#took me forever to figure out what to do for this one

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - Broken Promises

Summary - One passionate night together shatters when she must confront her impending betrothal, leading to a tragic betrayal that alters their fates forever. Left with only the haunting memory of their love, Aemond grapples with the consequences of their brief connection.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), violence

Word count - 2581

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The day Aemond Targaryen bared his heart to the woman he had hopelessly fallen in love with was also the day their brief love story came to a tragic end.

I sat alone in my chambers, knees pulled tightly to my chest, absentmindedly dipping my fingers into the pool of melted candle wax. The fleeting sting of the burn felt oddly comforting, its warmth a poor distraction from the turmoil within me.

Resting my head on my knees, my eyes wandered toward the window where a fierce storm raged outside, rain hammering against the glass in violent bursts. 

The thunder echoed my inner conflict, my thoughts a chaotic tangle of duty and desire. 

The looming shadow of my upcoming betrothal to the son of Lord Jasper Wylde weighed heavily on me, yet it paled in comparison to the feelings I harboured for Aemond—the one-eyed prince who had unknowingly captured my heart.

A soft creak interrupted my thoughts. The chamber doors opened slowly, the heavy wood groaning as someone entered. 

When I looked up, I gasped—it was the last person I had expected to see tonight.

"Aemond?" I whispered, startled. My fingers brushed the candle beside me, knocking it over. The flame extinguished with a hiss as the wax spilt across the stone floor, plunging the room into near darkness.

He stood in the doorway, drenched to the bone, his black leathers gleaming in the flickering light from the dying hearth. 

His hair clung to his face, the wet strands only making the sharp planes of his features more severe, his single violet eye burning with an intensity I'd never seen before.

"Do not marry him," he breathed, his voice rough with desperation.

I blinked, struggling to comprehend his words. My gaze roamed his figure, taking in the sight of him, as if he had just flown through the storm on Vhagar to reach me, his presence here a force of nature all its own. 

The storm outside seemed to pale in comparison to the tempest in his eye.

Aemond took a step closer, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor as the storm outside raged on. His face, half-shrouded in shadow, was a mask of barely contained emotion. 

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, my breath catching in my throat as he moved closer, his single eye locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

"I cannot stand by and watch you wed another," he said, his voice low and raw with emotion. "I know your duty binds you, but I cannot—will not—pretend any longer."

His words struck me like a lightning bolt. My mind reeled as I processed what he was saying, yet somewhere deep within me, I had known this was coming. 

I had felt it in the way he lingered near me, in the way his gaze lingered a little too long, in the way his touch seemed to burn through the thin fabric of propriety. 

But hearing it out loud—hearing the vulnerability in his voice as he bared his heart to me—was something entirely different.

"Aemond..." I whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure of what I should feel, or what I was allowed to feel.

His hand reached out, trembling slightly as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my skin. His touch was surprisingly warm, despite the cold dampness that clung to him. 

"I have loved you, quietly, endlessly, for so long," he murmured, his eye never leaving mine. "I tried to fight it. I tried to bury it beneath duty, beneath everything else. But when I heard of your betrothal... I couldn't breathe. The thought of you with him—of you becoming his—"

His voice faltered, breaking slightly, and in that moment, all of his carefully constructed walls crumbled.

"I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much aching truth that it made my heart lurch. "I've loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I will never stop."

Before I could respond, before I could even process the weight of his confession, he closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine with a fierce, desperate hunger. 

The kiss was rough at first, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every repressed feeling into it, but it quickly softened into something gentler, something more tender. 

I gasped against his mouth, my fingers instinctively tangling in his soaked hair as I kissed him back, the world outside falling away, leaving only us and the storm of emotions swirling between us.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. 

"I cannot lose you," he murmured, his breath warm against my lips. "Not like this."

"Aemond," I whispered, my voice trembling, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. "I feel the same... I always have."

At my words, something in him seemed to snap. His lips claimed mine again, this time softer, slower, as if he was savouring the moment, afraid it might slip away if he didn't hold on tightly enough. 

His hands roamed my body, hesitantly at first, but growing more confident as I responded, my own hands exploring the hard planes of his chest.

Before I knew it, we were moving, stumbling backward toward the bed, our kisses growing deeper, more urgent, as if every second that passed only heightened the tension between us. 

When my back hit the edge of the bed, I pulled him down with me, the weight of his body pressing against mine sending a thrill through me that I had never known before.

He pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze searching. 

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse with need but laced with a deep tenderness.

I nodded, my heart racing, but there was no fear—only a burning need to be closer to him, to feel everything we had both been denying for so long. 

"Yes," I whispered. "I'm sure."

Aemond kissed me again, this time slower, more reverent, as if he was savouring every moment. 

His hands moved with care, gently removing the layers of my clothing, and I did the same, my fingers trembling as I unbuckled his belt, peeled away his wet cloak, and let it fall to the floor. 

With each piece of clothing shed, the vulnerability between us grew, until we were both bare, exposed not just physically, but emotionally.

When he finally lowered himself over me, his body warm and solid against mine, it felt like the world had shifted, like everything had fallen into place in that moment. 

His touch was careful, almost worshipful, as his hands caressed my skin, and when he finally entered me, it was slow, gentle, as if he was afraid of hurting me. 

A soft gasp escaped my lips at the sensation, unfamiliar yet achingly beautiful.

He paused, his eye locked on mine, waiting, asking without words if I was alright. I nodded, my fingers gripping his shoulders, urging him on. 

Slowly, he began to move, and the initial discomfort melted into something deeper, something breathtakingly intimate.

Each thrust was a silent confession, a shared secret, as our bodies moved together in perfect harmony. 

His name fell from my lips in a breathless whisper, and he responded with a soft groan, his movements growing more urgent as we lost ourselves in each other.

The storm outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of our mingled breaths, the soft rustling of sheets, and the overwhelming closeness of his body against mine. 

Time lost all meaning as we came together again and again, until finally, the tension built to a crescendo, and we shattered, our release a shared moment of pure, aching bliss.

Aemond collapsed beside me, his breath ragged as he pulled me into his arms, his chest rising and falling rapidly against my back. 

I turned to face him, my head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

In the quiet aftermath, with the storm still raging outside but a new peace settling between us, I knew that nothing would ever be the same. 

This night, this moment, had changed everything.

As we lay together, the only sound was the steady rise and fall of our breaths and the distant rumble of the storm, now reduced to a soft whisper outside the windows. 

Aemond's arm was draped protectively over my waist, his warmth surrounding me like a cocoon. 

I traced the lines of his chest absentmindedly, my mind already drifting to the reality I would have to face in a few hours.

But as the weight of duty settled on my shoulders once more, I felt the inevitable tug of responsibility, like a noose tightening around my neck. 

I knew what needed to be done. I could not avoid it any longer.

With a deep sigh, I slowly disentangled myself from Aemond's embrace, careful not to disturb him. The cool air hit my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth we had shared. 

I could feel his gaze on me before he even spoke.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep but laced with a note of concern. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my arm, urging me to stay.

I turned to face him, already half-dressed, my heart aching at the sight of him—his hair tousled, his violet eye clouded with worry, his lips still swollen from our kisses. 

He looked vulnerable, a far cry from the fierce, stoic prince the world knew him to be.

