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andromeda-nova-writing · 8 months

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Unpacking in the Infirmary

Fem!Reader

Summary: Restock day in the Infirmary has always been important for those who live in the Fortress. Especially with it being that place to go if something were to happen to an inmate or one of the staff members. With the amount of times Wriothesley has gotten hurt over the years, it's not surprising he ended up in there on one of those restock days. Though he didn't think he would also help with unpacking things as well.

Words: 3,039

AN: Once again I wrote a majority of this on my phone. I honestly can't believe how much I've written on my phone this year already. Hopefully, this doesn't become a major habit. Thank you @milkstore for reading over the fic. You caught so many mistakes due to my phone thinking capitalizing mid-sentence is a normal thing to do.

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injuries, Cleaning a wound. I personally wouldn't consider it too detailed but if you find any of that uncomfortable please go check out one of my other Wriothesley fics.

“You two should go take your lunch break already. I ate a late breakfast.” Y/N lifted a box of supplies from the surface and placed it on the table. Restock days had become important for her to be there for. It was easier to have someone who was not a Melusine to do any heavy lifting.

“You look tired. Are you sure you don't want to take a break now?” Sigewinne asked. Although her ask was more of telling her to take a break.

“I'll take a break when you or Ottnit get back. I promise.” She reassured Sigewinne. “Plus if we time breaks right we can get this done fast.”

Ottnit looked at Y/N before looking at Sigewinne. “She has a date.” She guessed.

Y/N rolled her eyes hiding a small smile. “Three days from now.” She answered before giving the real reason. “I promised I'd help my mother move her art studio into her new house after work.”

“It's more reason to take a break. You could have requested someone to take your place today.” Sigewinne reasoned.

“I know but I wouldn't have been able to give you those stickers for another week. It's been pretty peaceful down here lately. Let me have work as an excuse to see you two.” Y/N looked back to the box and grabbed a boxcutter to rid it of tape. “Just go enjoy lunch. You're just delaying how long till I take a break.”

Sigewinne accepted fate not wanting to argue it creating more of the delay. She and Ottnit left the infirmary for lunch. The room was left quiet while Y/N took inventory on the restock.

All the things that needed to be under a lock had been put away already. Next would be anything they kept out in the infirmary that should be easy to grab. Lastly, restocking the various first aid kits that were around the Fortress. Any mobile ones had been brought in already in the morning. The large stationary ones would be the last thing for today or one of the first things in the morning.

It was mindless work to her at this point. Open the box, check the inventory slip in the box, count to see if the amount matches, and mark off on the checkbox of what was requested if it matches. And if it didn’t, make a note. It was always easy to fall into the rhythm of this work.

Though a bit annoying that the monthly restock day had to line up with her mother's art studio move. There really wasn’t much she could do about it since she wanted to be there for both. Say she did request someone else to go down to the fortress instead of her. Y/N could imagine her coworkers on the surface asking if something was wrong with her and Wriothesley’s relationship. And as funny as it was to watch some of the older ladies try and make threats about if he dared hurt her, there really was no reason to rile them up with nothing.

Y/N finished up the box she had been working with. It was just bandages of different sizes. Luckily everything was all in there. She picked the box back up off the table and placed it within the pile of boxes that had already been checked. She picked up a new box, beginning to repeat the process all over again.

She lost count on the box filled with sterilized gloves when she heard the all-so-familiar knock at the wall. It was a firm but gentle knock that echoed throughout the infirmary.

“Hey.” Wriothesley introduced himself as he made his way down into the room. “By any chance is the hydrogen peroxide already out?”

“The current bottle doesn't have a lot in it but it is out. What happened?” Y/N turned away from the box and moved to get out what he asked for along with some cotton balls and bandages, opting for what was already out in the infirmary.

“There was a fight that broke out and I went to break it up. One guy was upset I was breaking up the fight, so he tried taking a knife out on me. I broke a knife. Now the guards got an eye on the two of them.” Wriothesley explained. He was peeling off the blood-soaked wraps that were around his right hand.

Y/N blinked. “You can't say you broke a knife so casually.” It was moments like that where she knew she still wasn't fully used to his behavior. It didn't matter how long she had known him before they began dating, it wasn't normal to hear anyone say they broke a knife in a fight. She moved into washing her hands.

“No, ‘Are you okay’?” He threw the wraps away in a bin that was meant for Anything that came in contact with any sort of bodily fluids. Also known as the bloody cotton and bandages bin to most of the Fortress. All because they were however many miles under the ocean didn't mean they got to skip important procedures to help keep things safe.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry.” She spoke sarcastically as she dried off her hands. “Your Grace, does your wound cause you great pain? Whatever will I do now that you are gravely injured?”

“Gravely! Shit. It's just some cuts on my palm. Where did you get ‘gravely’ from? It won't kill me.”

“Oh, so you can handle it yourself.” She teased as she pulled gloves on getting ready so she could examine the wound.

“Some nurse you are. I thought going to the infirmary was supposed to be welcoming.”

“That's what you get for asking a pharmacist to be a nurse. I'm nowhere near as welcoming.” She joked. “Go sit on the bed.” She moved fast grabbing a clean pair of tweezers.

“Already sitting down Miss.” He spoke in a smug tone she was all too familiar with.

“If you can recognize that you should already be sitting down I would hope you should recognize that you should be more careful.” She turned around and moved towards Wriothesley. Y/N grabbed his wounded hand. She began picking out any small shards of the knife that had gotten stuck within. Luckily not too many. None were deep within the palm as well.

“I can only try to be more careful so much. If you think about it, I helped you not have to deal with an inmate who had a stab wound on restock day. While everyone but you is out for lunch.” Wriothesley reasoned. He looked at the wound already wondering if the count of scars on his body was about to go up.

“I'll give you that.” Y/N finished up with the first part of cleaning up the wound. She had thrown any remnants of the knife in the trash. “You know you are very lucky that Sigewinne wasn’t here to fuss over you. If I had to listen to her ‘I helped raise you, the least you could do is be careful’ lectures while trying to count and move things around, I might go insane.”

Wriothesley rolled his eyes as he laughed. “Yeah.” He drew out the word with a bit of tiredness. “I guess I should thank you for not telling her.”

“Shit.” It was half a response from the hydrogen peroxide touching the new wound and half from what Y/N had said. He thought he was more used to the sting of his wounds being cleaned by now. “Can’t you just let this slide?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow as she began to dab the hydrogen peroxide onto some cotton balls. “I never said I wasn't going to tell her. If I remember right, which I know I'm remembering right, I still have to write this up in your medical file. No exception for staff. Even if you are the Warden, she’s going to find out regardless.”

“You created more work for me on restock day and think I’m gonna let this slide. After I’m done with this I get to go move a whole art studio.”

“Don’t I get special privileges?”

“Everyone with a title is gonna get the same treatment from me. You forget that?” The blood had been cleaned off his hand. And with the wound clean she could begin focusing on wrapping up the wound on his palm.

“I was going for boyfriend privileges.” Wriothesley continued to try and wiggle his way out of Sigewinne learning what happened.

“I am on the clock and not on break so no special treatment. You lost special treatment the moment you walked into the infirmary. If it's serious enough to seek medical care, it's serious enough to be written in your medical file.”

“Usually I'm very glad that you take your job seriously.”

“Cause it's my job and it would be inappropriate to change procedures just because the patient is you.” Y/N finished wrapping up his palm leaving him plenty of room to move his hand around but keeping the bandages tight enough to stay on throughout the day. “Change the bandages 3 hours from now. You can either do it yourself or have Sigewinne do it for you.”

Wriothesley moved his fingers around testing how much movement he would have. “Thanks, doll. You sure I can't get you to change it instead?”

“I just said I have to go move an art studio later.” She began putting away anything unused that was okay to keep before throwing everything else out. “Or were you not paying attention to what I was saying?”

“I was. You know I could go and help you if you want.” Wriothesley offered.

Y/N looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Art Studio. As in my mother's art studio.”

“Yeah. You managed to get a photo out of me and you've been saying that your mother wants to meet me. Every time you’ve tried to set up, something has always come up and if I go with you, then you won’t have to worry if I’m using my right hand or not.” He reasoned. It may have also been a bit of quick thinking to avoid disappointing Sigewinne over that he got hurt again. Two birds with one stone kind of thinking.

“But I was thinking like a dinner so we could all get to talk.” She threw out her gloves before moving to sit on the bed on Wriothesley’s left side. “How are we supposed to talk if we are just packing and moving boxes Ri?”

“I could help, go pick up some food for everyone so you don’t have to sit at a restaurant.” He put his arm around Y/N pulling her closer and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Plus it’s my non-dominant hand that’s hurt so I can still help you.”

“I’ll just have to take you two out to eat after.” He offered.

“I’m already going to be tired after this and I’m just going to be exhausted after helping her move. I’m not going to want to sit down somewhere for dinner.” Y/N argued.

“What if I’m so tired I don’t even want to talk while we eat?”

“I’ll just carry you to your apartment afterward if you are so tired. Quit worrying your pretty little head over it. You need the brain power for more important things.”

It was a well-needed reminder for her. Sometimes it was just too easy to get caught up in worry. “You must really like me a lot if you are willing to carry me like a sack of potatoes.”

Wriothesley laughed. “I was thinking more like a piggyback ride but if you want to be carried like a sack of potatoes, I can. We really should talk about how you not so secretly want me to manhandle you.” He teased.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I have work.”

“I’ll get you after your shift then. We can go up together.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips before standing up from the bed. “You can't go on about how much you want your mother to like me and when the perfect opportunity for a good impression comes up, try and stop me from meeting her.”

“But what if it ends up not being perfect?” She looked up at him. “I really care about you. I want my mother to like you. I want my family to like you.”

“Which is why I’m offering to help with a move. Even then if you keep planning for perfection, nothing will get done. You know that.”

“I know not everything can be perfect. I’ve made my peace with that. But I want this to be perfect.” She stood up looking at him. “I want something good for you outside of here as well.”

“Don’t worry about things like that. Life is good for me now.” He sighed. “It’s not like anything is forcing me to be here all the time. I know there’s good outside. What's bothering you?”

She sighed. “You remember when I said I was volunteering as the person to come down here to help was just to try something new right?” Y/N started as she began to give the real reason.

“Yeah. It's kind of what we encourage here.”

“Well, I got out of a really bad breakup. And my family was just telling me that person wasn't good.”

“You never told me how bad.” He did remember a mention that she got out of a relationship around two and a half years ago when they first met. She never said much about it and who was he to press her about it back then?

“I was engaged. I almost signed a lease on a new house with them when everything went down. I just feel like I got blindsided by the show they were putting on. If I listened to my family then everything would have been better for me.” She took a deep breath. “So if they like you, nothing like that will happen to me again.”

“And here I was thinking you were just worrying to worry.” Wriothesley shook his head at himself. “Look, I can't control how people are going to view me. And you can't control if your mother will like me or not.”

“I know that. I just want this to be good. I mean I wanted her to like you even before we started dating. You kind of started to become important in my life.” Y/N looked away from him. “Like I think even after I got that breakup, you were definitely part of the reason I stayed.”

“It's going to be okay. It may not be some storybook picture of perfection but it's going to be better if you try and focus on the good.” He placed his left hand on her shoulder trying to ground her back to reality. “What did you say a few weeks ago? I think you said she would steal a single mora to get thrown in here if she didn't get the chance to meet me at this rate.”

Y/N laughed. “Yeah. I had to tell her that's a horrible idea.”

“It's going to be okay.”

She nodded as she spoke. “Okay.” She looked into his eyes falling into the comforting gaze that looked back at her.

“I'll get you after your shift. I still have to fill out paperwork cause of that fight.” Wriothesley kissed her forehead. “I know it's easier said than done, but try not to overthink it.”

“And if I do?”

“Then we will have to find a way to stop you from thinking about that specifically.”

“It better not be by giving me work. Cause I'm going to be so tired tonight.” She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not cruel. I was thinking of making sure you aren’t alone so you don't fall back into your worries. At least so someone can pull you back out if you do.”

“Well, Sigewinne and Ottnit should be back soon. So I won’t be alone for too long.”

“You ate lunch already?” Wriothesley asked.

Y/N looked away again. “I ate a late breakfast so I was going to eat lunch once they got back.”

“In here?” He asked concerned. “What happened to only eating in here when there is only one person available?”

“I was actually going to go out to the cafeteria. I didn't bring anything down for lunch today.” It was a break from her normal habit, mostly because she forgot to grab her lunch before leaving her apartment in the city. The sandwich that she made that now sat in her kitchen would be dearly missed.

Wriothesley sighed. “Guess I'll have to take the important job of keeping you company during lunch.”

“Don't you also have work?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“For one, I’m in charge of this place. And two, I still have to eat lunch myself. Also, I think the Fortress can handle itself while I take care of you. I think people know well enough to only disturb me when I'm with you if it's important.” It was something that he noticed was happening long before the two of them got together. It was already common for people would keep their distance due to their various reasons. It must have been learned to give the two space after people had noticed that Wriothesley’s mood would sour when he had to leave for something that didn’t even require his attention.

“Makes me wonder what your definition of important is now.”

“At the moment, it's keeping you out of your worry spiral. Generally a mix of other things, but the only thing taking me away from you is if something requires my attention to be handled. You are at the top of the list at the moment.” Oh, she just wanted to be in his arms after that.

“The top of the list?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Are these girlfriend privileges?”

Wriothesley laughed remembering what he said not so long ago. “You can call it that if you want. I would have done this for you regardless though.”

Y/N gave in, finally hugging him. Maybe things would be okay.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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orangeflavoryawp · 2 months

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Jonsa - "Nodology", Part 2

Just a reminder that I'm not stressing too much about this story making sense within the canon plot. Think of canon less like a straight line and more like one of those inkblot pictures in a Rorschach test.

Also, this is a very relationship-focused piece. Politics plays a hand, because how could it not? But I'm not trying to rewrite the whole set of books here and tackle larger issues than the immediate present. The heart of this is Jon and Sansa. Hopefully that answers some of your questions about the larger plotlines or political ramifications of the current setting. (On a side note, I fucking LOVE that you guys are so invested in this AU that you're asking such questions. It's incredibly humbling and encouraging all at once. I just don't have the energy to make it that deep right now, lol.)

Much love. Stay frosty, fam.

Nodology

Chapter Two: The Salt of It (And the Wound)

"The knot fastens ever tighter." - Jon and Sansa. After rescuing her from King's Landing and bringing her to Riverrun, the two try to navigate a love they never intended to start, especially with so many watching eyes.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2

* * *

"How's the shoulder?"

Jon turns from the practice dummy he'd been raging at all morning, his chest heaving, knuckles white where they grip his training sword. His tunic clings to his sweat-dampened skin, his hair pulled back in a knot at the base of his neck.

The Blackfish watches him from his lean against one of the courtyard's pillars, arms crossed loosely over his chest, awaiting an answer to his question.

Jon tries to steady his breathing, lowering the sword in his grip as he turns to the older man. He rolls his shoulder gingerly, a tender ache still lingering from his wound. "Not as much mobility as before, but it's getting there."

Brynden nods, pushing off from his lean and walking toward him. "I hear you wounded it on the road here. With Sansa."

Jon nods quietly, his sword now held limply in his hand, his breathing steadier. He doesn't know what the Blackfish wants to hear, so he says nothing.

Brynden glances at the roughed-up practice dummy beside him, frowning. "That supposed to be Joffrey Baratheon? Or Theon Greyjoy?"

Jon works his jaw, a heavy sigh leaving him. "Both, probably."

He hadn't a person in mind when he entered the training yard earlier that morning. Just a feeling. Just a rage.

The thought of Bran and Rickon's tiny bodies strung up in Winterfell's main courtyard, their flesh burned from them – or maybe flayed – hadn't left him all night. Nor had the thought of Sansa's scar-lined back, or her tremors as she choked out an apology. An apology! For keeping him from rescuing their brothers – keeping him too busy with her, as she said.

But he won't let her take on that kind of guilt. And he won't let himself, either. Because if he does...

If he puts that on his own soul, then there's no going back. There's no climbing out of that hole. And he's no good to anyone at that point. Not to the North, not to Robb. Not to Sansa.

And he can't afford to be useless.

So, he puts that sorrow and bitterness in a box, and sets it aside. Buries it deep. Packs the dirt around it tightly, so it can't crawl back out. He smothers it beneath the earth. And beneath duty.

