#so afraid she’d just disappear at any moment

[girl4music]

“It's quick and effortless and beautiful and you know this is more desperation and continuation than a whole thing, a new position for a new overwhelming emotion, but there's poetry in that too. She’s pulling you into her, pulling you away from the darkness, loving you and moving with you with a ferocity that smooths and fills and repairs the cracks in your distressed soul.”

[entitled-fangirl]

You’re a Stark now.

Cregan Stark x reader

Summary: Cregan and the reader take a trip to the market to spend time away from the Winterfell walls. One vendor gets too aggressive.

Warnings: extra protective Cregan, anger, talk of harsh punishments

Masterlist

…………………………………….

Cregan had woken his still newly-wedded wife to the question of if she would accompany him out of the Winterfell walls.

Any time with him was welcomed by her. He was very busy as the Warden that any moment was precious.

She quickly rose and began to get ready, biting her lip when she still couldn’t retrieve her Stark pin for her cloak. Now three days without, and she’d have to tell him.

But that’s a problem for later.

…

“This is lovely,” Lady Stark commented to the merchant as she neared the small table.

Cregan had disappeared to the blacksmith, trusting her under her guards gaze until he returned.

Her finger grazed over the top of one of the handmade arrows before the merchant’s voice chipped up, “careful.”

She jumped a bit, created the smallest of nicks on her finger, but it still oozed blood just the same.

The man huffed, “Can’t ya read the damn sign?”

She looked up with wide eyes to the sign that laid on one of the tables. Her eyes scanned it, but it made no sense to her. Now was not the time to admit to her people that she couldn’t read the common tongue. Her cheeks flushed red, “my sincerest apologies. I meant no harm.”

“Whatever, girl.” He huffed lightly.

She turned back to look at her guard, Ser Martin. He always stayed far enough for her to enjoy herself, but not too far as to not intervene when needed. But he hardly moved when words were said. Only when actions took place. She liked that about him.

She frowned slightly and moved to the merchant’s next table. Atop it laid a tool she had never seen before. A small mallet of some sort and a rather large spike. Multiples of them laid out for sale, and she couldn’t think of a reason to need such a thing. Fearing another scoff, she asked, “What are these exactly?”

The man felt the need to roll his eyes and he laughed mockingly, “What are these?! You can’t be serious!”

Her cheeks couldn’t be more red, “I… I am not Northern. I do not… I do not know much of it, I am afraid.”

The man sneered, “You stupid girl. I wager you’ll freeze your little arse off before winter even comes.”

She felt her eyes water but she held it back. She couldn’t stay there any longer.

She distracted herself at the booth a few down, where a young woman sold seeds and dried petals of various flowers. She chatted with the woman for a while, even making a friend of her.

She helped the Lady of Winterfell pick petals to scent her chambers with and seeds to grow said flowers in the window of her chambers, swearing that they lived through the cold.

She thanked the woman kindly before turning around, directly into a broad chest.

When she felt a familiar hand around her waist and chuckle, she relaxed into Cregan.

He bent down to her ear with a low voice, “have you enjoyed yourself?”

She looked to him and nodded lightly, “I… I have.”

He smirked just barely, “Ser Martin tells me you have made many friends.”

“I suppose I have,” she answers truthfully.

“I have finished my business at the smith. Are you ready to journey back, or is there still things you must see?” His hand began to trace up and down her back through the cloak.

“I am at your whim, Cregan.”

His other hand came up to her chin, “Let us lazily return then. I’m afraid I have not had the chance to make friends as you have.”

She nodded and pulled away, “I’d like that.”

The two journeyed back ever so slowly with interlinked arms, pointing to each table with their favorite oddities on it, even stopping at a few now that Cregan had become interested.

Cregan seemed entirely fixed chatting with a vendor about maces when her eyes wandered a bit up the road.

She pulled on his sleeve with a soft voice, “Cregan.”

He immediately gave his attention to her and bent down to her and spoke softly, “yes, my love?”

She furrowed her brows, “I was curious about something I saw earlier. Can… can you tell me what it is?”

His brows furrowed in turn, “I suppose I can. Where did you see it?”

She pointed up the road to a few tables down.

He nodded and looked back to her, “Go ahead and I’ll meet you there. Let me finish here, sweet girl.”

She let go of his sleeve and bowed her head lightly to the vendor in an apology of the interruption.

She quickly made her way up the road to the same vendor that had been so rude to her earlier, but she hoped Cregan’s eventual presence would help ease the tension. She wanted so desperately to understand the tool she had seen.

But the man’s eyes were already set on her.

He immediately moved out into the street to meet her halfway, “Go on, girl. Take your pretty fur coat and go on! I’ve no business for you here.”

She paused in confusion. She really hadn’t thought she’d angered him that awfully. “I-“

“-ya what?” He stepped closer to her and reached out to touch her shoulder. “I won’t have no silly girl that-“

“-Touching my bride like that is an act of war, Bolton.” She didn’t need to see Cregan to know exactly what was happening. He was behind her with a tightly clenched jaw and a hand on the sword still held in its sheath.

The man immediately stopped all words from his mouth and seemed to be in a daze.

Cregan gave a vicious smile, “I would suggest you remove your hand from her before I remove it entirely from your body.”

The words registered and the man moved away as if he’d been burned, “My deepest apologies, my lord. I… I didn’t know…. She had no sigil on her cloak.”

She didn’t have the heart to turn to Cregan and see his reaction to her loss of pin.

Cregan’s hand wrapped around her from behind and pushed her backwards as he stepped around her. He now stood in front of her protectively. “And here I believed you wanted Stark patronage.” He scoffed, “If that is not the case, say so, rather than turning your Lady of Winterfell away in the streets.”

Only then did she looked around and take in the fact that everyone in the street was staring.

But Cregan couldn’t have cared less.

The man held his hands out, “Lord Stark, I am honored to have your patronage. I… I simply did not know. She…” he pointed to the woman tucked away safely behind Cregan, “She was being reckless-“

“-Reckless? How so?”

The man paled but knew he had to continue what he’d started. “She disobeyed the signs and… and then did not know what an ice pick was-“

“I don’t care if your Lady of Winterfell asks for your left eye, I expect you to take it from your socket gladly!” Cregan’s voice raised angrily, “and you’ve made her feel like a fool in her own lands!” His gripped on his sword tightened in deep thought, “Perhaps I should take your hand as payment.”

Her hand shoots out to Cregan’s back, a silent plea to not take things too far. He reacts to it almost immediately, relaxing himself with a deep sigh.

The man becomes hysterical, “Please! Please, my lord! I will do anything!”

“Cregan-“ her voice finally broke out.

He growled under his breath in thought before finally speaking again, “Apologize.”

The man looked up, “m…my lord?”

Cregan grunted, “Apologize.”

Bolton nodded, “I am most sincere in my apologies, my lord. I was wrong. So painfully wrong-“

“Beg for it.” Cregan growled.

The vendor paused for a moment before he dropped to his knees shamefully, “I will do anything. I am sorry-“

“And not to me.” Cregan grunted again. His arm moved behind her to pull his bride from behind him to now directly in front of him. He pulled her tightly to him, her back against his firm chest. He bent his head down to the side of her head, his voice low and dangerous, “to her.”

She was at a complete loss for words. She knew Cregan was gruff and demanding, honorable and proud, but she had never seen him so angered. He looked like a wolf ready to devour anything that stepped too close.

And all for her.

The man pleaded and whined and begged for her forgiveness immediately and she nodded. Cregan gave a light “tsk” in her ear before speaking softly to her, “make him work for it.”

She turned her head to him in confusion.

He spoke again, “you’re accepting because you feel empathetic. What do you want him to do for you to truly earn your forgiveness?” When she doesn’t answer he chips in, “It’s hard to earn, and rightfully so. Especially from a sweet girl like you.”

“I don’t want anything,” she finally says.

Cregan’s smirk returns, “that’s why you’re mine.”

He straights up to address the man, “Your lady has forgiven you, and so has Winterfell now.” He looks to the crowd and back to the man with a light sneer, “and Bolton? Thank the gods tonight that she is so forgiving.”

He immediately pulls her along with him, not bothering to stop at anything else after the scene they had caused.

His anger was still too great to be out in society and he needed something to take it out on.

The horse ride back was tense and awkward. She knew he wasn’t angry with her, but she wasn’t sure what to say or how to fix it, and so she didn’t.

The two even separated once inside Winterfell. She went to their chambers and Cregan went immediately to the training yard.

She watched from the balcony for a while. He beat away at a dummy with a wooden sword, clearly in an unapproachable state.

…

Supper was equally quiet. The two stared at each other from across the table.

Finally, Cregan spoke, “How are you so easily pleased?”

She tilted her head, “I’m sorry?”

“Earlier. You forgave him so easily.”

“Well, he was sorry.”

“Not enough,” Cregan continued. “I would have made him do far worse”

“It was not worth-“

“-Do not tell me what it was worth, love!” He slammed his fist down. “If he had embarrassed me, I would have taken his tongue. But he didn’t. He did it to you.” His voice turned to iron, “I should have made him worship the ground you stand on.”

“Cregan, I hold no grudge over it.”

“There it is again,” he almost laughed in frustration. “You are too kind, my love.”

“The only frustration I hold over it now is towards you.”

His brows raise, “Me?”

She sat her glass down on the table, “You are the only one still in flames about it. I wanted to enjoy a day out of Winterfell with you.”

He took that like a hit. He clenched his jaw and sighed, calming himself. “You’re right. I’ve been too hard on you. On everyone. Let me try again today?”

She knew she could never hold a grudge against him, “of course.”

He smiled at her, “Thank you.”

The silence grew into a comfortable one now and she was the one to break it. “I have a confession.”

He looked up to her as he ate, “oh?”

“It is rather embarrassing and I do not wish for you to be upset with me.”

“I am never upset with you,” he quickly countered. “Out with it.”

She sat straighter in her chair, “I lost the sigil you gave me. The one for my cloak.”

Silence grew.

She tried to reason, “I’ve misplaced it. I promise I shall find it again. I shouldn’t have set it down and I am most sorry-“

She stopped when she heard his light chuckles from across the table. “What? Why do you mock me?”

He quickly held a hand out and collected himself, “I do not mock you, sweet girl. I’m simply surprised it took you so long to tell me.”

She stuttered, “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

Cregan looked up to one of the servants, “Bring the new one for me, will you?”

The Lady of Winterfell simply stared in embarrassed confusion.

So, Cregan began to explain, “When I wedded you, beautiful, I did not have time to have a pin of your own crafted for your cloak, so I gave you one of mine temporarily.”

She nodded, trying to see where he was going with the story.

“That is why I was at the black smith today. They’ve created all my best ones and I only thought it fair that you deserve the best. I took the one you had been wearing to them to be replicated. They managed to finish it today and I retrieved it.”

“That is why we were out today?” She asked.

He smiled, “entirely. That and I suppose…” he tilted his head back and forth, “when the North manages to see the sun, I like to see you in it.”

She grew a smile.

The servant returned with a cloth in hand, setting it on the table next to Y/n.

The woman took it and unwrapped it, revealing the finely decorated pin for her cloak.

Her eyes widened and she smiled, “Cregan, this is quite beautiful, but I loved yours all the same.”

He chuckled, “I know that, pretty, but you deserve your own. You are a Stark now.”

Her eyes met his dark ones, “that I am.”

………………………………….

[starsjulia]

angel chapter two // the diagnosis

leah williamson x child!reader

masterlist

a/n : all the chapters are around 1000 words, so sorry about that, but i have a few longer ones in the works

warnings : medical talk, medical equipment, cancer, brain tumor, the whole lot honestly

The headaches had started out as a minor annoyance—nothing more than the occasional discomfort that Leah thought was part of growing up. Angel would clutch her head with a little frown, but a bit of rest seemed to do the trick each time. Leah told herself it was nothing serious, just the tiredness of a child who loved to do everything at full speed. Angel was always running, always laughing, always eager to squeeze every last drop out of each day. But then came the dizziness.

It happened one morning when Leah was making breakfast. She’d turned away for just a moment to flip a pancake when she heard the soft thud behind her. Spinning around, she saw Angel sitting on the kitchen floor, a look of confusion in her big blue eyes.

“What happened, darling?” Leah asked, rushing over to scoop her daughter up, her heart beating just a little faster than normal.

“I don’t know,” Angel replied, rubbing her forehead. “I just felt… funny.” She shrugged, then nestled closer to her mum, as if trying to brush off the incident.

Leah held Angel close, her fingers running through the little girl’s curls. “You’re okay, love,” she murmured, though a twinge of worry had already begun to creep in. “Maybe you just stood up too fast.”

But over the next few days, the headaches grew more frequent, and sometimes Angel would complain of her vision going blurry. It wasn’t like her to be so quiet or tired, not when she usually sprang out of bed at the crack of dawn. One day after practice, Angel had even fallen asleep on the bench at the pitch—a place she would normally be buzzing with excitement.

Leah knew then that it was time to stop brushing it off. She scheduled an appointment with their family doctor, trying to stay calm as she explained the symptoms. They ran some tests, but when the results came back inconclusive, the doctor recommended a specialist to look deeper. Leah did her best to stay positive, to keep her voice steady as she reassured Angel that it was all just a check-up.

The specialist ordered an MRI, a word that sounded far too serious to Leah. Still, she kept a smile on her face, one that grew tighter as she watched her little girl lay inside the noisy machine. Angel’s tiny frame seemed to disappear beneath the vast, cold metal, and for the first time, Leah felt truly afraid. She didn’t know why yet, didn’t even know if she had any reason to be. But a mother’s instinct is powerful, and something deep in her chest tightened painfully.

The call came just two days later. Leah had been folding the washing when the phone rang, the number flashing on the screen a reminder of the doctor’s visit she’d tried not to think too much about. The doctor’s voice was gentle but strained, and in just a few words, Leah’s world cracked open.

“Miss Williamson… we found a tumor on Angel’s brain. It’s… it’s quite large. We’ll need to start treatment immediately.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur—a jumble of medical jargon, treatment plans, and reassurances that Leah could hardly process. All she could think about was that one word: tumor. It lodged itself in her mind, refusing to budge, as she sank onto the floor, the phone slipping from her hand. It felt like the room was closing in around her, the walls pressing tighter and tighter until she could hardly breathe.

How was she supposed to tell Angel? Her sweet, brave little girl, who didn’t even know what cancer was, let alone that she was about to start a fight for her life.

Leah had to pull herself together. Angel was due home from school in half an hour, and she needed to be the strong one now. She needed to find a way to explain this without shattering the world Angel knew.

When Angel came through the door, her backpack bouncing on her tiny shoulders, Leah knelt down to greet her, wrapping her in a hug that was perhaps a little too tight.

“Guess what, darling?” Leah said, forcing her voice to stay cheerful as she stroked Angel’s hair. “We’ve got another special appointment soon. The doctors just want to take extra good care of you.”

“Like at the hospital?” Angel asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. “I didn’t like that big noisy machine.”

“I know, love,” Leah whispered, swallowing hard. “But this time it’ll be different. They’ll help make the headaches go away, okay?”

Angel tilted her head, sensing something in her mum’s voice that she couldn’t quite understand. “Will you be with me the whole time?” she asked softly.

“Every single second,” Leah promised, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. She wasn’t going to cry—not in front of Angel. “And so will Grandma and Grandpa, and Auntie Wally, and all of your friends from the team. We’re all going to help you feel better.”

Leah wished she could have given her daughter a clearer picture of what was coming next, but how could she? She didn’t even know what lay ahead herself. The doctors spoke of chemotherapy, surgeries, long hospital stays, and possible complications with a clinical detachment that Leah found almost unbearable. Every step of the plan felt like it was filled with a million different ways things could go wrong.

The first round of chemotherapy began two weeks later, and Leah felt a cold, helpless anger build inside her as she watched Angel’s little body endure the harsh treatment. It wasn’t fair that such a young child should have to suffer like this. When Angel lost her appetite, Leah would sit beside her for hours, coaxing her to take just one bite of her favorite pudding. When the nausea hit, Leah would rub Angel’s back and whisper soothing words, trying to comfort her in ways that didn’t seem enough.

Still, Angel showed a strength that took Leah’s breath away. Even on the days when she was too tired to get out of bed, she would look up at Leah with that same bright spark in her eyes, the one that had always made her seem so much older than her years. “We’re gonna beat this, right, Mummy?” she’d say, her voice no louder than a whisper. “Like when we win at football?”

“Yes, love,” Leah would reply, her heart clenching as she kissed Angel’s forehead. “exactly like that.”

After one particularly rough day, Leah found herself sitting in her car outside the hospital, her head resting against the steering wheel as she tried to gather the strength to go back inside. She hated feeling so powerless, hated that no matter how much she loved her daughter, she couldn’t just take this burden from her and bear it herself. For the first time in a long while, Leah allowed herself to cry, her shoulders shaking with the weight of it all.