"I have to go," I said softly, pulling on the last of my clothes. The words felt like shards of glass in my throat. "I have to tell him... about the betrothal. About us."

Aemond's expression darkened, and he sat up, his brows drawing together in a storm of emotions. 

"Tell him?" he echoed, his voice suddenly sharper, filled with disbelief and rising panic. "You don't owe him anything. You don't have to—"

"I do," I interrupted gently, though the pain in my chest nearly doubled as I saw the flicker of hurt in his eye. "If I'm to end this, he needs to know. I can't leave him in the dark. It's only right." 

I hesitated, reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "But don't worry... I'll be back."

Aemond's grip tightened around my hand, his desperation now palpable. "Stay," he whispered, his voice low but filled with a quiet, almost pleading intensity. 

"Stay with me. Forget him. We can leave this place—together. We can run, escape this life, and no one will follow. Let me take you away from all of this."

For a fleeting moment, I considered it. Running away with Aemond sounded like a dream.

��A life with him, free of duty, free of the obligations that bound us to others, was all I had ever wanted. But reality was much crueller. There was no escaping our fates. 

And I could not live with myself if I left things unfinished if I left my betrothed without an explanation.

"I can't," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Aemond's forehead. "But I will come back to you. I promise."

Aemond's eye searched mine, as though he were trying to convince himself of my words, but deep down, I saw the doubt flicker in him. 

He didn't want to believe it, but he nodded slowly, reluctantly releasing my hand.

"I'll wait for you," he murmured, his voice tight with resignation. "Come back to me."

I gave him a sad smile before slipping out of the room, leaving him behind in the dim light of our shared night, unaware that it would be the last time I would ever see him.

I made my way to Jasper Wylde's son, my heart heavy with dread but resolved to set things right. I needed to tell him that the betrothal could not go forward, that my heart belonged to another, even if it would shatter the fragile alliance our families had built. 

I hoped—perhaps foolishly—that he might understand, that he would let me go.

But when I stood before him in his chambers, and the words tumbled from my lips, his reaction was far from what I had imagined.

At first, he was silent, his face an unreadable mask, but I could see the fury simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into fists. 

I took a step back, suddenly aware of the growing tension in the room.

"You love him?" he asked, his voice unnervingly calm, though the venom lacing his words was unmistakable. "The one-eyed prince? You think I will simply stand by and allow you to humiliate me like this? To betray our betrothal for him?"

I opened my mouth to speak, to try and reason with him, but the storm broke before I had a chance. 

In an instant, his rage erupted. He lunged forward, his hand striking me across the face with such force that I stumbled, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. 

Panic surged through me, but before I could react, he was upon me, his hands around my throat, his face twisted in an unrecognizable fury.

"You think you can leave me?!" he snarled, his grip tightening as I gasped for air. "You think I'll let you walk away from this? You belong to me!"

I clawed at his hands, but his strength was overwhelming. My vision blurred, dark spots clouding the edges of my sight as my body fought for breath. 

Desperation filled me, but it was no use. 

The world around me began to fade, the sound of his hateful words growing distant until, finally, there was nothing but silence.

Aemond waited for hours, pacing back and forth in the darkened chamber where we had shared our first and only night together. His heart raced with anxiety, his mind conjuring up every possible reason for my delay, but always, he held onto hope. 

I would come back to him. I had promised.

But as dawn broke and the first rays of light crept into the room, reality began to settle in. Something was wrong. Aemond's chest tightened with a growing sense of dread. 

He threw on his clothes and stormed out of the room, determined to find me.

It wasn't until later that day that he learned the truth.

When they found my body—lifeless, bruised, and cold—Aemond's world shattered. 

The news spread quickly, whispers of a lover's quarrel turned deadly, but all Aemond could hear was the sound of his own heartbreaking, the weight of his own failure crashing down on him.

I had promised I would come back to him. I never did.

In that moment, standing over my lifeless body, Aemond knew that the love we had shared, however brief, would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

Our love story had been beautiful, but it was never meant to last. 

And now, it had ended in the worst possible way—tragic, unfinished, and forever lost to the cruelty of fate.

In the shadow of my death, Aemond's heart hardened. The gentle, desperate man I had known that night was gone, replaced by a hollow, vengeful prince, consumed by a rage that would never be quenched. 

He swore vengeance on the man who had taken me from him, but even revenge could not bring me back. 

Our love, fleeting and fragile, was now nothing more than a bitter memory, a love story destined to end in heartbreak.

A/n - I am still not over Autumn and Finny from 'if he had been with me' so I gotta make sure everyone suffers <3

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy

[nightghoul381]

Ellis Twilight~ Chapter 13 - His Side Story

"Loosen up and go crazy.”

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: None

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Kate is a hard worker.

She laughed and said that she was now able to operate the wheelchair I had made herself.

That smile looked so happy and cute, but,

Looking at it… something dark and hidden deep within my chest began to stir.

--Like trying to pry open a lid.

My room faces the forest that surrounds Crown Castle.

When we moved into Crown Castle, Jude said “Ya like it here, don’t ya?” so I decided to live there.

(Any room would have been fine for me though.)

Kate squints happily as the sunlight filters through the trees.

(I’m glad Kate likes it.)

I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the picnic we had some time ago.

Kate: “Ellis, your room is so relaxing.”

Ellis: “I guess so. Jude clicked his tongue at me and said, ‘Ya haven’t got a single book?’”

I picked up Kate from her wheelchair and gently placed her on the sofa.

The tray I placed on her lap had fried eggs and bacon on it,

Salad, white beans stewed in tomato sauce, and buttered toast are all neatly arranged beside them.

Kate: “Wow… This looks delicious.”

Ellis: “You always eat the food served at breakfast with gusto.”

Ellis: “I put a little bit of everything on the plate.”

Kate: “Thank you… I’m going to enjoy this.”

When she’s eating, Kate smiles more than usual and looks cuter.

(You’re defenseless, Kate.)

(I’m a guy, after all.)

When she suggested “A place I could relax”, I reflexively said “My room”, though it’s not something I should’ve said.

(Seeing Kate go out on her own…)

(I thought it would be better to stay in the room rather than take her out somewhere.)

(Kate was so cute when she blushed in confusion.)

As Kate savored her breakfast, her eyes occasionally wandered around my room.

I was staring intently at Kate’s figure.

(…I’m glad your injury is healing.)

(I’m glad that you can now operate the wheelchair.)

(I should’ve said that earlier.)

That her injuries are healing, that she can go places she wants to go by herself,

Because it would make Kate happy.

(Why couldn’t I say it?)

At that moment, I felt something crawling up from deep within my chest—

Kate: “Today, I think I’ll walk around the castle for rehabilitation.”

My heart skipped a beat when I heard Kate’s cheerful voice.

(…Ah.)

I feel as if the things I need to kill are overflowing, and I hold my breath.

--I wish we could stay like this forever.

Then I’ll be the only one who can make Kate happy.

I won’t just bring you breakfast, I’d do everything.

I wish Kate would wish that too—

Kate: “Ellis?”

Ellis: “…Ah, yeah. That’s good.”

Suddenly coming to my senses, I picked up the empty tray from Kate’s lap.

I took a deep breath as I loaded it onto the tea trolley.

(What am I thinking?)