And then he comes to the training yard every morning and swings and swings and swings until he's breathless. Until there is nothing left to bury. Until it is drained from him completely.

This is how he grieves his family.

Brynden Tully heaves a weighted sigh, eyes still fixed to the dummy. "With the young ones gone, Catelyn is..." He stops, a sound brewing in his throat. He turns back to Jon. "Well, she's a mess."

Jon keeps his silence, his eyes never leaving the Blackfish.

Brynden clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest once more. "But she'd be truly inconsolable if both her daughters were lost to her, too. And they're not. Arya is somewhere in the Riverlands. And Sansa – Sansa is with her now, here in her family's home, because of you."

Jon's throat tightens, any words failing him. He simply watches Brynden, simply keeps his gaze.

The other man's face hardens somewhat, his jaw squaring. "She won't thank you," he says surely.

Jon feels the lance of it in his chest, his lungs aching at the words. It's not a truth he hadn't known before, but to hear it aloud – to know it so plainly, and from another's mouth –

It hurts more than he thought it would.

Brynden grumbles at Jon's silence, taking a step toward him, his hands falling from their cross over his chest. "You're her husband's bastard, you understand. The one stain upon their marriage. The biggest threat to her children's future and security."

Jon's gaze falls to the floor, fixed on the Blackfish's boots, his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth.

He knows this. Has always known this.

A moment of heavy silence passes between them, before the Blackfish plants a hand on Jon's shoulder, and he looks up to meet the warrior's gaze.

"But that is not your failing. It's Ned Stark's."

Jon blinks up at him, his teeth clenching at the words.

"And she is grateful, son. More grateful than you could ever understand. Though she may never be able to voice it, I know this in my bones. I know this better than anything."

Jon's lips part, a shallow breath stealing out between them.

"You saved her child, Jon Snow. She will never forget that. Nor will I." His hand slips from Jon's shoulder, a last, solitary look passing between them, before he's turning from him, walking back the way he came.

Jon is overcome suddenly, the words bubbling up inside him, until they make it to air. "Everything left that I care about in this world is here," he calls out to his back, stopping him.

Brynden turns to look at him over his shoulder.

Jon heaves a steadying breath, his grip tightening over his sword. He levels the Blackfish with a determined look. "I'm not going anywhere," he assures him, the words equally needful and confident.

The faint edge of a smile curls at the corner of Brynden's lip, before he offers a silent nod and turns back to leave.

Jon stands in the training yard for several long moments, just breathing.

No, he's not going anywhere.

* * *

When Sansa answers the knock on her chamber door, she doesn't expect it to be Robb. He gives her a stilted smile and a nod in greeting. "Sansa," he says.

She stands with her hand still on the door, blinking quietly at him. "Your Grace," she says finally.

Robb briefly frowns at the formality of the address, but then he sweeps his hand out toward the hallway. "Walk with me, please."

Sansa steps out of her chamber at the invitation, taking his arm obediently.

They make it all the way to the gardens before either of them speak, and Sansa's anxiety is practically thrumming beneath her skin.

Robb clears his throat.

The sound is jarring after so many minutes of silence and her attention swings sharply to him, her fingers clenching over his arm.

"We haven't... well, we haven't really spoken much since your return," he begins.

Sansa watches him quietly, content to let him find his way through the words.

(She remembers the warmth of his chest as he'd carried her back inside the keep the other day, after her grief had overtaken her on the riverbank.)

Robb stops their stroll, his eyes focused on some unnamable flower bush, his brow furrowed in thought.

Sansa sets her other hand along his arm now as well – tender and encouraging. "No, we haven't," she says softly.

He glances up at her. "It's my fault, isn't it?"

Sansa sighs, her gaze drifting away. "It's not about fault."

"Except it is." Robb turns to look at her more fully. "You won't say it, but it is."

Sansa presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, not meeting his eyes.

Robb wipes a hand down his mouth, a heavy breath leaving him. "You won't admit to the resentment my inaction has stirred in you."

Sansa meets his gaze again. "What do you want me to say, Robb?"

He frowns again, a quiver arching through his brow. "I don't know."

It's the truth, at least, it must be. This, she's sure of. Because she doesn't know what she wants to say either.

She's gone over it in her head a thousand times and yet, the words still never seem quite right.

She loves her brother. She needs her brother. She misses her brother.

But there's a bitterness now that sits sour in her gut, and she doesn't know how to calm it. She doesn't know how to not hurt when she looks at him.

"I think I... I never asked you," he begins again, the words tight in his throat, "because... I couldn't." Robb licks his lips, his eyes hesitant on hers. "I couldn't ask you what they'd done to you because then... then it meant I let it happen."

Sansa pulls a shallow breath through her teeth, the remembrance bright and sharp behind her eyes – the lash, and the gauntleted hand, and the terrible, terrible sound of her own cries.

(Her only companion, most days.)

Robb settles a hand over hers along his arm. "But I shouldn't have let that stop me. I should have – I should have come to you, and talked to you, and... and given you comfort."

Sansa feels wetness dotting her eyes.

"I didn't," he says tightly, his gaze falling to his feet. "And after leaving you to the Lannisters..." He chuckles darkly, his hand slipping from hers to press over his eyes. "I'm not surprised that you hate me, Sansa."

"I don't hate you," she says immediately, the words not even a question.

Robb glances back up at her, his hand falling from his face.

There's no doubt in her at the statement. There's bitterness, yes. There's the sting of abandonment. There's disappointment. The kind that leaves you gazing up at the ceiling most nights, sleepless and aching.

But not hate.

Never hate.

Not for him.

The tears are hot on her lids now, and she reaches up to brush at them. "Come," she urges him, leading them to a bench in the garden. "Sit with me, and I'll... I'll tell you. I'll tell you all that you couldn't ask."

And she does. She tells him of the beatings and the humiliation she suffered before the court. She tells him of her ripped dresses and her bruised body, and her silent, unanswered tears. She tells him of dinners spent at the receiving end of Cersei's constant insults and taunts. She tells him of the endless threats against his and their mother's lives if she didn't keep her place. She tells him of Joffrey's sinister laughter at every slap she received. She tells him of Tyrion's wandering eye and the way he'd touched her on their wedding night. She tells him of her captor husband's overtures dressed up in the guise of kindness. She tells him of the jeers and the scars and the ever-present threat of death hanging over her head. And she tells him of the loneliness.

The nauseating, bone-deep, lung-scraping loneliness.

(She tells him of how she thought once to fling herself from the terrace. To end it then and there.)

"And the one thought – the only thing that kept me breathing, was knowing my family would come for me," she gets out raggedly, the breath raking from her, the sob clenching behind her teeth. She blinks up at him through tears.

He's staring at their joined hands resting over her knee, his jaw clenched, his mouth a tight line.

She takes a shaky breath in, her voice breaking as she tells him, "But you didn't."

Robb looks up at her, pain etching across his face. "Sansa..." His voice catches, his throat flexing tightly.

"You didn't come for me, Robb," she cries out, the sob breaking free. She reaches a hand to her mouth, tries to stifle the wave of anguish clawing up her throat. She blinks back the hot tears, her lungs clenching in her chest. "And I needed you to. I needed you to come for me – just once." She squeezes her eyes closed, her hand pressed over her mouth, muffling the cries as she breathes deep. In and out. In and out.

"Every time – a thousand times – I'd come for you."

In the end, she hadn't been left to that hell. But it wasn't the brother she'd prayed for that rescued her.

She wanted Robb. But she had needed Jon. She understands this now.

Even when it hurts no less.

Robb releases her hands to reach up and cup her face. "I'm so sorry, Sansa. I'm so sorry you ever had to endure that."

She tries to rein in her breathing, her hand slipping from her mouth, her sniffles growing quieter as she watches him, the warmth of his palms cradling her cheeks.

"I'm sorry I left you there. That wasn't... that wasn't kingly of me." And then he stops, his brow furrowing, a look of regret passing over his features at the word choice. He hangs his head, his hands slipping from her face as he sighs heavily. "That wasn't... good of me," he corrects.

Sansa blinks at him, at the way his shoulders slump – at the terrible, unfathomable weight he carries across them.

It's unbearable to see him like this. To see her big brother so small, so crushed beneath duty, so at odds with love.

And it's unbearable to be the thing that weighs on him so.

Sansa pulls a trembling breath through her lungs, a hand going to wipe at her cheeks. She blinks back the salt-sting of tears. "Robb," she murmurs, reaching for his hands again.

"I've already begun the process of annulling your marriage," he tells her.

Sansa stills, her mouth tipping open, her hands trembling as they grip his.

Robb finally meets her gaze, his thumb arching over the taut skin of her knuckles. "Jon is right. You're not a Lannister bride. You're Sansa Stark of Winterfell. And after my unborn child, you're the heir to the North."

Her lip quakes, the breath tight in her chest. She thinks of Bran and Rickon. She thinks of their poor, mangled bodies. She thinks of never again smelling their hair or hearing their laughs or singing them to sleep.

And she knows he's thinking of them, too. She knows it's the loss of them that brings him to her door.

(No more scars, she'd promised herself once, and perhaps, it's the kind of promise Robb needs as well.)

He clutches her hands in his, his jaw tightening. "I won't forget it again," he tells her.

She wants to believe him.

She wants it dearly.

So, she believes.

* * *

"You spoke to Robb," Jon says quietly at her side, walking her to her chambers after she begged away from dinner with a headache, and Robb had asked him to escort her back, before returning to his conversation with Edmure.

Sansa keeps her arm linked with Jon's, orange light flickering over her face as they pass the torches in their sconces along the wall.

"Yes," she answers, not expanding further.

They each stay quiet past that, their steps echoing along the stone as they walk.

Jon looks at her beside him. "He was distressed about what you told him. About your time in King's Landing."

"I'm sure he was." There's a tenderness to her voice now, where once there was resentment.

Jon frowns at her, stopping them not far from her door. "Sansa, look at me."

She does, and it makes his chest ache.

He reaches up to cup her cheek. "What is it?" he asks her gently.

She pulls her lip between her teeth, a furrow to her brow. She glances down the hall to make sure no one is witness, and then she tugs him after her into her chambers, closing the door behind them. She turns to face him fully now, taking his hands in hers. "My marriage to Tyrion is to be annulled."

Jon lets out a short breath at the man's mention, a curl to his lip. "As it should be."

"Yes, but..."

Jon blinks at her. "You don't want to remain married to him." He meant it to come out as a question, considering her hesitance on the subject, but he knows her well enough now to know it shouldn't even be a question.

"Of course, I don't," she answers him on a sigh. "That's not what worries me."

Jon unlinks his hands to grasp at her arms instead, rubbing up and down slowly, comfortingly. "Then what is it?"

"I'll be... eligible again – to cement any other alliance through marriage."

Jon's eyes narrow on her, his nostrils flaring. "I won't let it happen."

Sansa purses her lips. "It doesn't work like that, Jon. You won't have a say."

"Robb won't let it happen," he tries to reassure her, his hands sliding down her arms to settle along her hips now, keeping her anchored to him. "Not after we lost Bran and Rickon." The words make his jaw ache, the names of their siblings lodging in his throat like tar. He clears his throat, shakes away the grief.

(Bury it deep. Put it away. Be useful, be present.)

"Not after... after everything you endured in King's Landing. He won't do that. I promise you."

Sansa's mouth presses into a thin line, her eyes shifting between his. "I hope you're right."

"I am," he assures her, leaning in to press a swift kiss along her lips. "You won't ever be a pawn in someone's game again, I swear." His fingers curl around her hips – steady and sure.

She blinks up at him, her eyes roving his face in quiet contemplation.

He opens his mouth to question her but then she links her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his. "I don't think I could ever be anyone's again," she whispers at his mouth. "Anyone's but yours," she tells him.

Jon sucks a breath through his lips, his chest rising and falling steadily, his gaze dropping to her mouth. "Sansa," he begins, before he clears his throat, licking his lips. "I should go."

It isn't half as firm as he means it to sound.

Her nails scrape the nape of his neck, slinking into his hair, and it drags his attention back to her gaze. Her eyes are dark in the candlelight, a sheen of wetness over them. "Could you do it? Could you let another man take me to wife?" There's a thread of desperation in her voice that scares him.

Jon braces his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the scarce space between them. He slips a hand up her back, bracing against her spine as he holds her closer. "You know I can't," he murmurs at her mouth, the closeness of her making him light-headed.

She lets out a ragged breath against him, her eyes slipping shut, her arms tightening around his neck. "Could you let another man hold me like this? Touch me? Kiss me?" Her voice breaks, her chest heaving now, the threat of tears lining her words. "Could you – "

He doesn't let her finish the question, because his answer would be the same regardless.

Jon kisses her hard, almost angrily, pressing into her so forcefully that she arches back beneath his hands, bending to his need. He opens her mouth with a fervent tongue, tasting her sigh with his own answering groan, his hands bracing her to his chest, keeping her fixed to him, unrelenting.

Ever since that night in his chamber, when she'd approached him after the news of Bran and Rickon – ever since she offered that ridiculous apology, ever since he'd silenced her needless guilt with his desperate mouth –

His desire for her has grown nearly unmanageable.

She's all that occupies his thoughts. When he wakes and when he lays his head to sleep. When he meets with Robb's war council, and when he trains in the yard, and when he breaks his fast with his unwitting family.

When he takes himself in hand – urgently and nightly.

She's all he thinks about these days. Her fine-boned hands, and her perfect, pink mouth, and the sweep of her hair over her neck, and the dip of her collar bones, and the fine arch of her wrist, and her lingering stares, and the open neck of her dress, and her smiles and her touches and her breathy sighs, the shape of her waist beneath his hands, and her chest heaving against his, and the way she arches into him so sweetly, the way she curls her hands into his hair, the way she sucks on his tongue when he kisses her, and the scent of her, the taste, the taste, the taste –

He's nearly delirious in his want.

Jon breaks from her, panting, one hand still digging into her hip, the other braced between her shoulder blades, the material of her dress bunched in his fist as he holds her to him. "The thought alone," he growls out, nipping at her lips – that heady desire flooding him, sending him reeling. "The thought alone drives me mad," he finishes tightly, taking her mouth again, reveling in the low moan that carries up her throat.

Sansa sighs breathlessly against his mouth when they break apart, her hands tightening in his hair. "I'm scared," she murmurs at his lips, eyes still wet, surging forward to kiss him again.

Jon groans at her urgency, his hand sliding over her shoulder to brace at her neck, his thumb pressed to the underside of her jaw, his breath flooding her mouth as she whimpers beneath him.

"Sansa," he bites out when he gasps for air.

She grabs at his hand still fixed to her hip, drags it up to her chest, presses his palm over her breast, curling his fingers beneath hers in the collar of her dress.

Jon bucks against her instinctively, the breath raking from him, his pants hot against her mouth. He palms at her breast immediately, never even questioning the motion, his growing hardness digging into her thigh as he walks her back, until she hits the bed and falls over, taking him with her.

"Jon," she moans out, hands raking over his back, drawing him into her, before wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and dragging his mouth back to hers.

Jon braces his weight above her, his hips digging into hers, his hand gripping her breast almost painfully, his other dug into her hair, his elbow planted along the bed to steady him. He tugs at her dress, dragging the material over her breast impatiently, groaning into her mouth as he rolls his hips into hers, unable to stop himself, unable to contain the heat spreading through his gut.

Sansa drags a knee up along his side, her skirts pulling uncomfortably along her thigh.

Jon breaks from her, dragging his hand from her hair to bunch along the skirts at her thigh instead, rucking them up as he buries his face in the crook of her shoulder, his lips planting along her pale throat. "Gods, Sansa, you feel so good," he groans out, his growl lost in her hair.

Sansa grips at his head, fingers tangled in his curls. "I want it to be you," she gasps at his ear.

Jon stills, blinking away the haze of desire beneath a singular moment of clarity.

He closes his eyes at her words, his chest heaving against hers, his hand gripping at her thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but he won't go further, won't drag her skirts up higher, won't snake his hand up to her smallclothes and tear them away, won't sink his fingers into her wet, waiting cunt like he longs to, like he's aching to.

"Sansa," he warns her, his teeth at her throat, his other hand still firm at her breast, fingers still curved over the collar of her dress, dragged partially down her chest, her laces taut at the seams.

His knuckles are white beneath the force of his struggling willpower.

"I need it to be you," she whines at his ear.

Jon pulls back just enough to look at her, his face pained. "Sansa, I – I can't..." The realization of what he's only moments away from doing to her hits him like a gale of wind from atop the Wall.