When she returned to Angel’s room, she found her daughter asleep, clutching the small stuffed lion that Alessia had brought over earlier that week. The toy had been a favorite since it arrived, and Angel had named it “Little Leo” after her mum. Leah sat down in the chair beside the bed and took Angel’s hand in hers, marveling at how small and delicate it seemed. She had once thought of Angel as invincible, her laughter strong enough to ward off any shadow. Now, Leah knew just how fragile and precious life could be.

In that quiet room, with the hum of medical equipment in the background, Leah made a silent promise to herself and to Angel. She would fight for her daughter with everything she had. She would be the rock that Angel needed, no matter how rough the road ahead became. Because that was what a mother did—she protected her child, even if it meant standing firm in the face of the unimaginable.

[carpenterscupid]

taken - one direction old man!logan x f!reader

word count: 800

Logan stood in the shadows, watching as she laughed, her smile brighter than he had ever seen. It was a rare sight, one that used to belong to him, but now she was in the arms of someone else. The man she was with had his arm draped around her shoulder, a gentle touch that spoke of comfort and familiarity. Logan felt a pang in his chest, a sensation he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for a long time.

She had been there for him, always. He remembered the nights she would wait, hoping he’d let her in, begging for a chance he never seemed willing to give. He could still see her on those cold nights, sitting on his doorstep, her eyes filled with a kind of hope that only left her more vulnerable to heartbreak. Logan had convinced himself it was for the best, that shutting her out was the right thing to do. But now, seeing her with someone else, he realised how wrong he had been.

Her laughter echoed in his ears, taunting him, a sound that was no longer his to claim. It was as if the universe was mocking him for finally waking up, now that it was too late. He had pushed her away so many times, believing she’d always be there, but she had finally moved on. And as she leaned into the other man’s touch, Logan’s heart twisted with regret.

She glanced in his direction, her gaze meeting his for just a moment. There was no anger there, no bitterness—just a quiet resolve that cut deeper than anything she could have said. He knew that look; it was the same one she had given him the last time she begged him to let her in, and he had turned away.

Now, she was the one who had moved on, and it was Logan who was left wanting. He had heard through the grapevine that she was with someone else, but he hadn’t believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. She was happy—happier than she had ever been with him. That realisation hurt more than any physical wound he had endured.

Logan’s mind flashed back to all the times he had shut her out, pretending not to care, ignoring the way she made him feel. He had convinced himself he was protecting her, but now he could see the truth: he had been protecting himself. He had been afraid to let her in, afraid of what she might see if she got too close. But in the process, he had pushed away the one person who saw him for who he was, and who still wanted him despite it all.

The memory of her voice echoed in his head, the words she had said to him the last time they spoke. “You only want me when I’m taken.” He hadn’t understood what she meant back then, but now it was painfully clear. Seeing her with someone else, he couldn’t deny it—he wanted her because she was no longer his to have. The thought made him sick, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it. He had been selfish, holding onto the idea of her without ever giving her the love she deserved.

As he stood there, watching her with this new man, Logan felt a wave of guilt crash over him. She had been right all along. He didn’t really want her heart; he just liked knowing he could break it. But she wasn’t his to break anymore, and he had no one to blame but himself.

For a moment, she looked back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips—a smile that was sad but resolute, as if to say, Thank you for showing me who you really are. It wasn’t a smile meant to hurt him, but it hurt all the same. And then, just like that, she turned back to the man beside her, and Logan knew he had lost her for good.

The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut. He had spent so much time pushing her away, thinking he was protecting her, when all he had done was push her into the arms of someone who was willing to do what he couldn’t. And now, as he watched her walk away, hand in hand with someone else, Logan knew he had no one to blame but himself.

The thought was almost unbearable, but he forced himself to watch until they disappeared from sight. Maybe this was his punishment, he thought, to see her happy without him, knowing he had no right to ask for another chance.

[brainddeadd]

He Never Will

the song

Luke watched her from across the table, his heart sinking as she recounted yet another story of how her boyfriend had let her down. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been here, listening to her vent about another guy who didn’t see her for who she really was. Luke knew he wasn’t perfect, but it tore him up every time she looked at him with those sad eyes, asking him why things never seemed to work out.

Tonight, he couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer.

“Why do you even put up with this, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I mean, if he doesn’t know what he’s got by now… he never will.”

She sighed, picking at the edge of her napkin. “It’s not that simple, Luke. I just keep thinking… maybe he’ll change, you know? Maybe he’ll finally realize what he has.”

Luke clenched his jaw, the words he’d been holding back slipping out. “If he doesn’t know what he wants by now, he won’t until it’s too late. And you deserve so much more than waiting around for someone who might never get it.”

She looked up at him, a little surprised at the intensity in his tone. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, but he couldn’t stop. Not this time.

“Y/N,” he said gently, “why are you settling for somebody who treats you like… like you’re just someone he can live without? Don’t you see that you deserve someone who would never be able to let you go?”

She stared at him, a flicker of realization crossing her face, but she quickly looked away, as if afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

“It’s just… it’s complicated, Luke,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s not that complicated.” His voice softened as he leaned closer. “He’ll only know what he’s lost when he’s all alone. And by then, it’ll be too late. You don’t have to try so hard for someone who doesn’t even see how lucky he is to have you.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening, but she didn’t pull away. “I guess… I guess I just keep hoping he’ll change.”

Luke’s heart ached, but he pushed down the frustration, focusing instead on her. “Maybe you’re just holding on to the idea of who you want him to be, not who he actually is.”

Silence hung between them, the weight of his words settling around them. She looked at him, and he could see the hurt, the hope, and maybe—just maybe—a hint of something he’d been longing to see for so long.

“Why do you even care so much, Luke?” she asked softly.

His heart raced, but he didn’t look away. “Because I’m sick of seeing you get hurt. Because… you deserve someone who’ll see you for who you are and treat you right. Not somebody who keeps making you wonder if you’re good enough.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for the first time, he saw the spark of understanding in her eyes. The truth he’d kept hidden for so long was right there between them, finally exposed.

“Luke…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t keep watching you wait for someone who won’t change. You don’t have to settle for that. Not when there’s someone who already sees everything that makes you… you.”

She blinked, a tear slipping down her cheek, and he reached out, gently brushing it away. In that moment, the distance between them disappeared. She leaned into his touch, and he saw it—the realization, the acceptance, and the spark he’d been waiting for.

“Luke,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I think… I’ve been waiting for you all along.”

He smiled, a mix of relief and joy flooding him as he gently cupped her face, drawing her close. “Then don’t wait anymore,” he murmured before closing the distance between them, his lips finally meeting hers in a kiss that felt like home.

In that moment, he knew—she’d finally let go of the ones who couldn’t see her, and he’d finally found the courage to show her that he had seen her all along.

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XI

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Valaena and Aemond reunite with their family, and tensions rise at dinner.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Dragons, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V, Cock Warming.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 6480

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Rhaenyra paced the now-empty council chamber, her footsteps echoing softly as she fiddled with her rings.

Nearly six years had passed since Silverwing and Vhagar had been presumed lost in the waters of Shipbreaker Bay, carrying Aemond and her beloved daughter, Valaena, to their deaths.

The pain of losing Valaena had been an agony like no other—her sweet, spirited girl, taken so young, her life snuffed out before it had truly begun.

In the years since, Rhaenyra had found herself drawn to solitude, often seeking the quiet of her balcony to gaze at the stars. She would tell herself that one of them was Valaena, watching over her, a gentle light in the dark.

At other times, she’d mount Syrax and fly to Shipbreaker Bay, where she’d stand on the shore and stare at the waves, willing them to give her back her child.

For a moment, she would almost believe that if she stood there long enough, she would see her daughter walking toward her, stepping out of the mist and foam.

Now, with news of Silverwing and Vhagar sighted over Blackwater Bay, a swirl of hope and dread filled her heart.

What if it wasn’t Valaena? What if someone else had claimed her daughter’s beloved Silverwing?

She didn’t want to open her heart to hope, only to have it torn apart again. She would not survive it.

A soft knock at the door shattered her thoughts. She swallowed, her hands trembling as she composed herself.

“Come in,” she managed, her voice wavering.

The door opened slowly, and as Rhaenyra looked up, her heart stopped. Valaena stood there, framed in the doorway, alive and real.

Rhaenyra couldn’t breathe, frozen as she took in the sight of her daughter—the daughter she’d mourned, who now stood before her as if she’d never left.

Valaena seemed taller now, her features a blend of the girl Rhaenyra had lost and the woman she had become.

Wordlessly, Rhaenyra stepped forward, her hand reaching out, her fingers quivering as they brushed against Valaena’s shoulder.

The touch was solid and warm, and Rhaenyra’s breath hitched as she felt the reality of her child beneath her fingers.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re real.”

Valaena took her mother’s hand gently, grounding her. “Yes, Mama. I’m real, and I’m home.”

In a heartbeat, Rhaenyra pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace, sobs wracking her as she held Valaena as tightly as she could.

“My girl,” she gasped, over and over. “My little girl.” She buried her face in Valaena’s hair, inhaling her scent, as if she could somehow imprint it in her heart forever.

Finally, Rhaenyra pulled back just enough to cup Valaena’s face in her hands, her thumbs brushing gently across her cheeks.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Valaena’s own eyes shimmered as she looked at her mother. “I know. I’m so sorry for all the pain I caused you.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her hands still cradling Valaena’s face as if afraid she might disappear if she let go.

“No, my sweet girl. I’m sorry—for making you feel that you couldn’t come to me.”

A shadow passed over Valaena’s face. “Do you hate me?”

Rhaenyra’s heart twisted as she shook her head emphatically. “No, I could never hate you. Perhaps, someday, we’ll speak of all that has happened. But for now-” she took a shaky breath, pressing a tender kiss to Valaena’s brow, “-I’m just so grateful to have you home.”

The two held each other, finding solace in the closeness that they had both longed for over years apart, a fragile, precious reunion sealed with the unbreakable bond that they’d shared since Valaena’s first breath.

Valaena looked at her mother with a soft smile and said, “Would you like to meet your grandchildren?”

Rhaenyra’s face lit up, and she replied, “Please.”

Valaena called out to Aemond, and the door opened as he entered with Rhaegar and Elaena at his side, and little Daenys nestled in his arms.

Valaena gently introduced each child, beginning with, “This is Rhaegar.” He stepped forward, bowing politely.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice steady, though his violet eyes revealed a spark of curiosity.

Then Valaena moved her hand toward her daughter, “And this is Elaena.” The little girl, with her thumb firmly in her mouth, pressed herself shyly against Aemond’s leg, peeking out from behind his cloak.

“And this,” Valaena continued, her voice softer, “is Daenys.” She reached over to stroke Daenys’ cheek, who gazed back with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Rhaenyra’s expression softened as she took in each child, and then she looked up at Aemond, her gaze steady. “Aemond.”

Aemond met her eyes and replied with a curt, “Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “You and I need to have a conversation, but that can wait. For now, may I hold my granddaughter?”

Aemond glanced at Valaena, who nodded her consent. He stepped forward, carefully passing Daenys to Rhaenyra.

As she cradled the baby, Rhaenyra’s face softened even more, her own hands steady as she pressed a gentle kiss to Daenys’ forehead.

She looked into the child’s curious, trusting eyes for a moment before handing her back to Aemond.

Rhaenyra then knelt to Elaena’s level, giving the little girl a warm smile. “Hello, little one. I’m your grandmother.”

Elaena took her thumb out of her mouth, studying Rhaenyra’s face before saying, “You smile like Mama.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Elaena gave a tiny nod, but she still kept close to Aemond, her small hand gripping the edge of his cloak. Rhaenyra rose and turned to Rhaegar, studying him closely. “My, you favour your father in looks,” she said, a gentle smile on her face.

Rhaegar’s expression shifted with a flash of pride, and he said, “Thank you,” his voice small but sincere.

Then Rhaenyra’s gaze drifted to Valaena’s rounded stomach, her eyes widening with realization. “I see I am to have another grandchild.”

Valaena smiled, her hand resting protectively over her belly. “Yes-a surprise, but a welcome one.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened as she replied, “Those are the best kind.” Her gaze drifted over Aemond’s shoulder, noticing two unfamiliar faces standing just behind him.

“Ahh yes-” Valaena said, following her mother’s gaze. “This is Lirri and Arro”

Rhaenyra inclined her head in polite greeting, acknowledging the two who had evidently served her daughter and good son well.

Just then, Daenys began to fuss, her small face creasing. Aemond lifted her onto his shoulder, swaying slightly from side to side, murmuring softly to calm her.

Rhaenyra watched, almost mesmerized, as Aemond soothed his youngest with the practiced ease of a father.

“Mama,” Elaena tugged at Valaena’s dress, her voice soft with exhaustion. “I tired.”

Valaena brushed her hand gently over her daughter’s hair. “You’ll sleep soon, my sweet.”

Rhaenyra took in the scene with a quiet smile, then turned to call for Ser Erryk. He entered swiftly, awaiting her command.

“Ser Erryk, will you escort Valaena, Aemond, and their children to the empty royal chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast? There is ample room for the family and space enough for a nursery. There are also suitable lodgings for Lirri and Arro, as I imagine you would like them to remain in your service.”

Valaena nodded gratefully. “Yes, we would.”

Rhaenyra smiled warmly. “I’ll let you all get settled. And, Aemond-” she said, glancing at him, “I’m sure you’ll want to see your mother and siblings as well.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Aemond replied with a respectful nod.

Rhaenyra inclined her head. “Then let us meet for dinner later.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” Valaena agreed.

As Valaena turned to leave, Rhaenyra felt a surge of emotion she couldn’t quite contain. “Wait,” she called out.

Valaena paused, turning back, and Rhaenyra crossed the room quickly, pulling her into a tight embrace. She whispered softly, “I just wanted to be sure.”

Valaena hugged her mother back, her voice steady and filled with warmth. “I’m here, Mama. I’m here.”

With that, Valaena and Aemond gathered their children and followed Ser Erryk, leaving Rhaenyra alone in the council chamber, her heart brimming with both the joy of reunion and the quiet ache of years lost.

In the quiet of the chamber, Valaena sat back against the cushioned armchair, watching the dim flickering light from the candles cast soft shadows across the walls.

Elaena was already fast asleep on the bed, her small form nestled securely in Lirri's arms. Nearby, Daenys was in Arro's gentle hold, swaddled and calm as he slowly rocked her, humming a low lullaby.

Rhaegar, standing beside Valaena’s chair, looked around the sparsely furnished room, his young brow knitting together.

"It's very dark in here, Mama," he murmured.

Valaena gave him a gentle smile, reaching out to brush a hand through his silver hair. "I know, my love. But once we have our things here, I’m sure it will brighten the place up."

She glanced over at Aemond, who sat in a wooden chair by the door, tapping his fingers restlessly against the armrest.

His gaze kept straying to the doorway, his lips pressed into a thin line of anticipation.

Sensing his urge to go, Valaena spoke softly, “It’s alright, Aemond. If you want to go see your mother, go.”

Aemond turned to her, his expression conflicted. “I don’t wish to leave you alone.”

Valaena chuckled lightly. “I’m not alone. Arro and Lirri are here.” She looked at him with quiet understanding, encouraging him to go.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond finally stood, adjusting the front of his leather jerkin. Just then, Rhaegar tugged on his father’s hand, looking up with a curious expression.

“Where are you going, daddy?”

“To see your grandmother,” Aemond answered gently.

Rhaegar tilted his head in confusion. “But-we just saw her.”

Aemond chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. “You have more than one grandmother.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened with intrigue. “I do?”

Aemond nodded, a faint smile on his face. “And uncles and an aunt as well.”

Rhaegar’s face lit up, and he looked at his mother, clearly eager. “Can I come with you?”

Valaena met Aemond’s gaze, a look of encouragement in her eyes.

Aemond turned back to Rhaegar with a soft smile. “If you want to, yes.”

“I do!” Rhaegar’s face shone with excitement, and he nodded emphatically.

Valaena leaned down and cupped Rhaegar’s face, her expression tender. “Be a good boy, alright?”

“I will, Mama,” Rhaegar promised earnestly.

Aemond stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Valaena’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured. “I love you.”

She smiled, her hand resting over his as he pulled away. “I love you too.”

With a final glance, Valaena watched them leave, Aemond’s protective arm around Rhaegar’s shoulders as they disappeared down the dim corridor.

The door closed softly, leaving the room cloaked in quiet once more.

Aemond and Rhaegar made their way through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, the shadows and hallways stretching out before them.

Rhaegar, small, wide-eyed and unsure, clung tightly to his father’s hand as they walked.

Every now and then, he tugged on Aemond's hand, and at last, he paused, kneeling down to meet his son’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, Rhaegar?” Aemond asked gently.