That was definitely not a wish for Kate.

It’s selfish of me.

(I hid it away properly, so why does it keep coming out?)

To avoid being swallowed up, I push it tightly back into my chest.

(Don’t make Kate unhappy.)

I changed my mindset, and reached out to Kate.

Ellis: “Hold my hand when you walk. I think you’ll still be unsteady.”

Kate: “…Um, thank you.”

We clasped hands and left the room.

Ellis: “…Does it hurt?”

Kate: “Y-yeah… but it’s okay.”

One, two, one, two, Kate takes steps forward little by little.

Her injured leg was stiff from not moving it for a while.

Kate: “I didn’t realize that just a few days of bed rest could make it so hard to walk.”

Kate: “…Whoa.”

Ellis: “Oops… Are you okay?”

With a click, Kate’s legs lost strength and she nearly fell, but I managed to stop her.

Kate: “Th-Thank you…”

Ellis: “……Of course.”

Kate is kind of cute when she clings tightly to my hand, like a fawn that has just stood up.

Kate: “My muscle strength has really decreased… I need to train…”

Ellis: “Fufu… I’ll be with you every day, so don’t worry.”

Kate muttered in a serious tone, so I replied in a light-hearted tone.

Kate: “…”

Kate looked up at me and then blushed again, as if troubled.

(…?)

Ellis: “…Is something wrong?”

Kate: “Uh, nope…”

Kate: “I kept saying that I had to become independent… but when I’m with you, Ellis, I end up becoming spoiled.”

Kate: “I was just thinking, I have to be careful…”

(…)

Kate’s words pierce my heart.

It pierces the lid of the tightly closed box from above, nearly prying it open.

(Huh…?)

(Would it be beneficial for Kate if I told her “You can be more dependent on me”?)

(Or maybe that’s just what I want.)

I was so confused that I almost pulled my hand away, but then…

Kate: “Ah, wait, wait…!”

Ellis: “Ngh…!”

Kate squeezed my hand as she spoke,

All my confusion was blown away by that sensation.

Kate: “I guess that means, I should wait until I can walk a bit more before trying to avoid becoming too dependent on you, huh…?”

Kate: “If you let go of my hand now, I’ll fall…”

Kate’s eyes look up at me with anxiousness.

(…Wow)

(I shouldn’t be happy about this.)

If I feel happy, I’ll just end up ‘repeating’ the same thing again—

I no longer knew how to contain the excitement that was building deep inside my heart.

Ellis: “…Yep, I’m holding it properly.”

Ellis: “Even when you can walk, you don’t have to let go.”

Kate: “Huh…!?”

Kate: “…Stop teasing me like that…”

Kate’s face took on a slightly troubled look and then,

She looked happy and relaxed.

(When was Kate’s happiest moment?)

(At that time, I was just being pure and honest with her.)

(I wonder if I can make Kate’s happiness last forever.)

As I spend time with Kate, I gradually lose confidence.

(I hope you find happiness soon.)

(It was a bad idea for me to wish for it to stay like this forever.)

(Before it gets any stronger--)

Next Chapter

[ladytanithia]

WIP whenever tf

I've had practically nothing in progress writing-wise in ages. Lost my mojo. But I'm trying to get back into a groove. Not happy with how I've done BLP so far, so I'm rewriting it, from the beginning, and incorporating Miranja's journal into it.

However, this scene from Out of the Ashes came up in a conversation the other day, and OotA technically still counts as a WIP, since it's not finished (dammit - NONE of the parts of Miranja's story is truly finished!). So I figured what the hell. It's been a long time since I had any writing to share, and this is one of the best scenes to really show how Miranja's mind works. Not even any sex here. <gasp!>

Tagging friends whose writing I've been enjoying whilst not producing anything myself. @dirty-bosmer @lillxart @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter @theoneandonlysemla I hope you enjoy it.

It was just about eight o’clock in the evening when they arrived back in Solitude. Before doing anything else, Miranja went directly to Castle Dour.

Tullius was sitting on the bench in the corner by the enchanting table in the foyer. Miranja had gone straight to the war room looking for him, hadn’t found him, had checked his bedroom, still hadn’t found him, and had backtracked to the front door before he finally spoke to her and drew her attention.

“Looking for me, Auxiliary?”

Surprised, Miranja turned toward the sound of his voice and approached him.

“Yes, sir. Here’s the Jagged Crown. Legate Rikke sent me to deliver it to you.” She handed over the Crown, and Tullius took it and turned it in his hands, examining it with interest as he replied.

“Excellent work, soldier. I have to admit, I had my doubts it even existed. Did you run into any trouble?”

Tears filled Miranja’s eyes, but she kept a stiff upper lip. Teldryn’s hand in the middle of her back certainly helped give her fortitude.

“We lost a lot of good men. I hope it was worth it.” Tullius didn’t need to know that she was also talking about the Stormcloaks who died.

“That’s not for you to decide, soldier. I wouldn’t have sent you in the first place if it wasn’t going to be worth it.”

Miranja’s pride stung at those words, while at the same time, her sense of justice was offended. She was the gods-damned Dragonborn, as well as a Thane in this hold, and she had become largely unaccustomed to people talking down to her. And in her opinion, this stupid war wasn’t worth the loss of ANY people, if you got right down to brass tacks. No one should be dying over what she felt was a deeply personal religious issue. It was tantamount in her mind to killing people for what they did in their own bedrooms.

“You seem to forget who you’re speaking to, General. May I be candid with you, sir?”

“By all means, Auxiliary. Let’s hear it.” There was a challenge in his voice and in the way he jutted out his chin.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t like you very much.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Tullius replied indifferently. He rose and brushed past her to carry the crown into the war room. “I’m not here to win popularity contests. I’m here to keep the Dominion out of Skyrim, and to quell this dissention.”

Miranja followed him, and Teldryn tagged along quietly behind her. “The Dominion is already in Skyrim, whether you want to admit it or not. I pass Thalmor on the road every day taking Stormcloak prisoners to gods-know-where to do gods-know-what to them. The only reason I don’t kill them is that I don’t want a bounty on my own head.”

“Wise choice,” Tullius acknowledged briefly, but added, “Think what you want, Auxiliary. It could be much worse.”

“I’m sure it could. I just want you to know that I think you’re a cold, insensitive…” She hesitated for a moment, searching for a milder word than ‘asshole.’ “…jerk. I wonder if you have a compassionate bone in your body, and if you really care about the people of Skyrim at all.”

Tullius’ face darkened with anger. “Listen up, Auxiliary. I’m here to do a job. Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I have family back in Cyrodiil who I love and miss terribly. I’ve been in Skyrim longer than I ever wanted to be. I’m doing what I’m paid to do, what I believe is for the greater good in the long run. I hope that’s also what you’re doing, why you joined the Legion in the first place.”

“Of course it is,” Miranja glowered back. “But I’d like to think I’m going about it in a more personal, compassionate way. I’m not sitting in a fancy castle ordering everyone else around. I’m on the ground, learning about the people and helping them in more ways than just killing Stormcloaks and getting Imperial soldiers killed.”

“Well, good for you,” Tullius replied with overt sarcasm. “Imperial Generals don’t have that luxury. I didn’t get to my station in life by being compassionate.”