And yet he doesn't pull his touch away, doesn't relinquish his hold of her.

She blinks the wetness back from her eyes, her fingers curling tighter along the back of his neck. "Jon, I won't go to anyone else. I can't. Not after – " She stops, swallows tightly. Her eyes shift back and forth between his. "I can't."

Jon drops his forehead to hers, a ragged sigh leaving him. He drags his hands from her breast and thigh, cradling her face instead, elbows keeping him braced above her on the bed. "I know," he murmurs in frustration, his eyes slipping closed at her pained sob.

It was easy, at the start. Easy to pretend that their secret kisses and hidden glances were a game. It was easy to pretend it could never end.

But it isn't easy anymore.

Not when he wants what he wants. Not when he knows there is no stopping it, even when he knows it's wrong.

He's not ever going to fall out of love with Sansa Stark, he knows this now.

And that's the rub. That's the salt of it.

He's just a bastard boy in love with his sister.

And such a tale never ended in anything but blood and heartache.

Jon brushes a thumb across her soft cheek, his mouth a trembling line. "Sansa, listen to me. What we're doing – "

A sharp knock sounds at the door.

Sansa's eyes go wide and Jon nearly throws himself from her, stumbling away from the bed on a sharp intake of breath.

Sansa rises to her elbows, mouth parted in surprise.

"Sansa, it's me," her mother says from the other side of the door.

The panic rises in Jon's throat, and he looks around the room quickly, bounding as quietly as he can behind her armoire, pressing his back up against the wood as Sansa pushes from the bed, smoothing down her skirts and her hair, clearing her throat.

"Just a moment, Mother," she calls out, voice wavering somewhat.

Jon curses beneath his breath, glancing around the armoire one last time to catch Sansa's identically frantic eyes, before he turns away, closing his eyes on a tight inhale, the breath halted in his chest.

He hears the door unlatch a moment later, but no footsteps carrying into the room.

"Yes, Mother?" Sansa asks, clearly keeping her from entering by staying in the threshold.

"I came to check on you. Has your headache worsened?"

Jon works his jaw, adjusting his breeches as gently and quietly as he can over his still-throbbing erection, wincing slightly at the discomfort.

"I'll be fine with rest, not to worry," Sansa placates her mother.

A moment of silence passes, before Catelyn's voice comes from the door again, a lance of worry threading through her words. "You're flushed, dear girl. Are you unwell? Should I call the maester?"

Jon bites his lip, eyes turned skyward, watching the flickering shadows from the candlelight cast about the ceiling. His heart hammers in his chest.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself, Mother." Sansa's voice is just a touch breathless, just enough to have Jon's stomach sinking.

"Sansa, you're clearly – "

"It's just a chill. Nothing a good night's rest won't fix, I promise," Sansa assures her, voice tight. "In fact, I should finish readying for bed. Goodnight, Mother."

The slight creak of the door sounds before it stops abruptly, and Jon imagines Lady Catelyn's hand on the door, halting it, that familiar frown gracing her features.

"You're certain?"

Jon's stomach twists at the concern in her tone, remembering that this is a woman who just lost her two youngest boys.

The grief is still ripe in her voice.

It makes the bile rise at the back of Jon's throat, knowing how he'd been dishonoring her sweet, highborn daughter only moments ago, and in her own childhood home, no less. How he'd been touching her like no brother had a right to touch their sister. How he craved the feel of her still, even now.

The guilt is dizzying, enough to calm any remaining desire in him.

Sansa's voice is softer this time, a gentleness to it that tells Jon she hears the grief in Lady Stark's voice just as loudly. "I'm certain. But thank you for checking on me, Mother."

"Alright, then," Catelyn answers reluctantly, a sigh at the end of her words.

Jon imagines the brush of her hand against her daughter's cheek – the same cheek he'd held in his own sinful touch.

Gods, if she only knew how he's already shamed her daughter, how near he'd been to shaming her further –

She'd kill him where he stood.

Jon bunches his hands into fists, his head braced back against the wood of the armoire, his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth in his taut silence.

"Come to me anytime you need."

"I will, Mother."

"Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight."

The door shuts with a hollow clang.

Jon breathes in the silence that follows, his chest rising and falling steadily. His hands flex, fists bunching and unbunching at his sides. His lungs ache.

"Jon?" The whisper is tentative as it leaves her.

Jon scrubs his hands over his face.

What are they doing? What are they doing?

"Jon."

He steps from around the armoire, a shadow falling over his face as he meets her gaze.

She stands in the middle of the room, her fingers worrying themselves. She opens her mouth, closes it. "I..."

Jon sighs, his jaw tightening.

That bile – it stains the back of his tongue.

Sansa looks to the floor.

His own shame keeps him rooted, his feet heavy where they stand.

"You should wait a while... before you go," she says tentatively. "To be sure."

Jon closes his eyes, a heavy breath leaving him. "Aye."

When he opens his eyes, she's looking at him again, but she keeps her distance – keeps this distance between them.

He stays planted where he stands. She stays with her hands wringing themselves before her.

He looks at her.

She looks at him.

No, there is no falling out of love with Sansa Stark.

And that's the salt of it.

(He is the wound.)

* * *

"Read it again," Catelyn demands in a tight voice.

Robb sighs as he drops the missive from the Freys to the tabletop between them. "Mother..."

"Read it again," she repeats, her voice shaking.

Sansa stands rigid beside her mother, her eyes fixed to the unfurled scroll atop the table. She can feel Jon's gaze upon her.

"Seven hells," Edmure curses, a hand wiping over his mouth as he stalks from the war table, and then stalks back. "Are you actually considering this?" His gaze shifts heatedly to Robb.

Brynden puts a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Edmure."

"And how am I supposed to calm myself? They demand a marriage between myself and a Frey girl as reparations for Robb's – " Edmure bites his tongue, a sharp glance sent around the table, before he meets the Blackfish's eyes once more. "His indiscretion," he finishes tightly.

Jeyne settles a hand low on her swollen stomach, her gaze flitting quietly to the floor.

"Edmure," Brynden censures in a low voice, squeezing his nephew's shoulder meaningfully.

"And their other demand?" Catelyn bites out, her chest rising with her indignation. "Are we going to simply ignore that?" she asks shrilly.

Sansa's mind goes blank, her breaths coming shallow and short. Everything is static in her mind, her eyes blinking furiously as she tries to process the contents of the letter. Her mouth parts, but no words follow. She closes her mouth tightly, her throat flexing. Her eyes water without her bidding.

Robb looks at her, leaning over to brace his hands along the table. "Sansa."

She blinks up at him.

"Tell them no," Jon says lowly from across the table, his words cutting through the fog in her mind.

Sansa sucks a sharp breath through her teeth.

In the spirit of common goals and renewing our alliance, His Grace, King Robb of House Stark, is asked to grant the marriages of Lord Edmure Tully of Riverrun to a Frey daughter of our choosing, and Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell to Lord Perwyn of House Frey.

Sansa starts to shake.

"How do they even know you've written to the High Septon of Sansa's annulment?" Catelyn asks sharply, her eyes shifting around the table to meet every person present.

"Tell them no," Jon growls again, his hands bunching into fists at his sides.

Sansa's chest feels tight.

"And if His Grace rejects another marriage alliance? What then?" Brynden asks gruffly, his hand slipping from Edmure's shoulder.

"No one told him to get a whelp on the girl!" Edmure cries.

"Uncle," Robb bites out, his anger flashing briefly across his eyes, his hand going to Jeyne's elbow at his side. "You will address my queen with the proper respect she deserves."

Catelyn purses her mouth, collecting herself with her hands smoothed over her skirts. "You're not helping, brother," she says tightly.

Edmure bites his tongue, inclining his head in quiet acquiescence, his anxious energy thrumming throughout his body.

Sansa feels sick.

"Why are we even discussing this?" Jon nearly bellows, drawing everyone's attention then. "Tell them no," he demands for the last time.

Robb squares his jaw. "It's not that simple."

Sansa's eyes flutter shut, her lip beginning to tremble.

"Robb, we just got her back," Catelyn begs.

"I know!" Robb huffs, a hand held to the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to send Sansa away either but – "

"Is no one concerned about my marriage?" Edmure interrupts, frazzled at the inattention to his situation, eyes glancing about the room.

"Edmure, please," Catelyn moans, turning a pained look his way.

He silences at his sister's distress, his mouth tipping into a frown.

Brynden crosses his arms as he considers the missive laying innocently atop the table. "Walder Frey is a sorry excuse for a man, and a scheming, self-serving mongrel, but you'll need his family's support if you want to meet the Lannisters south of the Neck, especially since you've sent forces back north to retake Winterfell."

A sound catches in Catelyn's throat at the reminder of the recent loss.

"Then we do it another way," Jon grits out.

"And if there is no other way?" Robb asks sharply, his gaze turned toward Jon. They stare each other down for several moments, before Jeyne rests her hand along Robb's arm and he turns from his half-brother, running a hand through his hair roughly.

Sansa blows a slow, shallow breath through her lips, eyes shifting back open to watch the room. Her gut twists painfully when her eyes fall on Robb.

Brynden shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "We can consider other options, Your Grace, but they'll want an answer soon."

"I'll need to speak with the other lords," Robb says on a defeated sigh.

"This is a family matter," Catelyn says, her voice less firm than she'd begun the meeting with.

"It is not," Robb says surely, a dark look sent her way. His shoulders sag, his frown pinching tight. "It is a Northern matter, and thus requires careful deliberation."

A wave of nausea overtakes Sansa.

Jon steps toward his brother. "Robb, you can't – "

"You're dismissed." He glances around the room, his gaze softening on Sansa when he makes his way to her. "All of you," he says quietly, turning away from her swiftly. Jeyne reaches for his hand then, looking up into his face with reassurance.

Sansa feels the bile rising instantly. She glances to Jon and finds him staring at her, his jaw locked in his ire, his whole bearing stiff and rigid. She can see the whites of his knuckles from across the table.

"Come," Catelyn says, ushering her gently from the room.

She follows her mother's direction mindlessly, her limbs numb.

Sansa finds herself standing in the courtyard after many minutes, her mother's hand on her arm as she speaks in quiet tones to her.

She doesn't recognize the words.

"I need..." Sansa begins, her voice a croak, and she licks her lips, glances over to meet her mother's gaze. "I need some air. Please excuse me." She gathers her skirts in her hands and walks away.

She finds herself at the edge of the riverbank many minutes later, past the gate and past the bridge and past the suffocating air that had lodged in her throat ever since Robb read Walder Frey's letter aloud.

She sucks deep gulps of air into her lungs, eyes raking over the river, blinking against the sun. Her hands bunch in her skirts. Her chin rises, her shoulders pulling taut.

And then she bends over and retches. It empties from her instantly – all the rage and despair and helplessness. Her sick hits the green riverbank and her knees buckle on reflex, her hand going out to a nearby branch to catch herself, a cough raking up her throat, the blood bursting red across her cheeks from the force of it. When she's finished, she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, eyes wet as she grips the tree beside her.

She steadies herself, breathes deep, wipes her hand along her skirt.

I want it to be you, she'd told him.

Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, her breath hitched on a sob.

It doesn't really seem to matter anymore.

* * *

"How can you even consider it? You know what she went through," Jon growls out, cornering Robb when his meeting with the lords is ended.

Robb stops short as he exits the chamber, eyeing Jon. "Have you been waiting here the whole time?"

"Of course," he bites out.

Robb frowns, before pushing past him toward his own chambers. Jon follows without thought.

"Jon, believe me, I'm the last person that wants to put Sansa through another traumatizing marriage," he huffs out, never slowing.

Jon keeps his pace, stalking the corridor alongside him. "Then you should be telling that to the Freys."

"And what would you have me tell the Northern lords, hmm?"

"That our sister is not a bargaining chip," he growls out.

Robb shoots a dark look his way. "Are you saying that's how I'm treating her?"

"Aren't you?"

Robb stops short, turning swiftly to Jon, his nostrils flaring. "I never said I'd agree to the Freys' terms." His voice is clipped, but there's a thunder beneath it that stops Jon in his tracks.

He stares at his brother, his king, trying to will his anger down, but his chest is heaving with it, his throat rife with it.

He is no help to Sansa like this – antagonizing their brother further.

Jon sets his jaw, his gaze flicking low in deference, not meeting Robb's eyes as he steadies his anxious breathing. "Then what are you saying, Your Grace?" he gets out roughly, swallowing back the ire, leaving only civility in his tone.

Robb sighs, taking a moment to consider, and then he rests a hand on Jon's shoulder.

It makes him look up at his brother again.

Robb offers him a shared look of frustration, his brows furrowed over his Tully blue eyes. "I understand your resistance to the idea. But you cannot ask me to refuse their terms if you won't even offer an alternative," he says dismally.

Jon nods, his throat tight. "You're right, of course," he says hoarsely.

It pains him to admit it.

His anger had been instant, thoughtless. His only concern had been Sansa – is Sansa. But this is not how she needs him – raging and demanding and reckless.

He clears his throat, lifting his head to meet Robb's gaze fully. "Have the lords any suggestions?"

Robb's face darkens, his hand dropping from Jon's shoulder. "Most of them don't see any reason not to agree."

"Robb," Jon growls.

"I know, I know," Robb answers swiftly, turning to walk back down the corridor.

Jon follows suit, quiet for many moments, before he asks him, "What do you plan to do?"

"I'll speak with Mother. She may have some ideas."

Jon remembers coming upon Lady Stark only moments before she'd attempted to free Jaime Lannister all those months ago. He remembers how his rescue of Sansa began in the first place.

No, Lady Stark would not give her daughter up for anything. She'd choose treason first.

(And almost did.)

He doesn't know whether to be relieved or not at Robb's going to her for advice. But at least, it means that Robb is searching for a way out.

It will have to be enough.

They stop at Robb's chambers. He gives him a nod of farewell, but Jon grabs for his elbow and stops him, his touch uneasy.

Robb glances down at the hand on his arm, and then back up into Jon's face. "What is it?"

"Why won't you tell Sansa that you're trying to find another way?"

Robb quiets a moment, his mouth tipping into a frown. He looks down the empty corridor, his throat flexing as he swallows. "I don't... I don't want to give her false hope." He looks back at Jon. "If there is no other way."

Jon releases Robb's elbow, a single tight breath filling his lungs. He shakes his head, his voice stricken in his throat. "Robb, we can't –"

"Sansa knows her duty," Robb says surely, his eyes betraying his apprehension. "When push comes to shove..." He clears his throat, blinks away the disquiet. "As the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark, Sansa knows what may be asked of her."

Jon bites his cheek, that simmering rage curling in his gut again. "And a bastard wouldn't understand that, is that it?"

Robb huffs. "I never said that."

"Well, I'll tell you what I do know," Jon grinds out, the words a struggle as he steps toward him, his own distress bubbling up his throat. "I know the sound of her cries, brother, and I know the shape of her scars, and I know what nightmares she suffers from in the night because I was there, Robb. I was fucking there – when she asked if you were the one who sent me, if you were the one who came to her rescue. I was there when she finally broke down, when the weight of King's Landing finally fell from her shoulders and she was free, she was free, Robb, and still – still – more wounded than I'd ever seen her. Because she needed us. She needed her family. And we weren't there. So, I can't –" He stops, his chest heaving with it, his voice breaking as he corrects himself, tries to steady the throbbing between his ribs. "We can't abandon her again."

Robb stares at him, his brow furrowed sharply down, his mouth a thin, tight line. "Jon."

"She – she needs us to put her first this time." He pulls a heavy breath through his lungs.

Robb reaches out and plants both hands along Jon's shoulders. "You know, that as king, I could never simply put her first, Jon," he says painfully.

Jon drops his head, blinking away the wetness at the corners of his eyes. His skull aches from clenching his teeth.

"You know that," Robb murmurs, a squeeze to his shoulders.

"Aye," Jon croaks out, looking back up again.

(The salt of it.)

Helplessness tears at his gut.

"But I will do my best," Robb assures him, though it rings hollow now. "That's all I can promise."

Jon nods wordlessly, working his jaw.

Robb gives him one last squeeze along his shoulder, before turning from him and entering his chambers.

Jon is left to watch the closed door, the following silence blaring in the empty hall.

* * *

Many days pass, and Sansa prays. She eats, and she sleeps, and she takes turns in the garden. She sits and embroiders with her mother. She takes tea with Jeyne.