Rhaegar looked around, glancing nervously at the servants and guards who had stopped to stare as they passed.

"People are staring at us, Daddy."

Aemond gave him a reassuring smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, tresy. They’re looking at me, not you” (Son).

Rhaegar’s brows furrowed as he whispered, “Are you okay, Daddy?”

Aemond’s smile softened. “I will be” He stood and, with a deep breath, took Rhaegar’s hand in his once more.

Together, they walked onward until they arrived before the heavy door of Alicent’s chambers. Aemond raised his hand to knock but hesitated, his fingers curling.

He felt Rhaegar squeeze his other hand and, glancing down at his young son, he smiled—a reminder of his courage.

Steeling himself, Aemond knocked, and a moment later, his mother’s voice called from within, “Come in.”

Opening the door, Aemond’s breath caught. Alicent was sitting by the window beside Helaena, both of them sewing.

At the sight of him, Alicent froze, her needle slipping from her fingers.

“A-Aemond-” she whispered, slowly rising from her seat, disbelief and joy fighting for dominance on her face.

She approached him cautiously, her hand reaching out, as if he might disappear if she moved too quickly.

Gently, she cupped his face, her thumb tracing the scar on his cheek. “I thought you were dead,” she murmured, voice trembling.

Aemond took her hand, squeezing it gently. “No, Mother. I’m alive.”

A relieved smile broke across her face. “Oh, my son-” She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, and Aemond hugged her back, though a bit stiffly.

When she pulled away, her gaze fell on Rhaegar, her eyes widening.

“And who is this little one?” she asked softly.

Aemond’s hand moved to rest on Rhaegar’s shoulder, and with a small, proud smile, he said, “This is my son, Rhaegar.”

Alicent’s eyes filled with fresh tears as she clasped a hand to her mouth. “You have a son,” she whispered in awe.

Aemond nodded. “Yes, I also have two daughters and another child on the way.”

“Oh, Aemond-” Alicent’s smile was luminous. “Is it Valaena? Is she here too?”

Aemond’s eye widened, surprised. “How did you know about—”

Before he could finish, the door burst open, making Rhaegar jump and clutch at Aemond’s leg.

Aegon stumbled into the room, breathless and grinning. “Is it true? They’re saying all over the Keep that Aemond’s alive! Is he really—” He stopped abruptly, eyes falling on his brother.

Aemond bent down to lift Rhaegar protectively into his arms, fixed his older brother with a scowl. “You moron, you scared my son half to death!”

Aegon winced, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I—wait. You have a son?” He looked incredulous.

Aemond sighed, rubbing Rhaegar’s back soothingly. “Yes, you idiot. And you frightened him.”

Aegon’s expression softened as he looked at the boy in Aemond’s arms. “What’s his name?”

“Rhaegar,” Aemond answered.

A broad smile broke across Aegon’s face. “A fine name, brother. Well done.” He clapped Aemond on the back, and Aemond muttered a grudging thanks.

At that moment, Helaena approached, her soft smile calming Rhaegar. Holding out her arms, she silently asked permission to hold him.

To Aemond’s surprise, Rhaegar leaned over willingly, nestling into her as she kissed his cheek and murmured,

“There, there, sweet boy.” Rhaegar, now settled, seemed soothed in her gentle hold.

Aegon then flung his arms around Aemond, his grin a mix of affection and mischief. “You twat, I’ve missed you!”

But Aemond pulled back, wrinkling his nose and teasingly sniffing the air around Aegon. “Gods, you reek of wine. Did you bathe in it?”

“If only,” Aegon quipped, laughing, though Aemond made a face in response.

Just then, Daeron appeared quietly by the doorway. He stepped in cautiously, his eyes shining as he took in the sight of his elder brother.

Aemond nodded politely to him, offering a faint smile. Daeron stepped forward, returning the smile as he clasped Aemond’s shoulder.

“I was barely more than a boy when they sent me to Oldtown and when I returned, you were gone,” he said softly.

Aemond’s gaze warmed, nodding in quiet understanding. “Then mayhaps we can come to know each other as brothers once more.”

Daeron nodded, his voice steady. “I would like that.”

As Alicent watched her children reunited, she couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped from her eyes, pressing a handkerchief to her cheek.

For six long years, she had mourned her favourite son, believing him lost to the sea. And now here he was—returned to her, with his own family.

At last, Aemond was home, surrounded by his mother and siblings, the ghosts of the past slowly beginning to lift.

Rhaegar’s small voice broke through the gentle chatter. “I want to go back to Mama,” he whispered, his hand clutching Helaena’s shoulder.

Helaena smiled warmly and, with a soft kiss to his cheek, handed him back to Aemond.

Aemond held Rhaegar close, nodding to his sister with quiet gratitude. “Thank you for everything, Hellie-” he said.

She smiled; her gaze full of understanding. “I’m just glad that you’re all home.”

Aemond took a breath, shifting his weight as he prepared to leave. “The Queen has invited me and Valaena for dinner later,” he said, “-So I’ll see you all then.”

“Where are you off to now?” Aegon asked, folding his arms with an arched brow.

“Rhaegar wants his mother,” Aemond replied, adjusting his grip on his son. “And I should be heading back anyway—Elaena and Daenys will likely be waking from their naps.”

Aegon blinked, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. “Who are Elaena and Daenys?”

“My daughters,” Aemond said, giving him a wry look.

Aegon let out a laugh, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve certainly been busy, whilst you were dead. So how many children are we talking about here?”

Aemond rolled his eye, scoffing. “Like you can talk. How many silver-haired bastards of yours are running around Flea Bottom?”

Aegon shrugged, grinning. “Not that many, I don’t think-” he trailed off with a smirk, “and you didn’t answer my question.”

With a sigh, Aemond replied, “I have three children, and another on the way.”

Aegon whistled, laughing. “Gods be good, brother!” He clutched his ribs as Aemond, exasperated, jabbed him lightly in the side.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Aemond said, his patience thinning but his smile lingering.

With a final nod to his siblings, he made his way out of the room, Rhaegar cradled securely in his arms.

Rhaegar nestled against him, Aemond strode back through the corridors of the Red Keep, feeling, for the first time in years, like he truly belonged there once more.

As Aemond visited his family, Valaena was busy overseeing the unpacking of their trunks and carefully attending to the wooden crates that housed the dragon hatchlings.

The room was alive with activity—Daenys gurgled contentedly, drooling over her favourite carved wooden toy, while Elaena giggled in delight as Lirri gently tickled her tiny feet.

Meanwhile, Arro was stood on the balcony, admiring the breathtaking view over Blackwater Bay.

Valaena knelt beside the crates, unlatching them and gently coaxing the hatchlings out.

Hūra let out a piercing shriek as she unfurled her wings, stretching before leaping onto the bed to snuggle up next to Elaena, who giggled and stroked her scaly head.

Valerion, the smallest, wasted no time latching onto Valaena’s dress, scrambling his way up to her shoulder as he chirped happily in her ear.

Sapphyre, the largest and most spirited of the trio, lifted his head, sniffed the air, and began to trill urgently as he looked around.

Lirri looked concerned, watching the restless hatchling. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

“It’s a new place,” Valaena explained, brushing a soothing hand over Sapphyre’s scaled neck. “He doesn’t know where Rhaegar is. He’s worried.”

“Oh no-” muttered Lirri

“Dokimarvose, Sapphyre. Lykirī”  but Sapphyre only roared and flapped his wings, rearing up on his hind legs in agitation (Focus, be calm).

“My lady-” muttered Lirri nervously.

With a firmer tone, Valaena held out her hand and commanded, “Dohaerās, Sapphyre” (Serve).

Instantly, Sapphyre’s defiance waned; and he settled down, tilting his head with a questioning gaze.

“Mama-” exclaimed Elaena.

Valaena gently stroked him, murmuring, “Hegnīr valītsos” Sapphyre then moved away and curled up in front of the fire, his golden eyes fixed on the door, waiting (Good boy).

Lirri exhaled in relief. “That was close, my lady.”

Valaena gave a slight nod, her fingers idly trailing along Sapphyre’s scales. “It’s an unfamiliar place to him. Hopefully, Aemond and Rhaegar will be back soon and then he’ll calm down-”

Carefully, Valaena lifted Valerion from her shoulder and placed him on the bed next to Daenys, who immediately reached out to hold his tail in her little hand.

Arro, watching all of this with fascination, finally spoke up. “Should we ask that Sapphyre be taken to join Vhagar and Silverwing? He might feel more comfortable with them.”

“The dragon keepers may not allow that,” Valaena replied, a hint of displeasure in her voice. “They’d likely insist he be taken to the Dragonpit.”

Arro looked puzzled. “What’s the Dragonpit?”

“It’s a building in the city where dragons are kept,” Valaena explained, her tone darkening. “But I don’t like it, the dragons are chained in the dark. I won’t subject Sapphyre to that.”

Arro shook his head, his expression disturbed. “That sounds terrible.”

“I believe it stunts their growth, being chained up and confined like that,” Valaena said, glancing over at the hatchling curled up by the fire.

“Is that why Vhagar is so large?”

“Yes, I believe so-she’s spent many years flying free. Maybe that why they insist on chaining the dragons, to prevent them from growing larger” muttered Valaena rubbing her stomach gently.

“Was there a dragon larger than her?” asked Arro curiously.

“There was. Balerion the black dread, he was the largest dragon who ever lived” replied Valaena.

“Where is he now?”

“He died, during the reign of my great great grandsire King Jaehaerys” said Valaena.

“Oh” said Arro sadly.

“His skull still rests in a chamber below the red keep, I can show you sometime if you like?” suggested Valaena.

“I would like that very much my lady thank you”

“I know how much you like dragons, perhaps I can suggest some books from the library that I think you would enjoy” said Valaena smiling.

“You are very kind-”

Just then, the door opened, and Aemond stepped in, Rhaegar at his side. Sapphyre, upon seeing Rhaegar, let out a low, happy coo as the boy ran to him, stroking the dragon’s head with a joyful smile.

Aemond took in the room, glancing at Valaena. “Is everything alright here?”

She nodded, but her gaze softened as she watched Rhaegar and Sapphyre together. “We’ll talk about it later.”

As the last of their belongings were unpacked and set in place, Valaena and Aemond finally found a quiet moment.

The children were tucked into their respective rooms—Elaena and Daenys sharing a cozy chamber just across the private corridor, and Rhaegar resting in his own little room beside them.

Lirri and Arro were settled in nearby chambers, close enough to keep watch over the little ones if needed.

In their own quarters, Valaena stood in front of the wardrobe, looking frustrated as she held one dress after another up against her naked body, sighing as none of them felt quite right.

Behind her, Aemond was already dressed in his usual black breeches and leather jerkin, an amused smile dancing on his lips as he watched her fuss over her choices.

After a few moments, Aemond got up, moving behind her and sliding his hands over her waist and then gently over her growing stomach.

He leaned down to nuzzle her neck, his lips grazing her skin. “Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he murmured against her ear (My beautiful wife).

She let out a soft laugh as he turned her around, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.

Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers, asking, “What’s troubling you?”

She sighed, glancing at the pile of dresses. “I can’t find an appropriate dress. Nothing fits properly anymore. My breasts have gotten larger, and none of these dresses cover them properly. I don’t want to feel overexposed.” She crossed her arms in exasperation, glancing at him with a half-smile.

Aemond’s lips quirked up as he gently placed his hands on her chest, cupping the weight of her breasts, his thumbs rubbing against her nipples “You won’t get any argument from me,” he teased.

Valaena huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’m serious, Aemond. We’re about to have dinner with our parents for the first time in six years, and none of these will do. Either they’re too revealing, or I feel like I’ll overheat.”

He took a step back and reached into the wardrobe, pulling out a deep, elegant floor-length gown with short sleeves. “What about this one?”

She eyed it thoughtfully. “It’ll have to do, I suppose though it still doesn’t solve the issue with the top.”

“Use the sashes on the back as a wrap,” he suggested. “They should offer some cover-”

Her eyes brightened. “That’s a good idea.” She took the dress and made her way toward the privacy screen, only for Aemond to reach for her arm, halting her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a possessive look in his eye.

“To get dressed?” she replied with a playful arch of her brow.

“I wish to watch,” he insisted, his voice low and warm. “I don’t want you hiding any part of yourself from me.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she smiled and let the privacy screen be. She slipped on a thin shift, glancing at him shyly before reaching for her small clothes.

Aemond’s hand touched her wrist. “No,” he said, voice rough with desire. “Leave them off.”

Valaena smirked as she set them aside and stepped into the gown. Aemond moved behind her to fasten the small buttons and ties, his fingers grazing her back as he worked.

She then moved to the vanity, slipping her rings on and fastening her well-worn leather gauntlet bearing the Targaryen sigil.

It was a bit tattered, a testament to how often she wore it—a symbol of her pride in their family and the fact it was a gift from Daemon.

When she reached for her brush, Aemond gently caught her hand. “May I?”

She nodded, handing him the brush, and he began to gently pass it through her long dark hair, careful and slow.

She disliked anyone else handling her hair, yet here she was, relaxed under his gentle touch. It felt intimate, grounding, as if it connected them even more deeply.

When he finished, he set the brush on the vanity and helped her stand.

Aemond gazed at her, his hand lingering at her waist. “I am truly blessed to have you as my wife.”

Valaena smiled, sliding her hands up into his long silver hair and kissing him deeply.

“-And I am blessed to have you as my husband”

Aemond leaned into her, a look of quiet intensity in his eye.

“When this dinner is over,” he whispered, “I’m taking you to bed and fucking you til morning-”

Valaena laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t run too long.”

Aemond and Valaena stood side by side outside the grand dining room, hands clasped tightly. Aemond gave her a reassuring look, squeezing her hand. “Are you ready?”

Valaena took a steadying breath, nodding. “It’s now or never.”

He nodded to the guards, and the heavy doors swung open with a formal announcement. “Princess Valaena and Prince Aemond.”

Inside, the gathered family rose—Rhaenyra, Daemon, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron—each watching their entrance with expressions ranging from joy to curiosity.

Then, Daemon’s voice rang out, filled with an almost raw emotion. “Tala” (Daughter).

Valaena’s face softened, and she smiled at her stepfather as he approached, his usually stern expression softened.

Valaena murmured, “Kepa-” (Father).

In the next moment, they embraced, tightly, as though afraid to let go. When they finally parted, Daemon quickly brushed away the tears that had traced lines down his cheeks, casting an almost embarrassed look aside.

Daemon’s expression hardened as he looked at Aemond, his features sharpening as he scoffed.

Turning away, he strode off without another word. Valaena bristled, her voice sharp as she called after him, “-Daemon.”

She moved to follow him, but Aemond gently took her hand, shaking his head. She turned back to him, and his gaze reassured her, a silent reminder of the purpose of tonight.

Together, they walked toward Alicent, who greeted them warmly. Alicent clasped Valaena’s hand, her smile bright yet laced with emotion as they exchanged a few kind words.

Helaena soon joined them, and Valaena hugged her tightly, whispering a soft, “Thank you.”

Helaena returned the embrace, her own voice tender. “I knew you would both find your way back home.”

Aegon then came over, grinning widely as he threw an arm around Valaena. “Good sister,” he said with a smirk, raising a goblet. “Come, have some wine.”

Valaena held up a hand. “No, thank you.” Aegon’s gaze shifted downward, his smirk turning into a playful, mocking grin.

“Ah, yes, I see that my brother has you stuffed with his child,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Daeron let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s enough, brother.”

Valaena turned to Daeron, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. “You were but a boy the last time I saw you. And now here you are, a man grown.”

Daeron blushed, looking down before meeting her gaze. “Thank you. I hope we can get to know one another now-” He hesitated, then added with a small smile, “-that you’re not dead.”

Valaena laughed, touched by his sincerity.

Aegon, however, leaned in, eyes glinting mischievously. “And if you want, we could get to know each other a little better too-”

Aemond’s eye darkened, and with a low, irritated growl, he looped his arm around Valaena’s waist, firmly pulling her away from his brother’s reach.

At the table, Valaena took her seat, and Aegon, eyeing the spot next to her, moved to sit there himself, only to be elbowed aside as Aemond took the seat instead.

As they all settled down for the meal, Rhaenyra’s soft voice broke the brief silence. “To our family-whole once more” she toasted, her eyes lingering on Aemond and Valaena with unspoken relief and gratitude.

As they ate, Daemon’s voice, already thick with wine, rang across the table. “So, nephew, where have you been hiding yourself these last years?”

Aemond took a measured breath, feeling Valaena’s reassuring hand on his thigh before replying. “We travelled Essos for a time, then settled in Qarth.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a hint of mockery in his smile. “And tell me, just how did you manage to support your little jaunt around Essos? Must’ve cost quite a bit to find shelter and provide food, for yourselves and the dragons”

“We all know that dragons are more than capable of hunting” said Valaena.

