he stole from you, his cologne makes your insides tingle, the touch of his hands making you whine into the kiss. You press yourself tighter against him, letting your hands get lost in his hair as his arms envelop you fully, large hands settle on your back before one trails up to the nape of your neck. He buries his fingers in your hair, messing up the curls a little but you don’t mind.

The butterflies go wild in your stomach, his warmth pulling you closer and closer, his tongue now meeting yours as the kiss deepens further.

The flashing lights keep going off but neither of you care or even notice at this point.

You are so lost in each other, everything fades to nothing around you both.

Even as you grow breathless, neither of you make the move to pull away.

The emotions in you nearly overwhelm you, everything you have ever wanted now belongs to you.

Everything you have wished for when you went to Scoops Ahoy that day has finally happened.

When the two of you walk out of the photobooth, breathless from the intense makeout session that ensued, and you both look at the pictures, you can’t help but feel like crying. His lips on your cheek, looking at each other, him kissing your neck, and several pictures of you two just kissing, oblivious to the pictures being taken. You tuck those pictures safely in your purse, knowing their next home is your wall.

You feel the need to confess, to tell him about what you wanted, what you came for that day at scoops and how strong your feelings really are because you don’t think that he truly understands just how loved he had always been.

So when he takes you to the ferris wheel you decide the perfect time is now.

Your cheeks feel hot and without even looking, you know that your hair is a mess on your head from his hands, just like his is too, it’s disheveled and his cheeks are red, you don’t want to fix his hair though, you love the way he looks right now.

“Hey,” you whisper as you hold onto his hand tightly, your stomach would have felt queasy being on this ride if you weren’t here with him. He makes you feel safe, no matter what, no matter where you are.

His eyes never strayed away from you, not even to look down at all the attractions beneath you. His right arm is wrapped around your waist, you’re tucked into his embrace, not even the wobbly carriage that keeps taking you up higher and higher into the air could make you feel unsafe.

“Hi,” he whispers softly.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“You know… that day at Scoops,” you pause, feeling guilty for even bringing it up when you see the look in his eyes, the one full of guilt. Of course he remembers, you knew from the moment he found the dress in your closet and you know that it’s haunting him, you can see it.

“Yeah,” he whispers, his smile slowly fading but not completely.

You hold his hand tighter, “I don’t want you to feel bad, I just want you to know something.” You don’t even know if it is necessary to still tell him about your plan from that day, he knows of your feelings now, of how long you have kept them in but a part of you needs you to let this secret go, as well.

“What is it?” He whispers and reaches his hand out to your face when the wind blows through your hair, getting stuck on your eyelash. He fixes it and tucks it behind your ear, he keeps his palm resting on your cheek.

“I wanted to ask you out,” you confess with burning cheeks.

His hazel eyes flash with surprise, his stomach flutters as warmth tingles up to his neck.

You wanted to ask him out on a date?

You wanted to ask him out even though he was a dick to you?

“R-Really?”

You nod.

What would’ve happened if you did ask him out? He wonders.

How would he have reacted?

One thing he knows for sure is that he would be standing with red cheeks before you, he would have stuttered and stared at you stunned.

“Billy was the one who encouraged me.”

If Steve’s eyes could widen any further, they surely would.

“Billy?” He nearly yells. “Billy Hargrove!?”

You giggle at the confused and shocked look on his face.

“Yeah, Billy Hargrove encouraged me to make a move on you from the day I first told him about my feelings for you. He helped me pick out that dress, he even drove me to the mall and gave me a pep talk,” you confess, smiling at the memory of your best friend.

He huffs, shoulders slumping as he blinks a few times. And then his shocked frown transforms into a confused one, “w-wait, how did he not kill me after the way I treated you?” He asks in shame, not liking the memory of that day.

“I never told him,” you shrug and sigh, “I didn’t want him to fight you, I knew he’d kick your ass.”

Yeah, he would and he would have deserved it, he thinks.

But you thought so otherwise, you protected him, even on his worst days, when he did nothing but hurt you, you protected him.

In middle school, in high school and later.

No matter how young you were or how mature you had gotten, you were never angry with him, never bitter, no matter how he treated you, all you held for him was love, even when he did not deserve it.

“I told him I chickened out, that I never asked you out or even stepped foot inside Scoops.”

Steve whispers your name, a pained expression taking over his pretty features.

You shake your head at him, grasping his hand even tighter than before, “don’t feel bad, I don’t want you to feel guilty, those days are over, I just wanted to tell you that I have always been there and about Billy.”

Billy who hated him, Billy who used every opportunity to start a fight with him – he could have talked you out of it, he could have tried to turn you against him but he didn’t, he pushed you towards him, towards a guy he could never stand.

Steve looks at you, at the girl who went through hell and back for him, quite literally, you loved him from afar, you have jumped into a different world just to save him, to protect him, you followed him into darkness, you fought by his side, you would have died for him, he knows it, he knows you would and after everything, after every cruel world, after every push-back, you still love him unconditionally.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, cupping both your cheeks and looking into your eyes intensely, “I wish I could go back and change things but I can’t but… baby, I was a fool, I didn’t understand my feelings, there was always something, I already told you that last night but I need you to know that my heart always went crazy over you, I didn’t understand these feelings back then, they confused me just like they did when you got dragged into this mess with us… I didn’t want you to be a part of it not because I didn’t want you around but because I was fucking worried about you, when we parted ways and you went to the Creel house with the kids, I felt like I lost a piece of myself… and when I saw you at the hospital–” he pauses, his voice getting shaky as tears well up in his eyes. “I think that was the first time I ever prayed, Blondie. I-I needed you to be okay and I didn’t know what I’d do if I– if I lost you.”

Your bottom lip wobbles, your own eyes well up with tears as you look into his sad ones. You grab his wrists, holding on tightly.

Steve sat by your side every day, for hours, sometimes until the nurses kicked him out. He sat there and held your hand, he waited and waited, and prayed for you to wake up. He felt anger for Jason Carver, he felt grief over you.

To see him so distraught over what happened to you, to think that he felt this way even back then makes your heart hurt.

“You didn’t lose me, Steve, you never will,” you whisper and press your forehead against his, “you’re stuck with me now.”

His lips curl into a small smile, he caresses your cheek, not letting the tear that slipped from your eye, roll down your cheek.

“Sounds like heaven to me,” he whispers against your lips, leaning into your touch, “my heart was always yours, I was too stupid to realize.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, giggling through your tears, like your heart isn’t bursting at his words, “you were a real Lego Head.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle, his eyes glow with amusement and love, you both giggle and lean in closer and closer.

“I’ll never be one again,” he whispers against your lips.

“Good,” you murmur before you close your eyes and kiss him, smiling against his mouth when a sweet sigh escapes him. You feel the wind on your skin, you know how high up you are now but you don’t care and neither does he.

He cradles your face in his large hands and kisses you in a way you could only dream of months back.

And he feels the same, he has dreamed of a love like this, of one that would strip him off the dark colors that have enveloped him, that have taken hold of him when people have stomped on his heart. You broke through the wall around him, you took his hand and pulled him out of a pit that he never wanted to admit he was in, you saved him and you gave him something that he will hold so dearly, that he will protect with his life, you gave him your heart, your love.

He feels such joy and love in his heart, he can’t even contain it.

You trail your left hand down to his chest, pressing it against his beating heart – the heart that belongs to you. He grabs it and toys with your empty ring finger.

“Asking you to marry me is too soon… so I gotta settle into asking you to be my girlfriend,” he whispers after pulling away from the kiss, his heart thumping in his chest, his hope filled eyes staring into your awestruck ones.

“Not too soon for me but I’ll take the girlfriend title for a while,” you say so calmly, like your heart isn’t about to burst, like the excitement in you isn’t vibrating strongly.

If Steve wasn’t sitting down, he is sure that his knees would buckle at your words.

He is so weak for you and he is not sure if you truly realize it.

But he will show you, again and again until you finally see it.

He makes you squeal when he moves suddenly and wraps you in his arms, hugging you tightly before he starts peppering kisses to your face, “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you so much, you have no idea how much I do.” Kiss. “You make me the happiest man in the world.” Kiss. “You’re my everything, you’re my stars and my sunshine.” Kiss. “You’re my heart.” Kiss. “My girlfriend.”

Your cheeks hurt from all the giggling, your brows are scrunched as he keeps kissing all over your face, nuzzling his nose against yours and keeping you close.

You feel like you’re floating, like the sunshine grazes your skin despite it being night, your chest feels light and you just feel… happy.

“My boyfriend,” you whisper against his lips, words you never thought would come from your mouth.

Yeah, his knees would definitely buckle again.

“Say that again, darling, please…” He begs, pleading with his eyes, he needs it.

“My love,” you kiss him and smile, “my boyfriend.”

He kisses you again and again, even when you make it back down on the Ferris Wheel and the guy who advised you to your carriage tells you to get out with his monotone voice and his bored expression, Steve pecks your lips happily, not a single care in the world about the people around him, about the guy who is staring waiting for you both to move. Steve wants everyone to know that you are his girlfriend.

You are both a giggling mess when you finally walk away and throw yourselves back into the crowd, hands clinging to each other, happy smiles on your faces.