And she prays.

Robb hasn't spoken to her since the reading of Walder Frey's letter. She knows he is struggling to find an answer that may suit them all. But she's afraid there isn't one.

It's what brings her to the Sept this night, long after everyone is asleep, a robe hastily thrown over her shift in her restlessness. She lights a candle and watches the wax slip down the pillar, her hands folded before her.

And she prays.

But gods, she doesn't even know what for anymore.

"Sansa?"

His voice should be soothing but it's only a wretched reminder now.

Sansa plasters a faint smile along her lips when she turns to meet Jon's gaze over her shoulder.

He closes the door behind him, his face pained as he watches her where she kneels. He makes his way to her slowly.

"I couldn't sleep," she says in answer to his unvoiced question, rising and brushing the dirt from her knees.

"Neither could I," he tells her.

Their stolen kisses have ceased since the letter, and she doesn't precisely know why. Or maybe she does.

She can't seem to bring herself to be anything other than cordial to him these days.

(Anything more and she thinks she might break.)

But oh, how she misses him.

Her traitorous heart yearns for him even now, even when she is trying to teach herself to live without him.

(Even when she is failing.)

"I didn't mean to... to interrupt your prayers," he says finally, a hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing awkwardly.

Sansa looks up into the stone face of the Mother. "It's no matter." She sighs, glancing back down to him. "I don't think they were heard, anyway." She presses a nervous thumb into her opposite palm.

"Oh, Sansa." He steps toward her, his hands lighting upon her arms. "Why have you... why don't you talk to me about it?"

"And what is there to say?"

He swallows tightly, looking away a moment, before turning back. "I just want to – I don't know, to... to comfort you, somehow, but I just – I don't know how."

Sansa softens at his anguish, stepping into him to place her hands upon his chest. "I know."

"Tell me what you want,"

She shakes her head.

"Tell me and I'll do it."

"I know you will, but it's too late."

Jon frowns at her words, his hands tightening over her arms. "Please don't say that."

"I suppose the only thing to save me know is if the High Septon rejects my annulment." She chuckles darkly at the thought. "I can't be bartered for a marriage alliance if I'm still married, can I?"

"Don't say that," he grinds out, leaning toward her, closing the space between them with his lips pressed to her forehead.

That dark chuckle returns, though it's tinged with desperation now – a reckless sorrow. "It's true, though," she murmurs, closing her eyes on a sigh and leaning into him.

"We'll run away," he says against her temple.

She actually laughs this time, pulling back to look at him. "Run away?"

"Aye," he swears, eyes fervent on hers. He releases her arms to cup her face instead. "Just like you said we should, the morning before we made it to Riverrun. You knew it then. You told me then. That this would happen. And I – I didn't think – " He stops, swallowing thickly. He squares his jaw, his thumbs running tenderly over her cheeks. He sighs, and it seems to take all of him, as he hangs his head, words choked back. "Sansa, I didn't..."

Her lungs ache on the sob she's bottling up, her hands going around his wrists as he holds her. Tears prick the corners of her eyes.

She thinks back to their journey here – riding across green fields in his arms, the warmth of him beside her as they slept, splashing in the river as they fished. She thinks of peace and safety and joy. She thinks of things she only knows from songs. Things she used to dream of and hadn't even known how close they were.

But then she thinks of her mother's embrace, and Robb's tired shoulders, and Arya all alone in the wilderness.

She thinks of Edmure and Brynden and the home they've made for her here.

She thinks of Bran and Rickon.

She thinks of her lord father and how she doesn't even remember the last words she shared with him.

Sansa sucks a trembling breath through her lips, hands gripping his wrists needfully. "Do you regret it? Not running away then?" she manages through quaking breaths.

Jon lifts his head to look at her, the answer splashed across his face in ruin.

And oh, how it cuts.

"Aye," he croaks out, a sheen of wetness over his eyes. "I regret it." And then he bares his teeth, his brow furrowing, a wretched groan leaving him as the tears gather in his eyes, and he shakes his head, the remorse plain upon his face. "I truly, truly regret it now."

She smothers the sob along her tongue, releasing his wrists to cup his face now, pressing into him so that their chests are but a whisper apart. "Don't," she tells him, her breath painting his lips.

His eyes flick between hers, confused.

"You did the right thing, by bringing me back."

"Sansa – "

"I needed my family. And they needed me."

Jon's hands drift down to her neck, his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths, the words lodged in his throat as he watches her.

"You should never regret bringing me back to them," she urges with a confidence that surprises her.

Yes, she would have run away with him. Yes, she would have been free to love him then. But it would be the only freedom she'd know in a life of chains. And she would grow to resent him for it. She would grow to resent herself.

There are no good choices. Only impossible ones.

"I'm sorry," he sobs at her lips.

Her eyes flutter closed, an exhaustion filling her that seems endless and endless and endless. "I'm so tired, Jon," she breathes into him, and then he's kissing her, and she wraps her arms around his neck, and thinks of the candle she lit. She thinks of the lone flame, and the slow burning. She thinks of the afterimage it leaves in the dark, when it's inevitably snuffed.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles against her lips, one hand dug into her hair, the other braced along her back.

She swallows up his sobs, and floods his mouth with her own, her hands grasping and needful and aimless.

Just the feel of him. Just the feel of him is enough in this moment.

Jon presses her back until she hits the wall with a low thud, the jostle breaking their mouths apart momentarily.

"I'm sorry," he pants into her mouth again.

Sansa digs her nails into the nape of his neck. "I know," she gasps along his tongue, trying not to break.

He fumbles for the tie on her robe and she helps him, tearing the material from her shoulders so only her shift remains. His hands are everywhere – rucking up her shift and dragging her mouth back to his by the back of her neck. His teeth sink into her bottom lip and she moans, her hands fisting in the thin material of his tunic, tugging at it impatiently as he grabs for one of her exposed thighs, hefting it up as he braces his hips to hers, the length of him hard and pressed to her center.

Sansa gasps, gripping his shoulders, tearing her mouth from his to press her head back against the stone wall, her lip caught between her teeth. "Jon," she whimpers, rolling her hips to meet his.

He pants into her neck, nipping slightly, laving his tongue over her pulse, his hand dragging her thigh higher up his hip, fingers digging into her flesh as he bucks into her, his breeches and her smallclothes the only thing separating them now.

"I'm sorry," he groans into her neck, over and over.

Sansa sobs at the words, lost to him. So lost she never hears the door as it creaks open.

So lost she doesn't even recognize the gaze she meets across the room when she opens her eyes.

Like looking into a mirror. That Tully blue.

Sansa stills at the sudden realization, eyes blown wide.

The heat of Jon's mouth is still at her throat when she finds her voice.

"Robb," she chokes out, a new anguish blanketing her tongue.

This is the salt of it.

(And they are the wound.)

#jonsa #jonsa fic #jon snow #sansa stark #nodology #my writing #jon x sansa #got fanfic

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copperbadge · 6 days

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Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

Edminister Engler is a recent widower who has now been diagnosed with cancer; he doesn't have health coverage and is too sick to work, so is raising funds to help find an oncologist and seek treatment. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

secondalto was in a car accident in February that totaled her car, and she missed work through the end of the school year; insurance was slow to pay out and she didn't get another car (necessary for her job) until last month. Due to the staggered nature of her work, she is facing car and insurance payments, plus gas and other bills, that she won't be able to pay before they are due. She is raising funds for bills and is also offering fic beta services and handicrafts in return for donations; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

songspinner9 linked to a fundraiser for Wren, a young, chronically ill person trying to stay active in their community and studying for a Library Science degree. Insurance will not cover the new wheelchair they need to achieve their goals, so they are fundraising for the wheelchair and power assist; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for meowdistract/hauntedrph, a friend with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, which leaves her with limited mobility and weakness. She's offering commissions and raising funds via donation to help pay off debt and treat herself a little for her 30th birthday tomorrow. You can read more, reblog, and find giving/commission information here and there are also links to wishlists and donation options here.

maryellencarter is homeless and has recently moved cross-country to be closer to friends, and has finally been placed in a shelter; they are fundraising to keep their car insurance so they can travel to aid appointments and try to find a more permanent housing solution. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Beth linked to First Draft Detroit, a Detroit metro region nonprofit intended to replace NaNoWriMo; they're holding their first fundraiser on October 5th. If you are local to Detroit you can buy a ticket to play one of several TTRPGs, plus a silent auction and a bake sale; if you are not local you can still donate to support the org. You can read more, buy a ticket, and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

loversdoom has recently been diagnosed with PCOS and needs help to afford the prescribed birth control pills on top of living expenses and dental bills; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here or give via paypal here.

onedollopofsourcream is fundraising to help support a large family including young children during a difficult time; they particularly need funds for needed medication (including insulin), and hopefully eventually to get out of an abusive living situation. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita is raising funds to help their family get back on their feet after a house fire that left them in an unsafe living situation with black mold; their partner has also recently had oral surgery and many family members are unemployed, and they need funds for clean water, food, and cleaning until the mold can be taken care of. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

memprime linked to a fundraiser for a friend, virtualalternative, who needs help with cat vet bills after their cat had several blockages; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

#radio free monday #charity #philanthropy #fannish community

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pancake-breakfast · 3 months

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Ok! Notes from the first Orange panel at AX 2024! They were discouraging photography and video so this will just be text (mobile Tumblr hates my photos, anyway). But first, a bit of a TL;DR.

TL:DR: While they talked about Trigun: Stampede, Beastars, and their new upcoming title Leviathan, they mostly focused on Leviathan since Stampede has its own panel later. (I'm not sure about Beastars since I haven't been following the show as closely.)

Ok, on with the notes!

(Edited to add links.)

Studio Orange Presents: Beastars, Trigun, and...

The panel guests were Kiyotaka Waki (producer at Orange) and Yoshihiro Watanabe (producer at Orange and also played translator for Waki), as well as Justin Leach (producer for Eden and Star Wars: Visions).

They started off the panel by noting that exactly zero of the people on the panel (including the mod) slept the previous night.

Then they showed a sizzle reel in honor of Orange's 20th anniversary, highlighting all the stuff they've done in that time. There were a lot of cheers for Trigun, Beastars, and Land of the Lustrous in particular.

After the reel, they talked briefly about the history of Orange, how they'd gone from animating mecha for other people's shows (like they did for Evangelion and Code: Geass) to doing entire properties themselves. They're particularly proud of how their studio has grown from 4 people to... I forgot how many. Much more than 4. And they can now work on multiple titles simultaneously.

On to Trigun! They didn't get into it much since it's getting its own panel at the con, but they did show some pages from the Trigun Bible on Plants, and Watanabe noted he'd post them up on the bird app later today. (Edit: You can find them here.) Watanabe also said they can't release the whole Bible yet, which may just have me thinking hopefully, but hey, there's a chance! He seems to genuinely love sharing pages from it, at least.

On to Beastars! They read a thank you letter from the director to the fans, and also showed a subtitled video that I'd guess was also a thank you from someone else, but I was too far back to read the subtitles. (An ongoing problem with watching anything subbed at this con is the subs being entirely blocked by other people's heads unless you're in like the first few rows... but I digress.) They also showed a new key visual (which I'm sure is gonna be floating around social media somewhere at this point) and noted the third and final season of the show will air on Netflix in December. Waki noted he started reading the manga in 2017, and he's thrilled to get to work on a full adaptation of the story since it's rare to get to do that.

On to Leviathan! I'm gonna break this one up a bit because it's long. This is Studio Orange's new upcoming title in collaboration with Netflix and Qubic Pictures (the studio that did Eden, which was a great story overall and I definitely recommend it). They also worked extensively with the author of the original work, Scott Westerfield, who helped keep them consistent with the characters and themes.

The story is a dieselpunk alternate world WWI story about a runaway Austrian Prince named Alec who meets this Scottish girl, Sharp, on a bioengineered airship, and the relationships these people from disparate backgrounds have with others and each other.

The German/Austrian side of the conflict is a faction known as the "Clankers," who focus on mechs and technology to conquer the world via machines, while the faction Sharp belongs to is called the "Darwinists," who focus on DNA modification of creatures as a way to connect with nature.

They showed a preview of it that honestly looked really cool, but again, no recording. It had flying whale ships. Like... whales they strapped a box to and fly around on.

Orange is excited to get to "go back to their roots" with this and work on a Mecha title again, especially since this title will be theirs this time.

They acquired/absorbed (I'm not sure on the details) a team that specializes in background art for this project, and yeah, the backgrounds are detailed and amazing.

They noted a lot of animators reflect their own lives in their work, and they feel Leviathan is no exception. The international collaboration (they also have people from Europe working on this) lends itself well to a story about people from disparate cultures coming together and realizing they have more in common and more similar passions and desires than they have differences.

They'll be talking more about Leviathan at Otakon in August.

That's all for now! I'll try to update on the other Orange/Trigun panels if I get into them!

#trigun stampede #beastars #Leviathan orange #studio orange #anime expo #anime expo 2024 #ax 2024

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 12 days

Note

Good morning RTA

I love you blog i learn a lot about how everything works about rumours and pr. i learn something new everyday. thank you

(Also, i enjoy the messyness with the suxx because they give me the chance to learn from their mistakes haha)

but i want to know if there is a book you can suggest or recommend about communication, PR and/or politics? i want to learn more about that. seeing everything about them and how they play with the media help me to learn in real time And i want to learn more about that.

and if you can give any tips about this topic i will really appreciate

thank you

Ask from August 7th

So I’ve sat on this post for awhile, trying to think of resources to share and unfortunately, anon, I’m coming up blank. I’m going to babble for a bit and hopefully some ideas or recommendations will come to me

I didn’t read any books or get a formal education on this. A lot of what I know about PR and media comes from being online, watching things happen, and a curiosity to dig when things don’t match up or there’s way too much coverage than normal.

I should probably disclose here that I’m a millennial who came of age on the internet in the TMZ/Perez Hilton-Britney/Lindsay/Paris-Bennifer-Brangelina-TomKat era of the mid-00s, which is when celebrity PR as we consider it today started and where I learned a lot about celebrity PR management and media relations. I don’t know if or where an equivalent culture might exist today - I thought maybe Travis and Taylor, but it’s not as lawless, if you will, the way it was back in the 00s.

So first, if you’re in college or you’re working somewhere with a training program, definitely consider taking classes on communications and marketing. You’ll learn a lot there and some of it may be relevant to understanding PR. Particularly with communications, you’ll also want to read up on nonverbal communications (and if you’re working somewhere that gives you free training, you can even do this on work time!) as that’s half the battle with PR, as we see all the time from the Sussexes - if you’re verbally telling one story but your body language and your behavior tells a different one, you got a credibility issue.

I do read a lot of political memoirs and nonfiction so that’s an option too. If you go this way, you’ll have to read from all walks of political affiliation. Meaning if you’re a left-leaning liberal, you need to read books or articles from the right/conservative side and vice versa. The goal here isn’t to change your political beliefs but to recognize media spin. How a liberal sees something will be very different from how a moderate sees it which is different from how a conservative see it, and they’ll all spin the facts differently. If/when you do this, then focus on what’s the same and what’s different in each story.

(To figure out where a media company or publication is in terms of political affiliation, check out this website. It tracks media bias and I find it to be pretty consistent. The tool doesn’t work as well on mobile as it does on desktop - you might have to download an app for mobile access. And also, most of the publications being tracked by the company are English-speaking publications. If that isn’t relevant to you, then definitely consider doing your own research into any media bias oversight in your own country.)

If you have three different stories on the same thing from three different affiliations (say the Daily Mail, who’s very conservative/right-leaning; NPR, who’s close to the center/moderate; and Mother Jones, who’s very liberal/left if politics or CondeNast, Dotdash Meredith and Hearst if entertainment, for example) - the things that are the same in each story are the facts that are most likely to be true and consistent. The things that are different in each story is the PR gamesmanship and the spin.

It’s not always that easy, though, because the tricky part is that modern PR and media relations usually involves sending a press release out en masse to everyone and everyone publishes it. The key to figuring out if that’s what is what’s happening here is to look at who’s publishing and the content. If the stories all use similar or identical language, it’s a widely-distributed press release copypasted to the internet. If the stories are appearing in publications that have the same corporate owner (like Murdoch or Condé Nast, for example) but the language varies, that’s also a widely-distributed press release likely the result of a PR rep’s deal with the corporate company.