“That may be so, General, but it’s obvious you’re not particularly happy. And there’s no reason to take it out on others. You chose your path.”

“And you chose yours when you joined the Legion, Auxiliary. You can either follow orders or take up residence in the Solitude prison. Which will it be?”

She was sick of being addressed as a title. “My name is Miranja. Miranja Laurentius. And I will follow orders, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Miranja. We all have to do things we don’t like to bring about things we do like.” He stopped and regarded her with a scrutinizing look, as Miranja stared back with some surprise at his unknowing echoing of her father’s words.

“You said your name was Laurentius?”

“Yes.” She didn’t bother with the ‘sir.’

“Your father was in the Legion, wasn’t he?”

“Yes… sir.” Where was he going with this?

“Ah, yes, I see the resemblance now. I worked with your father briefly in Hammerfell some twenty-five years or more ago. I remember him because he had the same bleeding heart and lack of respect that you do.”

“I’m proud of my father and his work for the underprivileged,” Miranja said, jutting out her chin as Tullius had earlier. “And both my father and I give respect where it’s due. We just feel morally compelled to point out injustice regardless of who’s perpetrating it, and that includes the Empire.”

“Well, his soft heart is what kept him from advancing past Captain. He could have been a general himself, if he’d been tougher.”

“My father and I don’t measure success by titles and wealth. We measure our riches and our station in life by the happiness we create and the love we give and receive. My father retired a happy, peaceful man, and he’s still bringing joy to those around him and earning respect for his deeds.”

“Well, that’s a heartwarming story, Auxiliary, and your opinions are duly noted, but it’s time we got back to business.”

Miranja heaved a resigned sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke tiredly. “Very well, sir. What’s next?”

“I need someone I can trust to deliver a message of great import to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. The Jarl, however, refuses the Legion’s support. This missive should convince him. Be aware, soldier, these documents contain sensitive intelligence for the Jarl’s eyes only.”

Yes, yes, she’d overheard the conversation between Rikke and Tullius when she’d first walked into Castle Dour yesterday. “Of course, General. We may not see eye-to-eye, but we are on the same side, and you can trust me. Balgruuf was one of my first friends when I came to Skyrim. I’ll see this gets delivered.”

“You do that,” Tullius replied, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You’re dismissed.”

Once they were outside, Tel whistled – or tried to, and only partially succeeded with the scarf over his face – and shook his head. “Damn, woman, I can’t believe you spoke to a General like that and didn’t end up in the stockade.”

“Speaking your mind isn’t a crime, Tel, and I didn’t disobey any orders. I asked him for permission to be candid, and I also made sure to include ‘with all due respect.’ My father taught me that. I know when I’m within my rights.”

Teldryn chuckled. “I like a woman with cast iron balls. I bet your dick is bigger than his.”

Miranja grinned and blushed with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. They were still standing between the door guards, and there was no way the guards hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but they were wisely keeping their mouths shut. She knew the barracks would be abuzz later, though.

“So, what are we going to do with the rest of the evening, boss?”

[dreamtheatre]

Say Don't Go (Part Two)

Pairing: Hunter (TBB) x Jedi!Fem!Reader Summary: After Hunter's chip is removed, he realises what he has done to you. Word Count: 2.4K Warnings: angst, descriptions of injury, not proofread sorry

Were you dead? Honestly, you couldn’t tell. There was a long, long moment where you couldn’t feel anything… you couldn’t see, you couldn’t smell - all your senses had disappeared. You didn’t know how long you had been stuck in the void, it could have been forever or just a few moments, but it felt as if you had never been anywhere else.

The first thing you felt when everything started to clear was the weight of someone’s hand in yours. There was the muffled sound of some sort of machine beeping periodically, and someone talking. It was all hard to work out, though. The constant throbbing of your wounds and the sound of your irregular heartbeat took over everything else.

Instinctively, you squeezed whoever’s hand was in yours, and you swore you could hear a sharp intake of breath over everything else. Your eyes wouldn’t open, so you attempted to delve into the force, ignoring how much it drained your energy to figure out who it was.

“Who’s there?”

Again, you could hear whoever it was speaking to you, but it was all muffled, so you tried to ask through the force again, feeling yourself drifting off into the void again, but you managed to hear their answer before leaving.

“Talk to me through your thoughts… I can hear you.”

“…Mesh’la?”

“Hunter?”

Before she could say anything else, the darkness caught up to her, and she was thrust back into the void.

Third Person POV, Two Weeks Prior

When Hunter had woken up, he groaned at the feeling of bruises all across his body. He felt the familiar texture of the slightly hard mattress of his bunk beneath him, and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding as he groggily opened his eyes. There was a slight aching in the side of his temple, but other than that he didn’t feel that bad. Something wasn’t fitting right in his heart, though.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The familiar voice of Tech reached Hunter, who sat up slowly on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Hunter shrugged as he lifted an arm in an attempt to figure out what exactly the weird feeling was in his chest. It was some sort of dull ache, but even as he slowly rubbed at the area through his blacks, he couldn’t seem to make it go away. “What happened?”

Tech stopped suddenly as he turned around to face him. “You don’t… remember?”

“Remember what?” Hunter narrowed his eyes as he dropped his hand and glanced at Echo, Wrecker, and Crosshair, who entered the smaller room all at once. Echo raised an eyebrow, Wrecker crossed his arms, and Crosshair looked snidely in his direction. Hunter frowned. Did he do something? Deciding to change the topic, he coughed to clear his throat. “Where’s Omega?”

The rest of the Batch glanced around, seeming to want to look anywhere but at Hunter. Eventually, Crosshair shook his head in exasperation as he looked Hunter up and down. “She’s with her.” The sharpshooter said in an almost accusing manner. “Di’kut.”

“With her?” Hunter repeated, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “With who? Wh-” All of a sudden Hunter felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head as his blood turned cold with realisation. The pain in his chest suddenly burned a thousand times more than it was, and he felt as if his airway was being constricted as his lungs began to starve for air. Everything around him started to blur, including his brothers and the sound of one of their concerned voices as he pushed himself up from his bunk, ignoring the others’ protests as he stumbled his way down the corridor. He heard his brothers telling him to stop, but he couldn’t. His legs were moving on their own to reach you as fast as he could.

When he finally skidded into the med-bay, his heart nearly stopped all over again when he say you. You were deathly pale, cheeks slightly hollowed in and you arms falling limp at either side of your body. There was a new scar across one of your cheeks, that he knew he had caused. The only indication that you were still alive was the screen monitoring your heartbeat, and even that line was barely moving.

He felt like time had stopped around him as the thumping of his heartbeat and a slight muffled ringing began to fill his ears, everything stopping until a sudden blur of movement pulled his attention from you.

When Omega turned and spotted him, she didn’t even look remotely happy. Instead, she quickly reached down to the ground next to her and picked up the Zygerrian energy bow that she had stolen, drawing back a bolt and aiming directly at him. Hunter slowly put his hands up, chest heaving as Omega’s words swam through the sea of his panic and despair to be comprehended in his brain.

“I won’t let you hurt her again.”

Again.

Hunter felt that delicate thing that had been pounding against his chest suddenly snap as he saw the resolve on his blonde sister’s face. His eyes flickered back to your unmoving body and before he had to tear his eyes away and meet Omega’s amber ones.