Before you leave, he wins you a teddy bear and you surprise him by winning one back for him.

And when you make it to his car by the end of the night, he presses you against it and steals your breath away yet again, he kisses you deeply and holds you tightly, no hunger behind it but love, passion and sweetness.

Though on your drive back to Hawkins, you both get a little eager when hand holding and kissing at red lights is suddenly not enough anymore. He pulls the car over into a secluded area, where nothing but trees and bushes surround you. You hastily undo the seatbelt and giggle loudly when he pulls you into the backseat, giving you no time to react before he grabs your waist and pulls you on top of him, murmuring just how bad he wants and needs you when his hands slip under your dress.

You spend the night making love in the backseat of his car, kissing and touching one another in ways no one else ever could.

Tonight nothing matters.

Nothing but the two of you.

You are his and he is yours.

After all those years, after the negative thoughts, after realizing that maybe you would have to live with this unrequited love for the rest of your life, after thinking that there is no chance at all… After you two started being intimate out of anger, or out of lust, not knowing all the feelings that were behind all of it. All the feelings you held that he didn’t know about, and all the feelings he had and you could only hope were there.

‘Told you you could do it, Sweets.’ It’s what he would have said to you, whispered in your ear as he shook Steve’s hand with disgust, welcoming him as your partner. Your boyfriend. Your future.

Steve is yours. Steve Harrington is finally yours.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

#dwoht -- chapter twenty three #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

704 notes · View notes

goldfades · 2 months ago

Text

oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home; and at your best, you were magic, we were sold; so don't tell them what you told me; don't even tell them that you know me; i would rather burn forever, but you should know that i died slow, running through the halls of your haunted home; merry christmas, please don't call; merry christmas, i'm not yours at all ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.9k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and paige had been the kind of love story everyone admired from afar: picture-perfect in the daylight, chaotic behind closed doors. it wasn't her fault, not entirely. paige had her own ghosts, shadows you couldn’t chase away. but this Christmas, as the snow falls in connecticut and the ache of her absence presses like a bruise against your ribs, you realize you can't keep bleeding for someone who won’t stop breaking.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SOULCRUSHING ANGST W/ NO HAPPY ENDING!! pazzi mention, paige being a PLAYER and descriptions of anger (directed at reader), manipulation (?), just overall angsty

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | i've been listening to merry christmas, please don't call so i just HAD to make an angsty paige fic, i hope yall enjoy! (im so sorry for this fic)

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it wraps the world in glitter and glassy snow, fooling you into believing anything could be beautiful if you squint hard enough. The kind of month where people hold hands and drink too-sweet cocoa, and you’re left standing under a streetlamp that flickers like a pulse—waiting for a call you know better than to answer.

You tuck your hands into your coat, biting back the cold. Connecticut is quieter than you remember, or maybe it’s just your corner of the city. Paige isn’t here to fill the space with that too-bright laughter that used to feel like sunshine and now feels like static in your chest.

The coffee shop across the street is closing for the night. You watch the barista flip the sign, your reflection ghosted in the fogged window. It looks like someone else—someone better, someone softer, someone who could’ve saved her.

But you couldn’t save Paige. Not from herself. Not from the carousel of pressure and pain that spins faster than either of you can jump off.

The two of you had been magnetic once. You couldn’t say it was perfect—it never was—but there had been a time when Paige made the air around her shimmer like heat on asphalt. Everyone wanted to be near her, but you were the one she chose. At least, that’s how it felt in the beginning.

The story of you and Paige wasn’t simple. It couldn’t be, not with how bright her world burned, how impossible it was to separate the good from the bad, the joy from the heartbreak. It all started with her charm—effortless and magnetic, the kind that made you believe she could do anything.

You met during her sophomore year at UConn, the same year her name became synonymous with excellence. She’d smile at you during study sessions, her sneakers squeaking against the gym floor as she absentmindedly dribbled a basketball while you worked on assignments. Her laugh was a sound you could pick out of a crowd, bright and airy, like it didn’t belong in a world this heavy.

The early days were golden. Paige had this way of making you feel like the only person in the room, her attention sharp and unwavering. She'd surprise you with late-night drives to nowhere, the car filled with the smell of takeout and the sound of her carefully curated playlists. She'd drape her hoodie over your shoulders when the Connecticut winters bit too hard, her hands brushing yours in a way that sent sparks down your spine.

She wasn’t just a basketball prodigy to you; she was Paige, the girl who could quote Parks and Recreation word for word, who cried during Marley & Me, who kissed you for the first time under a canopy of stars in a parking lot after a particularly grueling practice.

You learned quickly that loving Paige meant loving her ambition, her relentless drive. But it also meant loving her through her shadows—the doubt that crept in after a bad game, the pressure that clung to her like a second skin. At first, you thought you could handle it. You thought your steady presence could be her anchor.

But Paige’s world was intense, overwhelming, and sometimes suffocating. There were moments when she’d retreat into herself, shutting you out completely. Nights when she’d sit in silence for hours, staring at the wall, her thoughts a storm she refused to share.

“I’m fine,” she’d say, her voice clipped, whenever you tried to reach her. “It’s just basketball. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you knew it. It was the weight of the world on her shoulders, the unspoken expectation to be perfect, to never falter. And sometimes, that weight turned her into someone you didn’t recognize—distant, sharp-edged, unreachable.

There were good days, though. The kind of days that made you believe you could weather anything together. The way she’d look at you like you hung the moon after a big win, her joy infectious and radiant. The soft kisses she’d press to your forehead when she thought you were asleep, the whispered promises that everything would be okay.

But the cracks in the foundation grew wider as time went on. Paige didn’t know how to lean on you—didn’t know how to share the parts of herself that weren’t shiny and triumphant. And you, in turn, didn’t know how to break through the walls she built so carefully around her heart.

The arguments started small: missed dates, unanswered texts, her constant insistence that she “needed space.” But they grew sharper, uglier, as the stress of her career bled into every corner of her life. You tried to be patient, to understand that her world was chaotic in ways yours wasn’t.

“I’m trying,” you told her one night, your voice breaking after yet another fight about her shutting you out. “But I can’t keep doing this if you won’t let me in.”

Her response was cold, distant: “Maybe I don’t need you to fix everything for me.”

It was the beginning of the end.

The good moments became fewer, swallowed whole by the tension that never seemed to fade. Paige became harder to reach, her laughter rarer, her smiles strained. She’d come home late, exhausted and short-tempered, and you’d sit across from her at the kitchen table, wondering when you stopped feeling like her partner and started feeling like a stranger.

And love, real love, isn’t just about the good moments.

The cracks began to show in small ways. The way she’d go silent when you asked how she was really feeling after a rough game. The forced smile she’d wear in public, only to collapse into your arms behind closed doors, her exhaustion radiating off her in waves. Paige didn’t talk about the pressure—not really. She’d shrug it off with a joke or brush it aside with a kiss, but you could feel it in the way she clenched her fists when she thought no one was looking.

And then there was the anger.

It didn’t show up at first, not in ways you could name. Paige was too composed, too practiced at keeping herself in check, her emotions folded neatly into the corners of her well-rehearsed smile. But over time, the cracks in her composure grew sharper, splintering into moments she couldn’t quite hide.

You remember the first time it caught you off guard. It was late November, and the two of you were walking back to her apartment after a grueling game. Paige had played well—at least, that’s what everyone kept telling her. She’d drained three-pointers with a precision that seemed almost effortless, threading passes that left defenders spinning. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for Paige.

“I should’ve done more,” she muttered, her voice low but heavy with frustration. You glanced at her, confused.

“Paige, you scored 26 points,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “I think that qualifies as doing more.”

She stopped walking, her breath fogging in the cold air. Her jaw clenched.

“You don’t get it,” she snapped, and the sharpness in her voice cut through you like a knife.

You blinked, taken aback. “Then help me get it,” you said carefully, stepping closer. But she only shook her head, her hands buried deep in her pockets.

“Forget it,” she muttered, and the conversation ended there.

But the tension lingered.

It wasn’t always so direct. Sometimes it was the way she’d sigh too loudly when you asked her a simple question, or the way she’d press her fingers to her temples when you suggested she take a break. Other times, it was silence—the kind that stretched too long and settled too heavy between you, a chasm you didn’t know how to cross.

And yet, there were still moments of sweetness. Paige was never just one thing. She’d show up at your door with takeout after you’d had a rough day, or pull you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as though she could shield you from everything. She’d kiss the top of your head and whisper things like, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” and for a while, you believed her.

But the anger didn’t go away. It grew, festering in the quiet corners of your relationship until it felt like a third presence in the room. It wasn’t directed at you—not always—but it seeped into everything.

You’d watch her pace the living room after a game, her movements restless and sharp, her hands running through her hair. She’d mutter under her breath about missed shots, bad calls, and how the team deserved better. You tried to comfort her, to remind her that she was enough, but your words never seemed to stick.

“Stop,” she’d say, cutting you off mid-sentence. “You don’t have to fix this. Just… let me be.”

You told yourself it wasn’t personal. That she wasn’t mad at you, but at the weight she carried, the expectations that pressed down on her until she couldn’t breathe. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were becoming collateral damage.

The fights started small—little disagreements over nothing. Where to eat, what movie to watch, whether she could manage to take one damn day off. But they escalated quickly, her voice rising in frustration, yours trying to keep up.