Now getting back to the political nonfiction - what I like to do is compare what’s being described in the book with how it was covered by the press. And by doing that, you can usually start picking out what was PR and what was real. I will warn you, it’s not always easy. But it does get easier the more you do this. And it doesn’t even have to be political memoirs. It can be history books. It can be celebrity biographies. It can be magazine articles or newspaper stories. Anything non-fiction where you can compare stories and coverage will work for this.

Specifically for the Sussexes, Plant’s archive is really good, especially in the 2016-2017 time. If/when you have time, go check her archive out and just read through everything. I made a list for Empress once with a bunch of important Plant stories that might help you narrow things down — I’ll dig that up soon and repost it.

If you do want to continue dabbling in Sussex/BRF PR since you’re already aware of that, it may be an easy way to dip your foot into the “PR analysis” pool. The best way to do that is start reading books and comparing what’s written in the books with the narratives you already know and are familiar with. Maybe start with Tom Bower’s Revenge or Valentine Low’s Courtiers (they’re not as sugary).

Oh! I just thought of something! Look up PR experts on social media or influencers who do deep dives into celebrity culture and follow them. The really good ones will explain what they see and walk you through their processes to teach you how to do this yourself.

I quit TikTok a couple months ago but a few accounts I still remember:

Molly McPherson - PR expert and celebrity crisis management.

Jalen - he’s an Aussie lawyer that got big during the Depp-Heard trial for how he covered it. His account is mostly legal coverage but his work on the Depp-Heard trial can teach a lot about celebrity crisis management. I don’t remember his last name but if you google the Depp-Heard trial and TikTok, he’ll probably pop up.

Chris - I don’t remember his name or his account but on TikTok, he does huge deep dives into celebrity scandals and controversies. He did a series on Kelly Clarkson, her ex-husband, and their divorce that went into a lot of great detail on what happened and the PR around it.

I hope this gives you something to start with, anon!

And if anyone else has any resources for the anon to learn about PR and communications, please put them in the comments!

#pr help anon

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year

Text

All Too Well (Superstar Ch 8)

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

The Reader is left reeling after the Man City celebration.

Roy Kent x Reader

7.5k words

Warnings: Language, lots and lots of angst, some yelling

Finally! Thank you for sticking around through all the pain. Hopefully you can see the light at the end of the tunnel!

Read (Roy's Version) here!

“I don’t have go to work,” Keeley said to me as I handed her a travel mug of coffee. “I can cancel. Honestly, they can handle one shoot without me there to hold their hands,” she offered earnestly. “Or I can call Jamie to come spend some time with you, he wouldn’t mind, he adores you. The two of you could watch some telly, go out to lunch-”

I shook my head, my body feeling empty after releasing probably every drop of water through tears. “It’s fine, Keeley. I’ll probably just shower and put on a movie. Distract myself a bit.”

Her face was full of concern. “You sure babe?”

“I’m sure.”

Keeley sighed and began gathering her things. “Alright. But call me if you need me. Or call Jamie. We’ll be here in an instant, alright?” She pulled me into a suffocating hug, not caring about my morning breath or the ruined makeup that I couldn’t be bothered to take off the night before. “We love you, you know that?”

I nodded into her shoulder, a small part of me not wanting to let go. “I know.”

After Keeley left, I did as I said and jumped into the shower, planning on spending an unreasonable amount of time in there. The scalding hot water allowed me to feel something besides the aching in my heart. Despite what I’d thought earlier, there was still water in my body, because I sobbed the entire time I stood under the shower, trying to scrub the pain away along with the glitter from the club.

I only managed to get out the glitter.

I put on some sweatpants and let my wet hair drip onto the old t-shirt I’d thrown on. I wasn’t going anywhere; it didn’t matter what I looked like. I had just settled myself on the couch and was absently searching for a movie when I heard a knock on the door.

And, despite myself, I knew that knock.

Praying that I was wrong and that Keeley had sent Jamie to check on me after all, I hesitantly got up and walked to the door. With a trembling hand, I opened it, hoping to see the striker’s annoyingly pretty face in front of me.

Nope.

“Roy,” I choked out, blinking.

“What the fuck did you do?” he demanded, shoving past me and into my flat.

I closed the door behind him. “The fuck are you talking about?” I didn’t bother hiding the confusion on my face.

He ran his hands over his face, which looked like he’d barely slept the night before either. “Why the fuck did I get a bunch of texts this morning sending me this?” He held up his mobile to me.

Boy-Toy Roy Gets Laid with Aide

I blinked as I read and re-read the headline several times. “What the fuck is that?” I gasped.

“Someone overheard you telling Brittany Brett all about how you’re ‘shagging Roy Kent’,” he spat out, his face a deep red. “All about how I ‘take care of’ you.” He shook his head, hurt behind the anger in his eyes. “I fucking told you I hate the press. I fucking told you I didn’t want this fucking circus. And then you turn around and do this shit.”

“No, Roy, I didn’t-”

He held his hands up. “Fucking save it. I really fucking thought this-” He gestured between us. “-was different. That you were different. But you’re just like everyone else. Using Roy fucking Kent to get in the papers and make a name for yourself.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “How could I be so fucking stupid?” he grumbled, more to himself. “I was really stupid enough to think you’d want me, just Roy.”

I took a step towards him. “Come on, Roy you know I lo-”

“No.” His voice was strangled. “No, I don’t fucking know that. Not anymore” He sighed. “You just fucking stop talking about me, alright? I don’t want to make things worse, so I’m not going to ask Lasso to fire you. But you just leave me the fuck alone, alright?” He blinked several times, clearly pushing back tears. “Do at least that much for me,” he rasped. He turned and grasped the doorknob, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him.

My flat was too quiet, too still, after he left. I managed to get myself onto the couch, my head reeling with everything he’d just said. It had been one thing to have cracks on my heart; now it felt completely pummeled, destroyed to oblivion.

It was past noon when I finally dared to look at my mobile. As I feared, there were messages from my girlfriends, Keeley, and Rebecca, all sending me the article and asking if I knew anything about it. But the only message I cared about was from my mum:

Want me to come over?

It felt like only seconds after I sent my answer that she was at my door, pulling me into a hug the moment I let her in. Her arms tightened around me, her simple shh, shh more than enough to bring back all the tears I’d thought I’d run out of. She walked me to the couch, where I curled up into her arms and let out harsh sobs that I didn’t know I was capable of.

I’d had my heart broken before. Boyfriends dumping me, friendships ending, pets dying, failing tests. And each time, my mum held me and let my tears soak her collar as she stroked my hair, managing to make everything better just by being there. But this was a hurt that I knew a couple kisses from my mother wouldn’t fix. This was the kind of hurt that I knew I’d be carrying my whole life.

Roy was it. Not because I had this lifelong crush on him, not because he was my favorite footballer and it was destiny for us to end up together. But because he was Roy. He was the person I was always happy to see, who never failed to make me smile, who made me feel safe, who I could spend hours doing nothing with, who I wanted to spend forever doing nothing with. And I knew deep down that he had truly felt the same way.

And now it was gone.

I wasn’t sure how long I cried for. The only thing I knew for sure was that when I finally looked up, my mother was looking at me with pain in her eyes, that pain only a parent watching their child suffer can know.

“This isn’t about the article, is it?” she whispered.

I shook my head. “We broke up,” I croaked out, my voice nearly gone. “Last night. And this morning whatever this article is came out, and Roy came and told me off, and now I think…” A sharp pain stabbed me in the chest. “I think we’re totally broken.” My voice cracked. “I’m totally broken.”

Her arms tightened around me. “Oh, love,” she cooed.

She stayed for a few hours. For a while, she just held me while I cried. Eventually, she put on the telly and moved to my bedroom to get a load of laundry to wash. Then to the kitchen, where I could hear her making more than enough food to get me through a couple of days. By the time the sun began to set, she was back on the couch with me, folding clothes as we watched some trash reality show.

“Have you read the article?” Her question was barely above a whisper.

With a sigh, I shook my head, wincing from both the mental pain and the realization that I had a stinging headache, the kind that comes after so much crying. “No, not yet.” I paused. “Is it bad?

My mum let out a small hum of pity, her gaze focused on the trousers she was folding. “It’s… not great.”

I grabbed my phone, went to the text from Keeley (Babes, have you seen this???), and opened the link she sent.

My face burned as I read the article. It was crude, painting me as a gold-digger, only interested in Roy for his fame, his money, even alluding to the idea that I may have gotten my job because of him. Although the article didn’t name me, it was sickening to see myself talked about so callously, to see private details about my relationship shared without much thought. And it suddenly made sense why Roy was so angry with me that morning, why he looked so livid and betrayed. I wouldn’t want anything to do with me either if I’d read this article.

“It makes me out to be an absolute slag,” I choked out, fighting the urge to throw my mobile across the room.

“You’re not,” my mother assured me, taking my phone and putting it on the coffee table. “I know you’re not. You know you’re not.” She gave me a squeeze. “And Roy knows you’re not.”

I shook my head. “He thinks I did this.”

My mum held me for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “He’ll come around,” she murmured. “If he really loves you, if he’s really the fella for you, he’ll come around.”

If only he would.

After three days of dodging phone calls and text messages, I finally answered when Ted called.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice. “Keeley said you got food poisoning. Golly, I don’t think I’ve ever had food poisoning last three days before. Must be awful.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s pretty rubbish,” I muttered. “But I’ll be back tomorrow, alright?”

I could almost hear Ted’s smile through the phone. “Aw, I’m so glad, hon’. We all miss seeing your face. Roy misses you most of all.” He let out a small laugh. “You should see him, even more grumpy than usual, he might as well be hangin’ out with Snow White.”

My heart leapt into my throat at the mention of Roy. “Uh-huh,” was all I could get out. “I should rest so I’m ready for work tomorrow. Thank you for checking on me, Coach.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow!” he called cheerfully before we hung up.

‘Tomorrow’ came much faster than expected. I dragged myself out of bed, my entire body heavy, and slowly forced myself through the motions: shower, breakfast, teeth, makeup, clothes. I agonized over an outfit to wear; wearing anything Richmond made me feel sick to my stomach. I found a random jumper and put it on, not bothering to look in the mirror; all I’d see was the tiredness in my eyes that no makeup could conceal.

Arriving at the Dog Track was worse than getting ready for it. Immediately my eyes were drawn to one thing: that stupid giant black car. Of course he was already there. Of course.

I parked clear across the lot, not caring about how many steps that added to my walk. As I entered the building, I did my best to ignore how hard my heart was hammering in my chest. My knuckles were white from gripping my bag so tight, and I knew my face was just as pale. Each step I took towards the changing room was heavy with the knowledge that the closer I got, the more real this all became. Roy wouldn’t greet me with a clandestine smirk. He wouldn’t glance over to see if the other gaffers were around so he could give me a kiss. He wouldn’t spend all day sending me texts about our after-work plans.

He wouldn’t be my boyfriend.

The chatter in the changing room quieted as I entered. I nodded to the boys, who offered tiny waves and quiet greetings, welcoming me back. No one quite looked me in the eye. It made sense; even though none of them knew about Roy and me, they had all suspected there was something between us, even if it was just a mutual attraction. And honestly, it was painfully obvious who that article was speculating about; I was one of the only people at Nelson Road that Roy publicly tolerated, and I had been at the club that night. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

It was Jamie who nodded to me, making full eye contact and offering a wide grin as if it were a normal day at the Dog Track. “Welcome back. Food poisoning all better then?”

He’s an angel. “Much better, thanks.” I smiled at him, focusing on his face. “Got plenty of catch-up to do, so I’ll see you later.”

Jamie shot me a wink, his friendliness giving me just enough strength to turn my attention to the offices. Ted and Beard sat at their desks, feet up and coffees in hand. Ted was speaking animatedly as Beard nodded, neither one noticing me until I was in the doorway.

“Call me John Travolta, because Welcome Back, Kotter!” Ted exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He walked over and threw an arm around my shoulder. “I was starting to think you’d run off on us and gotten a job at another club.”

I managed a small chuckle. “My dad’d kill me if I worked for anyone but Richmond.”

Ted nodded. “Loyal. Gotta love it.”

A cynical snort from the adjoining office sent a jolt down my spine. It also caught Ted’s attention.

“Guess who’s back, Roy!” he called, steering me to the door I had spent all morning dreading. “And looking better than ever, I might add.” Ted shot me a grin. “Well, we better start heading to practice. Roy, you think you could hang back and catch her up? Thanks.” He didn’t wait for an answer before turning on his heel and walking out, Beard following him out through the changing room.

I stayed frozen in the doorway, avoiding turning my head towards Roy. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him still sitting at his desk, fists clenched, jaw set. I was thrown back to our first meeting, the day I started at Richmond, when he looked so annoyed by my existence. Now, however, he was more than annoyed. He hated me.

Doing my best to ignore the pit in my stomach, I went to my own desk and started taking out my things. I figured Roy wasn’t about to tell me a thing, but I figured I could piece together what I’d missed pretty easily. Plus, I could always go snooping around Ted’s desk if I needed to. Right as I was opening up my email, something caught my eye.

“Where’s my sticky note?” A lump formed in my throat. My little orange sticky note, the one that read “To my biggest fan. XOXO Roy Kent”, was gone. I turned around in my seat to face Roy, who still hadn’t moved. “Did you really fucking take it?” My voice was small, overflowing with all the hurt I’d been holding the past few days.

When he didn’t answer, I swiveled back around, letting a couple silent tears splash onto my desk. I couldn’t believe he’d take it, probably crumpled it up and thrown it away. Maybe even ripped it up. It was a stupid little sticky note- a joke more than anything else- but it felt like someone had yanked my heart out of my chest and taken out to the pitch to be kicked around by the guys.

“I didn’t fucking take it.”

I spun around, eyes wide. Roy’s head was turned to the side, only showing me his profile. His fists were still clenched on top of his desk.

“I didn’t take the note,” he repeated. “Keeley came in on Monday to grab some of your work shit. She took it with her.”

“Oh.” That was all I could say before I thought to add, “’m sorry.”

With a grunt, Roy stood, still not looking at me, and trudged out of the office, presumably to the pitch. I sat in my chair for a while, not moving, trying to block out all my thoughts. My attempt at emptying my brain was interrupted by a tiny knock on my door.

Keeley waved at me. “Hey, babes.” She walked over and sat in Roy’s chair, rolling it close to me. “Glad you’re back.”

I nodded. “At least someone is,” I sighed. I stared down at her shoes, all purple and shiny and way too high for me. “Keels, did you take my sticky note?”

She tilted her head. “Your sticky-?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh. Shit, yeah. When I was getting the stuff I brought to you on Monday I grabbed it. I kind of figured you wouldn’t want that thing staring at you the day you came back, you know?” She paused. “I hope that was alright. I didn’t chuck it or anything. I can go get it for you if you want.”

“No, that’s fine,” I hummed. “You did the right thing. It would’ve crushed me to see it up there. Just wish you’d let me know; I asked Roy about it.”

Keeley’s eyes nearly popped out of her head., “You guys talked?”

I snorted. “Barely. I asked if he took the note, he told me that you did.” My voice grew miniscule. “He wouldn’t even look at me.” A few tears spilled into my lap.

“Oh babe.” In an instant, Keely was out of the chair and was instead crouched down in front of me, stroking my arm sweetly. “It’s alright. D’you need to go home? I could drive you. Rebecca wouldn’t mind.” She paused. “She doesn’t know of course, but she assumes the article has something to do with you.” Keeley shook her head. “Shit piece, by the way. I’m trying to ask around and find out where the hell it came from, it’s absolute slander-”

“It’s my fault,” I whispered, wiping my wet cheeks. “At the club, Brittany Brett was all over me, and I got so mad I let it slip that I was dating Roy. I can only assume that either someone was listening in and twisted everything, or that she went and told a reporter just enough for them to run with.” I shook my head. “I’m such an idiot.”

Keeley squeezed my arm. “Hey.” Her voice was gentle. “Maybe you made a mistake. But this isn’t your fault. The damn media has no respect. Believe me.” She thought a moment. “Could you tell Roy about all this? Wouldn’t that help fix things?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t want to see me. Or talk to me. He probably just wishes I’d drop dead.” I buried my face in my hands. “I kinda wish it too,” I joked dryly.

“Hey now.” Keeley pulled down my hands. “None of that rubbish. Just… give him time.” Keeley nodded. “Give him time.”

Time seemed to be all there was. Without Roy to keep me busy, I found myself alone in my flat most nights. No Roy, no Phoebe, no Oscar. Just me, on the couch eating takeaway and watching garbage reality shows. I went out with my friends a couple of times, but my heart wasn’t in it.