“Indeed-but that still doesn’t answer my question,” said Daemon.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he replied smoothly, “I took some coin from the treasury.”

Daemon scoffed. “You mean you stole it.”

“That is enough” muttered Rhaenyra as she placed a calming hand on Daemon’s arm, but he yanked it away.

“-Actually, I want to know whose idea it was to let everyone believe that you were dead.”

Aemond held his gaze steadily. “It was mine.”

Daemon chuckled bitterly. “Of course, I knew it.” He reached for his goblet; eyes narrowed. “And why you went along with it is beyond me,” he muttered, looking pointedly at Valaena.

Valaena’s voice quavered as she replied, “It was the only way we could be together. We knew our relationship would never be accepted—”

Daemon’s eyes flashed. “You’re damn right it wouldn’t have been accepted.”

Valaena gasped, “Daemon—” But he slammed his fist on the table, rattling goblets and silencing the room.

���Do you have any idea the pain that you caused your mother?” he thundered, his voice low with barely controlled rage. “She had just lost Visenya, and then you go and let her believe she lost you, too.” His words struck like blows, and tears filled Valaena’s eyes. “-For five years, I watched my wife’s heart shatter, thinking that you were dead, while the whole time you were across the Narrow Sea, spreading your legs like a whore for that one-eyed cunt-”

Valaena’s lip trembled as she fought to hold back a sob. “Stop it!” she cried, but Daemon only pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“If I had known about your so called relationship, I would have kept you two apart by force if necessary. I’d have thrown you in the dungeons and forced drink moon tea down your throat to stop you birthing his spawn!”

Aemond, enraged, rose from his chair. “You dare speak to my wife like that?” he growled.

Daemon, unsteady on his feet, sneered. “I will speak to my daughter however I please, especially after the pain she caused by allowing you to drag her into your scheme. Typical Hightower behaviour-where there’s a scheme there’s always one of you green cunts behind it”

The room fell into stunned silence, all eyes fixed on Daemon as Valaena rose from the table.

Her face went from shock to fury as she seized a jug of wine and threw its contents all over Daemon, completely soaking him.

“You want wine? There, have it. I hope you fucking drown in it. Don’t you dare speak about me or my husband like that again! It’s that very attitude that drove us away in the first place.”

Without another word, Valaena turned and stormed out of the room, Aemond quickly following.

Her anger simmered as she marched through the winding halls of the Red Keep, muttering to herself.

When they reached their chambers, she paced, her words spilling out as she ripped the leather gauntlet from her arm, tossing it to the floor. “How dare he! What was he thinking—Fucking disgraceful behaviour”

Aemond locked the door, his face unreadable as he approached her and cupped her face in his hands.

“Gīda ñuha zaldrīzes,” he murmured, his voice gentle. (Calm, my dragon)

“But he—” Her voice faltering as Aemond silenced her with a kiss, deep and grounding.

When Aemond pulled back, Valaena whispered angrily, “He deserves to have his throat cut.”

Aemond kissed her again, hands steady on her shoulders. “Nārhēdegon zirȳla, sagon kesīr lēda nyke sir,” he said, voice a quiet command. (Forget him. Be here with me now).

Valaena took a shuddering breath, nodding as she felt the ties of her dress loosening under his touch.

“Please Aemond” whispered Valaena as her dress slipped from her body, the material pooling at her feet.

“Nārhēdegon se vys, zȳha sepār īlva”  muttered Aemond as he encouraged Valaena to lay on their bed (Forget the world, it’s just us).

“Gūrogon hen aōha grēze valzȳrys” replied Valaena as she reclined against the pillows (Take off your clothes husband).

Aemond stood before Valaena, his intense gaze never leaving hers as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

Slowly, with deliberate intent, he unfastened it, drawing the leather free from his waist and letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud.

Next, he shrugged off his leather jerkin, exposing the defined lines of his shoulders.

He placed it aside, and his hands moved to his cotton shirt, fingers working each button open one by one, his gaze still locked on hers as he slid it off, revealing the taut muscles beneath.

Aemond held her gaze with a slight, knowing smile as his hands dropped to the waistband of his breeches.

He took his time loosening them, then let them slide down, his small clothes following soon after, leaving him bared to her in the soft glow of the room.

Finally, he lifted his hand to the strap over his head, slipping it free and pulling off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire where his left eye had once been.

He stepped toward her, his form both fierce and vulnerable, offering himself completely.

Then gently laid down next to her. His mouth claimed hers and his teeth pulled at her plump bottom lip.

Moving his hand down her body, he slid two long fingers into her cunny and speared them in and out of her at a slow gentle pace. His palm bumped against her pearl with each movement of his hand.

“Oh, Aemond” moaned Valaena desperately.

Aemond withdrew his hand from her wet centre and manoeuvred himself down the bed, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her skin, as he reached his desired destination he hooked his hands around her thighs, and his mouth descended on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into her core with his tongue. Valaena clutched at his head with one hand, whilst her other hand fisted the sheet.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast, and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunny.

Valaena ground down on Aemond, his tongue speared deeper inside her, as she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Yet Aemond withdrew and Valaena whimpered with frustration at the denial of her peak.

“So wet for me” muttered Aemond, his voice husky.

"P-Please Aemond. I-I need you” moaned Valaena.

Aemond smiled as he turned her over to her side and began suckling on her exposed neck.

"I want to feel you come all over my cock" growled Aemond.

Aemond lifted her leg and slowly slid his cock into her cunny.

Valaena grabbed hold of the sheet, and closed her eyes, letting out a gratifying moan.

Reaching back, she entwined her fingers into his long silver hair and whimpered, "More, Give me more".

Once Aemond was fully sheathed, he carefully grasped hold of her waist and started to slowly thrust into her.

"My sweet wife. How I love the feeling of your wet cunny squeezing my cock” exclaimed Aemond, his hot breath caressing her neck.

Valaena was so wet that he almost lost his grip and slipped out, but he managed to remain ensconced within her as he continued to thrust into her sweet tight cunt.

The sweat off her back rubbed against his chest and her moans and muffled groans were sweet music to his ears.

Aemond snaked a hand between her legs and rubbed her pearl repeatedly until the rise of heat engulfed her and toppled her right off the edge.

"Aemond, don't stop, my love" gasped Valaena, her cunny clenching his cock.

“Fuck, Valaena. Yes, that’s it” moaned Aemond thrusting one final time as he exploded deep inside her, rope after rope of his seed painting her inner walls.

Aemond buried his face in her dark hair and breathed in her familiar scent.

As he went to pull his softened cock from her, Valaena stopped him.

“Let’s just stay like this a little longer. Please”

Aemond nodded and pressed closer to his wife’s warm body.

A feeling of pure love shot through him, as he nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose.

TBC

[widowmaxff]

In overwhelmed, it mentions that Y/N used to be in a dark hole and how Wanda is afraid she’d go back to it. Can you write about it? Like what happened?

hope ur ok

pairings: mom!wanda × daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: depressed reader, cryingg, bad thoughts, and sad sad things

a/n: okay how did you pay so much attention to what i wrote in overwhelmed bc i didnt even remember writing that 😭 BUT THANK YOU for the request i literally just ramble what was in my head but hope you like it love!

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You don't know when it started, much less why it started. Maybe a few days ago, a month ago, maybe a year ago the signs that something was wrong started to appear. It was almost as if these feelings were always there, just hidden by a layer that was slowly removed and made everything more difficult. It seemed like there were days when you could easily deal with it, maybe ignoring it or just hiding it very well, you didn't know. But there were days that were more difficult. It was more difficult to get out of bed, your appetite was barely there, you didn't want to leave your room, just stay in darkness and total silence. Even though this silence made your head spin, it was better than anyone talking and making you even more depressed.

If someone asked the people closest to you if you were sensitive, you were sure that more than half of them would say no. They would talk about how you had a frozen heart, that you didn't cry when you watched a sad movie, that you didn't fall in love with the character when watching or reading a novel, that you didn't care when someone was fighting with you. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. You felt hard feelings most of the time, including when watching sad films. Maybe you just don't like showing the sadness and emptiness you feel. It makes you feel weak, worthless, and selfish, especially selfish. You shouldn't feel this way, not when you had the perfect life: a loving mother, food on the table, new clothes, and expensive sneakers. Then why?

You didn't really care that you felt depressed, you knew that eventually it would pass, just like every other time - even if that feeling came back some time later, even worse. It wasn't like anyone noticed and said anything to you, even though you were sure most of the adults around you blamed it on teenage hormones when they saw you sulking or just isolating yourself in your room all day. Maybe a few questions like 'are you okay?', even though they knew you would respond with something positive even if everything was falling apart. But there was always someone. Someone who knew that it wasn't just teenage hormones but something that was slowly consuming you. Wanda, your mother, was that someone, and she certainly didn't let those details slip.

The first time you actually showed that you were in a depressing state was on a random Thursday at six-thirty in the morning. Wanda didn't mind much in the first moments when you refused to get out of bed, it was normal for any teenager to not be able to stand school. But when you finally decided to show up for the morning in the Compound's kitchen, she was surprised. You had big black bags under your eyes that were tired and red, looking like you hadn't slept well that night and maybe you had been crying most of it. Wanda didn't take long to ask if something had happened and if you were okay, only receiving a murmur of something like ‘'m fine' before turning back to look at the emptiness of space. Tony who was nearby joked “Maybe the red eyes are because of something she used. Don't tell me you snuck out to a party, Mini Maximoff?”, you'd laugh on any other day, even replying something like 'Yes, I did some hard drugs at a party. How do you know?', but that wasn't the case. Stark laughed to himself after saying that sentence but soon the sound of his voice disappeared when he realized that you hadn't heard him and, apparently, nothing around you.

The second time was right after a mission Wanda had done. It was only three days away from you and everything seemed different when she came back. The first thing she noticed was that you didn't run into her arms when she stepped inside the Compound, much less respond to the messages she sent you a few hours earlier. Obviously like a worried mother she went after you, not taking long to find you in your room with all the lights off, two blankets around your body and how it looked like the things in your room had been in the same place since your mother left for the mission. She turned on the light in your room, hearing a soft growl leave your lips. You were awake and conscious, so it didn't make sense for you to want to be lying down and almost sinking into your mattress at four o'clock in the afternoon. She remembered when you were little and couldn't sleep if at least one light wasn't on, now it was ironic to think that you just lived in the darkness and emptiness of your room without fear that some monster would catch you, because no monster could hurt you like depression was.

Wanda couldn't count how many more episodes like those happened and lasted for several days. She was worried, very worried. She was afraid that you would end up doing something that would hurt you, end everything. It was obvious that your mother tried to ask you what was wrong, how she could help you, but you always said that you just woke up on the wrong foot that morning and that everything was fine. Of course, how were you going to tell her what was happening if you didn't even know. There was no reason for you to feel down like that and not even the absurd desire to just want to close your eyes and not open them again. And every day that passed, this dark hole you were in would get deeper and deeper. You knew you needed to ask for help before it was too late. 

It was no longer strange when once again that week you had no will to live. You look at the clock next to your bed and realize that your mother would be coming to your room to call you for another day in two minutes and a few seconds. Just the thought of 'one more day' made you want to throw up the food you didn't even eat the day before, as that empty feeling made your hunger go away. But as much as vomiting, you wanted to cry, cry until you couldn't take it anymore. And it was no surprise when the tears started to fall and you couldn't stop. Even though you are not a loud person, trying to keep yourself in your own bubble, the sobs wanted to get out of your throat anyway.

“Darling?” Wanda didn't mind knocking on your bedroom door in the morning, since you would be sleeping, well, not at that moment. When she heard the choking sounds you were making to keep from crying, she didn't take long to run towards your body on the bed and get under your covers, pressing you against her chest giving the perfect comfort to let you know that you weren't alone. “Oh, my love.” Wanda has seen you cry, many, many times, but it was so different to see you cry as if you were drowning in a sea and needed help from someone, anyone. “It's okay, Mama is here.” With each passing minute it seemed like the tears were getting even bigger than before, but you tried to focus on Wanda's heartbeat as you placed your hand on her chest, making you feel calmer despite all the panic. 

The lullaby that starts to leave her lips and go straight to your ear makes you start paying attention to the soft melody and not your terrible thoughts. The language Wanda sang in, Sokovian, was not understood by you, but you still remembered when she sang you to sleep on the days you had nightmares. It was as if Wanda was using her magic to calm you down, even though you knew she would never use her powers on you without your permission, but her voice was so sweet that it was more powerful than any of her red magic. Your breathing becomes soft and your movements slow, as if you were choosing the right words to get rid of that moment, but with your mother there it was almost impossible to lie.

“I wanna get help,” You murmur for just her to hear, despite there being no one else in the room with you two. “b-but I don’t even know why I’m like this.” Your crying had stopped, but you still choked to say a few words. Admitting those words out loud seemed like a challenge for you, and when you said them, a weight seemed to lift off your back despite not having yet deciphered all your feelings. And Wanda knew that. She knew how hard you were to avoid looking like a weak person even if you weren't, even if asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness but rather of improvement.

Your mother kisses your head, taking a few seconds before cupping your face and looking at it. “I'm so proud of you, my angel.” You didn't see pity or lies in the expression on her face. You didn't see disappointment and much less as if you were a problem for her. “I'm glad you want to ask for help, and I'm here for it, yeah?” You felt a little guilty when you saw a tear come out of your mother's eyes, but she was still smiling. The same smile you saw when you woke up, or when you told her some good news, or even when you told her a joke. Wanda never wanted you to feel anything negative about her. She never took out any frustration on you, never made you feel bad when you got a bad grade at school, or when you accidentally knocked a glass on the floor. “I will help you with whatever you need, my love. It will be slow, but I promise that the tightness in your chest will pass, okay?”

“I trust you.” She nods before pulling you into a hug that she knew you needed more than anything at that moment. The process would take a long time until you felt well again, you both knew that, but it was never too late. It's never too late to ask for help, because it's normal to need someone to pull you out of the dark hole sometimes, it's normal to not feel good all the time. Having feelings is normal, even if sometimes they are too deep, or too shallow. You just needed to realize that you were never alone, that people around care about you and will always want the best for you. 

“I love you so much. Always remember that.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

[sabrinasopposite]

star of the show; clark kent

even the brightest star

with the spotlight on her

felt like a sad girl

since the moon wasn’t there.

angst, drama, theater kid!

romeo and juliet, the tragedy of a love story. they were called star-crossed lovers for a reason—famous for it, hated for it, yet their tale became one of the most influential love stories in history. a love that barely began, but the heart had already been pierced by a dagger.

yet not every love story is a tragedy, or so y/n believed, because that’s how she felt. she was living in a romantic comedy, as she would describe her love life with clark kent—the golden retriever lead in her movie.

he was pure, the missing star in her orbit, yet now he was finally with her. clark was the kind of guy anyone could fall in love with. his charm lay not just in his smile, but in his heart—a heart full of goodness and care, the kind of heart you’d want to shield from any dagger.

y/n had always been in love with clark, ever since their middle school days together. he had always been a great friend to her, until one valentine's day, when she gently placed a soft kiss on his cheek, along with a love letter.

their love had always been there, growing with each love letter that became a confession of their feelings. then one day, clark stood in front of her, holding yellow flowers and his heart, ready to offer both to y/n.

that’s how their love story continued, until it began to crumble like stones falling apart. high school wasn’t the issue—it was that the rom-com paused at a moment when the lead character went missing.

clark often disappeared, acted strangely, or seemed to know too much. at first, y/n didn’t think it was a big deal, but it kept happening—and it never stopped.

she started to see him less and less. y/n was distracted with her theater group while clark was always gone. he’d say the torch magazine was keeping him busy, but the office was usually empty. sometimes chloe was there, but clark? he wasn’t.

one of those nights, y/n finally had him in her presence. it had been weeks since she’d seen him, but now he was there. they sat in his barn loft, one of their favorite places.

y/n sat in front of him, holding her script in hand, her eyes meeting his as she laughed softly, happily. clark read the lines of romeo, helping her prepare for tomorrow night. it was a school play—romeo & juliet—and y/n had the role of juliet.

it made her smile to have her own romeo in front of her.

clark burst into laughter. "how can you take this seriously? the words are so old, i can barely understand what they’re saying."

y/n chuckled, placing her hand gently over his. "sweetheart, you should pay more attention in english class. haven’t you read the book?" she teased him.

clark rolled his eyes but smiled. "no, maybe i should have, since my girl is juliet. i’m ashamed i won’t understand you tomorrow."

y/n chuckled, but a thought slipped out before she could stop it. "as if you’ll be there tomorrow."

clark’s smile faded, his brows furrowing in confusion. "what do you mean by that?"