“I’m trying to help you,” you said one night, your voice cracking under the strain.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she shot back, her eyes blazing. “You think you can just fix everything? Newsflash: you can’t.”

Her words hit you harder than they should have. Maybe because deep down, you’d started to believe she was right.

The nights after those fights were the hardest. You’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence between you louder than any argument. Paige would sit on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, the weight of her regret pressing her down. She never apologized—not with words, anyway. Her apologies came in the form of a soft kiss on your shoulder, a whispered “goodnight” that barely reached your ears.

But you started to wonder if love was supposed to feel this heavy.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love her. God, you loved her. Even when she was angry, even when she pushed you away, even when the weight of her world started to crush you, too. But love wasn’t enough to keep you from drowning.

The night it all came crashing down, the snowstorm outside was unforgiving, a whiteout swallowing the world whole. You stood in Paige’s apartment, the dim light of her living room casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. The heater rattled and hissed, struggling to keep the space warm, but it couldn’t touch the frost between you.

Paige sat on the edge of the couch, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands gripping her hair so tightly you thought she might pull it out. Her breathing was uneven, each inhale sharp and jagged like broken glass.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said finally, her voice cracking on the last word.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of her statement hitting you square in the chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that, but tonight it felt different. Final.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your own voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it.

She looked up at you then, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her face a mask of exhaustion. “It means I’m tired,” she said. “Of… of everything. Of trying to be everything for everyone and failing every single time.”

“Paige,” you began, stepping closer, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, and the venom in her voice made you stop in your tracks.

“I’m not one of them,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Paige. I’ve never asked that of you.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound so hollow it made your stomach churn. “But you expect me to be okay,” she said, her words like knives. “You expect me to keep it together, to let you in, to… to lean on you like that’s supposed to fix anything.”

“Is that such a terrible thing?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “To want you to let me help? To not have to feel like I’m walking on eggshells every second I’m around you?”

Paige stood abruptly, her sudden movement startling you. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ll never get it. You don’t know what it’s like to have the whole damn world waiting for you to screw up. To know that no matter what you do, it’s never gonna be enough.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring you to respond.

“You’re right,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But I do know what it’s like to love you, and to feel like I’m not enough for you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked at you like she wanted to say something. But then her expression hardened, her walls slamming back into place.

“Maybe you’re not,” she said, the words so quiet they almost didn’t register. Almost.

You froze, your heart dropping into your stomach. “What?”

Her eyes were cold now, her shoulders tense. “Maybe you’re not enough,” she repeated, louder this time. “Because if you were, I wouldn’t feel like this all the time. I wouldn’t—” She stopped herself, shaking her head as if trying to clear it. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to say something like that and then just walk away.”

Paige turned away from you, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean it,” she muttered, but the damage was already done.

“Yes, you did,” you said, and the finality in your tone made her turn back to face you. “You meant it, Paige. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not enough for you. But I’ve been trying. I’ve been here, through everything, while you’ve been pushing me away and blaming me for things I can’t control.”

She didn’t respond, her jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in her neck.

“You want to be alone so badly?” you said, your voice breaking. “Fine. Be alone. I’m done trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paige didn’t move, didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you. And that silence said more than words ever could.

You grabbed your coat, your movements mechanical as you headed for the door. Your fingers fumbled with the handle, but before you stepped out into the freezing night, you turned back one last time.

“I loved you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I hope you know that.”

And then you left.

The cold hit you like a slap in the face, but it didn’t compare to the hollow ache in your chest. You walked away from her building, your breaths coming out in shaky puffs of air, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

But as you disappeared into the snowstorm, you couldn’t shake the image of Paige standing in that living room, alone with her anger and the ghosts she refused to let go of.

It was summer in Connecticut, the kind of evening where the world seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a twilight haze. The sky was streaked with pink and gold, casting a warm, nostalgic glow over the small lake where Paige had driven you after practice. She had her hand on the back of your neck, her thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin as you leaned against her car, watching the water ripple in the breeze.

“This is the spot,” she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.

“The spot for what?” you asked, turning to face her.

“For when it gets too heavy.”

Paige rarely talked about the weight she carried—her expectations, her relentless drive to be more, to be better. But you could feel it in her sometimes, the way she’d go quiet after games or the way her smile would falter when she thought no one was looking.

You followed her gaze out over the lake. It was still, reflecting the sky like a mirror, and for a moment, the world felt smaller, safer. Paige tilted her head back against the car, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath.

“You ever feel like you’re just… spinning?” she asked softly.

“Like everything’s moving too fast, and you can’t get off?”

She opened one eye, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, like that.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the stillness like the first notes of a song. “All the time.”

Paige turned to you then, really turned, her gaze heavy and intense in that way that always made your heart stutter. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered, her fingertips brushing against your cheek.

“You make it stop,” she said, so quietly you almost missed it.

“Make what stop?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely, her other hand cutting through the air like she was trying to grab hold of something intangible. “The spinning. The noise.”

Her eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, you felt the full weight of her, the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see. Paige Bueckers—the golden girl, the superstar—looked at you like you were the only thing holding her together.

And maybe you were.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead to yours. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this carousel, you know? Like I can’t get off, even when I want to. But when I’m with you…”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “When you’re with me, what?”

“I forget about it,” she said, her voice cracking just a little. “I forget about everything else.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, the two of you wrapped in a quiet moment that felt too fragile to last. Paige’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the soft rise and fall of your breaths.

“Promise me something,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your temple.

“Anything.”

“Don’t leave. No matter how bad it gets, don’t leave.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, your heart breaking at the vulnerability etched across her face. “I won’t,” you said, the words heavy with meaning.

Paige kissed you then, slow and deep, her hands framing your face like you were something sacred. And for a moment, the world did stop spinning.

Later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars began to flicker into view, you lay on the hood of her car, her arm wrapped tightly around you. She traced constellations in the sky with her finger, whispering their names like secrets only you were meant to hear.

It was moments like this that made leaving unthinkable. Paige could be selfish, distant, and infuriating, but she was also this—the girl who made you feel like the center of her universe, if only for a little while.

And that’s why, even now, with the carousel spinning faster than ever, you knew that if she called, you’d pick up. You’d step back into the whirlwind, the heavy gaze, the endless cycle.

Because Paige had a way of making you believe in the calm between storms, in the stillness of a summer night by a lake that felt like it belonged only to you.

Paige had this way about her—a pull that felt almost gravitational. It wasn’t just her talent, though that was undeniable. It wasn’t even her looks, though you’d be lying if you said her golden hair and sharp blue eyes didn’t make your stomach flip every time she turned that full-force charm your way. It was something deeper, something intangible. Paige made you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be. Especially when you didn’t want to be.

She’d waltz into a room like she owned it, every movement effortless, every smile calculated but somehow still genuine. Paige Bueckers had the kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance, but with you, it softened. She let you see behind the curtain—the cracks in her armor, the moments when the golden girl wasn’t so golden.

And God, those moments were everything.

You remember one night in particular, when the weight of everything had been too much for her. The team had just lost a game they were expected to win, and Paige had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire bus ride back. You’d waited until everyone else had cleared out of the locker room before approaching her, unsure if she even wanted you there.

But the second she saw you, something in her crumbled.

“I can’t,” she’d whispered, her voice shaking as she sank onto the bench. “I can’t keep doing this.”

You didn’t say anything, just sat down beside her and pulled her into your arms. She clung to you like a lifeline, her tears soaking into your shirt as you ran your fingers through her hair, whispering soft reassurances.

It was moments like that when you realized just how deeply Paige had wormed her way into your heart. She wasn’t just the superstar everyone else saw; she was vulnerable, complicated, and so achingly human. And she trusted you with that side of her—a side no one else got to see.

But it wasn’t just the heavy moments that kept you tied to her. It was the good ones, too—the nights she’d show up at your door unannounced with takeout and a goofy grin, insisting that you needed a break from studying. The way she’d drag you to the park at midnight just to lay on the grass and stargaze, her hand intertwined with yours as she pointed out constellations you’d never heard of.

It was the way she looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

Paige had a way of making every moment feel electric. When she kissed you, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was an event. Her hands would cradle your face like you were made of glass, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. And when she smiled at you afterward, that lazy, lopsided grin that was so uniquely hers, it felt like the world had been set right again.

You knew it wasn’t healthy. Paige could be selfish, possessive even. She wanted you on her terms, when it was convenient for her, when she needed someone to hold her up. And you let her, because when Paige loved you—even if it was only halfway—it felt like the sun had risen just for you.

You told yourself that you were the one who truly knew her, the one who saw the real Paige beneath the accolades and the golden glow. And maybe that was true. But knowing her didn’t make it hurt any less when she started to pull away.

Because Paige Bueckers had a chokehold on you, and no matter how much you wanted to let go, you knew you never really could. Even now, with everything that had happened, all it would take was one call, one look, and you’d be hers again, no questions asked.

That was the thing about Paige—she was a storm, unpredictable and destructive, but you couldn’t help but stand in the rain, hoping for just a little more sunlight.