“I-” Hunter croaked pleadingly. “Omega-”

“Omega, it’s okay,” Tech and the rest of the Batch finally made it to the med-bay. And Hunter felt a hand on his shoulder, probably Wrecker. “He’s safe.” Slowly, Omega lowered her bow and dropped it to the floor with a clatter as she bolted up to him, wrapping her arms around his legs and crushing them so tightly Hunter thought he was going to fall over. However, Hunter slowly bent down to wrap his arms around her, mumbling an endless stream of apologies as his regret and fear threatened to overwhelm him.

“I’m sorry kid,” he sighed, his eyes darting all over the room as he willed them to land anywhere but where you where. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Omega told him fiercely, “It’s the Empire’s.” Hunter felt a shiver run down his spine at the mention of the name. There was a quiet silence that was only filled by the shuffling of his brothers as they slowly backed out of the room, opting to give Hunter privacy with Omega and you. “I… you weren’t here. For a while. And someone had to watch over her.” Omega slowly let go of Hunter as she turned back to you. “You weren’t there,” Omega repeated, “so I did what you would do.” She gestured for him to sit down in the chair beside your bed.

Hunter swallowed a lump in his throat as he sat down slowly, not daring to let his hands go where they ached to go. To caress your face, brush his thumb against your cheek. Who knows what his hands would do. “How long has it been?”

“Three standard rotations.” Tech had stepped back into the room, and Hunter felt his head begin to spin. “We’re two thirds of the way to Saleucami.”

“Saleucami?” Hunter questioned, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Rex has a secret base there,” Tech answered. “It has the medical supplies adequate to heal our sarad’s injuries. A bacta tank, that is.” There was a pause before Tech sighed. “Normal stab wounds would only require a bacta patch, but hers were… deeper than usual. And the location of the wounds-”

“I know where I stabbed her.”

For the next three rotations, Hunter didn’t leave your side, waiting anxiously for any sign of your awakening (because you had to wake up… you just had to). He slept in that uncomfortable chair, that was just a tad too small because it was Omega’s, but he refused to move. Even if his siblings offered to take his seat he just shook his head. Omega and Echo took turns bringing him ration packets three times a rotation, but he barely noticed himself eating it as he felt his gaze unable to be torn away from you.

When they had landed on Saleucami, Rex greeted them shortly before rushing over to your bed and, with the held of Wrecker, carried your limp form to the medical facility in a rush. Hunter trailed almost as lifelessly as you behind them, and jumped when he felt Rex’s hand on his shoulder.

“The General’s strong,” Rex reassured him. “I fought with her on the battlefield for years and I can assure you it’d take more than a few stab wounds to take her down.” Not where I stabbed her, Hunter thought helplessly to himself. But still, Rex’s comfort was appreciated.

And now Hunter was sitting again in a chair beside you. You had been removed from the Bacta Tank a few hours ago, since your wounds were as healed as they would get. There was still a scar on your stomach, though, and Hunter assumed that there would be another one over your heart as well. He winced at the thought - another reminder of what he did to you.

He had one hand in your limp one since he had to know you were still there. He didn’t trust the machinery hooked up to you as much as he trusted his own senses… if there was one thing he still trusted about himself, it would be his enhanced senses. The dull, but still constant beating of your heart beneath your skin was enough to keep him sane for now.

Until his heart jumped painfully against his chest when he felt it.

No. It couldn’t be. He had to be hallucinating.

But there it was

“Who’s there?”

Hunter swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to talk to you. “Cyare?” There was no response, and as he waited for your hand to squeeze his again he felt himself slowly begin to deflate. Maybe he had gone insane and was imagining things-

“Talk to me through your thoughts… I can hear you.”

“…Mesh’la?”

“Hunter?”

Hunter nearly wept in joy as he tightened his grip around your hand.

“I’m right here, Mesh’la. I’m right here.” Hunter didn’t know if he was comforting or pleading you, but another response never came. Maybe he had imagined it after all.

…

Later, when the sun had just begun to rise, you finally stirred, the dull ache in your chest a painful reminder of the encounter. Hunter was awake, too, sitting up on his cot across from you, hands clenched in his lap. He looked weary, his amber eyes clouded with regret as he watched you.

Your heart sank. Hunter.

His hair was disheveled, longer than you had seen it, and his bandana missing. His armor had been swapped for simple fatigues. He looked vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before.

"Hunter," you croaked, your voice weak. He shot up from his chair, a mixture of relief and anguish crossing his face.

"Hi," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "You’re awake." His hand hovered over yours for a moment before he finally took it gently. "We didn’t know if you’d..." His words trailed off, and he shook his head as if trying to banish the thought. “Bacta tank.” He gestured vaguely. “You… I…” He shook his head as he buried his face in his hands. “My words aren’t coming out right.” You laughed a little, trying to shake off the awkwardness and severity of the situation before wincing as the ache in your chest increased tenfold.

"You got me good," you murmured, attempting a smile despite the pain. You raised a hand to your chest, feeling the bandages beneath your gown. "Twice."

Hunter winced, his jaw tightening. "I wasn’t... myself." He looked away, guilt written all over his face. "When I woke up, I saw what I did . I almost—" His voice cracked, and he dropped his head, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "I don’t know how I can ever make up for it."

“You don’t have to make up for anything. You weren’t in control," you said firmly, summoning what strength you could. "That wasn’t you, Hunter. It was that stupid inhibitor chip." You squeezed his hand, drawing his gaze back to you. "And… you’re here now. That’s what matters."

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a shaky breath and nodded, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You should never have come after me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You put yourself in danger for me.”

“And I’d do it again-”

“Why?” Hunter demanded. “Why do this to yourself? You knew I wasn’t in control and that I wouldn’t hold back from hurting you. Why?”

Your lips curved into a faint smile despite the heaviness in your chest. "Because you’re home. And I wasn’t going to let the Empire take you away from us. From me."

Hunter's breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process your words. Slowly, he sank back into his chair, his head bowing forward until his forehead rested against your hand. His broad shoulders trembled, and you realized he was crying.

"Mesh’la," he murmured, the Mandalorian word falling from his lips like a prayer. "You almost died... for me. How can I—?"

"You can start by staying," you interrupted softly, your fingers brushing against his hair. "By letting yourself believe that you’re worth saving. Because you are, Hunter. To me, to Omega, to the Batch. You’re worth everything."

Hunter looked up at you then, his amber eyes glassy but filled with something that hadn’t been there before—hope. He nodded slowly, his hand never leaving yours.

"I’ll stay," he said quietly. "Of course I’ll stay for you. For all of you." His voice steadied, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light. "But you have to promise me something, too."

"What’s that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Promise me you won’t do something like that again," he said, a faint, broken smile tugging at his lips. "I can’t lose you, cyar’ika. Not like that."

You managed a weak laugh, though it hurt to do so. "No promises," you teased, earning a soft chuckle from him in return.

Hunter leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours gently. The warmth of the gesture seeped into you, soothing the lingering aches in your body. "I remember what you said that night.” Hunter whispered lowly, and you swear you could hear your heart speed up. Was he really… did he really-

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," he murmured, his voice low and steady.

There was a light pause before you smiled at him, and replied. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

It was Hunter and you against the galaxy.