"well... you’re never there," she said softly, her words tinged with hurt. "you always miss my school plays. there’s always an empty seat reserved for you." it pained y/n every time she didn’t see him in the crowd. she would wonder if he was just out of sight or waiting backstage for her, but he never was.

clark’s heart ached. he quickly grabbed her hands, holding them tightly, afraid her warmth might slip away like her heart. "love, i’m so sorry. i promise i’ll be there tomorrow, with a big bouquet of roses."

y/n chuckled, rubbing her thumb across his hands. "you know i like yellow flowers."

clark smiled softly, looking deeply into her eyes, which now held a shade of blue, reflecting his sadness and regret. "yellow it is, then."

the truth was, clark had never told y/n about his true self. it wasn’t fear that held him back, but his instinct to protect her. after everything he’d seen, all that had happened around him, and what his destiny would demand, his only thought was to keep y/n safe—safe from everyone and everything. she was his heart, and that was the part of him he couldn’t bear to risk.

she was the sun he needed.

yet, like in every romantic comedy, there’s a breaking point where the lovers reach a moment of hurt.

for y/n, that moment came as she stood on stage, the spotlight shining on her, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. the seat reserved for him was empty again.

the star had missed her orbit once more.

the city was shining, but not for her.

it shone for superman.

pt. 2 is out!

much love!!!

ps: if u have watched romeo&juliet (1968) pls say it in unison that tom welling could be benvolio or romeo.

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |12|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Battle of The Labyrinth Spoilers

Word Count: 3.1k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You were in Clarisse’s bathroom finishing setting up everything you’d need to create a rainbow. You had the shower running, Clarisse found a smaller mirror you could use to help reflect that light from the window to the mirror above the sink. It took a few minutes but once everything was positioned properly you pulled out a gold drachma, your last one, and tossed it into the rainbow.

You closed your eyes after a minute, silently hoping this would work. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Thalia’s voice, yelling at some of the other Hunters about how to set up the camp. You let out a shaky breath, the noise seeming to draw Thalia’s attention.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”

“Language!” You heard one of your sisters yell. A moment later she popped up through the mist, her eyes widening as soon as she saw you. “Oh, my gods, you’re alive!”

“Get Artemis,” Thalia demanded, your sister instantly took off at the order. “I can’t believe you’re alive, what happened?”

You nodded; you probably shouldn’t have been so surprised at their shock. You knew you had just up and disappeared, but you didn’t think they’d all assume you were dead.

“What’s going on?” Artemis’s voice came, a second later she appeared next to Thalia. She turned, her eyes widening upon seeing you.

“Apologies my goddess,” you rasped out. Your voice suddenly a lot drier than it had previously been. “I did not mean to disappear on you.” You bowed your head slightly.

“What happened?” Artemis asked softly. “We were beginning to think the worst.” Even through the iris message you could see the care and worry in your goddesses’ eyes. The loss of Zoe was still fresh and then you up and disappeared for you didn’t know how long, you were sure it wasn’t easy on Artemis or the Hunters.

“You look like shit,” Thalia said. Artemis quickly shot her a glare and Thalia was quick to mumble an apology. “Seriously, did you like take a shortcut through the underworld?”

“I wish,” you sighed. “I was downtown, picking up the ambrosia and nectar when I saw Clarisse.” Thalia’s widened in shock, but Artemis tilted her head at the unknown person. “She’s a daughter of Ares from camp Half-Blood.”

“The one you’ve been communicating with,” Artemis concluded.

Your entire body tensed up. Artemis knew you were talking to someone from camp you had befriended but she didn’t know much more. You were afraid of her knowing more, if she saw you and Clarisse together, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d pick up on the fact that you had feelings for the other girl. You might not have crossed any lines yet but that didn’t mean Artemis would be forgiving. She could decide Clarisse was a distraction and order you to cut contact with her. Still, you nodded nonetheless, confirming what Artemis already knew.

“She’s the one that’s been missing,” Thalia added. You furrowed your brow at that. You weren’t too surprised that Chiron and the camp knew she was gone but you weren’t sure how Thalia knew. “I talked to Annabeth.” Now that made sense.

“Chiron asked us to keep an eye out for a missing camper,” Artemis said. “He mentioned how they hadn’t met their check-in’s and last he heard from them they were still in the city.”

“How long were we gone?” You asked. You tried processing everything they were telling you. A day or two would be worrisome but not enough to inform others. If Chiron asked Artemis and the Hunters to keep an eye out that meant you had to have been in the labyrinth for a significant amount of time.”

“Three months.” Your eyes widened at that. You were thinking maybe a few weeks at most, not three whole months.

“It only felt like two days,” you mumbled to yourself. Two days in the labyrinth, one night, and yet on the outside world it had been three months.

“You found it,” Thalia whispered, her eyes widening.

Your eyes snapped back up to hers. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew about the mission. She talked to Annabeth regularly, they were best friends, she was probably the only person outside of Annabeth, Chiron, and Clarisse to know about it. You slowly nodded your head.

“What were you doing with her?” Artemis asked. “How did you end up in the labyrinth?” You weren’t even surprised that she knew as well, Chiron probably informed her what Clarisse was working on when she went missing.

“I saw Clarisse looking around a hotel across the street from where I was,” you said. “I knew she was on a secret mission but didn’t know what for. After she told me, I suggested searching the basement instead of outside the hotel.”

“You know she was supposed to just find the door not actually enter, right?” Thalia snarked.

You gave Thalia an unamused look. “That wasn’t intentional.” You glanced back to the closed bathroom door, you could hear Clarisse mumbling and moving around as she talked to Chris. “There was a monster, we took cover and it ended up being the door to the labyrinth.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah, we-” there was a loud bang as if something had been thrown at the bathroom door.

“What was that?”

You kept your attention on the door, ignoring Thalia’s question. There was more banging, and you heard Clarisse yelling. You took a step towards the door, ready to fling it open and help Clarisse with whatever she was dealing with. You waited a second and the banging eventually died down.

“You good?” you called out. You needed to be sure that Clarisse answered you and it hadn’t gotten quite because Chris did something.

“Yeah,” Clarisse called out, though it was muffled through the door.

You let out a shaky breath, looking up to the ceiling. “Sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “We found Chris.”

Thalia furrowed her brow. “Chris, Chris?” she asked. You nodded, watching as her eyes widened. “Chris Rodriguez, Chris?”

“Yeah.”

“Where the hell did you find him?” Thalia gestured with her hands.

“Arizona,” you sighed tiredly. Thalia raised her eyebrows at that. “We followed one of Hephaestus’ mechanical spiders, it led us to the door that got us out of the labyrinth which apparently was in Arizona.” You could only shrug, you were glad they knew about the labyrinth because your words sounded insane.

“And why is he still with you?” Thalia asked hesitantly.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. You glanced back at the door as if you could see through it, you remembered the look Clarisse had in her eyes upon seeing Chris like that. You didn’t know how close Clarisse and Chris were before his betrayal, she had never mentioned him, but it was clear she cared for him. Getting him back to her house wasn’t easy, he fought the both of you at every turn, but Clarisse had still treated him with kindness. You wanted to just knock him out and drag him back, but she didn’t seem to want to hurt him.

“He’s not right,” you said quietly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know what happened to him in the labyrinth but whatever it was,” you shook your head, flicking your gaze up to meet Thalia and Artemis’s. “It wasn’t good.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Artemis said. “Where are you now?”

“Clarisse’s,” you looked around. “Got lucky it seems, we popped out not to far from her place.”

“We’re camping for the night.”

“Where? I can meet you.” You didn’t want to leave Clarisse so soon after surviving what the two of you just did but you needed to be back with your sisters.

“Rest.” Though Artemis’s tone was soft you couldn’t help but frown. “You look like you need it. We’re leaving at first light, if you leave early morning, we should be able to meet up. You know our usual spot just north of you?”

“Of course,” you nodded. The Hunters always stopped in the same spot if they were passing by. It was a gorgeous natural area, somehow completely secluded and nearly untouched by humans. That was rare to find, and it also happened to be one of the best places to see the stars.

“See you then,” Artemis gave a final nod, then walked away.

You stood there for a moment, staring down at the floor. “Are you okay?” Thalia asked.

You let out a long breath. “The labyrinth…” you shook your head. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Luke might be trying to find a way to make it work for him, but Annabeth needs to be careful with whatever she’s planning.”

Thalia nodded; she was looking off to the side, deep in thought. You didn’t know Annabeth well, you truly only had met her twice, but she was Thalia’s best friend. Thalia didn’t seem thrilled about whatever Annabeth’s plan was. You weren’t sure if Thalia knew all the details about what Annabeth wanted to do but she knew enough and knew Annebeth well enough to be able to guess what her friend’s logic was.

“Do you want me to contact Chiron for you?” Thalia asked after a few seconds.

You shook your head. “Clarisse will,” you sighed. “Once I take over Chris watch.”

“Is he really that bad?”

You nodded. “I’d only ever heard the stories, people losing their mind in the maze, I never imagined it would be like this though.”

Thalia nodded. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “It would suck if that not even a year into being Artemis’s lieutenant I lost my second.”

“Had a close call but I don’t intend to die on you.”

Thalia tilted her head at your words, but she didn’t press. You weren’t ready to talk about what happened, you were still processing everything. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.” With that you ended the call.

Just as you ended the call you heard more shouting, and stuff being thrown around. You didn’t hesitate this time as you flung open the door and ran out into her bedroom. Your eyes widened at the scene before you. Chris was thrashing around on the bed, reaching for whatever he could get his hands on as Clarisse held him down by the shoulders, trying to pin him. His right hand was still tied, though loose, and he had somehow broken free of the restraint on his left hand.

You rushed forward, ripping the lamp out of Chris’s hand before he could smash it over Clarisse’s head. She glanced at you; eyes wide as they went from you to Chris to the lamp. You nodded at her as you grabbed Chris’s left arm, pushing him harder into the mattress. He was practically foaming at the mouth as he screamed and thrashed around.

You looked at Clarisse until she looked up at you again. “Sorry,” you whispered. She only had time to furrow her brow before you took one of your hands off of Chris and punched him in the face. You didn’t pay attention to Clarisse’s reaction as you punched him in the face two more times, finally knocking him out.

You slumped back, but unable to take your eyes off Chris, you were waiting for him to pop back up and try clawing your eyes out. “We need to restrain him better,” you finally said. “I know you don’t want to hurt him.” You glanced at Clarisse; but her eyes were still on Chris. “But it’s for the best. He could hurt himself or someone else otherwise.” You didn’t move from the side of the bed until Clarisse gave you a nod.

You re-tied and tightened the old fabric Clarisse had torn up to tie Chris to the headboard. You grabbed the extra pieces of fabric and tied them around his ankles then to the posts at the end of the bed. When you were done Clarisse got up from the bed, without a word she began digging through her bag until she pulled out some rope, handing it to you without so much as glancing in your direction. You tied the rope around the fabric as tight as you could without cutting off Chris’s circulation. The rope would hold him in place better, it was stronger, but the fabric underneath it would hopefully prevent it from digging into his wrists when he inevitably woke up and started thrashing around.

“I’m going to contact Chiron,” Clarisse mumbled before heading off to the bathroom.

You decided to plop yourself down in the chair at her desk. You kept an eye on Chris, he twitched every once in a while, like he was in a nightmare, but he didn’t wake up. You couldn’t help but glance around the room, it was like you were getting an inside look at Clarisse’s mind. She had a large stereo on a shelf and her walls were lined with posters, you assumed from bands based on some of them holding instruments. There were also books on famous wars, a few photos and art prints depicting famous battles. There were also weapons littered all over the place, swords and axes hanging form the walls, and daggers lying on table tops and under books.

“How’d it go?” you asked, pushing yourself out of the chair when Clarisse walked out of the bathroom.

“Chiron’s on his way,” Clarisse said. “Maybe he can help,” she glanced at Chris.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. You were sorry someone she clearly cared for was suffering, you were sorry you had to tie him up, you were sorry for being the reason she lost her spear, you were sorry for so much and yet ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to be enough.

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbled, walking up to Chris’s side. She reached out, brushing some hair out of the way that was sticking to his forehead. “I used to have a crush on him.” It was nearly a whisper, but you heard it, you couldn’t help the way your heart dropped at those words. “Before he was a traitor.” She let out a humorless chuckle.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Clarisse shook her head. “My first crush turned out to be a traitor and my second…”

You dropped your eyes to the floor. Her first crush was a traitor and her second was you, a Hunter, someone she could never be with. “Really know how to pick ’em,” she sighed.

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” you said softly. “And it will be someone that actually deserves you.”

You gave a half smile when you saw a small smile appear on Clarisse’s face, though it was a sad one. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone,” she shrugged.

You shook your head. “I don’t believe that. There’s someone out there that will be everything you desire; they’ll see you for how strong and incredible you truly are.” Clarisse finally looked up at you, meeting your eyes for the first time since you restrained Chris. “The only way you don’t end up with someone is if you decide that’s not what you want.”

Clarisse glanced around her room, avoiding eye contact with you once again, clearly trying to hide her emotions. “I assume you’re leaving,” she abruptly changed the subject.

“In the morning,” you said, allowing the subject change. “Hope it’s okay to crash on your couch.”

“Of course.”

After getting cleaned up and getting some clean clothes from Clarisse, since yours were covered in dirt and blood, you went downstairs to see Clarisse setting out a blanket and pillow for you on the couch. You didn’t know where her mom was and she hadn’t mentioned her, you figured her mom not being home was probably a common thing. It was still light out as you settled in for sleep, but your body was definitely feeling the toll the labyrinth had taken on it. Clarisse volunteered for Chris duty, she was going to sleep in her mom’s room, which was just down the hall, so she would be the closest anyway.

Sleep came easy for you; you didn’t wake up once. When you did wake up the rest of the house was silent, and it was still dark out. You glanced at the clock in the room, seeing it was just before sunrise. As quietly as you could you folded the blanket, sitting it and the pillow on the couch as nicely as you could. Then you grabbed your bag, making sure you had everything, and going through a mental checklist of anything you might need to get before meeting up with the others.

“You leaving?” Clarisse whispered.

You glanced back to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, you had to give her credit, you hadn’t even heard her walk down the steps. “In a few minutes,” you said, closing up your pack. “Don’t worry, I was going to say goodbye.” You gave her a soft smile as you turned around to fully face her. “How was last night?” you nodded towards the stairs.

“Seems you knocked him out very well.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you hadn’t meant to hit him quite that hard, but you were glad if it meant Clarisse finally got some sleep.

Before anything else could be said there was a knock at the door. You and Clarisse glanced at each other before she cautiously walked to the door. You reached for your bow as she turned the door handle, not relaxing your grip until you saw Chiron walk in.

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Chiron said. “Where is he?”

“Upstairs,” Clarisse answered, pointing Chiron in the direction. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

You watched as Chiron disappeared up the stairs. You walked over to the front door where Clarisse was still standing. You reached out, brushing your fingers against hers, you were about to pull away when she intertwined your hands.

“He’ll be okay,” you whispered, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

She nodded. “Be safe and keep in touch,” she said, giving your hand a gently squeeze back.

With that you made your way out her front door. You looked back once, watching as she finally closed the door behind you. You truly hoped Chiron would be able to help Chris, no one deserved to be going through what he was. You gave a final look at the house, not sure when you’d see Clarisse again before turning and making your way to the place you’d meet your sisters.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 15 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

It seemed like there could never be peace in this world.

Elbert: …

Roger: Yo, El. Have you seen the ‘lil lady around? I wanted to get her to do some work for me, but haven’t seen her for a while.

Elbert: Roger. Listen to me calmly.

It’s possible that Kate was kidnapped.

—In an instant, all sounds ceased.

Roger: Kate? What do you mean?

Ellis: What you just said, is it true…?

I turned around and saw Jude and Ellis who had just come back from work.

Jude: The princess got kidnapped? By who?

Elbert: I’m not sure. Earlier in the garden, a coachman came up to me looking terribly disturbed.

He said that he dropped Kate off not far from the cemetery, but no matter how long he waited, she never came back.

He went to go look for her, but only found Ale.

Here, he gave me this.

He handed me a piece of paper with “I’ll be back soon” written in Kate’s handwriting.

Ellis: Kate wanted to go leave flowers on the grave of the Cursed One who passed a few days ago.

She said she’d take a carriage and be back before sundown, so she’d be fine.

Jude: That’s Saint Cemetery. Got a road so narrow that carriages pass through.

Somethin’ must’ve the moment she got out.

Elbert: We don’t know what happened, but we can’t waste any time. What do we do, Roger?

If Kate never comes back.

If I never hear her voice or see her smile again, I…

Elbert: …Roger?

Elbert waved his hand in front of my face, bringing me back to reality.

Roger: …

Ellis: Roger, are you okay?

Roger: Yeah…sorry. Just…a little shaken.