They’d initially asked me about Roy and the article, which I quickly shut down. I explained that Roy and I had a professional relationship, maybe a friendly one at times, and that the article was nothing but rubbish. Whether or not they believed me, they stopped bringing it up.

I did my best to avoid my parents’ house. On the rare occasions I did go over, I noted that while all my awkward teen photos were back, the photo of me with my cardboard cutout was still missing. I didn’t even bother going up to my old room; my dad was kind enough to run upstairs if I needed something from there. He was also thoughtful enough to not ask a single question about what happened; I assumed my mum filled him in on the necessary information.

At work, most people treated me gently. Only Jamie, Ted, and Beard treated me normally; Jamie because he knew all the details, Ted and Beard probably because they knew none of the details. Everyone else had bits and pieces, some true, some completely fabricated. But everyone knew that something was going on.

All that time was what led to me sitting on my couch, eating something I barely registered and watching something I didn’t care about, when a quick knock came from my door.

“Hello? You home?”

Frowning, I walked over to the door and opened it. Jamie Tartt stood there, holding a box in his hands and looking uncharacteristically bashful.

“Um, hey Jamie.” I blinked a few times. “What’re you doing here?” Jamie Tartt at my door in a neon pink hoodie and a fanny pack strapped to his chest was not something I’d planned on seeing, maybe ever.

He cleared his throat and took a step inside, looking nothing like the cocky player I knew. “I, uh, have some stuff for you.” He nodded down towards the box. “From Roy,” he added quietly.

My eyes darted to the box. Inside I could see my things from Roy’s house, things I’d left there over the past few months. A lump formed in my throat as I tried to hold myself together and not break down in front of Jamie freaking Tartt.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

“Should I… put it somewhere?”

I closed the door behind him, not willing to have any of my neighbors walk by and witness what felt like yet another humiliating moment. “Uh, yeah, just there by the couch.” Jamie did as I asked easily, then faced me expectantly. I sighed. “Thanks,” I repeated.

He offered me a tight smile. “You alright?”

“Yes. No. I don’t fucking know.” I let out a dry laugh. “Sorry you got roped into doing this.”

Jamie shook his head. “’s alright. He’s my friend. You’re my friend. I don’ mind doin’ stuff for my friends.” He glanced at the box. “Want me to, uh stay while you go through all that? I won’t watch or nothing. Just so you don’t have to be by yourself.”

My heart melted at the offer I didn’t know I needed. Keeley had a good one. “That’d be nice. Thanks, Jamie.”

He flopped onto my couch and took out his phone. “No problem.”

While he started scrolling through obnoxious TikToks, I knelt down and started rummaging through the box. Clothes, the extra toothbrush that I kept by Roy’s sink, my favorite mug for tea, the books I’d left on his nightstand, the Spice Girls CD he reluctantly let me play in his car. Every piece of evidence that I spent almost as much time at his place as I did at mine.

Well, almost every piece.

“Jamie,” I started, frowning. “Was this all there was?”

Jamie nodded absently, scrolling to a new video. “Yeah. That’s all he gave me.” He glanced at me. “Somethin’ missing?”

I nodded, digging through the box once more. “One of my Richmond sweatshirts. My favorite one, actually. Had it since I was in uni. It’s kind of my good luck charm. Like, every time I’ve worn it, I aced an exam, or the Greyhounds won, or my mum made my favorite dinner without me having to ask. And I know I left it there.”

“Want me to ask him about it?” Jamie offered.

“No,” I sighed, putting down the mug I’d been holding. “He, um, probably hasn’t found it yet. It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

Jamie joined me on the floor, sitting cross-legged and laying his hand on my arm. “Fuck yeah you will. You can survive anythin’, you hear me?” He looked thoughtful. “Would it help if I told you that Roy’s even more fuckin’ miserable than usual?”

I shook my head with a small chuckle. “I don’t think it would.” I laid my hand on top of his. “But thanks for trying, Jamie.”

He smiled at me, a soft, friendly smile, different than the one he usually wore on the pitch. “Anytime.”

As I strolled through the supermarket, I caught a flash of familiar blonde. My heart stuttered as I tried to focus on finding something to make for dinner. Maybe if I quickly grabbed what I needed, went straight to the clerk, walked out swiftly, I could avoid-

“Hi!”

Phoebe beamed up at me, still in her school uniform. At the end of the aisle, her mum held a shopping basket, an embarrassed look on her face.

“Hey, Pheebs,” I managed, trying to sound as excited as the child who stared up at me. “How’re you, sweetheart?”

She gave a small nod. “I’m fine, thank you.” A frown twitched on her face. “I’ve missed you. How come you don’t hang out with me and Uncle Roy and Oscar anymore?”

A lump formed in my throat. “Oh. Well, see, your Uncle Roy and I…” Fuck. How do you tell an eight-year-old girl that you and her uncle broke up and your heart is currently sitting in a million little pieces, and each piece was still desperately in love with him?

“Hey there.” With perfect timing, Roy’s sister approached, a tight smile on her face. “Sorry about Phoebe, she just sprinted on over the moment she saw you.”

I shook my head. “No, no it’s alright-” I stopped myself, realizing we were now nothing more than acquaintances. “It’s alright, Dr. O’Sullivan,” I finished.

Sadness flashed across her face for a moment before the forced smile returned. “Well, it’s good to see you.” She probably wanted to get out of the conversation as quickly as I did.

But Phoebe had other plans.

“Are you still coming to my ballet recital?” Her blue eyes, filled with childish hope, bore into mine. “You promised,” she reminded me.

Fuck. I glanced up at Dr. O’Sullivan, whose face was now a complete grimace. “Oh, yeah, of course.” What else could I say? “If, um, if your mum can get a ticket for me.”

Dr. O’Sullivan’s face softened. “Yeah, I can get you one.” She smiled at me- a real smile this time- and nodded. “I could drop it off at Nelson Road, if you’d like, next time I drop Phoebe off with-” She stopped. “Next time I drop her off,” she finished.

I shrugged. “You can just leave it with Higgins. Or Will. Honestly, you could even leave it with Dani Rojas. They’d all make sure it got to me.” I was starting to babble.

She gave me a pity laugh. “I’ll make sure it gets to you,” she assured me. She turned to Phoebe. “Love, why don’t you go pick out an ice cream for us to have after dinner, hmm?” Phoebe scurried down the aisle before her mother finished her sentence. Dr. O’Sullivan turned back to me. “Hey,” she started softly. “You don’t have to come if it’s too uncomfortable. Phoebe’ll understand.”

“I’d like to go,” I confirmed. “If it’s alright with you, I mean. I don’t want to intrude or make things… weird.”

“Things’ll definitely be weird,” Dr. O’Sullivan said with a dry laugh. “But it’d mean the world to Phoebe. We’d love to see you there.” She paused, clearly unsure if she should continue. “Listen. I don’t know what happened between you and my brother. But I will say that Phoebe misses you. I miss you. And if you don’t come to the ballet, I completely get it. But please don’t avoid us because you think we don’t want to see you. Alright?”

I hadn’t realized that tears were forming in my eyes until they threatened to fall. “Alright,” I whispered. “Friday, right?”

“Friday,” she confirmed as Phoebe ran back, holding up a box of ice lollies.

Phoebe looked up at me, clutching her ice cream. “I’ll see you at my recital, right?”

I nodded. “Yes. I’ll bring pink roses,” I promised.

Immediately, Phoebe wrapped her arms around me. Without hesitation, I hugged her back, giving her a tight squeeze. God, I missed her. I missed taking Oscar for walks together. I missed sitting on Roy’s back porch, taking turns reading out loud. I missed taking her out to get groceries so Roy could make dinner for the three of us. I missed going over to her house and laughing with her mom while Phoebe and Roy played together. I missed being part of Roy’s family.

I blinked back the tears before letting go of Phoebe. “I’ll see you two Friday then,” I managed to choke out.

Dr. O’Sullivan and Phoebe each offered me one more smile and wave- Phoebe’s smile taking up her whole face, Dr. O’Sullivan’s smile filled with sadness- and then they were gone. I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending that my heart didn’t just manage to break even more than it already had, and made myself finish my shopping.

“You’re really going?” Keeley looked at me with concern, clutching one of Rebecca’s pillows. “You don’t think that’d be too hard?”

I shrugged, picking at a loose string on my jumper. “It’ll be hard as fuck,” I admitted. “But it’s Phoebe. She doesn’t deserve to have me break my promise just because… because…” I trailed off, unable to finish, staring down at the ticket Higgins had handed me earlier that afternoon that now sat on Rebecca’s coffee table.

Rebecca joined us on the couch, shoving a glass filled with something from her bar into my hand. “But no one would blame you for not going,” she pointed out.

With my permission, Keeley had filled Rebecca in on all that had happened. She was a bit miffed to be kept in the dark for so long, but she quickly got over it in favor of being a supportive friend. She’d gone so far as to offer to move me to a different office or even a different position at the club, but I declined; Roy was right, it was best not to make things look worse. Instead, I allowed her and Keeley to schedule daily check-ins with me to make sure I was feeling alright.

“I’d blame myself,” I argued. “No matter what’s happening with me and Roy, I made a promise to that little girl. And I’m going to be there, no matter what.” Even if Roy is there. Even if he brings Brittany fucking Brett or some other gorgeous woman.

Keeley patted my knee lovingly. “If you’re sure you can handle it,” she murmured. “But if you can’t, you just text me and I’ll meet you at whatever bar you want, and we’ll drink until London runs out of booze.”

Rebecca added her hand on top of Keeley’s. “Me too.”

I stared at their hands, the hands of my friends who made me feel loved, who made me feel strong, like I would survive the pain I was feeling, despite the deep ache that still rested in my chest. I placed my hand on top of theirs. “Thank you,” I whispered.

We sat and chatted for a bit more before I reminded them that I had work to do and headed down to my office, feeling good about my decision to attend the ballet. Avoiding looking at Roy, I settled myself into my desk and looked at some emails I hadn’t gotten to yet that day.

For the millionth time since he arrived at Richmond, Dario poked his head into the office, beaming when he saw me, greeting me in his usual complimentary way. Even with his back to me, I could feel Roy tense up, the heat radiating off of him and smacking me in the face.

I grimaced at Dario, hoping he’d see it as more of a smile. “Need something?”

He shook his head. “No. Well, yes.” He paused, glancing over at Roy, who was still as a statue. “Could we talk privat-”

In a flash, Roy was up and stomping out of the office, the way he often left these days. With a sigh, I turned back to Dario. “Go on then.”

His radiant smile had returned. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Oh.” I prayed that Roy was far, far away from this conversation. I prayed that he never found out about it. While I was at it, I prayed that I’d misheard the question. “Dinner?”

“Yes.” Dario nodded, clearly excited. “With me.”

I blinked a few times. “I, um, don’t think your girlfriend would like that very much, hmm?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light and friendly, as if this chat wasn’t causing me absolute turmoil. “She’d probably murder me.”

Dario shook his head earnestly. “Oh, you have not heard then? Brittany broke up with me.”

This conversation cannot get worse. “Really?” Despite my best efforts, my voice shook at this development.

“Si. She said that, while we had fun, she wanted something more serious, and she did not want it with me.” He shrugged, clearly taking his breakup better than I was taking mine. “I will be okay though. Especially-” He grin once again filled his handsome face. “-if you go to dinner with me.”

I shook my head. “Thank you, Dario, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Because of Coach Kent?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Because I know everyone says you have a crush on him, but honestly, belleza, I think you and I would have more fun together.” He paused, thinking. “Besides, he is going to get back with Brittany any day now.”

“I’m sorry?” If my heart sank any lower, it would be in the ocean by now.

He nodded. “This is what Brittany told me. She and Coach Kent are going to get back together.

This man needs to get out of my office before I start crying. “Thank you for asking, Dario,” I started, trying to keep my voice even. “But I’m going to have to say no to dinner.” Without another word, I got up and walked briskly past him, through the changing room, and out to the parking lot, where I sat in my car and cried.

I composed myself and went back to work before leaving to go get ready for the ballet recital. The theatre was walking distance from me, so I allowed myself a nice stroll, figuring that being outside would be good for me. On my way, I popped by a flower stand to pick up pink roses for Phoebe, taking great care to pick the prettiest, brightest ones I could find. Even if I felt like my world had ended, at least I’d get to see the smile on that little girl’s face when she saw the flowers I’d promised her.

When I arrived, the theatre was already packed with families, all excited to see their tiny children jump and dance about. I snuck a glance at my ticket and asked an usher to point me in the direction of my assigned seat, right on the aisle. I heaved a sigh of relief as I sank into it, unable to believe my luck. I hadn’t run into anyone I knew, so I’d have the whole show to prepare myself for the inevitability of coming face to face with-

“Oi.”

My head snapped up. Roy stood over me, programme clutched in his hands. His frown seemed permanently etched into his face these days, and his eyes were unreadable as they stared down at me.

“You came,” he grunted.

All I could manage was, “I came.” I swallowed hard, praying my tight grip didn’t squash my flowers.

Roy squinted at the letter on the arm of my seat. “I think that’s me,” he mumbled, pointing at the empty seat next to me.

“Oh,” was all I said. I stood, intending to step out into the aisle so he could go in, but before I could shift, he made his way past me, having to press his body against mine in the tiny pathway between rows. My heart fluttered at the first bit of physical contact we’d had in weeks; his body felt so familiar, so comfortable. More than anything, I wanted to freeze that moment, feeling his warm chest pressed against mine, feeling like home.

It was far too soon when he settled in his seat and I dropped back into mine. I fidgeted with the flowers in my hand, heart hammering so loud I was sure Roy could hear it.

“You brought them.”

I turned to him. “Hmm?”

He gestured towards the roses on my lap. “The fucking roses. For Phoebe. You actually brought them.” He raised his thick eyebrows at me.

“’course I did,” I answered. “I promised, didn’t I?”

He stared at me for a moment, looking as if he was really seeing me for the first time. “You did.” He turned his attention to the empty stage. “Phoebe’ll be excited,” he mumbled.

I couldn’t think of anything else to add until I noticed Roy fiddling with the programme in his hands. “Shit, I didn’t see the programmes,” I muttered, starting to stand so I could find where they were being passed out before the show started.

Roy let out one of his signature sighs and held his up. “Have mine.”

“You sure?” I asked as I sat back down. When he nodded, I took the programme out of his hand. “Thanks.”

With a curt nod, he took out his phone and checked the screen. “Fucking hell, is this thing ever gonna start?”

Unable to resist slipping back into old patterns, I snorted as he returned his mobile to his jacket pocket. “Why? D’you and Jamie Tartt have a hot date or somethin’?”

“No,” he huffed. He paused, tapping his finger on his knee, eyebrow raised. “D’you and fucking Dario Vargas have one?”

My heart stuttered as I frantically shook my head. “What? No. Why the hell-”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats, the show is about to begin!” an annoyingly bright voice called over the sound system.

It took every ounce of strength I had to sit in my seat and turn my focus to the dancers onstage. All I could think about was Roy, sitting beside me. Roy, watching his niece dance. Roy, who didn’t start yelling the moment he saw me. Roy, who gave me his programme.

After the show ended and the dancers had taken their tiny bows, Roy nodded to me. “My sister’s supposed to meet me out front with Phoebe. You can come with me.” He paused. “If you want.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I, um, I’d like to give Phoebe her flowers.”

“Alright.” He stood and gestured towards the exit. “Let’s go then.”

I stood up and exited the row. For just a millisecond, I felt Roy’s fingers brush mine before quickly pulling away. When I glanced back, he was wearing his stoniest expression, looking ahead of me into the crowd, but the pink tint to his cheeks was undeniable. My heart slammed against my chest; he forgot. For a brief moment, Roy Kent forgot he hated me. He forgot that we weren’t together. For a brief moment, he had reverted to the Roy who would naturally grab my hand as we walked through a crowd. The realization brought a new ache to my chest, a dull one now, anchored in… well, hope.

We briskly walked outside the theatre, weaving our way through the crowd of families all trying to find their own little dancers. I glanced at Roy, wondering if I should revisit his question about Dario and me. After all, Roy was the one who brought it up in the first place.

“Roy, I-”

“Uncle Roy!” Still clad in her leotard and tutu, Phoebe burst through the cluster of people around us, launching herself into Roy’s arms, her mother trailing behind her.