The air was thick with warmth and laughter, the kind of joy that buzzed around a room full of people who felt like family. Paige had insisted you come to the team hangout, her eyes softening in that way that always made it impossible to say no.

"It'll be fun," she had promised, lacing her fingers through yours. "And Azzi will be there, so you won't feel out of place."

You swallowed back the irony now, standing on the fringes of the crowded living room as Paige and Azzi shared a quiet laugh across the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them together, their bond growing closer in ways that should’ve been comforting. It should have made you feel secure—Paige having someone who understood her world, who could shoulder the weight of the same pressures.

But it didn’t.

It hurt.

Azzi’s laugh was the same pitch as Paige’s, soft and genuine. The way Paige leaned in when she spoke, her eyes crinkling at the corners, was painfully familiar. You’d seen that look a thousand times before—directed at you. Once.

You stayed pressed against the wall, your drink warming in your hand as you watched them. It wasn’t just the way they talked, like no one else was in the room, or the casual touch of Paige’s hand against Azzi’s arm. It was the comfort, the ease. The way Paige smiled at her, unguarded and free.

You’d been here before. In the passenger seat of her car during late-night drives. On her couch, curled up with her hoodie draped around your shoulders. Sharing secrets that felt too heavy to speak aloud. It was supposed to be your safe space—yours and Paige’s.

Now, watching her light up for someone else, you couldn’t help but feel like a ghost. A witness to something that wasn’t meant for you anymore.

Azzi said something that made Paige throw her head back in laughter, her hand brushing Azzi’s knee as she doubled over. The sound echoed in your chest like a bullet ricocheting off hollow walls.

And you died slow.

The walls of this house weren’t hers, but they may as well have been. Paige had a way of haunting every space she occupied, leaving pieces of herself in every laugh, every look, every touch. But tonight, it felt like you weren’t welcome in the hallways of her haunted home. You were an intruder in a space you used to know intimately.

The toughest part wasn’t the way she drifted to Azzi like a planet pulled into a stronger orbit. It was the fact that you both knew exactly why it was happening. Paige wasn’t trying to hurt you, not intentionally. She was finding something she needed—something you couldn’t give her anymore.

And it crushed you, knowing she wasn’t the person everyone else thought she was. She wasn’t just the golden girl with the easy smile and the killer jump shot. You knew the sharp edges, the flaws she tried to bury under layers of charm. The way she’d lash out when she was scared, the selfishness that reared its head when she felt cornered.

You knew her. Really knew her. And you still stayed.

Stayed when she’d shut you out after a bad game, refusing to talk for days. Stayed when her ambition left no room for you, when she forgot birthdays and date nights and promises. Stayed because Paige wasn’t just the bad parts.

She was also the Paige who kissed your knuckles when you cried, who brought you flowers "just because." The Paige who whispered “I love you” like it was a secret meant only for you.

But now, watching her laugh with Azzi, you wondered if you’d stayed too long. If you’d held onto someone who wasn’t yours anymore.

Paige glanced over, catching your eye for a brief moment. She smiled—polite, distant. And then she turned back to Azzi, her attention snapping back like a rubber band.

It hit you then, the final blow.

Paige’s world had shifted, and you weren’t the center of it anymore. You were the afterthought. A memory of a time when she was still figuring out how to carry the weight of her life.

And for the first time, you let yourself wonder if maybe Paige wasn’t yours at all. Maybe she never really had been.

There’s a cruel intimacy to grief. The way it finds you in the smallest moments, in the cracks of your routine, in the way the wind moves through the trees or how a song starts playing in a grocery store. Paige is everywhere in Connecticut. Or maybe she’s everywhere in you.

You tried to move on. God, you really did.

At first, it was sheer force of will. You buried yourself in work, in plans with friends who didn’t know Paige beyond the headlines. You deleted her photos off your phone, shoved her sweatshirt to the back of your closet where the scent of her—a mix of fresh linen and something indefinable—couldn’t haunt you.

But grief has a way of sneaking back in. It wasn’t the big things that unraveled you; it was the little ones. The way every basketball game you flipped past felt like her shadow. The sound of laughter at a bar that hit the same pitch as hers, making your chest tighten with phantom warmth.

And God help you, it was the moments when you wanted to hate her but couldn’t. Not when you’d catch yourself remembering how she used to light up at the simplest things—pancakes on a lazy morning, a dumb joke that wasn’t funny but made her laugh so hard she’d double over.

Then there were the rumors. Whispers and Instagram stories. Paige and Azzi—courtside banter turned into something more. The first time you saw it, you scoffed, dismissing it as gossip. Paige always had a way of pulling people into her orbit, Azzi included.

But then came the photos. Nothing overt, nothing scandalous. Just Paige leaning too close during post-game interviews. Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, casual but deliberate. They weren’t trying to hide it, but they weren’t broadcasting it either.

The night you saw it, you stared at your phone for too long, trying to decipher the ache in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. You hadn’t expected Paige to wait for you, not when she had the kind of life that moved at the speed of light. But it was the simplicity of it that hurt the most. The way Paige could give Azzi the pieces of herself you’d fought so hard to hold onto.

You spent the rest of that night curled up on your bed, scrolling through her photos until the light from your phone burned your eyes. By the time you fell asleep, the only thing you felt was exhaustion—the kind that settled in your bones and didn’t leave.

And now, it’s Christmas Eve.

You’re back in Connecticut, surrounded by family and the kind of warmth that’s supposed to feel comforting. But it doesn’t. Not entirely. The house is decked out in garlands and twinkling lights, your mom’s favorite holiday playlist drifting faintly from the kitchen. Your siblings are laughing over some board game you’ve never liked, and you’re standing by the window, watching the snow fall.

It’s quiet in your corner of the house. Too quiet.

The phone in your pocket buzzes. Once. Then again.

You don’t have to look to know who it is.

Paige’s number is burned into your memory, as familiar as your own name. Your chest tightens as you pull the phone out, the screen glowing with her name. It’s been a year since you last spoke. A year of awkward smiles at mutual friends’ events and polite nods when your paths crossed. A year of trying to forget the sound of her voice, the way she’d say your name like it was something precious.

You should answer. Or maybe you shouldn’t.

The buzzing stops, and you think it’s over. But then it starts again, more insistent this time. She doesn’t leave voicemails anymore. Just lets the silence hang in the air between calls.

Your hand hovers over the screen, your breath hitching as the familiar ache rises in your chest. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the cold seeping through the windowpane, on the distant sound of your family laughing.

When the buzzing stops again, you shove the phone back into your pocket.

Merry Christmas, Paige. But I can’t do this. Not tonight.

You turn away from the window, your heart heavy with the weight of all the things you’ll never say. The snow keeps falling, covering the world in glitter and glassy silence. Paige is still everywhere, even when she isn’t. And you?

You’re still trying to move on. Still waiting for the day when the sound of her name doesn’t feel like a knife twisting in your chest.

The night stretches on, slow and agonizing, the kind of quiet that sinks into your skin and keeps you awake for all the wrong reasons. You sit by the fireplace long after your family has gone to bed, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. Your phone sits heavy on the armrest, as if its weight could pull you under.

You wonder what she wanted to say.

Paige wasn’t one for grand gestures, not outside the court. She wasn’t the type to pour her heart out over the phone, but you knew her well enough to read between the lines, to decipher the emotions she couldn’t put into words. And that was the worst part—knowing that whatever it was she wanted to say, it would hurt.

She’d moved on. You were sure of it. Azzi filled the space you used to occupy, and that should’ve been enough to keep Paige away. But here she was, her name lighting up your phone like some ghost that refused to rest.

You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing her—where she was, what she looked like tonight. Was she staring out her own window, watching the snow fall, her lips pressed into that familiar line of determination? Or was she somewhere loud and bright, surrounded by the buzz of life, calling you from the edges of a party she didn’t really want to be at?

The questions gnawed at you, each one another layer of hurt you couldn’t shake.

You thought about the last Christmas you’d spent together, curled up on the couch in her apartment, the world outside forgotten for a few stolen hours. Paige had draped an arm over your shoulders, her face buried in your neck as she mumbled something about how she wished every day could feel like that—quiet, safe, yours.

But nothing stayed quiet with Paige. She lived in a whirlwind, and you’d gotten caught in the eye of the storm. You let her pull you under because you thought, for a moment, that you could save her.

Instead, she left you drowning.

The fire crackles, breaking the silence, and you blink back the tears threatening to spill.

You reach for your phone, your thumb hovering over her name. It would be so easy to call her back, to let her voice fill the space between you. She’d say something half-apologetic, half-charming, and you’d forgive her like you always did, because how could you not?

But you don’t.

Instead, you turn the phone off and set it face-down on the table. The room feels emptier without its glow, but you welcome the darkness.

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it promises joy wrapped in ribbons and snowflakes but leaves you colder than before. It’s a month of ghosts, of memories that slip through your fingers like frost.