Elbert and Ellis: …(°ロ°)

I was having some trouble processing my emotions, confused.

(I’ve had these feelings before, not once)

I took a deep breath to calm myself, eyes now focused.

Roger: This likely has something to do with the recent incidents.

Let’s tell Victor first and then gather the rest of Crown.

--

When news of Kate’s disappearance broke, all of Crown assembled.

It was determined that it was highly likely Kate was involved in the incidents targeting young people.

Based on where the victims had gone missing, possible bases were identified.We split into four teams and set out to search each location.

--

Paired up with Jude, I ran down to the basement to get my hunting rifle.

—But, when the spare bullets tumbled out of my hand, I realized that for the first time, I was still shaken up.

(...Damn it, I need to calm down)

Since joining Crown, I’ve gone through hell so many times.

I’ve witnessed many deaths.

Death wasn’t something I was afraid of. Since I’ve been surrounded by it, I’ve grown used to it.

…Still.

(I think I'm afraid of losing her)

(I think she’s the only one I can’t afford to lose)

(There’s a reason why only one person was an “exception”)

Suddenly, some notes on my desk caught my attention. They were notes that Kate would occasionally leave.

~~

—Roger, I’ve left some food for you. If you don’t eat properly, I’m going to scold you later!

—Roger, do you want to go on a walk together this evening? Come find me when you’re done with work.

Roger, Roger, Roger…

~~

I had always believed that romantic love didn’t exist in this world.

I thought that what people called romantic love was just a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire.

However, I already knew why my emotions were in a disarray without rhyme or reason.

(Ah, so that’s it)

(Looks like the lil’ lady’s already taught me about romantic love after all)

(Does she feel the most special to me?)

“I won’t despair”——Those words that she threw out into the world drew me toward her.

“I want to be strong”——I was charmed by that earnest, hardworking gaze.

“I want you to like me”——I was hit with an ardent emotion that burned my heart.

(...Damn it, I’m not gonna let you get away after teaching me these annoying feelings)

I strapped my rifle to my back and pocketed the bullets. 

An unprecedented passion seethes in my chest.

Roger: …I’m coming for you. Wait for me, Kate. Don’t you dare die.

Next

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

📖🤹‍♂️🔞, pretty pleeeaasee ?

Collared But Untethered - Abner Krill/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, slowburn, slight exhibition (Belle Reve), touch-starved induced desperation, making out, sudden smut, handjobs.

Wordcount: 2970

Summary: Even with every personnel in Belle Reve questioning why you wanted him, you kept coming back for more so long as they kept letting you touch him just out of sight.

Notes: Even when I try to drabble I still can't resist the buildup cause I love him so much oop- This is the first request I've ever gotten/filled so here we gooooo :'D I hope you like it, thank you so much for sending something in 💗💗💗

You were 100% certain that everyone had caught on by now to what you two were doing, but it was hard to care when orange fabric was bunched under your hands and the sound of his poorly quieted voice was in your ear. Belle Reve was well known for its lack of care towards its residents, so at first you’d both assumed that someone would barge in at any second to tear you apart, ban you from ever returning, but you were going on your fifth visit now with no one disturbing you, so even if you weren’t as perceptive as you’d thought and they were watching on a camera you’d missed no one made it known.

You’d first seen him on TV, shakycam footage barely capturing him as he and the other prisoners briefly designated as ‘Heroes’ made quick work of the current bigger threat destroying the city, and the way his powers had lit up the area in a rainbow of colours had instantly drawn you in, made you forget all about the danger as you hid in your apartment and waited in terror for it to be over, trembling hands clasped together in front of your heaving chest as you prayed you’d be safe. He’d destroyed that threat singlehandedly the second he was sure no one else was in his way, the others chiding him in the footage as he’d closed up on himself and apologized, having forgotten their goal of taking the villain alive so he could join them in their home. 

He was so unlike anyone you’d ever seen before, a timebomb of danger wrapped up in a polka-dotted bow, hands fidgeting and head downturned nervously while the destruction of what he could do showed all along the street up to where gory remains decorated the open main road.

As the reporter took over the submitted shakycam with her own live footage, people circled the villains to thank them, albeit keeping their distance even as they reached out to shake hands, pat backs, give gifts that would definitely be confiscated as soon as they returned. No one thanked him for killing their target, everyone too afraid of the gauntlets holding back bright lights and coloured dots, worried that he’d turn them on the crowd next even as the infamous Harley Quinn herself showed off the gun she’d stolen from one of the fallen policemen to a couple kids who’d wandered up to praise her without their parents’ permission.

That wasn’t fair at all, he’d needed some thanks too.

So you’d left your apartment and hurried down to them, the fight just a couple blocks away, the still burning circles in the buildings and pavement growing in number the further you got. They were already starting to get into the armoured vehicle that brought them there by the time you’d arrived, and you didn’t know his name so you could only call past the gathered guards making sure they didn’t run before he disappeared out of sight. He turned to face you, one of his teammates elbowing him to go when it became obvious that you were there for him; he walked back down the lowered ramp to approach, looking apprehensive that you’d want to talk to him when the others were right there, so you’d extended your hand to shake his, prove that you weren’t afraid but rather thankful for his help as you reached as far as you could between the two guards keeping you at a distance for your own safety.

The moment his hand touched your own you knew that you could never let him get away again.

Visitors to Belle Reve were always heavily inspected and supervised, no one ever allowed to meet face to face for fear of what could happen to either party as well as those around them, and they made that explicitly clear to you as you passed their inspections and were ushered down the hallway to the partitioned phones. The moment you told them that you were there for the Polka-Dot Man so they knew who to get they’d hesitated, turned halfway down the hallway to look at you like you were crazy, some weird thing to be studied for wanting to see him of all people. You’d just simply shrugged and told them you wanted to thank him for the other day.

He’d never had a visitor in all his time being there, and the moment he’d seen you holding the phone opposite of his own he’d gone red in the face, a mix of embarrassment for the continued support and obvious confusion as to why you’d sought him out a second time. It was cute, and while the conversation had been short, his voice low and answers coming out in single worded sentences as he thought about what to say, it still brought butterflies to your stomach until your time was up, your final question asking for his name before you were forced to hang up.

‘Abner…’ he’d told you, like he hadn’t said it in a long time. ‘Abner Krill.’

The second time you visited you asked for permission to talk to him face to face, as his voice barely carried over the phone and he had a tendency to forget he was holding it as he talked to the desk. Request denied, but they’d think about it for the right price, it wasn’t like he was going to escape his birdcage when it kept him safe from himself, the shiny collar around his neck stopping the kaleidoscope from painting the walls in cinders. That conversation had come easier, the guards getting bored and pulling out their phones as you talked about everything and nothing at all, his words flowing a little more freely.

The third time you’d gotten your request with the handing over of a few steep bills slid under the table, Abner looking around at the room before seeing you and smiling. There was a little more space between you compared to the phones but the wall was gone, and you almost missed his questions about your life as you watched his mouth speak, hands rubbing and fidgeting on top of cold metal in his persistent nervousness. The moment you’d started talking about yourself the guard watching over you had sighed loudly in annoyance and walked out, leaving the two of you alone to both of your surprise, the camera whirring in the corner telling you that they were still watching from afar at least.

You shook his hand again when time was up, and he trembled a little less as he stood before you, your bodies dangerously close for a quick moment before the guard rushed in to put a little space between you with an utterly confounded look shot in your direction.

The fourth time you looked around to see if there were more cameras than just the one over your shoulder before he was brought in, his eyes instantly brightening in your presence as they’d recently started to do. He looked more alive, his face less sunken like he was taking better care of himself so you wouldn’t worry, and you longed to hold him as the table became a deep crevasse between you. He wasn’t chained to it this time, they didn’t care enough and he knew better, he was well trained by now, and the moment you were left alone again you’d moved your chair to the empty space on the side, a little closer but not touching, testing the waters as you shot a glance to the camera to see if this was okay.

Nothing happened. No one came. Hands rested in sight as they reached but never touched, the crevasse a little smaller as the space between turned from feet to inches, then centimeters.

When your pinkies linked together it was like a bridge formed instantly, the two of you meeting in the middle as he closed his eyes and just breathed, completely calm as his free hand ran over his arm to make sure the gauntlets were gone, make sure he wouldn’t hurt you. He was touch-starved, that much was apparent as long fingers crawled over your own to create more points of contact, Abner fully holding your hand and forgetting that you were supposed to be talking. Your heart raced as you wanted more, wanted to see what other reactions you could pull from him if just this was enough to make him lean towards you, eager to invade your personal space, or perhaps invite you to invade his.

It was a space he guarded dearly, you’d learned as much over your visits as he told you about how the other inmates treated him, your touch so gentle compared to their punches, both of your chairs sliding over the floor as you closed the gap even more. Still no one came, your eyes going to the door to make sure they weren’t watching you through the wire-meshed glass to see what would happen next but the space on the other side was empty, the camera blinking red high above you as your legs made contact, a buzz of electricity shooting up your spine.

He tried to pull away, surprised by his own brazenness, or maybe it’d been an accident since he was so much taller than you, but you refused to let him, your leg pressed into the cold table leg almost painfully as you pulled him right back. The knowledge that you wanted him close, wanted to touch him even though he could burn right through you in an instant without the collar controlling him, made his chest start to heave then, eyes searching your face for fear but finding none.

Your hand unlinked from his before sliding up his arm, feeling the way he shivered as you reached his elbow, his bicep, muscles tensing under loose fabric just out of sight, a sigh leaving his lips as your fingers carefully trailed over his collar up to his cheek. He leaned into you, slowly at first, like you might change your mind and pull away at any second, his eyes closed tight as chair legs scraped over the ground. The gap closed more and more as you stood, leaned in close enough to see the scars of his time in this place, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as he let out shaky breaths, how long his lashes were as they fluttered in anticipation of what you were going to do next.

The door opened before you could make that final leap, the men who rushed in looking just as confused to your actions instead of angry, and while they weren’t rough with you they did tease him all the way down the hallway as he tried to hide the fact that he’d wanted you in those last seconds, your face flushing as pure longing rushed right to your gut at the sight of something hidden behind shaking hands as he was led to the showers to cool off.

The fifth time you’d come in you’d stared down everyone you passed as they whispered and nodded in your direction, not caring as you headed for your visiting room, no one stopping you even as they shook their heads and questioned your life choices. They still let you wait by yourself, your heart pounding as he was brought in and the door was closed behind him, the guard locking it muttering to himself about how he didn’t get paid enough for this. Abner didn’t even get a chance to sit down as you stood up and grabbed onto his shirt, pulled him down to continue what you’d started with a chaste kiss, testing the waters as he let out a surprised noise against your mouth before it turned into a moan, his hands hovering over you as he tried to decide what to do.

‘Touch me,’ you told him as you parted for a breath, the end of the collar pressing into your own throat as he groaned and kissed you back, dry lips parting to let you in as you ran your tongue experimentally over his bottom one. His hands wandered all over you, touching whatever he could now that he knew you wanted him to, his back hitting the wall and the collar scraping against the brick as he arched against you wantonly. It was like the floodgates had been opened, touch-starved desperation making him want more before you were separated again, your body ready to follow his every command should he ask, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good before he was forced to go back to his solitude. 

You palmed him over his pants and he keened needily, hips moving to feel you more before he stopped himself with a choked whine, he was asking too much too soon, surely you couldn’t want him that badly, surely now would be the time you’d come to your senses and see him like everyone else did. You nipped at his bottom lip, got him to look at you before you glanced up at the camera; it was facing the table, the two of you probably just in frame, so you led him to the corner directly underneath it, in its blindspot as you played with the hem of his pants.

‘Do you want this?’ you whispered, voice low so anyone outside wouldn’t hear, Abner’s eyes shut tight again as he nodded his head, slowly at first and then a little quicker as you made contact against his bare stomach. He was breathing so heavily, the growing tent just under where your hand rested making you lick your lips; they were bound to stop you before it got too heated but you could at least give him this, all your fantasies from the past month coming to life as you felt hot skin under your fingertips.

He sighed and let his head fall back, hands gripping you like a vice as you touched him, and you couldn’t help but wonder when the last time anyone else had touched him like this had been, if anyone ever had; it made you a bit jealous to think about the former, of someone else making him look this way before you, so you couldn’t help but selfishly wish you were the first as you wrapped your hand around him. His knees shook, he wasn’t used to it, your name falling from his lips as he started to buck desperately into your hand. 

He was beautiful as his jaw went slack, so open with what he wanted as he held you close, your own pleasure building just from watching him come so easily undone like it was the strongest aphrodisiac. His quiet voice came in handy as he moaned out his desires, how good it felt, how he needed more, pleas to not stop sending shockwaves all the way down to your toes as the words started to cut off the closer he got. You felt your throat tighten as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, needing to taste him again as you swallowed and leaned up to capture him in a deep kiss, his tongue dancing over your own and refusing to let you get away in such a lewd way that it made your head spin.

He didn’t last long between your kisses and your hand attacking him at the same time, his hips jutting with a broken cry of pleasure into your open mouth as he came into your fist, palm gathering as much as you could for his sake. You didn’t realize you were panting as well with how turned on you were as his expression softened into one of pure bliss, a need filling your gut and making you burn with desire unlike anything you’d ever felt before as you wanted more. You pulled your hand free, mouth watering as you felt the sticky substance leak through your fingers, Abner just staring at you through half-lidded eyes as you raised your hand to your mouth, tongue darting out to taste when the door suddenly opened, two guards rushing in.

‘Alright, that’s enough of that,’ one of them said, your fist held by your side as you were pushed out of the way, Abner letting out an actual whine at not being able to return the favour before he was dragged out the door. Once he was out of sight you were led to the nearest bathroom, the guard not fooled at all by your attempted nonchalance and letting you wash up, your hand shaking as you still felt his heat against your wet skin. You wouldn’t do anything about your own situation until you were home, the guard just shaking his head as you rejoined him and followed him to the front doors, the detour allowing you a glimpse of Abner as he walked down a connecting hallway.

Despite the cuffs around his hands and the collar around his neck he looked relaxed, free, not even reacting as one of the inmates passing by tried to insult him, sharp canines biting his lip as he just stared the men down. You grinned, proud of him as you walked out of sight of him again, the highly protected doors leading to the outside world coming into view moments later. You didn’t leave right away, turning to talk over your shoulder as your escort waited impatiently for you to go, a gleam in your eye as you stared into his mask.

‘I’ll be back again next week,’ you promised, everything that came with that unsaid but understood, and he sighed before giving you a shove, everyone around you already whispering about the day’s visit as you just grinned and walked out into the warm Louisiana sun.

[herpartnerintime]

max's separation anxiety with chloe

It takes an incident where Max and Chloe are briefly apart for Max to fully realize how much anxiety she has when it comes being apart from Chloe.

It happened when a man got to close, a man who looked like Jefferson, that even when her mind let her see it wasn’t him, all she could process was it was an unfamiliar man who might try and hurt her like him. Without even thinking she rewinded him away from her and then ran and locked herself in a bathroom, calling Chloe in a frantic panic, thinking she was trapped back in the dark room. Chloe had to come rescue her. In a bathroom. She’d have felt more embarrassed after if she couldn’t appreciate the humor in them both saving each other in a bathroom. She thinks of the fear she voiced to Chloe all those years ago about moving. That she didn't think she'd be okay without Chloe. She hadn't been okay those five years apart, but she had tried to convince herself she was. But now after the storm, she couldn't even pretend she was okay being apart from Chloe, even Chloe walking out of their hotel room to grab ice was anxiety inducing. Part of it was fear of Chloe dying and not being there to rewind to save her. Having to watch Chloe die so much those five days had been haunting her awake and asleep. She'd never had any time to process it as it happened but after the storm it had been really catching up with her, the amount of times Chloe died, the fact one death was by her own hand, at Chloe's request... She knows the universe was trying very hard to kill Chloe. And she can’t help but fear it could happen again, even if the storm was the consequence for the universe to spare Chloe’s life. At any moment, the universe could try and take Chloe from her again.

If Chloe were to die or be seriously hurt, Max takes photos all the time of them she could jump into. But who knows if she really will have these powers forever? They could disappear in an instant. Her words to Chloe about her powers not lasting forever might end up coming true someday. She could lose Chloe for good and have no way to get back to her. So when Chloe is away from her, Max can't help but fear for Chloe. She'll even fire off her normal dorky texts because while she loves being dorky in texts with Chloe she also finds it comforting when she responds, because that means Chloe is okay. Safe. In this reality with her.