I've known it from the very start We're a shot in the darkest dark... - Say Don't Go (Taylor Swift)

end xx dreamtheatre requests are open (please request im bored)

[sasheemo]

When we collide

Chapter 11

Read on AO3

Fic masterlist

Chapter Summary: Agatha sneaks into your house, and an already risky plan takes an unexpected, and even riskier, turn.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I know this update took forever and I am so sorry, work and life in general have been crazy lately. Writing has been such a slow process, and finding the time to sit down and focus has been hella hard.

That said, I’m so grateful for your patience and support—it truly means the world to me. Every comment, like, and bit of encouragement keeps me motivated to push through, even when things feel overwhelming. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed crafting it.

Thank you for sticking with me through this journey. Your love for this story keeps me going 💜

It feels like you’ve been hiding in the shadows of your garden for hours. You have no idea how much time has passed or how long Agatha has been inside.

Seconds stretch into minutes, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been waiting an eternity.

The night grows colder and heavier with each passing second, the chill creeps through your dress, your eyes fixed on the darkened windows above. The faint glow of the kitchen light spills onto the ground, a subtle but constant reminder of your mother’s presence inside.

You clench your hands into fists at your sides, trying to still the growing unease coiling in your chest. The plan had seemed straightforward at the time: get Agatha inside, have her pretend to be you, and wait for her to open the window. But now, as you stand in the biting cold, the enormity of the risks begins to gnaw at you.

Agatha doesn’t know your mother. Not the way you do. 

She doesn’t know the sharp edge to her voice, the way her words cut deeper than her glares. She doesn’t know the little tells, the moments when her mood shifts and it’s better to stay quiet than risk provoking her. And most importantly, Agatha doesn’t know the intricate, tense dance you’ve perfected over years of enduring her.

The weight of it all suddenly feels crushing. You shift uneasily, your breathing shallow as your thoughts spiral. What if your mother notices something’s off? What if Agatha hesitates or says the wrong thing? What if she tries to talk her way out of something and slips up? 

You bite down on your lip, forcing yourself to breathe slower, deeper. But the thoughts don’t stop. 

What if your mother catches her before she even reaches your room? What if she figures out the truth? What would she do - to Agatha, to you - if she realized the extent of this betrayal? Your mind conjures up a dozen worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

A sharp gust of wind pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, and you glance down instinctively at the small bundle of fur near your feet. The rabbit, Agatha’s rabbit, sits quietly in the shadows beside you, its nose twitching as it sniffs the night air. Its presence is steady, calm, almost indifferent to the storm raging in your head.

You crouch down slightly, your fingers brushing against the creature’s soft fur. It doesn’t flinch, simply shifts closer as if it senses your unease. There’s something grounding about the animal, something simple and reassuring. Agatha had brought it here with her, and for some reason, the thought that something she clearly cares for is by your side soothes the sharp edges of your panic.

You take another breath, steadier this time. The faint glow from the kitchen is still there, unchanging, and the stillness of the house seems both unnerving and hopeful. 

She’s inside. She’ll make it.

And then, finally, you hear the faint creak of the window above. 

Your head snaps up, your pulse quickening as you watch it ease open. Your own face peers out from the shadowed wooden frame, tense and searching the garden below. It takes you a second to remember that it’s actually Agatha.

The sight pulls at something strange in your chest. You know the spell you cast has served its purpose, that she’s safe now. That realization settles over you like a wave, and you exhale slowly, steadying yourself.

Closing your eyes, you draw on the lingering energy of the spell, your magic buzzing faintly under your skin. You picture her, not as a reflection of yourself, but as she truly is: darker, undeniably powerful, magnetic. With a flick of your wrist and a soft breath, you send the magic out, releasing it.

When you open your eyes, the figure leaning out of the window has changed. Her true form has returned: wild, dark hair framing her face, sharp cheekbones catching the faintest glow of the night.

Agatha’s gaze catches yours, steady and knowing, as if she’s fully aware of what you’ve just done. She tilts her head slightly in acknowledgment, a silent signal to come up. 

The tension in your chest doesn’t fully ease, but you let yourself glance at the towering tree at the center of the garden, its ancient branches stretching out in every direction like a great, unmoving sentinel. The bark is thick and weathered, furrowed with deep grooves that speak of countless seasons endured. 

Its lowest branches bow slightly under their own weight, but higher up, the limbs grow stronger, sprawling outward with a defiant strength. One of its largest branches curves close to your window, not enough to block the view from your room but near enough to serve as your path inside.

The tree has always been there, a quiet companion through your childhood. Back then, its lower limbs had felt like a sanctuary, their rough surfaces welcoming and steady beneath your hands. You’d scramble up effortlessly, laughing as you dangled your legs and let the world blur into your own imagined wilderness. 

But tonight, the tree looms above you, its branches no longer inviting but daunting, like a puzzle demanding perfect precision. Your gaze fixes on the thick branch that leads toward your window, and doubt creeps in uninvited.

You exhale, trying to calm the knot of nerves twisting in your stomach. The branches look sturdy, thicker than they seemed when you were younger, but you know they’ll need to hold more than they ever have before.

You step closer to the tree as you prepare to hoist yourself up. But as you look upward, plotting your path, reality snaps into focus. 

One of your hands is clutching the rabbit, its small body shifting slightly against your palm, leaving the other useless for climbing. Both hands will be needed to grip the bark and the branches, to steady yourself as you ascend.

You can’t climb like this.

Your jaw tightens as you glance down at the animal, then over your shoulder at the satchel pulling against your back. The weight of both feels suddenly oppressive, a barrier between you and the safety of the window above.

Your breath is clouding in the cold air as you glance up at the towering tree again. For a moment, you stand frozen, your mind racing for a solution.

Then, an idea comes to you. Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s all you’ve got, and it’ll have to do.

Kneeling carefully, you place the rabbit gently on the ground beneath the tree. 

“Stay.” you whisper softly, as the small creature sniffs the grass, its twitching nose brushing against a fallen leaf. You shrug the satchel off your back, unfastening the flap with fingers that tremble slightly from the cold.

You glance down at the contents of the bag and let out a soft sigh of relief. Agatha, it seems, is a light packer. There’s enough space, you think, and without hesitation, you scoop up the rabbit again, cradling its small body close for a moment. 

“Alright, you’re going in.” you whisper, angling the bag carefully to create a safe, snug space.

The rabbit shifts, its ears flicking in mild protest, but it doesn’t wriggle too much as you tuck it in among the folds of Agatha’s clothing. You adjust the fabric gently, making sure it’s secure, and offer a quiet, almost reassuring murmur. “See? Not so bad.”

You hope the familiar scent will keep it calm during the climb. For a moment, the faint smell reaches you as well - earthy yet sweet, rich and layered - and it stops you in your tracks. The briefest flicker of distraction pulls at you before you shake it off, focusing on closing the satchel and readying yourself for the climb.

You glance up at the window to check for any sign from Agatha, but what you see halts you. She’s leaning out of the darkened window, her features clear despite the shadows, and her expression… well, if looks could kill, you’d be flat on the ground.

Her glare is direct and unmistakable, her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It doesn’t take much to realize why. 

She’s staring straight at the satchel slung over your shoulder and the rabbit inside it. You’re frozen, caught mid-motion, her piercing gaze making you feel oddly small, like a child caught red-handed. Your irritation flares before you can stop it, the sharp edge of it cutting through your nerves. 