And Paige? She’s the cruellest ghost of all.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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getitoutofmymindwrites · 9 months ago

Text

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

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thewulf · 24 days ago

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Daddy's Pancakes || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - I have this huge love for my dad's pancakes and now have this idea of Jake and reader having a daughter who's favorite food is Daddy's pancakes.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! My goal is to write 3-4 of these a month. Missed you all. Also this is just disgustingly sweet. So sweet. This is a world where Aaron is home on the weekends :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

TW: None

Golden sunlight filtered through the bedroom curtains, warm and bright, brushing over your skin as it stirred you from the depths of sleep. The air was alive with the familiar aroma of pancakes carrying with it the quiet promise of a peaceful Saturday morning. You lingered for a moment with your eyes closed, savoring the stillness, knowing exactly what awaited you just down the hall. Standing slowly and wrapping yourself in the robe behind the door you made your way down the hall.

The sounds of laughter drifted to you as you moved closer to the kitchen. The quiet hum of Aaron’s voice so steady and warm mingled with your daughter’s bright, bubbling giggles. You paused at the doorway and leaned against the frame to take it all in. The sight was as familiar as it was heart-melting. Aaron stood at the stove, a picture of quiet confidence. His broad frame relaxed as he flipped a pancake with an effortless precision that spoke of years of practice. He wore that old FBI sweatshirt you had tried to get rid of so many time with the cuffs slightly frayed. Loose pajama pants hung just so on his hips. His hair was a little disheveled, a reminder that the morning had started early for him. The sunlight caught on the planes of his face, softening the sharp lines into something achingly tender as he glanced down at the little girl sitting on the counter beside him. Your little girl.

Your daughter was the perfect blend of energy and focus. Her small hands clutching a whisk that looked far too large for her to manage. Batter spattered the counter, her legs swinging beneath her in a steady rhythm, the occasional thud of her small feet against the cabinets punctuating her giggles. Aaron’s hand rested gently over hers, trying and failing to guide her movements. His patience unshakable even as the bowl tilted precariously with her enthusiasm.

The kitchen itself told the story of their morning: a dusting of flour scattered across the counter, chocolate chips spilled in uneven piles, and a single stray blueberry precariously close to the edge. A half-empty can of whipped cream stood amidst the chaos. It was a quiet testament to the playful antics that had undoubtedly ensued. You couldn’t suppress a soft laugh, the sound drawing both of their gazes toward you. Your daughter’s face lit up the moment she saw you. Her eyes wide with delight as she scrambled to hop off the counter. She launched herself into your arms without hesitation, sticky hands, and all. The warmth of her small body pressing against yours.

“Good morning, my little pancake expert,” you murmured. Your voice low and affectionate as you smoothed her hair and kissed her flour-dusted cheek. Her giggles vibrated against your chest, the sound a balm to your soul. Aaron turned then, glancing over his shoulder as he set a perfectly golden pancake onto the growing stack beside him. His eyes softened as they met yours with the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was something in his gaze, familiar and unspoken, that always made your breath catch. A quiet reminder of everything you’d built together.

The three of you moved as if in a rhythm. The routine ingrained yet somehow always fresh. Aaron handed your daughter a small bowl of blueberries and she carefully scattered them onto a pancake with the focus of an artist adding the final touches to their masterpiece. He guided her with quiet words and steady hands, showing her how to pour syrup without flooding the plate. The two of them were a study in patience and love, their bond evident in every small gesture.

You watched them, your heart full, as Aaron slid a plate toward you. The stack of pancakes golden and topped with a generous drizzle of syrup and fresh fruit. He sat beside you, his hand brushing yours briefly, a simple touch that carried more weight than words ever could.

Your daughter’s voice broke the quiet hum of the moment. Her pride radiating as she declared, “This one’s the best, Mommy. Daddy helped me make it special for you.”

You smiled. Your chest tightening in that bittersweet way only love could manage as you took a bite. The flavors melted on your tongue—sweet, warm, and impossibly perfect. “Mmm,” you hummed while looking at Aaron and then at her. “It’s everything I could’ve hoped for. You two make the best team.”

Aaron leaned back slightly. His gaze lingering on you as he reached for his coffee. The way his eyes softened, the faint curve of his lips. Neither needed words to convey what he felt in that moment. And as you sat there with the sunlight pooling over the table the sound of your daughter’s laughter filling the room you couldn’t imagine a more perfect morning.

You sat at the kitchen table savoring the last bite of your pancake as the sunlight bathed the room. Your daughter who was back perched on the counter was happily adding toppings to the pancakes she had made for Jack. She had been so proud of her work, carefully stacking each pancake and decorating them with swirls of syrup, a scattering of blueberries, and just a few chocolate chips, “Not too many, Mommy, or they’ll be too sweet,” she had declared with all the seriousness of a master chef she told you as you came to see what she was up to.

As you watched her, you smiled softly. “Are these for Jack?” you asked while leaning forward on your elbows. “You know he’s going to want to try them when he gets back from his sleepover.”

Her face lit up at the mention of her big brother. Her bright eyes widening. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, scrambling to grab the plate she had so proudly prepared. “I already made the perfect ones for him. He’s going to love them!”

She carefully lifted the plate, her small hands gripping the edges as she turned toward the table. Aaron glanced over from the stove. A faint smile playing on his lips as he watched her. But as her foot caught on the edge of the rug, time seemed to slow. You saw the plate tip forward, her hands fumbling to steady it… but it was too late. The pancakes tumbled off the plate and landed on the floor in a sticky, syrupy heap.

For a heartbeat the kitchen was silent. She froze, her wide eyes locked on the mess as if willing it to disappear. Then her lip quivered, and the first tear rolled down her cheek. “My pancakes,” she choked out. Her voice breaking as the full weight of the disaster hit her. “They were for Jack! They were perfect, and now they’re… they’re ruined!”

The tears came fast and heavy. Her small body shaking as she clutched the empty plate to her chest. “Jack’s going to hate me!” she wailed. Her devastation so dramatic it tugged at your heartstrings.

Before you could react Aaron was already there. He crouched down in front of her, his voice calm and steady like an anchor in the storm. “Hey, hey,” he said softly. His large hands gently cupping her tiny ones to lower the plate. “It’s okay. Look at me, sweetheart.”

Her tear-filled eyes met his. Her breaths hiccupping as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from her damp cheek. “It’s not okay!” she sobbed with her voice high and shaky. “They were special, and now they’re all gone!”

Aaron shook his head, his voice steady and soothing. “They’re not gone, baby girl. We’ll make more.”

“But they won’t be the same!” she insisted. The tears streaming down her face. “I worked so hard and now Jack’s going to think I don’t care!”

Aaron’s gaze softened further, and he leaned closer, his tone quiet but firm. “Jack knows how much you care about him. He’s going to love whatever you make because you made it. And you know what?”

She sniffled, her lip still trembling. “W-What?”

Aaron smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “This gives us a chance to make them even better. What do you say? Should we give it another try?”

Her tears slowed as she stared at him. Her little brow furrowed as she considered his words. “Even better?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Even better,” Aaron promised. His smile widening. “And this time, Mommy and I will help. Team effort, okay?”

You stepped closer, crouching beside them and placing a hand on her back. “We’ll make the best pancakes Jack has ever had,” you said, your voice warm and encouraging. “And this time, we’ll keep them far away from that rug.”

A small, wobbly smile tugged at her lips. She nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said, her voice still soft but a little steadier.

Aaron pressed a kiss to her forehead before standing and offering her his hand. “Come on my favorite little sous chef. Let’s get started.” He scooped her up and set her back on the counter. The three of you worked together to create a new batch with Aaron carefully flipping each pancake while you guided her hands to measure and pour the batter. Her confidence returned with each successful flip. By the time the stack was finished her earlier devastation was a distant memory.

When she placed the new plate on the table her grin was as bright as the sunlight streaming through the window. “These are even better than the first ones!” she announced proudly.

Aaron leaned against the counter. His arms crossed as he watched her with a soft smile. “Told you we’d make it work,” he said while meeting your gaze with a look of quiet affection.

And as your daughter beamed with pride you couldn’t help but marvel at the way Aaron’s calm, steady love had turned what could have been a morning ruined by tears into one filled with laughter and warmth. The kitchen had settled into a comfortable hum. The chaos of earlier forgotten as the three of you sat together at the table. Your daughter happily munched on her latest masterpiece, humming to herself between bites. You and Aaron shared a quiet moment of contentment as the sunlight framed his profile while he sipped his coffee.

As you watched her pick at the chocolate chips on her plate, a teasing smile tugged at your lips. “You know,” you said to Aaron, breaking the quiet, “at this rate, she’s never going to want anyone else’s pancakes. You’ve set the bar too high, Hotchner.”

Aaron raised a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “That so?”

“Mhm,” you replied, leaning your chin on your hand as you turned toward him. “Pretty sure she’s going to be calling you from college, begging you to mail her a stack.”

Your daughter perked up at the idea, her fork pausing mid-air. “Daddy, can you really do that?” she asked. Her eyes wide with excitement.

Aaron chuckled, setting his mug down. “I don’t think pancakes travel very well, sweetheart.”

Her face fell, her lips forming a dramatic pout that had you both laughing softly. Aaron leaned closer, brushing a crumb off her cheek. “But you won’t need that sweetheart,” he said, his voice warm. “By then, you’ll be the one making pancakes for me.”

She brightened at the thought, nodding eagerly. “Yeah! I’ll make the best pancakes ever, Daddy. Even better than yours!”

“Now that,” Aaron said while leaning back in his chair with a grin, “is a challenge I’ll accept.”