And that incident in the bathroom made Max realize it’s not just Chloe’s death she fears when being apart – it's that she doesn’t feel safe herself apart from Chloe. She’s still haunted by The Dark Room, the way Jefferson hurt her, made her feel so violated in his Dark Room, and she’s still haunted too by having to walk through the storm alone in a world where Chloe was dead and gone and she was completely alone with death all around her, the storm itself a threat to her life... or how she was dragged into that terrifying nightmare being chased in some fragmented twisted reality. How can she be sure she won’t pass out and get dragged away from Chloe again, dragged back into The Dark Room or that nightmare and never be able to escape? Or end up back in that reality where she had to put Chloe to sleep forever and exist in a world where Chloe was dead? She was in so many other realities she's terrified one of them will steal her away from Chloe... She doesn't even like her dreams separating them and finds falling asleep hard because it means leaving Chloe.

Being with Chloe just makes her feel safe. Max doesn't think she ever feels safer in this world than when she's in Chloe arms, Chloe's arms like a shield around her. Chloe keeps her grounded, calm, helps keep her from feeling scared or anxious or afraid. Feeling Chloe's touch and hearing Chloe's voice is a reminder Chloe is safe and so is she. Being apart from Chloe shatters all of that. Makes Max anxious. Sends her into panic attacks.

Max knows it’s not healthy - to fear being apart from Chloe to this extreme. They promised each other to always be together - forever, and yes, they will be together forever, but she knows eventually there may be times where they're going to be apart briefly. They each have their own interests to pursue which will eventually involve them being away from each other for part of the day. But she doesn't want to ever be apart for even a moment. She knows there's something wrong with her, to feel this way, this fear of being apart, on such an intense level. The way her thoughts can run scares her sometimes, the way she feels she has no control over them, how Chloe being apart from her feels like the scariest thing in the world now. How her mind riddles her with anxieties and fears for Chloe's safety and her own.

It’s not even very fair, since Chloe had to be without her for years. Five of them. And she can’t seem to handle a few minutes or few hours apart. When she called in a panic needing Chloe, Chloe answered in a heartbeat and came running for her in a heartbeat. She was never there for Chloe’s phone calls when she’d kept calling and calling... She doesn’t deserve Chloe. Doesn’t deserve to have her endless loyalty, being there for her when she wasn’t for her for all those years. Chloe’s forgiven her for it... she forgave her on the cliff, but in moments like that she realizes she never will forgive herself. For being so selfish she made Chloe live five years without her and now she can’t even handle Chloe not being right by her side at every moment.

And Max is aware of how… the trauma of October 7 to October 11 left her very clingy in a way she wasn't before. She’s an Introvert. She liked alone time. Maybe she liked alone time a little to much, since she had missed Chloe so much and been so lonely but had just gotten so used to being alone. But what had happened to her, to them, had taken their already intense bond and turned it up to eleven.

Her panic attack, from her first time apart from Chloe since the storm, was her first true understanding of how deep her trauma ran when it came to being apart from Chloe. Chloe told her after the storm it was her time to take care of her, and that's what she has done, as everything has caught up to Max and left her emotionally exhausted Chloe is there to take care of her, and Max is there to remind Chloe she is loved and was worth saving. They’ll help each other get through all this. Max will eventually be able to go out alone without falling apart. It’ll take time. But they have all the time in the world to work on it now. Chloe will help her get better, so she can take over the world with her photography and she'll help Chloe too, so Chloe can discover and pursue her own passion. "Max... I'll always be with you." "Forever."

[melonminnie]

Heart stickers ! (Yan! Valentine family x Veronica’s sisterReader) platonic

tw: slight yandere behavior

- appearance is the same as Veronica Enjoy! Mwah this is pt one (?) dunno I got tired but I have ideas tho this is a draft fyi!

“Where are you going?” The girl questioned, holding onto Gabriel’s clothes, if he didn’t know any better he’d guess that it was Veronica herself talking to him.

But the boy learned the difference between the two of you, you were younger than her by a few months, while Veronica didn’t have the slightest bit of divine power you on the other hand did.

Gabriel stared at the girl dumbfounded, she’d been sent with him to the valentine household, Her sister silently hoping she’d get killed while living there. “Oh I was going to enter the church” the mumbled, “I can enter with you then!” The girl smiled and held his hand.

Ah, the other difference between the two of you is that, What ever you do or say, makes the atmosphere uncanny in some way, creepy even. While Veronica held the opposite effect.

Gabriel once again stared at the girls gold eyes and let her, he let her drag him wherever she wanted, he didn’t want to protest.Yet to him this was absolute torture.

“Y/n let go” he frowned making it obvious this Time, “Hm, okay” yet she smiled brighter this time, was it to ease this awkward situation?. Why were you smiling.

He disregarded his thoughts and shoved past the girl in hurry, “what did I do?” She muttered under her breath, her eyes trained on him as she watched him leave.

“All I’ve done is act nice to him yet he still treats me like shit!” She whispered, even more, louder this time, her eyes down casting to the floor as she continued walking. “I’ll have to be stuck with him for a few years or so... I don’t even want to be here anymore” she sighed. It was clear that she was sulking.

Y/n returned to her room instead of following the boy, if she did she would’ve probably made it even more awkward and she couldn’t risk it at the moment, “Nothings going as planned, I’m doomed! I’m gonna end up dead!” She cried, She already knew that her own sister didn’t want her, nor did the church want her so that’s why they sent her.

For some reason the two siblings have always had this unspoken rivalry between each other, “I wanna go home” she sulked staring at the wall.

The next few weeks had passed at this point, It was the same routine everyday, it’d be her trying to make conversation with Gabriel then him refusing and then she’d be left alone to do whatever.

“This is so boring!” She sighed, yes it was true that she’d been sulking every day for the past weeks but she had nothing to do, the stuff she had to do was so easy that’d she’d finish it in no time.

The blonde stared out the window, After giving it some thought she decided to go walk in the garden out of boredom.

In a few minutes outside her good eyes sparkled with excitement, she was hiding behind a tree why? , Because she’d just ran into a fairy.

or that’s how she’d like to think, her pink hair was so pretty, it was like she could disappear at any moment.

She never spoke to her though she’d observe her threw the background it was something she’d do to fill her time.

One day she’d brought some food with her to continue this weird task she’d put her self up to, She opened the bag a little too loud when she felt someone staring at her.

She’d been found out. She would run away but then she’d get screamed at by Gabriel which she couldn’t have, she also wasn’t allowed outside when she wasn’t doing anything but here she was.

The blonde looked at her food instead, she didn’t look at the girl when she heard twigs break, nor did she stare when she saw two pair of shoes in front of her, simply she was too afraid.

The pink head knelt down and gave her a piece of paper, she didn’t move after she gave her the paper she stayed still waiting for an answer.

‘Why are you sitting here alone?’

That’s what was written on the paper, the girl looked up and met the fairy’s pink eyes, she smiled at her before standing up to her full height and extended her hand to help her up she gladly accepted.

“Miss.. what’s your name?” Y/n spoke her gold eyes staring at the fairy, she quickly scribbled out her name on a piece of paper before lifting it up.

‘Aria’

Her name is really pretty, The girl thought, she thanked Aria and continued following her not knowing what to do.

Aria led y/n to a more quieter place instead of seating on the floor there was a cloth covering it so that you clothes don’t get dirty.

the siren knew that you’d been watching her for a while, you didn’t think she was oblivious now did you?

I was gonna add the rest but idk How too so bear w me rn

[maximoffsbaby]

| DON’T PUSH ME AWAY |

wanda maximoff x f!reader

1.3K words

warnings: heavy topics mentioned, self harm / cuts and burns, depression, alcohol addiction

Summary: Sometimes running away just brings more pain not only to yourself but also to your girlfriend.

Hi everyone! So this is my first time writing something on here. I’m not a writer but i’d love to try and write short stories with wanda! Also, english isn’t my native language, sorry in advance for the mistakes!

Loud bangs on your door pulled you out of your trance. You didn’t move, even when you heard her voice. You loved her so much and you hated yourself for it. You didn’t deserve her and she definitely didn’t deserve you. She deserved so much better, someone who wasn’t broken.

The banging hasn’t stopped. Anger was starting to find its place washing away the annoyance of the whole situation.

‘Y/N open up now, i know you’re in here!’

It took everything you had not to snap at your girlfriend. She was slowly pushing your buttons and you didn’t know how long you’d last before snapping.

‘I’m coming in!’

You froze. Your brain stopped working for a few seconds before the sound of her keys jinglind brought you back to reality. She couldn’t see you like this. No, that’s why you disappeared. You’re supposed to be strong, supposed to be this though person than nothing can hurt. What would she be thinking if she was to know?

That’s when the door opened and you realized everything was about to end. She would either break up or you would do it.

As soon as she opened the door, her eyes landed on yours. She took in your appearance and her heart broke. She’d never seen you like this. Blood shot and puffy eyes. Tears stains on your cheeks and clothes, clothes that looked like they’d been worn for days. Greasy and messed up hair. But what shocked her the most was how fragile you looked, like you would literally break at any moment.

Tissues were scattered everywhere. As she was taking in the state of your apartment, the smell hit her. Cigarettes and alcohol. Ashes could be spotted on the ground and the amount of dead bottles were concerning.

‘Y/N I-‘

‘You have to leave’ you cut her off.

‘Y/N, baby no. What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything sweetheart.’

‘Please Wands, you have to leave’

Tears started to make their way back to your eyes again. Not 20 minutes ago you thought you’d run out of tears. If only. Why did she have to come here?

Wanda started to make her way toward yourself.

‘I’m not leaving you, not until you talk to me’

‘I’m fine, please just go. I’ll text you tomorrow.’

‘No Y/N, you’re clearly not fine. Don’t lie to me. Last time we saw each other you seemed off by the end of the night. You stopped showing up, how long has it been since we last saw each other? And you’ve stopped replying to my texts. Honey, please tell me what’s wrong. I hate seeing you like this.’

‘Wands I-‘

That’s when you broke down. Her arms rapidly wrapped themselves around your body as you hugged her closer. She held you tightly and made the both of you sit down. She patiently waited for you to calm down.

‘I’m okay really. It looks worse than it actually is.’

‘Y/N I- What is it that you’re afraid of?’ We talk about anything and everything all the time. What’s stopping you from opening up to me now? You know i won’t judge you. I love you.’

You couldn’t look at her. You were so embarrassed. Deep inside, you know she loves you and would never hurt you, judge or make fun of you. But there’s this part of you that just thinks the opposite.

Wanda squeezed your hands and made you look at her.

‘I’m worried about you.’

You looked away and withdrew your hands from hers. After a moment of silence, you took a deep breath and decided to tell her everything.

‘It all started years ago. I was experiencing pretty bad anxiety and panic attacks for the first time and I didn’t know how to deal with them. It was ruining my life, I was really struggling. But as if that wasn’t enough, i also got depressed. It was bad, i didn’t know what was happening. I had never felt that way before. It was overwhelming. I was drowning in sadness and pain and didn’t know how to make it stop. Soon enough, i started to self harm.’

You took a look at Wanda, to make sure that this wasn’t too much for her. You almost hit the wall next to you as the pained expression across her face and the light tears that formed in her eyes broke your heart to pieces. She nodded her head softly, indicating you to continue.

‘I would cut myself and everything would quiet down as i was taking it out on my body. Eventually, i realized this wasn’t going to change anything so i stopped. I got better with time, to the point i think i just fooled myself for months before it all came crashing down. I somehow managed to survive it. But this time I got better not because i was fooling myself but because i needed time. And it took a while but i got out of it. The thing is no matter what i do or feel, at the end of the day i’m still a depressed person. I can smile, laugh and feel good and enjoy things but i’m still depressed.’

Wanda tried to take your hands but you just moved them away. You wanted to get everything out first. You didn’t see the look of hurt that flashed across her face. She wanted to touch you, to comfort you in any way possible but Wanda understood and respected your choice.

‘It got bad again a few days ago and i didn’t want you to know that part of myself so i thought that disappearing was the best option.’

Then you stopped. You turned your head to meet her gaze. She got closer and put her forehead against yours as a way of comforting you while her hands made their way back to yours. You let it happen. After a moment you moved away but let her hold your hands.

‘And just so you know everything, i burnt myself a few months ago. I stopped after the second time and hated myself for doing it because it doesn’t change anything and i’m just left struggling to hide the burns. I also got a drinking problem, I’m not an alcoholic but i don’t have a good relationship with it either.’

You were thankful she did not cut you off once. Nor did she said a word while you were silent avout how she also had her own demons to fight. At this moment you wanted to be listened and she did.

‘Thank you for opening up to me, I know it wasn’t easy for you. And i’m sorry that you feel this way. You’re a wonderful person Y/N with an amazing personality. It’s not because you’re always the funny and not scared of anything kind of person than you talking to me is making you weak. I know this is what you think. You’re not, you’re my wonderful girlfriend that I love so much and who I’d be lost without. Please next time it happens, don’t push me away. I want to be there for you, you don’t have to go through this alone.’

‘Can you hug me?’

‘My baby, come here.’ She said as she pulled you into her arms. You had missed her so much. You were so scared she’d leave you if she was to know. But no, what you didn’t know yet is that you opening up to her about such sensitive and heavy private topics brought you both closer.

What you also didn’t know yet is that Wanda would always be by your side. You were the love her life and she’d offer you the moon if she could.

‘Now let’s get you cleaned up so we can go back to my place. We’ll take care of here another time.’ Your girlfriend said as she kissed your forehead.

A silent promise that you and her would always face anything no matter how hard it was going to be.

[beauttifullife]

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Agatha Harkness felt whole again.

Rio kissed her temple, her neck, her shoulder, and each kiss was like a balm to Agatha’s soul. The gentle press of Rio’s lips against her skin spoke the words neither of them had the strength to say aloud—that they were still here, still together, despite everything that had tried to tear them apart. And as Agatha sat there, wrapped in the quiet strength of Rio’s arms, she realized something that hit her like a tidal wave.

She still loved this woman with every part of her being.

She needed her, more than she’d ever been willing to admit before. The loss, the pain—had been unbearable, but the thought of losing Rio now, after all of this, was something she couldn’t survive.

“Rio,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid things. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to say the words, even though she was terrified of what Rio might say in response. “You... you can’t leave me alone again. I won’t survive losing you both a second time.”

For a moment, Rio paused, her breath catching in her chest, and Agatha’s heart seized with fear. She felt as though the world had stopped spinning, as though everything was hanging on Rio’s next words. The silence stretched out, suffocating her, making her wonder if maybe she had pushed too far—if maybe she had done too much damage, said too many hurtful things to ever come back from it.

Rio’s hand gently cupped Agatha’s cheek, the warmth of her touch grounding Agatha in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. There was no more pain, no more guilt—just Rio’s steady presence, the love in her gaze that had survived the weight of centuries, of grief, of everything that had tried to tear them apart.

"Sweetheart," Rio whispered, her voice trembling with tenderness. “I never left you. I just kept my distance. But I was always there."

Agatha blinked, her heart skipping a beat at Rio’s words.

“You were?" she murmured, disbelief coloring her voice. She had never known. Not once. Of course, she knew Rio was probably cleaning up the messes, picking up the bodies left in her wake as she tore through the world like a storm, but Agatha had never felt her, never seen her. Not until Wanda, not until the Witches' Road.

"Yes," Rio replied softly, her voice steady but filled with a quiet vulnerability. “It was selfish on my part, really. I couldn’t let you go. I didn’t know how. So I watched from the shadows, always close enough to step in if you needed me, waiting for any sign that you wanted me to come back.”

Agatha’s chest tightened, a flood of emotions crashing through her at once. She had spent so many years believing she was alone, that she had pushed Rio too far, but now... now she realized that even in her darkest moments, Rio had been there, waiting for her. Always.

Tears welled up in Agatha's eyes, the weight of everything she had carried alone finally beginning to ease. She reached up, covering Rio’s hand on her cheek, her thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

"I never stopped wanting you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I just... I didn’t know how to find my way back."

Rio’s breath hitched at her words, her own tears spilling over as she leaned in, her forehead resting gently against Agatha’s. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing together, the pain and love that had defined them now swirling around them like the air itself.

Agatha’s fingers curled into Rio’s, gripping her tighter as if afraid to let go again.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "For everything. For pushing you away. For making you feel like you had to leave."

Rio’s arms wrapped tighter around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

"There’s nothing to forgive," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. “Every nook and cranny, Agatha—I knew what you were going through. I knew why you had to do it, even when it hurt."

Agatha swallowed hard, her heart breaking all over again, but this time, it wasn’t with pain. It was with the overwhelming love she felt for Rio—the love that had never truly left her, no matter how many walls she had built around her heart.

"So, you are staying—with me?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Rio leaned forward and kissed her, soft, gentle, everything that they weren’t were, before pulling back.

"Until the very end, my love," Rio whispered, her voice soft but unwavering, her hand still cradling Agatha’s cheek. Her thumb brushed away a tear that had slipped free, the tenderness in her touch grounding Agatha in a way nothing else could.