‘What exactly does she expect me to do?’ you think, sarcasm practically spilling over. ‘Carry it in my teeth?!’

You bite back a laugh at your own thoughts, the absurdity of the situation tugging at the corners of your mouth. You glance away from the window, shaking your head with a mix of annoyance and amusement. 

“As if she’d have a better idea.” you mutter quietly to yourself, the words more a release of tension than anything else.

The bark digs into your palms as you grip the trunk, pulling yourself up onto the first branch. It creaks faintly under your weight, but it holds, as it always has. Your breath comes slow and deliberate, each movement measured as you reach for the next handhold.

Even so, the awareness of Agatha’s eyes on you gnaws at the edge of your focus. Her gaze feels like a weight on your back, amplifying every misstep and every slight tremble in your limbs. The idea of her judging your clumsy climb, silently critiquing each slip of your footing, sends another wave of irritation coursing through you.

And yet… there’s something oddly reassuring about it too. As if her presence, no matter how frustrating, guarantees that someone will catch you if you fall. Not literally, of course, but the thought lingers, steadying you more than you’d care to admit.

You shift your weight carefully, reaching for the next branch. The satchel presses against your back, its weight a constant reminder of your responsibility, and of the sharp eyes above you. You resist the urge to glance up briefly, focusing instead on the climb.

You move cautiously, gripping the bark tightly as you climb higher. The tree groans faintly under your weight, and you freeze, holding your breath. 

The sound seems impossibly loud in the stillness of the night, a sharp contrast to the quiet hum of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. For a moment, you glance toward the kitchen window, half-expecting to see your mother’s silhouette appear, but the glow remains steady, undisturbed.

You grit your teeth, focusing on your balance, careful to distribute your weight evenly. Every move feels agonizingly slow, the need for silence making each step a deliberate act of precision.

As you near the branch that curves toward your window, you reach out with one hand, your fingers brushing the rough bark. It’s close, close enough that you can almost imagine the feel of the window frame beneath your palm. 

But as you shift your weight to make the final stretch, your foot slips against the trunk, the bark giving way beneath your boot.

Your stomach lurches as your balance wavers, your free hand scrabbling desperately for a hold. The satchel shifts sharply, throwing you further off balance, and for a terrifying moment, you’re certain you’ll fall. Your breath catches in your throat, panic blooming in your chest.

From her vantage point at the window, Agatha tenses instantly. Her eyes widen, and for a split second, she shifts forward slightly in a reflexive, almost involuntary motion, as if she could somehow close the unbridgeable distance and reach you. Concern flickers across her face as her hands grip the windowsill tightly, knuckles paling with the pressure.

But then your hand finds purchase, gripping a knot in the bark just in time to steady yourself. 

You hang there for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears, your body frozen as the satchel settles back into place. The rabbit stirs faintly inside, and you murmur a soft reassurance under your breath, though it’s as much for yourself as for the animal.

The faint creak of the tree subsides, and the night seems to hold its breath along with you. You force yourself to exhale slowly, the tension in your chest loosening as you steady your footing once more. Carefully, you reach out again, this time gripping the branch firmly before pulling yourself up onto it.

The window is finally within reach, a threshold to safety. 

As you glance up, Agatha is there, her figure sharp and still against the faint shadows of the room. She’s waiting, her presence a silent promise that the plan is almost complete. The sight steadies you and, for the first time since the climb began, relief flickers at the edges of your thoughts, fragile but real.

As you near the window, Agatha leans out further, her gaze flicking to the satchel slung over your shoulder. She lifts a hand, gesturing for it with a slight wave of her fingers, her expression calm and maddeningly smug.

You pause, blinking at her. 

“Really?” you mutter under your breath, incredulity practically dripping from your tone. 

She tilts her head slightly, arching a single brow, her smugness somehow amplifying as she gestures again, clearly waiting.

For a moment, you consider ignoring her, but then you glance at the satchel. She has a point, giving her the bag would mean the rabbit is safer, and, without the extra weight on your back, you’ll have an easier time pulling yourself through the window.

With a dramatic sigh, you shrug the satchel off your shoulder, the strap sliding down your arm before you lift it toward her. She stretches downward, her fingers brushing the edge of the leather before she grips it firmly and pulls it from your grasp. 

For a moment, you watch her, half expecting her to disappear entirely now that the bag is secure in her hands.

And that’s exactly what she does. Agatha retreats, vanishing from the window’s edge with the satchel in tow. You roll your eyes, your mind instantly jumping to the conclusion that she’s probably fussing over the rabbit. 

The thought irritates and amuses you in equal measure, but you shake your head and steady yourself for the final push. 

The ledge is close, and with the satchel gone, the climb feels marginally easier. You stretch your arms upward, gripping the edge of the window frame as you shift your weight onto the thick branch beneath you. 

Carefully, you pull yourself higher, your knees brushing the frame as you begin to hoist yourself inside.

For a moment, it seems like you’ve done it. Your body halfway through the window, balance steady enough to keep going.

And then your foot catches on the edge of the frame.

The jolt sends you stumbling forward, your grip slipping as the momentum drags you into a clumsy, uncontrolled tumble.

Agatha moves instantly, appearing as if out of nowhere, her reflexes instinctive and precise.

You barely register the sudden shift before her silhouette is in front of you. One of her hands darts out, gripping your arm with surprising strength, but it’s not enough to counter the force of your fall. Her other hand slides to your waist, firm and steady, trying to catch you, but the momentum is too much.

There’s no time for either of you to adjust. The pull of gravity drags you forward, and you both tumble into the room in a chaotic, ungraceful heap. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and you land tangled together. 

Agatha is half-sprawled over you, her weight pinning you to the floor, grounding and overwhelming all at once. The world seems to fade, narrowing to the soft rustle of leaves in the night and the rhythm of her breathing. 

Her face is unbearably close, so close that her breath brushes against your cheek, warm and uneven. Untamed hair spilling over her shoulder and grazing your arm, strands scattered haphazardly from the fall.

There’s a stillness to her expression, but the faint parting of her lips reveals a hitch in her breathing, as though the shock of the tumble hasn’t fully left her.

Both of her hands remain where they caught you, one curled tightly around your arm, the other pressed firmly against your waist. The heat of her touch burns through the fabric of your dress, rooting you in place even as your pulse races wildly.

Those sharp blue eyes, piercing even in the dim light, are locked on yours. The intensity of her gaze makes your breath catch, as if she’s not only seeing through you but searching for something at the same time.

For a moment, nothing else exists. Your chest tightens and your pulse hammers in your ears as the space between you feels impossibly thin, a fragile thread stretched taut and trembling. 

And then, fleetingly - so quickly you almost think you imagined it - her gaze drops, flickering to your lips. The motion is so subtle, so brief, that it vanishes almost as soon as it happens. But the imprint of it remains, sharp and electric, making you shudder.

Your mind scrambles for something, anything, to say, but the words won’t come. All you can do is stare back at her, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to make sense of the moment.

The silence stretches, thick and almost suffocating, until Agatha breaks it. Her voice is low, threaded with dry amusement but carrying an almost daring undertone that sets your nerves alight. 

“Are you always this dramatic,” she murmurs, “or am I just special?”