He squeezed her back before letting go. “You did a great job,” he praised, nodding emphatically. “Some of those other kids absolutely fucked up, but not you.” He poked her on the nose. “Fucking amazing.”

“Thank you!” She turned her attention to me, her eyes bright. “You came!” She wrapped her arms around me.

I couldn’t help but laugh and hug her back. “And you were wonderful!” I let her go and held up the flowers. “I believe someone was expecting these.”

Her smile widened. “My pink roses!” She took them from my grasp, burying her nose in them. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Dr. O’Sullivan beamed at me. “Thank you so much for coming.” Without warning, she reached out and gave me a hug, the way she had done each time I left her house after dinner or when she came over to Roy’s to pick Phoebe up. A warm, friendly hug that told me she was happy to see me.

When we let go, I saw Roy eyeing me, his expression neither full of the adoration it used to hold nor the anger he’d displayed the past few weeks. It was just… thoughtful. Gears were turning behind his eyes, and I’d have let the Greyhounds be relegated again for a glimpse of what he was thinking.

I cleared my throat and turned back to Phoebe and her mum. “Thank you again for inviting me. I should get going.” With a small wave, I turned around.

“Where’re you parked?”

The sound of Roy’s gruff voice froze me in my tracks. “I, um, walked.” I blinked at him; I didn’t need to tell him that my flat was close by. He knew.

He nodded, that thoughtful expression still on his face. “I can drive you home. If you want.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. O’Sullivan raise her eyebrows. I ignored her and cleared my throat. “Sure. That’d be nice.”

Roy gave his niece and sister each another hug, then nodded down the street. “’m this way,” he mumbled.

The walk to his car was silent, but it was a different silence than the one that had clouded our office these few weeks. It felt much closer to the silence we used to share on his couch or in bed; comfortable. Once we got to his car, we both reached for the passenger door at the same time, just avoiding contact.

Roy cleared his throat and looked down. “Old habits,” he grumbled, yanking the door open for me. He quickly crossed to his side and started the car as I got myself settled. As he pulled out onto the street, he cleared his throat again. “You didn’t get to finish earlier.”

“Finish what?” I asked, although I knew exactly what he was referring to.

A giant sigh escaped his throat. “About Dario Vargas,” he answered through gritted teeth. “I know he asked you out. All that ‘talk privately’ shit.” He paused. “Not that it’s my fucking business.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re right. It’s not your business,” I retorted. I lowered my voice. “But I do want you to know, I turned him down. I’m not over-” I stopped myself from saying I’m not over you. “I’m not interested in him,” I finished.

Roy nodded. “Well, I’m glad.” He paused. “I mean, I’m glad you’re not going out with someone you’re not interested in.” He quieted, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought. “Oscar misses you.”

My heart somehow managed to crack again. “I miss him too,” I whispered.

“Yeah, he’s always fucking looking at the door, like he’s fucking waiting for you. Sniffs around where you liked to sit on the couch.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “If you, I don’t fucking know, wanted to pick him up and take him for a walk sometime, that’d be fine.”

I didn’t hesitate. “I’d love that.”

Roy’s mouth twitched, something I hadn’t seen in weeks. “Thought you would. Oscar’d love it too.”

“Could I pick him up tomorrow? After the match?”

Roy nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine. Just text me, yeah?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.”

We were quiet for the rest of the drive, but it didn’t feel as painful. For the first time since the club, I didn’t feel like I was sinking around Roy. In fact, I felt the very real possibility that we could eventually be… well, maybe not friends, but friendly. It was the most I could hope for.

He parked in front of my building, his eyes flickering up towards my flat. “Alright then?”

I nodded, ignoring the sting that came from the realization that he wasn’t walking me up, for the first time ever. “Alright.” I got out of the car, unable to help but note that the stupid black car lingered until I was inside the building.

In my apartment, I moved around like I was walking on a cloud. Something in the car had felt so different, and it felt good. As I prepped something for dinner, I felt my mobile vibrate in my pocket. When I looked at the screen, I saw I had a simple text message from Roy Kent⚽:

Hey. Think we could talk?

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peonierose · 3 months

Note

How are Bryce and Luna coping during the first month of being parents, and to twins no less?

”Love Me Tender“

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela (M!MC) x Luna Auclair (F!OC)

Words: 2,428k

TW: None. Mentions of breastfeeding.

Summary: Bryce and Luna are newly minted parents and weren’t prepared of struggling to put their twins to bed. Will they succeed?

A/N: Thanks so much for your ask @liaromancewriter it inspired me for two fics actually. ”Love Me Tender“ is one of them 🥰 The Title was inspired by one of the greatest artists and hot guys who’s ever lived, Elvis Presley 🩷

Bryce

It was 4:35 in the morning, and both Lunes and I were still awake. Trying to put the twins to bed.

I sighed.

How‘d my life come to this? Don’t get me wrong. I love our girls more than anyone I could ever love, but getting them to sleep is a real struggle.

We put them to bed hours ago and put them on the mobile, letting pretty stars and moons go by, but their sleep didn’t last long.

They woke up two hours ago and won’t fall asleep.

What happened to peace and quiet? One week prior, everything was great. They didn’t mention this quick transition in the pregnancy books I read. Maybe I read the wrong books?

Well, I guess they covered other stuff, but not what to do when your kids wake you up at 4 a.m.

Luna suddenly sits up with Kehlani and walks her around the room. With Alaia in my arms, I go and get the bunnies they got from Ethan, their godfather, hoping that’ll soothe them into sleep.

They hang onto the bunnies for a few seconds, but they’re still fussy. It didn’t work. Alaia's little face was still red from crying.

So maybe plans c or d could work? Damn, we could really use Keiki’s help, but she’s on a field trip with her study group.

Luna’s voice brings me back into the moment.

”They’re not hungry, right? We changed them, and now what?“ Luna asks while I’m holding Alaia close to my chest. As I place kisses on top of her head, her soft blonde hair smells of lavender shampoo.

I read somewhere that babies like skin-to-skin contact. So that’s why Lunes and I are basically standing in the middle of the room in our underwear.

”I don’t know. Honestly, I’m close to crying with them. Then it’ll be a duet.“ Luna says it with a sigh.

I exhale a long breath I’ve been holding in because I’m frustrated too. God, I‘ve never appreciated sleep more than I do now.

”What if we show them a video with marine animals? They seemed to love that last time.“ I suggested it, and I could see Luna’s shoulder droop in relief.

”Let’s give it a try.“ Luna adds, and we walk downstairs and sit down with the twins as I turn on Disney+ and select a nature documentary about marine animals, one that’ll last for at least two and a half hours.

Soon, both twins' eyes are glued to the screen.

We didn’t want to start them too early on screen time, but sometimes you have to in order to function as a human being and get some rest.

After 30 minutes or so into the documentary, I saw both their eyes drooping, and they fell asleep.

”You’re a genius.“ Luna whispers, scared to wake them up.

"Well, this genius is too scared to move.“ I say frozen in place.

Luna sighs.

”Is now a bad time to have to pee?“ She says it with a guilt tinge in her voice.

I close my eyes.

"Oh, come on, Lunes. Couldn’t you have peed before they fell asleep? What if we wake them up? Look how long it took before they fell asleep.“

Luna softly moves around.

”I’ll be quick, I promise.“ She says this and gently places Kehlani on the couch. As soon as her feet hit the floor, Lani stirs and starts to cry. Rosie isn’t far behind.

”I hope your pee is worth waking the twins over.“ I'm trying to massage their little backs, hoping it’ll soothe them.

Twins are funny in that regard. They have a special bond, especially if they’re identical twins, like our girls.

But the downside is that as soon as one is ill or cries, the other does as well.

They’re creepily in sync. Hopefully, it won’t stay like this forever—the crying, I mean. I know Kehlani and Alaia will turn out wonderful.

I turn to my wonderful girls.

”Why don’t you stop crying? Daddy would really like to get some sleep. So I can wake up pretty.“

They look up at my words and then continue crying.

That’s when it hits me amidst the crying. I remember when Keiki and I were little, my mom used to sing to us »Love Me Tender« by Elvis Presley; it always calmed us down. Maybe we can try it with the twins.

As soon as Luna is back from her bathroom break, I gently take the twins into my arms.

”I think I have an idea.“ I say the idea for the song is taking root.

We walk upstairs, and Luna eyes me skeptically.

”You know how to brew a potion that will make them sleep for seven hours straight?“ She asks excitedly.

I gave her a sideways look.

"Yeah, that was a little bit unrealistic.“ She shrugs, and I laugh softly.

”Let’s try singing »Love Me Tender« by Elvis Presley.“

”Why that song?“ She asks as we reach the twin's bedroom.

I breathed out, and as I laid the twins in their beds, I turned towards Luna, who never looked more beautiful.

With wild hair, just in her underwear, illuminated by the light from the hallway.

I put a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she smiled tenderly at me. It’s these moments I treasure the most, even with the twins crying.

I pulled her closer as I told her about the idea I had. I want to reveal a bit more about myself and my childhood, which I don’t talk about nearly enough, but I should, because whether it was good or bad, memories are important to talk about.

”My mom used to sing that song to me and Keiki all the time. Whenever we were sick, or when we were sad and had a hard time, it just always made things a bit easier.“ I explained.

Luna‘s smile reached her tired eyes, and she cupped my cheek to give me a soft kiss.

”Let’s give it a try. I think I’ve still got my ukulele somewhere. Let me go grab it, and we’ll try singing that song. To be honest, it’s one of my favorite songs by Elvis. He was such a hot guy and so sweet. And what a voice, my god! They just don’t make them like that anymore.“

"Hey, I’m trying to save the world, and you’re calling another man hot? Shame on you, Lunes.“

”You didn’t let me finish. They don’t make them like that anymore, but you are the exception.“ She grinned.

”You were always my favorite.“ I smiled and slapped her butt, making her laugh out loud as she went to look for her ukulele. Her laughter was still echoing from the walls, making me grin too.

After a minute or so, Luna came back with her pink ukulele, adorned with flowers, hearts, and moons. She sat down in front of the twin beds and played the first tunes.

”I had no idea you played the ukulele.“ I was surprised to see her play the ukulele like a pro.

”I learned it along with Hula dancing.“

“Can I get this as a late birthday present?“ I imagined her in a hula get-up. The best image ever.

Luna sighed.

"Really, that’s where your mind went to?“ She chastised me.

”Don‘t blame me. I’m tired and horny. And I’m not sorry.“

She shook her head, grinning. Soon the first tunes of the ukulele joined with her soft voice, and the twins stopped their crying. Too fascinated by what’s going on to keep crying.

Yes, I pump my fist in the air; it looks as if the plan worked. Luna and I fist-bumped each other because our plan turned out better than expected.

As the last note echoed in their bedroom, they soon fell asleep, and it looked as if we could go and catch some sleep too.

”Thank God for our parents, who had good ideas.“

Luna nodded.

We put on the mobile with the moon and stars spinning around softly and didn’t close the door entirely as we went to our bedroom.

When we were lying down in bed, Luna turned to me, and I put an arm around her to pull her closer to me.

”Let me guess you have a million questions.“ I said, and she elbowed me in the side. I laughed and kissed her on top of her head.

”You miss her, don’t you?“

I don’t even try to act as if I don‘t know who she’s referring to.

"Yeah, I do, more than I care to admit.“ I turn around, so we’re lying face-to-face.

”Maybe you need some love me tender too.“ Luna says this as she’s leaning into me.

”That would be nice.“ I smiled against her lips.

Two days later...

Luna

We’re both leaning on the kitchen counter, bleary-eyed, and with our eyes half closed.

”This is the second time in a row we haven’t slept.“ I mumbled.

Bryce doesn't even look up from his coffee.

”I mean, we knew this was going in, but it still stinks sometimes.“

I nodded and almost missed my mug in front of me.

”Damn. I never appreciated coffee as much as I do now. I love our kids, but I’d give my left kidney for two hours of sleep. Not even night shifts are this bad.“

”Come on, we'll get through this.“ I tried to sound more cheerful but just ended up sounding tired. But from the smile tugging at Bryce’s lips, I could still make him smile, which is a win in my book.

I’m about to take another sip from my juice since I‘m nursing when our doorbell rings, and I just grumble.

”I’ll go get it.“ I said, and Bryce just mumbled incoherent words.

I opened the front door, seeing my cousin Skyler, or Sky for short, stand in front of me.

”Good morning, sunshine.“ He looked well rested, with no dark circles under his smooth tan skin. His piercing dark blue eyes shone as if he sprang from the youth fountain. It’s so unfair how good he looked compared to my tired self.

I groaned again and shielded my eyes from the glaring sun coming inside our house.

I stepped aside, and Sky walked in.

”Is it a good morning? Huh. It’s already morning, and the sun is shining. Gosh, I’ve lost all feeling for what time it actually is or what day.“

Sky turned my way and only raised his eyebrows.

”You’re being weird.“

I sighed and joined Bryce in the kitchen. I grinned as Bryce held on to his steaming coffee mug, half asleep.

”I came to the rescue. I thought I’d have to send a search party after your radio silence.“

”Please make him stop saying words.“ Bryce groaned.

”Come on, I’m good with kids, and I’m offering to help.“ Sky grinned.

”So they sent you?“

”B!“ I exclaimed.

”Look, man. I’m really sorry. I’m just so fucking tired.“ Bryce sighed.

”Me too.“ I joined in while taking a sip of my mango and pineapple juice.

"Yeah, Luna too.“ Bryce said while smiling tiredly.

”No hard feelings. It’s all good. You‘ll get a free pass. This once. I know mom and dad struggled with us; you know, we're triplets, so I thought I’d help you out.“ Sky explained.

Bryce’s eyes were tired from being up all night helping me change the twins and trying to make them fall asleep.

We’re exhausted, and it’s only been four months since we brought the twins home.

Sky looked from me to Bryce.

”You guys look as if you’ve partied all night. And it was a weird theme party.“ He teased.

"Yeah, if you count changing, breastfeeding, and getting the twins to sleep, and it takes almost all night? Yeah, then we partied real hard.“ I sighed.

And then I added.

"Damn, breastfeeding really hurts. Who knew? I really hope the pain lessens a bit.“

”I’m even too tired to make a dirty joke about breasts and make you feel better.“ Bryce sighed and smiled softly but tiredly.

”I don’t need to know about your…uhh…anatomy. Or your female body parts.“ Sky winced.

”Who’s being weird now?“ I smirked.

”Fair.“

We were all startled when we heard the baby monitor on the kitchen counter squeak.

Both Bryce and I groaned.

Sky smiled.

”You know what? Why don’t I check up on the little angels? While you guys do whatever it is you do, make out or something.“

”We’re way too tired to make out.“ Bryce and I said it at the same time.

The fog in my brain lifted, and it hit me.

”Wait, are you here to babysit?“

Sky shrugged.

"Yeah, why not? I have the next two days off, so I thought I’d take over, and you can go and do whatever it is you’re doing.“

”You’re an angel, and I love you.“ I smiled and hugged him tight. Sky grinned and hugged me back.

Yep, he’s my favorite cousin. At least right now.

”She doesn’t mean it.“ Bryce commented with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I grinned, so that’s where Lani and Rosie got it from.

”Stop being mean.“ I said this to Bryce without any real heat behind my words.

”Sorry. If you’re true to your word, I’ll go take a nap.“

I stopped hugging Sky for a minute to give B a look.

”Not even showering?“

”I love my bed more than my shower right now.“

"Well, I don’t. So let’s hit the shower.“

Sky looked from me to Bryce.

”You are weirding me out. I’ll go look after the twins.“

”Thanks Sky.“

”You got it.“ He yelled.

Bryce and I walked outside to our shower while Bryce mumbled and was grumpy until the water hit his face.

When we came back from our shower and were settled in our bed, Bryce checked the baby monitor, but the monitor was quiet. It looks as if Sky is a wizard when it comes to calming down kids.

”It’s so quiet.“ I turned to Bryce.

”What did we do before we had kids? Look at me, sounding pathetic.“

”You don’t sound, and you aren’t pathetic. It’s a new routine for us. And I guess we just have to find our balance.“

We both nodded.

Bryce drew circles on my skin, and I curled up into him, and seconds later we were already asleep while holding hands.

Life is good when you’re with the people you love. Whether you’re blood-related or not, cherish those moments.