You shook your head, laughing as you reached out to brush your fingers over your daughter’s hair. “I think you’ve created a monster.”

“Maybe,” Aaron replied, standing, and walking over to gather both you and your daughter into his arms. His embrace was warm and steady, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head as he pulled you close. “But I think I can live with that.”

Your daughter giggled, “Daddy’s pancakes are still my favorite though.”

The three of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes from deep love and shared joy. You closed your eyes as you leaned into the steady rhythm of Aaron’s heartbeat and feeling your daughter’s small arms clinging to both of you.

As you opened your eyes and glanced around the kitchen with the remnants of batter, the syrup-sticky plates, and the soft morning sunlight still spilling across the table—you felt a pang of quiet gratitude. These mornings were so simple, so fleeting, but they were everything.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @hockeyluvr26 @ahoeforfandomsblog @abandonlilly @littlemisskavities

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blackynsupremacy · 1 month ago

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PARTY AND BULLSHIT

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend kick the new year off in the right way.

contains: inspired by this post by @cvntynac, 18+ content (mdni), oral (m receiving), face fucking, public sex, bathroom sex, praise, nut swallowing, making out, implied intercourse towards the end.

a/n: happy new year, taglist and mutuals! may this one be better than the last.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy @cvntynac

“fuck, that’s it, baby.”

nicholas egged you on, one of his large hands caress your glowing, made up face while the other gently raked through your scalp as he watched his dick fill your mouth inch by inch. his body leaned backward into the white sink, the once blaring music from the party you were attending was now muffled behind the bathroom door. nicholas couldn’t contain himself this whole evening—not with how you were looking tonight. that short, strapless gold dress that you donned complimented your body type and skin tone so well. he couldn’t say enough of how ethereal you looked when you stepped out to reveal yourself after completing your final look. from head to toe, you had nicholas weak in the knees and tight in the pants. just when you guys were about to leave the house, he was even considering backing out of the event.

“babe, do we really have to go? i mean, we can celebrate new years in another way.” he tried to use that soft coaxing voice and brown, puppy eyes to try to get his way. you’d shake your head, giggling while holding onto his jaw and placing a sweet kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“as tempting as that sounds, i really wanna go out and turn up for ‘twenty-five. if you’re a good boy tonight, we can celebrate a little early.” it was now your turn to give him puppy eyes with the playful, flirtatious flutter of your lashes,

“you’d do that for me, right, nick baby?”

at the use of that nickname, you knew you’d come to a common ground with your boyfriend as you were already on the dance floor with a drink in hand. nicholas kept his end of the bargain so far—until you invited him to join you. the bass blasted through the speakers as you sensually swayed and ground your hips into his to the beat. fortunately for nicholas, he could handle what was given, but the farther you pushed up against him in that dress, the harder his dick grew. that’s how it led you to being pulled into the bathroom by him. it wasn’t long before you both gave into your desire for each other and now your head between his legs to ease the ache that he endured.

“mm-hmm.”

you hummed against the veiny skin of the impressive girth of his dick. your hands pressed onto his thick thighs with your cheeks hollowed and your head moving up and down like nothing else mattered besides nicholas’ pleasure. you paused your movements momentarily to swirl your tongue around his pink, leaking tip like a popsicle before resuming your movements. you guided your mouth to take him even deeper to the point that his tip would graze the back your throat. nicholas grip grew tighter around you, his hips start to roll with your head moving in rhythm.

“shit, my girl looks so beautiful with my dick in her mouth—you’re taking me well, sweetheart.” nicholas praised, his hips gaining a bit in speed.

god, he fucking loved how you devoured him like he was a rare delicacy. he could notice from below how your breasts were peaking out from the top of your dress, the matching golden eyeshadow glimmered on your half-lidded eyes, and your full drooling, glossed lips enclosing around the shaft to completely immerse him within the warm cavern of your mouth had his head spinning. once your hand joined the party to knead and squeeze on his balls, he was a goner for sure.

“m’bout to cum, doll. be a good fucking girl and take it—all of it.” he precisely moved his hips back and forth. at the sight of your saliva dripping from your mouth on the plush mound of your chest, they got sloppier and sloppier. your eyes started to water and your nose started to run as you thought you were gonna choke, but did you give a fuck? nah, you just wanna see your boyfriend reach his climax. nicholas let go of his grip on you and held onto the white sink behind him to balance himself as he spilled his seed within the back of your throat.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaimed, the overwhelming pleasure crashing over him.

you took it all with no problem, swallowing every drop like water. as soon as you popped him out of your mouth, nicholas swiftly carried you with your legs around his waist to sit you on the edge of the sink. he positioned himself between your legs and before you could continue any further, you both paused to hear the rest of the partiers shout,

“FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE— HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

you smile at each other, simultaneously exchanging the same holiday greeting. nicholas tenderly wiped away any tears that happened to fall from your eyes before you took the opportunity of grasping onto your boyfriend’s face, marking yet another cross over into a new year as a couple with a searing kiss on his lips to which he instinctively returns. his hands are placed at your waist before they start to roam your body. you moan out into his mouth when he grips onto your ass to grind your hips into his, not forgetting to slip his tongue within your mouth to swirl around yours. his hands journey right down to your thighs before spreading them wider and slithering underneath the dress to finally remove the damp, lace thong you wore.

although you were at a party, it was time for the real celebration to begin.

#black reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x black reader #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x reader smut #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez x female reader #x black reader #black!reader #x black!reader #x black!fem!reader #actor x reader #actor x black!reader

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satellite-evans · 8 months ago

Text

Look at the stars

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his Y/N spend a joyful day picnicking and stargazing with their children <3

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: tooth aching fluff

A/N:

This was a request from @pear-1206 , I hope I did your request justice, love xx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sun was warm and golden, casting a gentle glow over the lush countryside. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the sound of birds chirping merrily. It was the perfect day for a picnic, and Benedict Bridgerton couldn't have been happier to spend it with his wife and children.

Benedict and Y/N had always shared a mutual disdain for the relentless scrutiny of society. From the moment they met, they found solace in each other's company, both preferring the quiet beauty of nature and the simplicity of family life over the pomp and circumstance of high society. Benedict was hopelessly devoted to Y/N, captivated by her spirit and the way she saw the world. She had a way of grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered.

Today, they had chosen a secluded spot in the picturesque countryside of Kent, a place far enough from their estate to ensure complete privacy. Nestled under the shade of an ancient oak tree, the spot offered a breathtaking view of rolling hills and a gently flowing brook nearby. The grassy field stretched out before them, a sea of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Their children, a boisterous five-year-old boy named Thomas and a giggling two-year-old girl named Violet, were already darting about, chasing butterflies and exploring the wonders of nature.

"Thomas, be careful!" Y/N called out, laughing as their son sprinted after a particularly fast butterfly, his little legs pumping furiously. He stumbled over a small mound of earth but quickly picked himself up, his laughter ringing out across the field. He waved back at his parents with a wide grin, dirt smudging his cheeks.

She turned to Benedict, her eyes sparkling with joy and a hint of motherly concern. "He's going to wear himself out before we've even unpacked the basket."

Benedict smiled, his heart swelling with love as he watched his family. "Let him. It's good for him to have space to run and play." He set down the picnic basket and spread out the blanket, patting the spot next to him. "Come, love. Sit with me."

Y/N joined him, resting her head on his shoulder as they unpacked the basket together. They had prepared all of their favorite foods: fresh sandwiches with a variety of fillings, ripe strawberries, an assortment of cheeses and crackers, a freshly baked loaf of bread, and, of course, a bottle of fine wine. Benedict carefully laid out each item, ensuring everything was in easy reach for their little picnic.

"I can't believe you managed to pack all of our favorites," Y/N said, smiling as she unwrapped a loaf of bread still warm from the oven. "It's like you read my mind."

Benedict chuckled, leaning in to kiss her temple. "I had a little help from our cook, but I wanted today to be perfect for you and the children."

Violet toddled over, her tiny hands reaching for a strawberry, and Benedict handed one to her, laughing as she eagerly bit into it, the juice dribbling down her chin. "Delicious, isn't it, my sweet?" he asked, wiping her chin with a napkin.

Violet nodded, her eyes wide with delight. "More, Papa!" she demanded, holding out her hand for another strawberry.

Benedict obliged, giving her another juicy berry. "Here you go, darling. Enjoy."

Thomas ran back to the blanket, breathless from his adventures. "Mama, Papa, look!" He opened his little fist to reveal a handful of wildflowers. "I picked these for you, Mama."

Y/N's eyes softened as she took the flowers from Thomas. "They're beautiful, Thomas. Thank you." She arranged them into a small bouquet and placed them in a little jar they had brought along. "They add the perfect touch to our picnic."

Thomas grinned, proud of his contribution. "Can we eat now, Papa? I'm starving!"

Benedict laughed, ruffling Thomas's hair. "Of course, my boy. Let's see what we have here." He handed Thomas a sandwich, watching as his son eagerly took a bite.

Y/N began to serve the cheese and crackers, arranging them on a plate. "This cheese is from that little shop in town, isn't it?" she asked, recognizing the distinct aroma.

"Indeed it is," Benedict replied. "I know how much you like it."

She smiled warmly at him. "You always remember the little things."