Agatha let out a shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into Rio’s hand. She felt the weight of everything slowly starting to ease—the years of grief, the unbearable loneliness—all softened by Rio's presence.

She felt like she could finally breathe again.

And then, like only Rio could, she broke the silence with a teasing tone that had Agatha opening her eyes in surprise.

"Plus, I believe a certain someone promised me something if we survived," Rio said with a playful glint in her eye, her lips curling into a small, mischievous smile.

Agatha blinked, momentarily thrown off, but then realization hit her, and she let out an exasperated huff as her own words played in her head.

“If we make it out of this—if we actually manage to survive… sure. We can renew our vows.”

“Do you ever forget anything?” Agatha muttered, half exasperated, half infatuated by the woman in front of her.

“No,” Rio murmured, a light teasing edge still in her voice. “It’s one of the many perks of being a cosmic being.”

Before Agatha could get a word out, Rio leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. The touch was light, tender, almost playful, but it sent a wave of warmth through Agatha’s chest that ached and soothed all at once. She tried to glare at her—tried to hold on to the last vestiges of frustration that had always been her shield—but it was useless. Rio’s love, her presence, was overwhelming, melting every icy wall Agatha had built to protect herself.

For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Agatha felt something shift inside her. The sharp edges of grief, the jagged shards of pain that had festered for so long, seemed to soften in the warmth of Rio’s touch. They hadn’t disappeared—no, they were still there, still raw—but they were bearable now, like a wound that was beginning to heal rather than one that continued to bleed.

“Who knows,” Rio murmured, leaning in closer, her lips brushing against Agatha’s in a way that made her breath hitch. “Maybe this time, I can finally convince you to take my name.”

Agatha blinked at her, startled by the absurdity of the comment, and then pulled back just enough to give Rio the most incredulous look she could muster.

“You really want to have this fight again?” Agatha’s voice was laced with mock exasperation, though the corners of her lips tugged upward, betraying her amusement. “I told you—Agatha Vidal just doesn’t have the same ring to it as Harkness.”

Rio, completely unbothered, flashed a grin that could melt glaciers. Without missing a beat, she slipped a hand behind Agatha’s head and pulled her into a kiss so intense, so full of fire, that Agatha forgot everything but the taste of her, the feel of her, the way their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly in that moment.

When Rio finally pulled back, leaving Agatha breathless, she whispered against her lips.

“It does if I give you a ring with it this time.”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat. She blinked, momentarily stunned by the words—by the promise behind them. For a second, she couldn’t find her voice. She just stared at Rio, her heart beating wildly in her chest. And then, because Rio always knew how to light a fire inside her, she found her words again.

“Oval cut,” Agatha murmured, pulling Rio’s face back toward hers, “and anything less than a carat, I’m chucking it into the nearest river.”

Rio chuckled, her eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous glint.

“Of course,” she agreed, her voice low, almost teasing.

“And,” Agatha continued, her fingers tightening in Rio’s hair, tugging lightly, “you still have to ask.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, smirking as she leaned in close, their lips almost brushing again.

“On both knees,” she whispered. “I remember.”

Agatha let out a huff of laughter, and it came from somewhere deep within her, a sound she hadn’t made in what felt like centuries. There was something so liberating about it, like pieces of her soul were finally coming back together—pieces she hadn’t even realized were missing until this very moment.

They sat there in the soft glow of the firelight, holding each other, the stream quietly babbling beside them, the forest humming with the sounds of life around them. For the first time in ages, Agatha felt like she could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“Gods, you drive me crazy,” Agatha said, shaking her head as she smiled, brushing her fingers through Rio’s hair. “You know that, right?”

Rio grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Agatha’s temple. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Agatha leaned into her touch, her eyes drifting closed as she let herself just be—be held, be loved.

And as they sat there, wrapped in each other, Agatha realized something. There would always be pain, always be grief. But with Rio, there was also love. And that love—strong, unbreakable—was enough to carry them through anything.

Even this.

It didn’t matter how long it took, how many storms they had to weather. Agatha knew she’d wait a thousand lifetimes to hold Rio like this, to feel her heartbeat against hers, to know that they were still standing—still fighting—together.

“I love you,” Agatha whispered, the words so quiet, so reverent, like they were the most important thing she’d ever said.

Rio smiled against her skin, pressing another kiss to her neck.

“I love you too,” she murmured. “Always.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Agatha Harkness felt whole again.

[lucygxybaird]

a spooky season AU sequel to my shootout fic

The wind is whistling around the house, sneaking frigid fingers inside wherever it can find purchase — under the door, in between the boards of the walls, even boldly finding its way down the chimney. It’s been a surprise to him to watch the mornings thaw slowly into sunny afternoons, the sun gathering strength again, as if he can’t quite believe that so much time has passed. The seasons changing, especially from winter to spring, has always seemed gentle to him, a reminder that things will come good again. 

But now, it saws at him like a knife, the edges serrated and hungry, severing the time when his life mattered — the time when you were with him — from the rest of it, however many years he’s forced to eke out before he can be with you again. 

“Billy?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard your voice since you left him — it has infused his dreams since the moment he laid you to rest, weaving in the way smoke will cling to clothes, to skin and hair, to any and everything it touches — but it’s the first time he’s heard it like this. Which is to say, wide awake, staring at fingers of moonlight slide across the planks above his head. 

“Billy…”

It sounds so clear, so pleading, and God help him, it sounds so close. As if you’re just on the other side of the window, instead of resting beneath the tree in the yard, the willow whose branches cast their protective shadow over you. He hopes you like the place he’s chosen for you, the marker he carved himself. It has your name and the day you were born, but not the day you died, because he can’t bear to set that day down in his own hand — 

“Billy!”

His eyes have drifted shut without his own permission, but now they fly open as he sits upright, as if someone has pulled him up by the collar. Billy’s hand steals under his pillow, where he keeps his gun, but he doesn’t draw it out. 

He would know your voice just by the way it travels on the air, without even having to hear it, a silent song to which his own blood would cry in kind. What he doesn’t know is how he could be hearing you so clearly right now, when he’s all too aware that you’re just one more person who has been dealt the ultimate punishment just for trusting him. For loving him.

Tick, tick, tick—

The sound, like a rapid-fire series of pebbles hitting the window, draws his eyes over to it. He can’t make sense of what he’s seeing at first — not just because it’s impossible, but because he’s wanted it so much that his mind rears back from the sight, like a frightened horse bucking in panic. He cannot lose what he does not have, and so he is afraid to grasp this possibility at all.

He shakes his head, his eyes blank and staring as he fights the urge to blink.

When he was a little boy, he had a recurring nightmare, where he would cry out for his mother and she would come to him, sitting on the edge of his little cot. “Don’t blink, Billy,” she’d urge him, grasping earnestly at his hands. “Don’t blink.” And he would try so very, very hard, his eyes burning, but every time, he would fail. 

And every time, she would disappear, a wraith melting into the air. Billy would wake up crying, stuffing his fist into his mouth lest Kathleen hear, afraid that she truly would disappear if she actually came to him. The dream was so vivid that he’d never been entirely sure if he was awake or not, and so he would lay awake, staring at the ceiling until he saw the shadows flee to the corners as the sun began to rise.

His eyes are starting to burn now, tears gathering, as he stares at your face framed in the window. Surely, if he blinks, you’ll disappear like his mother did.

“Billy,” you say again, and you put your hand against the windowpane. 

Your voice is muffled, your face swimming behind the warped, frostbitten glass, but you're here.

You're here.

He’s out of bed in a moment, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to cross the room. Wrenching the door open, ignoring the cold, he stumbles around the corner of the house, grabbing at your shoulders. He expects to grasp at nothing except wintry air, but he finds you, solid and real, if not chilled to his touch.

He doesn’t think anything of it, except to immediately draw you into his arms, trying to warm you up. The snows have melted by now, but spring is still weeks away, if not longer; cold lingers long, and it sticks, turning the skin to marble and soaking into the ground. You’re both in bare feet, but you aren’t shivering; instead, you’re still, staring at him as if you’re trying to drink in the sight of his flushed, shocked face.

“I don’t…” Billy croaks, burying his face in the crook of your neck. It’s as if he has to assure himself through every sense he has that you’re really here, even if it doesn’t make any sort of sense. He can feel you in his arms, he can smell you as he grips greedily at your waist, although — 

You don’t smell like you. 

He remembers your perfume of lavender mixed with orange water. He knows, because he bought it for you himself, and you wore it every day since then. Or you had.

But now you simply smell like…well, earth. Dark, rich, ancient, shot through with cold. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Oh, Billy, I’m so sorry. I…I want to tell you everything, but I’m…” 

He lifts his face to look up at you, and your face is white, your eyes rimmed with red and filmed with fear. “Baby, if this is real, if I ain’t dreamin’, you can tell me anything,” he says. “I just…I…god, honey, I missed you so much…”

His voice cracks, and you immediately take his face between your hands, as if you can hold him together. “I missed you, too,” you say. “You have no idea.” 

You hesitate, looking at the house. “What’s wrong?” Billy says, and you look back at him, taking a deep breath.

“I need you to invite me in.”

Billy’s startled into laughing, looking between you and the house as if he expects to find another structure standing there. “What are you talkin’ about? Baby, this is your home.”

“I know,” you say, smiling tentatively at him. “But things are different now. I’ll explain it all, I promise, but I just need you to invite me inside.”

“C-come in?” Billy says uncertainly, as if all the manners his mother instilled in him have simply flown out the window, and you smile. 

“That’s fine,” you say.

He smiles back at you, still utterly stunned, not fully able to believe that this is real and not some strange, beautiful dream. “I love you,” he says, as if testing the waters. Surely, this is where a dream would fall apart; you’ll disappear, too, or you’ll laugh at him, or you’ll fall to the ground, your wounds bleeding fresh. 

Instead, you reach out to cup his cheek in your icy palm. “Oh, Billy, I love you so much,” you say. “Please don’t forget that.”

His brow furrows. As if he could ever forget. 

Billy takes you by the hand, leading you inside, and he immediately pulls you into bed. In part, he just wants to get you warm, but he also doesn’t know what else to do. Even in the midst of his joy, he feels unmoored, uncertain. This bed, with you in it, has always been his safe haven. No matter the hellfire he walked through, no matter if he bent under a hail of bullets or over the grave of a friend, as long as he knew he had you, waiting in the warm oasis of blankets and your arms — he could withstand anything.

“Billy,” you whisper, nestling into his chest just as you always did. He closes his eyes, his arms looping tightly around you. It helps, laying here, like he thought it would. He can pretend, at least for a moment, that none of it happened — finding you too late, your body little more than a shell, broken, everything that made you you spilled out into the air. Gone. Burying you, wishing he could be with you. 

You’re here now; he doesn’t understand why, but as long as the two of you are laying here, entwined, peaceful, he can tell himself it doesn’t matter. None of it happened. It wasn’t real. This is real, this moment, right now. Before and beyond is meaningless. 

“Love,” he says softly, as if it’s your name. And it might as well be. 

You burrow into his arms, and despite pulling the blankets up around the two of you and holding you as tightly as he can, Billy can still feel how cold you are. You aren’t shivering, but it’s as winter itself has rooted in your skin. He rubs at your back, and he feels you press your face against his neck. You do shiver then, once, but then you’re still, pliant in his arms. 

“Billy, I…I have to tell you something,” you say, and you sit up, propping yourself up on your elbow to look into his face. “I just — I’m afraid. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never,” he says, immediately, without a whisper of hesitation. 

Your mouth trembles. “Or you’ll be disgusted by me.”

“Never,” he says again. 

Another tremor of your lips. “Or you’ll be frightened of me.”

This time, he just mutely shakes his head. He can’t imagine being frightened of you, or disgusted, or anything except so in love with you that he wears it like a second skin, as vital and intrinsic to him as the skin he was born with, beautiful and fragile and apt to bleed him dry if it’s ever torn away from him again. 

“Just tell me,” he says. “Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as losin’ you. It just can’t be.”

You rub at your eyes with both hands, and you speak with your eyes covered like that. “I can’t die, Billy,” you say. “Not really. I can be hurt, and badly, yes. That’s what you saw, that day.”

He grits his teeth. Your words aren’t sinking in yet, not fully. I can’t die. But he saw you. He’ll never forget that moment for the rest of his life. 

“I lost so much blood,” you whisper. “We can bleed, you know. It’s just…it takes so much more for us to really be injured. I was just a husk by the time you found me.”

That much doesn’t surprise him. He remembers how light you felt, how empty. He’d known then, at once. 

“It was good that you buried me where you did,” you say, and he feels a spark of happiness, absurdly pleased that you like where he lay you down. “I can’t be buried in sanctified ground. It was a lovely place to rest, Billy. I liked hearing the wind in the branches.”

He’s so glad that he’s done right by you that it takes him a moment to understand what you’re saying — sanctified ground — and then it all rushes over him at once. What you’ve been trying to tell him. He sits up, and you flinch. 

“Billy…”

“Wait,” he says, holding up a hand. “Wait. Just gimme a minute.”

You press your lips together. 

He tries to run his mind over what you’ve been saying, trying to connect the pieces in a way that fits, that makes sense. He looks at you, your beloved, perfect face, and he shakes his head. “You don’t gotta tell me any more, unless you want to,” he says. “I understand. I don’t need to know anything else. If this is is how you came back to me, that’s all I need.”

Your lower lip wobbles. “Billy…”

“I don’t care,” he says softly, gently. Trying to offer you a promise, hoping you’ll take it. “Baby, I love you, just as you are. As whatever you are. All I need to know is you love me, too.”

“Of course I do.” You smile at him, but then you shake your head. “But I need to tell you, at least once. I need to say it.” 

Billy feels a weight settling on his chest, but far from driving the breath from his lungs, it just makes him feel steady, like a ship dropping anchor. He nods. 

You fold your hands together in your lap, a posture of prayer or perhaps penitence. “I’m…” You worry your lower lip between your teeth, as if you’re chewing on the word before you say it. “I’m a vampire, Billy. I don’t drink from humans unless I’m suffering and need the extra sustenance.”

“Like now?” he asks, and you nod. He hesitates just for a moment. “Who?”

You smile thinly. “Let’s just say Jesse and his gang are going to need a few fresh graves of their own.” 

He feels a savage leap of pleasure in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He doesn’t ask — it feels oddly intimate — but he hopes you got the man who took you away from him. 

“It’s why I was gone for so long. I needed to get my strength back, so I had to go slowly at first. I wanted to come back to you at once, but I couldn’t risk being around you when I was so…” You pause, grimacing. “So weak. So hungry. You wouldn’t have recognized me. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.” 

“You’re here now,” he says, giving voice to the mantra that has been carved into the metronome of his heart since he first saw you in the window. Here now — here now — here now — everything else is just lilies in springtime, when all he really needs is the warming, fertile earth and the sun on his face. 

He smiles at you, and it seems like you take solace from it. You clear your throat and go on. “I was born in Beverly, in the Massachusetts colony, in 1674. I’m…” 

You pause again, although this time it just seems as though you’re calculating. He can tell already that you feel easier just having actually said it. 

“I’m 204…no, 207 years old,” you say, and he nods, as if this isn’t entirely mind-boggling information. You look at him for a moment, as if bracing yourself for an adverse reaction, but he just offers you a grin.

“Good thing I like older women,” he teases, and you laugh. 

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

You smile and shake your head fondly. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

He hesitates for a moment. “Would…would you ever…” 

It doesn’t surprise him that you guess what he’s about to say before he actually says it. You’ve always been good at that.

“If that’s what you want,” you say. “But I want you to really think on it, Billy, alright? I know tonight has been…”

“Tonight has been the greatest night of my life,” Billy interrupts firmly, and he watches you try — and fail — to fight a smile.

“I was going to say a lot,” you answer, and you both laugh. 

“That’s true, too.”

You frame his face between your hands, looking at him earnestly. “I mean it. Think on it. I want to be with you forever, but you’re asking to give up a lot. More than you know right now.”

“But not you,” he says. “I don’t have to give you up.”

You smile softly. “Not me.” 

That’s all he needs to know, but he promises you he’ll think on it, because he knows that’s what you need to hear. He isn��t sure you understand that he simply does not care what he would be giving up, not as long as he gets to keep you in the bargain. If you asked him about heaven, about God and his immortal soul, all he would say is that he would throw the keys to the pearly gates over his shoulder without looking back if it meant he could stay with you forever. 

You reach for him, and he moves into your arms, laying his head against your chest. You’ve never held him like this before, and now he understand why. Your chest is still, and there is no drumbeat beneath your skin, no pulse of life. But he knows your still heart belongs to him, just as his beating one belongs to you.

“Sleep, Billy,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his hair. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He closes his eyes, softening in your embrace. Melting.

For the first time in months, he sleeps, deeply and sweetly, and without dreaming. All his dreams have come true, anyway. 

You’re here.