#Love Me Tender #Bryce Lahela (M!MC) x Luna Auclair (F!OC)#Kehlani Mae #Alaia Rose #open heart #choicesficwriterscreations

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jillsandwhichs · 30 days

Text

Our Future Day's

Joel Miller x Reader series , Chap 5 , Cherished Times

Masterlist

Pairing: F!reader & Joel Miller

Summary: You and Joel spend Friday evening together, you get high and have a great, memorable talk

WC: 3.6k

Type: SFW

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Friday, finally. The day has officially come but it feels like no time has passed since you and Joel, along with little Sarah, had a meal together. That dinner was excellent, it had you contemplating the night you three had the rest of the day and even the past two days. Now, all you've been doing is sitting in your kitchen, at the centered island counter and waiting for Joel to arrive home.

He texted you a bit earlier saying he'd be working later than usual, but by ten, he'll be home. You're still unaware of what it is he exactly has planned for you, but you're excited nonetheless. The idea of actually hanging out with him one on one sounded great, you two haven't been able to do so yet, but finally! You enjoyed being with Sarah, of course, but you and Joel didn't get to engage in topics you wish you could have. Maybe tonight is the night you'll be able to.

Becker was being a good boy too, just laying on the kitchen floor, huffing out to himself. Becker isn't used to being alone as often as he has been, but he'll adapt. You always make sure to leave some lights on along with the television, without some brightness and sound, the dog would go mad. He'd go mental. Sometimes, while you're at work, you'll speak to him through the monitor you bought on Tuesday, just so he feels a tad bit more comfortable being lonely.

Nonetheless, you were on edge about seeing Joel. Before you left his home the other day, he seemed so on the DL about why exactly he wanted to see you on Friday, especially later at night. You didn't care, not at all, but your inquisitive side was surely curious. All you had to wait for was that large, black truck to pull up onto your guy's shared street, then you'd know he's home. You plan to text him before going over there too, not wanting to intrude too early.

Your head quickly turned at the sound of your iPhone buzzing on the counter, shaking as it did. It could only be one person - Joel. You picked up your phone, clicking the power button with your thumb and reading off the notification. It was him, thankfully.

"On my way home now, bring a snack with you or something, a drink or two too."

His message was short and sweet.

You didn't fully grasp why you'd need to bring snacks and drinks though, you two definitely weren't going to a movie theatre, it closes after the last showing and that was damn near an hour ago. But whatever, you suppose, you luckily went grocery shopping recently so bringing some stuff over to his house wouldn't be an issue. You messaged back ASAP, hopefully he wasn't already driving home, no texting and driving allowed!

"Sure thing, but why, if I may ask? Lol..."

You also intended to keep your messages short.

You don't want to seem pushy or obsessive, no man likes that. Joel seemed like the type to not really know his way completely around a phone besides texting and calling and maybe some crappy mobile game he downloaded. The idea that Sarah would use his phone to play silly, girly games was adorable, most parents allow their children too, you doubt Joel and Sarah are much of an exception.

As you put your phone down, you stood up and opened the pantry door right beside you. You weren't all too stocked, you've only lived in Austin for a week, so there wasn't much but you could make due. You grabbed the bag of potato chips along with a box of cheese crackers. They aren't the most healthiest nor the best snacks in the world, but they're very tasty and Joel will most likely eat them. Besides, if he doesn't, you can just walk right back across the street and get something else.

Placing the foods on the counter, you immediately opened the fridge right beside it, scanning what drinks you had. By drinks, you and Joel had different things in mind. He'd obviously prefer a beer, so you grabbed him one, grabbing yourself a soda can. You also placed those beside the snacks.

Snacks and drinks, check, for whatever reason he believed the two of you would need them.

Maybe he planned his own personal movie night for the two of you? You're clueless.

As you walked past Becker, you gave him some quick pets, making sure he felt unconditionally loved. Deep down, you do feel sorrow for him. For the fact he's had to be alone recently, you feel guilty. He'll live though, you always come home to him. You sat down on your comfy couch, your phone in hand. You'd just wait til Joel messages back, or until you hear his car pull in. You didn't want to sit in the kitchen any longer.

On the dot, ten at night exactly, your phone buzzed as you received a message from Joel. You waited a couple seconds, per usual, before pressing the message and viewing it. This message was a tad bit longer, you reread it a few times, happy with the fact it was longer than the others he has sent before this. The message read,

"Just got home. Let me check on Sarah, then you can come over, so I would say five minutes. Don't forget those snacks and drinks, just sit on the swing out back, wait for me there, yeah? See you in a minute darlin'."

Such a cute message.

You had already figured he'd check on Sarah first and as he should, he's a wonderful father from what you have seen so far and Sarah appears to be a sweet young little lady, you're grateful to have already met her. You also didn't know until just now that he had a swing out back, that would be fun. At least now you know that a movie night is checked off of the list since you two will be outside rather than in.

Getting up off of the couch, you doubled check to make sure Becker had food and water in his bowl; He'll be a whiney baby without both. You'd try to be home before midnight, you have no clue if you work tomorrow, they told you that weekends would be off and on - You didn't mind. You decided to just message back, letting him know you saw his first.

"Okay, see you soon Joel."

You made sure your phone was strictly set in the back pocket of your jeans, not wanting it to slip out at all. You also grabbed the snacks and drinks, managing to carry all of it in your hands. It was not the most efficient way, but it got the job done and that is all that matters. You chose to just wait on your porch til it was time. "I'll see you soon babyboy." You whispered to Becker, puckering your lips and making a few kissing noises. He just stuck his tongue out and ran back to the couch. "Crazy dog." You snickered out as you opened the front door, then closed it.

Outside, the air felt thin. It was more cold outside than hot, the occasional breeze hitting your face. The sound of crickets and owls could be heard in the distance, along with cicadas which were so very annoying. The other day before you went into work, you found a cicada shell on the hood of your car - Scary. Your phone read 10:03 now, so you began to make way to his place. You'd just have to cut past the fence and into his backyard, then you'd be able to see the swing you have yet to ever see.

As you treaded across the street, out of the corner of your eye you saw a light in his house switch off. You're assuming Sarah's light since it was upstairs, Joel must be making his way down now. Beneath you, you could hear the grass crunching and the sidewalks scratchy, gravel sound. You were almost tiptoeing now, feeling like a teenager sneaking out all over again. But alas, you're a young adult with your actual own free will now. You could do anything - With limits, of course.

You cut through Joel's backyard, taking a glance and scanning the area. He must've meant the swing that was resting on his back porch. It looked cozy and sturdy enough, good on him for choosing it to be where you'd both relax. You strolled up to it, staying as quiet as possible. You don't know if whether or not Sarah knows you're coming over, but in case Joel wants it to be just between you two, you tried your best not to be rowdy. Young girls, especially daddy's girls, can hate to share their father.

You'd understand if Sarah was that way. Not that she'd need to worry, it's not like you and Joel are going out. A child's imagination can fly anywhere, especially one who has a high maturity level such as Sarah.

With a soft sigh, you sat down on the swing. It creaked slightly, the sound was a bit eerie. You sat crisscross, you found it more comfortable that way. You waited for Joel to come out the back sliding door, you waited very patiently. As you waited, you set the food down, along with the drinks, hopefully he'll like what you brought over.

The moon was directly in front of where you were sitting, the sight was gorgeous. Not to mention, stars were scattered all along the sky, taking their places as always. You always preferred the sky either at night or when the crack of dawn strikes. It's always beautiful outside. If it was normal, you'd decide to get married at night, just beneath the dark sky, it would be so lovely. You aren't worried about marriage yet though. You are still in your prime.

Whilst you were deep in thought, you heard the back door slide open. Your head shot towards it, a cute smile playing on your lips when you seen Joel. He smiled back, rather a smirk. "Hey sweet thing." "Hi Joel." You replied, he sounded tired, he probably had a rough day at work. "How are you?" "I'm alright, happy to see you though. How about you?" "I'm okay and me too, been waiting." You chuckled, heaving as he took a seat beside you, the weight of the swing increased.

"How's that dog of yours?" "Becker? Great. Just being his usual self. How's Sarah?" "She's doin' just fine, she was awake when I got home, had her right back to bed." Joel snickered, glancing at the food and drinks you brought. "What did ya get?" He asked you. You turned your head and let out a hum before talking. "I got some chips and cheese crackers. A beer for you, soda for me." You voiced, placing the chips and crackers between the two of you, then handing Joel his beer.

"Ah, smart girl." Joel chuckled, cracking the cold can open and holding onto it. "This is that good kind too." He added on. "Why didn't you get yourself a beer?" "Not much of a drinker, I also plan to sleep once we're done, so." "That's alright, you do you." He shot you a quick grin before sipping his beer again. You wanted to ask him why he wanted you to bring snacks and drinks and why exactly he wanted you here at ten, on a Friday. You were very curious.

"So... Joel," You began, drinking some of your pop. "May I ask you some things?" "Shoot." Joel gave you a friendly nod. You gazed at him momentarily, finding it awfully hard to pull your eyes away from him. He looked roughened up, moreso today than ever. It was attractive to say the least. "First off, why did you want me here, today, at this time?" You wondered. "To be quite frank, it's when Sarah is usually in bed, plus I figured you wouldn't tomorrow." He stated. Reasonable enough.

"Okay and why did you suggest I bring some treats? Was it just because?" "Oh, well, that gets me to my point." Joel chuckled, reaching into the pocket of his well worn, stained jeans. The way he did it was so hot, your eyes kept wandering to places they shouldn't have. He pulled out what appeared to be a thick joint, weed, you were stunned. "Say darlin', you ever smoke?" "I mean, once or twice." Truthful. You smoked somewhat in college, but it was always through a pen.

He laughed at your words, not necessarily believing you. He always took you for more of the goodie two shoes type. "It's been a damn rough week for me, I bet for you too, I figure we light it up and get high, you want to or nah?" He questioned you, his Southern accent really pulling through there. You were surprised, honestly. You didn't take Joel for a smoker, a drinker sure, but not a smoker. You hope he doesn't smoke cigarettes, those are nasty. So gross.

"Gee, I haven't smoked in forever." You giggled, your eyes glaring down the joint, it was a fat one, packed real well. "Did you roll it yourself?" "Bought it off a buddy of mine, he sells, seems to make good money therefore I'd assume good weed too." You can't even recall the last time you smoked. You wish you could for this exact moment. "Can I see it?" "Take it." He passed it to you. You took it, the immediate smell of marijuana flowing up to your nose, it's been awhile for sure.

"Looks good." "It is good, promise." He swore to you. Hell, why not? It's been years and besides, you trust Joel and his words. It won't be bad at all. "Sure, what could go wrong? Do you have a lighter?" "That's my girl, I sure do." Joel snorted, taking the blunt back in between his index and his thumb. "I'll take the first hit, let you know if it's good." You shook your head up and down in reply, you truly trust his opinions. As he lit it up, you decided to be honest. "I've only ever smoked through pens." Joel's concentrated eyes focused on the joint as he spoke, "Oh yeah?" "Yeah."

After the paper and weed caught fire, he pulled it away from the lighter, taking a good gander at it before setting the joint between his lips. Joel took a large exhale in, letting all of it delve into his lungs before he pulled it out, letting the smoke come out through his nose. You watched intently the whole time, somewhat in a trance as you stared at him. You didn't realize Joel could get more attractive, yet here you are, believing so.

He seemed to have enjoyed it, no complaints yet or maybe at all. You are a tad bit timid; It's just you haven't done this in so long. What if it gets to the point where you just cannot stop coughing? That'd be a bummer.

"So? How is it?" "Tastes good, not to rough either, think you'll like it, c'mon, give er a shot." His voice was so soft whenever he spoke to you. Does he speak this way to everyone? "Thanks." You mumbled beneath your breath as you took the blunt. You just chose to wing it. You set the thing between your lips, taking a decent drag and then blowing it out through your lips. The grey, smokey smoke quickly disintegrated, as if it had never existed.

Joel was correct - It wasn't bad at all. Tasted sweet, it was weird. All the weed you had in school tasted the exact same, this was an entirely new world for you. "Good?" "Very." You cleared your throat, handing it back to him. "You take it well." He hummed, hitting off of it again. The way he said that made you melt. Any sort of approval from this man was highly welcomed.

"It's been so long." You chuckled out, watching Joel as he let out the smoke. "I smoke here and there, mainly when Sarah is already in bed, she don't even know I do." "Wow, really?" "Not at all, girl would hound me about it if she did." He snickered, handing it back to you now. You took a graceful hit, not even an ounce of a scratchy feeling in your throat occured. "Man, I'm surprised, usually I am non stop hacking." "My buddy makes some good herb, he's been doin' this a long, long time." Joel explained. "Well, he's good." You smiled, handing it back to him.

You weren't looking at Joel, but rather downwards as you smiled. You found yourself enjoying this evening very much. Any time you come home after doing something fun, it's so difficult to sleep because it is all that's roaming through your mind. You lifted your head back up and noticed Joel's dark eyes were fixated on you, a grin on his face whilst he smoked. "You got a pretty smile." He murmured, maintaining eye contact with you as he took a drag.

You giggled slightly, blushing immensely from his compliment. You hoped that under the dark night, he wouldn't take notice of your rosey, smooth cheeks. "You think so?" "Mhm." He responded, coughing slightly as he passed the joint back over to you. "Thanks." Your eyes twinkled while you stared at him. It was safe to say that around Joel, you feel all sorts of ways. No one back home made you feel like this. It was totally new. You'd never met a man like him, he was different in the most amazing way possible.

Breathing in deeply, you felt the smoke linger in your throat and mouth as it exhaled through your nostrils and out into the windy night air. You shivered slightly, not fully expecting the breeze. Joel took notice of it. "Let me go inside and grab us a blanket, yeah?" "Okay, thank you." You eyed him as he stood up, briskly walking into the house and very shortly after, coming back out. He had medium sized plaid blanket, it'd work for the two of you to share.

"Alrighty." He grunted, plopping back down and covering you up first, then himself. The blanket simply rested on your guy's laps. You two were also sitting quite close together. It was cozy, the two of you all alone beneath the brave sky before you. You were happy you got to experience this. You wonder how your life would be currently if Joel wasn't even your neighbor. Probably be a whole lot different, not as anticipating, that's for sure.

Out of no where, not even a peep to be heard, you began to laugh, uncontrollably. It was absolutely so random. You tossed your head back, your giggles filling the air as you laughed effortlessly. Joel looked at you, a sparkle in his eyes as he did. He knew what was going on. You were stoned, out of this world stoned. Higher than a kite even. You snorted, covering your mouth and snickering. "I can't- I can't stop." You laughed out your words. Joel began to chuckle with you, being able to control himself unlike you.

"You got a case of perma grin. Don't worry, it oughta go away soon." He laughed, his arm around the chair as the swing swung. "Oh my Gosh." You laughed harder, hiding your face in your hands. Joel just kept watching you, enthralled like never before. Oh how pretty he found you to be. "Let it out sunshine." He bellowed, his pearly whites flashing. That was the first time you ever saw him truly let out a smile in front of you.

"Forgive me." You giggled, tears forming in your eyes from how much you were tittering. "That's alright, you got high for the first time in awhile, I ain't surprised." He said softly. You felt his hand touch your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you. You smiled whilst laughing at you scooted closer to him, placing your head on his shoulder. "It's been way too long." "Maybe we gotta do this again another time." "Most definitely." You responded.

You were shocked that he wrapped his arms around you. The warm embrace felt nice, you glady accepted it. Within the proximity of Joel's backyard, you could hear the wildlife as if it were only feet away. The night was rather young and so calm, you were enjoying this more than you intended on. Joel's arm around you was glorious, you felt on top of the world. You wonder everyday how he feels for you. If you're the only one developing feelings, you'll feel like a total fool.

"This is nice." Sure is." Joel replied, slurping some of his beer. "Time is it?" Joel questioned you. You pulled your phone out, it was fifteen minutes after ten. "10:15, guess I didn't realize that much time went by." "Time goes by when you're having fun." Joel stated the iconic saying. He wasn't wrong.

"Wanna come inside? We can continue smokin' in there, or watch a movie, I don't care what it is we do, it's just nice to get a damn break, especially one with you." Joel spoke, you heard him curse to himself beneath his breath afterwards. It was silly, hearing him talk somewhat romantic. You pulled away with a glimmer. "Yeah, of course. I don't think I can do a movie tonight but smoking and eating some of these snacks would be nice." "Great... C'mon now." Joel let you go, standing up and opening the door.

You walked through first, carrying everything. He then walked in behind you.

What a great night so far.

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