As they ate, they talked and laughed, sharing stories and memories. Y/N recounted a humorous incident from their last family outing, making Benedict chuckle. "I still can't believe you managed to get us lost in our own backyard," she teased.

Benedict shook his head, a mock expression of horror on his face. "I maintain that it was all part of the adventure."

Thomas piped up, his mouth full of sandwich. "Papa, are we going to play tag later? I want to show you how fast I can run!"

Benedict nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Absolutely. But be warned, Thomas, I’ve been practicing my tag skills. You might not be able to catch me."

Thomas giggled, clearly relishing the challenge. "We'll see about that!"

Violet, not wanting to be left out, clapped her hands and babbled excitedly. "Tag! Tag!"

Y/N laughed, her heart full. "Looks like you have two little competitors, Benedict."

After they finished eating, they played a spirited game of tag. Benedict and Y/N took turns chasing the children, their laughter echoing across the field. Thomas was a blur of motion, his little legs pumping as he dodged and weaved, while Violet toddled around, giggling whenever someone pretended to catch her.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, they gathered up their things and made their way back home. After a quick supper and baths for the children, they all headed outside again, this time with a blanket and pillows to lie on as they stargazed.

Benedict carried a sleepy Violet in one arm and a basket with their essentials in the other. "Do you think the stars are brighter tonight, or is it just me?" he mused aloud, looking up at the clear night sky.

Y/N smiled, holding Thomas's hand as he skipped alongside her. "Maybe they're shining just for us," she replied, her voice filled with contentment.

The night sky was clear, a tapestry of stars twinkling above them. They spread out the blanket on the grassy hill behind their home, arranging the pillows for comfort. Thomas immediately lay down, pointing up at the sky with excitement.

"Look, Papa! I see the Big Dipper!" he exclaimed, his small finger tracing the constellation.

Benedict chuckled, lying down next to him. "That's right, Thomas. And do you see that bright star over there? That's the North Star. Sailors used to navigate by it."

Thomas's eyes widened with fascination. "Did they use wishing stones too, Papa?"

Y/N laughed, settling Violet in her lap. "I think they relied more on maps and compasses, love. But a wishing stone could come in handy in a pinch."

Violet, still clutching her pebble, looked up at the sky with wide eyes. "Stars! Pretty!"

Benedict pointed out another constellation, his voice a soothing rumble in the stillness of the night. "There's Orion," he said, tracing the shape with his finger. "And over there is the Great Bear."

Thomas stared up in wonder, his small hand clutching the wishing stone. "Can I make my wish now, Papa?"

Benedict nodded, his eyes meeting Y/N's. "Go ahead, son."

Thomas closed his eyes, whispering his wish softly. When he finished, he placed the stone on his chest and sighed contentedly. "Your turn, Mama."

Y/N closed her eyes, holding Benedict's hand as she made her wish. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her heart full. "Your turn, my love."

Benedict took the stone, closing his eyes. He didn't need to wish for anything; everything he had ever wanted was right here with him. But for the sake of tradition, he made a wish anyway: for endless days like this, filled with love and laughter.

Thomas squirmed, curious. "What did you wish for, Papa?"

Benedict grinned, ruffling his son's hair. "If I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"

Thomas pouted playfully. "That's not fair! I bet you wished for more wishing stones."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Knowing your father, he probably wished for more of your mama's cooking."

Violet clapped her hands, clearly enjoying the banter. "Wish! Wish!"

Benedict leaned over to Y/N, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I actually wished for moments like this to last forever."

She rested her head on his shoulder, her voice soft. "I love you, Benedict Bridgerton."

He kissed her forehead, his heart overflowing with happiness. "And I love you, Y/N Bridgerton. Always."

Thomas, ever the inquisitive one, looked between his parents. "Does that mean you wished for more picnics and stargazing, Papa?"

Benedict chuckled. "Something like that, Thomas. I wished for more time with my favorite people."

Thomas grinned, satisfied with that answer. "I like that wish."

Under the vast, starlit sky, surrounded by the warmth of their family, they knew they had everything they could ever need. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day, and as they drifted off to sleep, they dreamed of many more days just like this. The gentle sounds of the night filled the air, and the stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, as if in agreement with Benedict's silent wish.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton s3 #benedict bridgerton x y/n #fluff #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction

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delfiore · 1 year ago

Text

—NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

synopsis: you spend a few days in london with your daughter as you and your wife leah are filing for divorce.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i don't even want kids why am i getting attached to this nonexistent child

“Mama!!” The sweet sound of your baby’s voice filled your ears the moment you stepped through the door.

You had been dragging your suitcase along the walkway, but dropped it by the door to catch the little girl and lift her into your arms.

“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed and shook her side-to-side. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mama,” she giggled and writhed her way out of your kisses on the cheek. “I drew a picture for you with your new trophy!”

Without protest, the five-year-old thrust a piece of A4 paper in your face. You let out a quick laugh when you make out the figure in the middle—you—surrounded by bats and the Gotham logo with a golden trophy in your hand.

It was your first season at NY/NJ Gotham, and you managed to win the NWSL Championship for the first time for your club. Instead of returning to New York after the final to celebrate with your teammates, you hopped on the first flight back to London. You needed to see your little girl; after months of constant competitive matches, you were able to finally make time to fly back home.

“You did! Wow, Maevey, this is amazing! You drew this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow, wow, wow. We’ll have to hang this up by the fridge, right?”

You walked into the kitchen with your daughter in your arms, heading towards the fridge behind the island. You were aware of your wife’s presence in the room by the oven but focused on balancing Maeve in one arm and hanging her drawing on the fridge with the other instead.

“There we go. That looks so good,” you cooed at her. “Thanks, Maevey!”

“You’re welcome, Mama.”

When you set the girl down, like lightning, she was on her feet sprinting towards the living room, no doubt grabbing a toy she had left somewhere on the ground. “Hey, no running, remember?” You called behind her and shook your head.

You glanced back at your wife, who, whilst stirring a pasty white batter in a clear bowl, still hadn’t made the effort to return your gaze.

“Congrats on the Championship,” she said without looking at you.

“Thanks.” And that was the extent of your conversation.

The house you once called home was cold when you left it, now it was even colder. The only warmth left came from a single tiny candle that managed you the smallest relief, and it was Maeve.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Why don’t you sleep in your room anymore? With Mummy?”

You had dreaded the question that had just come out of your daughter’s lips right after you tucked her in. Maeve was a smart kid, and you knew she would have been able to put two and two together when she saw you unpacking your suitcase in the guest room.

“Well, kiddo,” you started, brushing the stray hairs away from Maeve’s eyes. She looked so much like Leah when she pouted. “Mummy’s not too happy with me right now. So I’m giving her some space.”

“Is it because of me?” She said quietly, making your heart squeeze.

“No, of course not. Of course not, bub. How about you go to sleep now, and we will talk about this some other time, hm?” You poked her cheek gently. “Whatever happens, your Mummy and I will never stop loving you, and we will always do what’s best for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” You leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss your little girl on the forehead. “Now, remember what I always say? ‘You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.’”

“‘I am strong, I am capable, I am loved.’” Maeve repeated your words, almost immediately as you said them.

It was a mantra you repeated to yourself when your doubts started to get in the way of your potential, ever since you were a young girl making your debut for Arsenal until now. Those were the words you echoed to Leah when she had done her ACL, and when she wasn’t strong enough to chase away the clouds one day.

“I’m strong,” Leah had just managed to say through the tears, “I’m capable, I’m loved.”

“That’s right,” you whispered and smiled softly. “Now go to sleep, or I’ll sell all your toys.”

This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you turned off the lights. Making your way back to the guest room, you noticed the light in the living room was on downstairs. The tranquility you felt after spending time reading and talking with your daughter made you feel brave to face Leah, brave that whatever interaction you would have with her would not end in screaming and arguing. The woman was sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, a match played on the TV, as it always was.

“Maevey seems used to sleeping on her own now,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Soon enough she’ll be off to college.”

The best you got out of her was a short smile, and you would take it at that point. Your last conversation wasn’t the friendliest, and you had hoped Maeve wasn’t aware.

“She cried for you the night you left,” Leah spoke. “Slept in our bed for two weeks.”

Maybe it was the fact that Leah’s head was pressed against the side of the couch—the way she used to do every time you two had enough time off to sit down on the couch—or the fact that she still referred to the master bedroom as both yours and hers, that made your heart squeeze. For a moment it felt as if you had your family back, and things would eventually go back to the way it was.

“Only two?” You scoffed but smiled.

“Y/N, you know this isn’t a long-term solution. Maeve needs you. You can’t just fuck off to America and come back to visit for a few days every few months.”

“I know,” you said, clenching your jaw. “My agent’s looking at options within Europe. Germany, maybe.”

“Why not in England?”

“That is if any club wants me,” you shrugged. “Frankfurt seems interested, so.”

You’d like to think there would always be a place for you at Arsenal. Growing up, while your peers had posters of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, or Abby Wambach on their walls, you were looking eastwards to the likes of Rachel Yankey and Kelly Smith for inspiration. Your heart was red, white and North London and it broke into pieces the day you had to leave—not because of your performance, but because by then London had started becoming too suffocating. And if you were going to be a good parent to Maeve, you had to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.

“I do want to be close to Maeve,” you said, more to yourself.

Leah hummed. A moment later, she opened the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a thin folder. Placing it on the cushion between you and her, she made the decision to leave the living room to go upstairs.

The respondent line on the first page awaited your name and signature. Hers was already printed on the line above that, the ink was already dry like she had made this decision long ago. You were frozen to the seat with the divorce papers in your hands, and that night you cried yourself to sleep.

You took Maeve to the park the next day. You had extended an invitation to Leah, but she declined, saying she had errands to run. Maeve wanted to go to the playground in the park, so you packed the two of you a small picnic, and a football, in case she was up for a kick-about.

She was telling you about a goal she scored at school the previous Friday when you returned home. Upon entering the two-story house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen. As much as you wanted to listen to your daughter recount her story, your ears focused in on the conversation and what sounded like two female voices, and laughter . . . Leah’s laugh, something you haven’t heard in a long while. You regretted that that was the case.

“Mummy! I played at the park today, and I scored so many goals against Mama!”

“Is that right?” Leah gasped and picked up Maeve in her arms. “Looks like Mama’s got some competition in the striker position.”

“Hi, Auntie Lia,” Maeve said to the other woman in the room.

You barely managed a smile as you watched your former teammate greet your daughter, trying not to freak out at the fact that she was standing much too close to your wife when you first came in. You couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that harbored in the pit of your stomach seeing it, and, as selfish as it sounded, you couldn’t stomach the thought that Leah might have started to move on.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Lia smiled at you.

“Long time no see,” you said.

“Come on, little one. Will you show me how you scored those goals at school?” The Swiss woman extended a hand to Maeve and led her to the backyard.

“Don’t,” Leah said as soon as your daughter was out of sight.

“Don’t what?”

“I know you’re giving me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any looks, Leah,” you smiled sadly, and unpacked your daypack, putting the dirty Tupperware containers into the dishwasher.

“Lia’s been a great help with Maeve. Without her, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the first few months.” Her tone had a slight edge to it, but you understood why.

“I know,” you replied, “I’m not saying anything.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Y/N. You never say anything you’re thinking! You make me do this fucking guessing game with you, and you don’t even bother defending yourself when I assumed the worst about you, and you run away! Do you truly just not give a shit about anything?”

You took a sharp exhale, checking to see if Maeve was looking. Through the sliding door, you could see that wasn’t, she was playing 1v1 against Lia instead.

“Please, Leah. Not now,” you sighed. “I’ll sign the papers, alright? And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

You didn’t see because your back was turned to her, but your wife shook her head, causing a few tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes to fall. Then, you heard her storming past you out to the backyard.

“I do give a shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You did, so much, but maybe your family was better off without you. Watching Maeve kicking her ball into the little goal you got her whilst your wife and Lia pretended to defend her, you wondered if maybe they really were better off.

Your relationship was never perfect. She was Leah, and you were you. You used to love the routine you two shared until it turned sour and you would arrive to training in separate cars. You didn’t know when your marriage crumbled, just that when you looked back to assess the damage, it was already beyond repair. Leah telling you one night that she wished to separate was your wake-up call.

You had seen your friends and colleagues date and break up, and pretend that being in the same room afterward wasn’t the most torturous thing they’d ever had to endure. You never imagined that it would be your turn, and how much it hurt. How does someone be a human being whilst going through a divorce, and be a good parent at the same time?

“Mama, why are you crying?”

You quickly turned away and wiped at your eyes when you heard the tiny voice coming from your bedroom door. You must not have shut it properly. Maeve was standing in front of the door in her adorable dinosaur pajamas, and her favorite plush toy beneath her one arm. You would have given your entire world for that adorable punk right then.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just a bit sad. What are still you doing up?” You gestured for her to come inside. Normally, Maeve would not hesitate to jump into your lap right away, but instead, she climbed onto the bed, and sat next to you like an adult.

“Why are you sad, Mama?” She said quietly, fiddling with her stuffed animal, her round eyes looking up at you with concern. “Everyone is sad.”

“What do you mean, bub?”

“Mummy is sad too. She was crying before you came home,” Maeve said, her bottom lip quivering. “She said it was because she missed you.”

The revelation left you speechless.

Your daughter turned to you. “Should I be sad too? Everyone is so sad.”

“No, baby, come here.” As soon as you pulled her into your lap, she started crying.

“Oh, baby. My little Maevey,” you hated that you made your little girl so upset, arms wrapped around your neck and broken sobs raking from her chest against yours. “Sometimes, people argue, and it’s very sad when they do, but it’s all a part of life, Maevey. Me and Mummy are arguing, but it has never been about you.”

“But I don’t want you and Mummy to argue anymore.”

“I know, baby,” you had nothing else to say that might offer her some comfort. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around as much. It was my fault, nothing to do with you.”

You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”

Letting out the smallest sob, you nodded and pulled her back into your chest. Your little girl, your heir, your legacy, only five years of age, yet she understood the significance of those words. You had won trophies and championships, but nothing compared to the burst of joy in your heart having her echo them back to you. It meant you meant something to her. It meant you were doing something right.

The next morning, after you and Leah had seen Maeve off to kindergarten, you gently placed the divorce papers that Leah had given you a couple of nights ago on the table opposite her. As you sat down by the dining table opposite her, you saw the way she eyed the files like you had just handed her a pack of poison and expected her to swallow it.

“I’ll agree to everything you bring to the table, within reason of course. This needn’t be a whole ruckus for Maeve. Whatever you want,” you started, darting your eyes up to Leah.

She continued to stare at the divorce papers on the table but kept silent.

“But . . . If you still have even just a tiny drop of affection left for me, I’m asking you—begging you—to reconsider this and give me another chance.” You took a deep breath. “This year away from you, from Maeve, made me realize that you two are the most important thing in my life. You make me a better person by just giving me grace and being who you are. And I failed you, I know. I’ve not been the wife and partner you needed, but if you give me one more chance to right my wrongs, I’d give everything to have my family back. I’ll go to therapy, we can go to couples counseling together, whatever you want, just please . . . please give me one more chance to make this right.”

Leah shook her head quietly when you looked up, but then she sunk her head into her palm and you heard a shaky exhale.

“I’ve tried so hard since March to move on from you, eight months since then, and just from one of your little speeches, I’m back to square one,” she laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes of salty tears. “You always give me false hope that it’ll get better, and I hate you for that, because it never does.”

You swallowed and moved to kneel in front of her. Your hands were shaking, but you reached for her hands.

“I know that. I know I’ve been apathetic before. I lost sight of what’s important. I used football as my excuse, and I did it. I won the championship, but there’s still this void in my heart that no trophy can fill,” you squeezed her hand with both of yours. “Please, Lee. I love you, and I need you back in my life. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you and Maeve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. If you’ll let me.”

By then, Leah didn’t bother hiding her sobs. Tears were flowing down the curves of her cheeks like waterfalls, as she leaned forward into your touch, clutching your hands like they might save her. You cursed under your breath. Watching your wife fall apart at the seams when she had been ice-cold with you the past few days broke your heart to pieces, as you pressed soft kisses to her wet cheek and whispered loving words in her ear.

“Okay,” she said quietly and sniffled.

“Yeah?” You smiled hopefully.

Leah nodded tearfully. “Please. This is the last time, Y/N.”

You knew that. You knew if you fucked this up you would lose everything, Maeve might never have a relationship with you again, and you lose the one person that keeps you grounded.

Maybe Leah would be much happier with someone else, someone who treated her well and could fill the co-parenting role for Maeve. You were sure there were others out there who fit the bill, but you were selfish, and you would fight for them because this was your family, your home, your love.

“I’ll tell my agent to work on the move. I’ll try looking in England again, Frankfurt will be the worst-case scenario. Even if the only option is to resign at Gotham, I’ll make it work. I’ll fly home more often, I’ll help you with—”

You were cut off with Leah pressing her lips against yours desperately. You couldn’t restrain the grin that made its way onto your face, as you kissed your wife back.

“God, I got you to talk and now you wouldn’t shut up,” she mumbled, which made you laugh.

“Well, get used to it,” you said. “I’m gonna tell you how much I love you every day, and I’ve got eight months to make up for too, so it’s a lot of talking.”

“How about you show me how much you love me, huh? Actions speak louder than words, right?”

epilogue. A month later.

A blaring alarm awoke you from your warm slumber. It was a Sunday, and you had forgotten you had the alarm switched on. You felt Leah stir next to you, and the corner of your mouth pulled up.

“Christ, what time is it?” She asked, her voice low and cracking. You’d always adored the way her voice becomes raspy in the morning.

“Eight,” you said, combing your fingers through her hair. Leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheeks, you whispered. “We have to get Maeve ready for football.”

“Hmm,” you heard her sigh, and snuggle deeper into your chest. “Five more minutes.”

Your wife opened one eye and grinned. You thanked the Heavens that she granted you another chance.

“Okay,” you kissed her head, “five more minutes.”

Just as soon as you lay back down, and Leah had gotten comfortable again, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, the speed and agility of which you could only attribute to a five-year-old whose enthusiasm for football might be a little too much at 8 o’clock in the morning.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you #leah williamson angst #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso x reader

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