The words pull you out of your daze, and your cheeks burn instantly, the heat rushing to your face. 

“I— I didn’t—” you stammer, scrambling to find words, but every coherent thought scatters.

Agatha exhales sharply, her lips twitching as if she’s about to say something else, but instead, she pushes herself up abruptly. 

The cool night air rushes in as her warmth leaves, and you’re left on the floor, heart still pounding in your ears.

She brushes off her skirts with deliberate ease, her expression once again smug and composed, though there’s a flicker of tension in her movements. She extends a hand to you, her sharp gaze watching you carefully.

“Come on, get up.” she whispers, her tone calm but firm. “Your mother might have heard that.”

You glare up at her, your pride stinging, but you take her hand anyway, letting her pull you to your feet. Her grip is firm, steady, and as she helps you up, her fingers linger just a second too long before she steps back.

The sensation is fleeting but familiar, a ghost of what had happened only hours earlier by the lake. She’d done the same after you healed her burns, offering her hand with that same deliberate calm, as though her touch carried no weight. But it had lingered then too, just like now, and the memory ignites a warm spark in your chest. 

As you rise to your feet, your balance feels oddly unsteady, not from the fall but from the moment itself. You linger there, caught between embarrassment and something heavier. Your fingers twitch at your sides, as though still feeling the echo of her grip, and your gaze follows her as she moves away.

She crosses the room, moving toward the satchel she’d placed on the floor earlier and crouching down. 

You turn toward the window, reaching for the frame to shut it. The cool night air still drifts into the room, carrying the faint scent of the garden below. Your fingers curl around the wood, and just as you push it closed, a sound freezes you in place.

A creak. Faint, but unmistakable.

Your heart stops, and you glance at Agatha, who has gone still beside the satchel, her hand hovering over the flap. Her sharp eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you breathes.

Another creak follows, heavier this time, accompanied by the low groan of the wooden stairs shifting.

Panic flashes between you in a silent exchange, the weight of the moment sinking in with brutal clarity. Agatha straightens slowly, her hand dropping from the satchel as her gaze darts toward the door.

Well, shit. Your mother definitely heard.

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (5)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader • series masterlist.

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants. Tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal, talk about divorce, no one owning up to what they really do, main characters get their happy ending... OR DO THEY?! >:) /ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! last part baby!!! kind of. you'll see >:) until then enjoy this mumbled mess of 4.63k words bunnies! thank you for the immense support on this series. excuse any grammatical errors <//3

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for air. You watched as she paced the room, trembling with the weight of her anger and heartbreak. “You don’t know what love is!” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Love isn’t sneaking around, tearing apart the people who trust you the most. Love isn’t ruining your family because you can’t control yourself.”

Your chest tightened, the sting of her words cutting deep. “I didn’t plan for this to happen,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t like I set out to hurt you—”

“But you did,” she interrupted, her voice cracking. “You hurt me in the worst way possible. You betrayed me with the one person who was supposed to be on my side. How am I supposed to live with this? How am I supposed to look at you and not see… this?”

Her words crushed you, the weight of her disappointment pressing down like an anchor. You took a step toward her, desperate to bridge the chasm growing between you. “Mom, please—”

“Don’t,” she said, holding up a hand to stop you. Her tears shimmered in the dim light, her face a portrait of devastation. “I need you to leave. Just… go.”

You froze, your heart shattering at the finality in her tone. “Mom…”

“Go!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned and stumbled toward the door, the walls of the house you’d grown up in suddenly feeling foreign and cold. As you stepped outside, the chill of the night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache inside your chest.

The slam of the door still echoed in your ears as you trudged through the dark streets, clutching your jacket tight against the biting wind. Your mind was spinning, replaying the scene over and over again—the raised voice, the look of disgust on her face, the words that burned like acid.

"You’re a liar. I don’t even know who you are anymore."

Your mother had always been sharp, but you hadn’t expected her to be cruel. Not like that.

She hadn’t even let you explain. Not really. Once she figured it out—once you admitted you were in love with Joel—it was like she couldn’t even look at you. Not forever, maybe. But you knew that in this moment, there was no going back.

You wiped at your face, but it was no use. Tears streaked your cheeks, hot and endless, cutting through the cold. You barely noticed when you reached Joel’s building. Your feet carried you up the stairs, and your fists pounded on his door before you even thought about what you’d say.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open. Joel stood there, his face tight with worry that immediately shifted into something darker when he saw you. “You told her,” he said, his voice low and heavy. You froze, your breath catching. Of course, he already knew. “I had to,” you whispered, stepping inside uninvited. “She—she guessed. She cornered me, Joel, I couldn’t—” You decided to lie. You tried to protect him from all of this. Maybe it wasn't your job or your role to do so, but this was the way to show him that it's real. that you are real, and so are all the feelings you have for him.

“You could’ve,” Joel snapped, cutting you off. He shut the door with more force than necessary. “You could’ve waited. You could’ve called me. But instead, you decided to do this on your own.” His words hit like a punch, and you stumbled over your response. “I didn’t have time—”

“That’s bullshit,” he growled, his voice rising. He took a step closer, his eyes boring into yours. “You didn’t want to wait for me. You wanted to handle it yourself, like you always do.”

“That’s not fair,” you shot back, anger bubbling up to meet his. “I didn’t plan this, Joel! She came at me, and I panicked! What was I supposed to do? Lie to her?”

“Yes!” Joel shouted, throwing his hands up. “You should’ve lied, or stalled, or done anything other than blow this whole thing wide open without me. You think this is just about you? It’s not. This affects both of us.” Your stomach twisted at his words. “You think I don’t know that?” you said, your voice trembling. “Do you think I don’t feel sick about what this means for you? For us? Joel, she kicked me out!"

He froze, his jaw tightening. “She what?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “She told me to leave. Said she doesn’t even recognize me anymore. I—” Your voice broke, and you covered your face with your hands. Joel’s anger seemed to deflate all at once, replaced by something softer, though no less pained. He reached for you hesitantly, his fingers brushing your arm.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his tone rough but gentler now. “C’mere.”

You let him pull you into his arms, and the floodgates opened. You sobbed into his chest, your fists clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. For a while, he just held you, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "I got you, babygirl... 'm right here." But the tension in his body hadn’t gone away, and you could feel the weight of everything left unsaid hanging between you. When your sobs finally quieted, Joel pulled back just enough to look at you. His face was etched with exhaustion and something else—something almost like regret.

“This can’t keep happening,” he said softly. “You can’t just… go off and make decisions like this without me. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice raw. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.” Joel sighed, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “We always do.”

But before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You hesitated, then pulled it out, your heart sinking when you saw the name on the screen. Marjorie. Of course. Joel noticed your hesitation. “Who is it?”

“Marjorie,” you said quietly. He frowned, but said nothing as you swiped to open the message. "You should’ve thought this through", it read.

•Your mom’s already told half the town about what you’ve done. If you’d just shared a little, you wouldn’t be in this mess now. At least they'll know what a homewrecking whore you are.

The room seemed to spin, and you had to sit down before your legs gave out. Joel knelt beside you, his hand gripping yours tightly. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and steady. You showed him the message, your hands shaking. His jaw tightened as he read it, a muscle in his cheek jumping.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “She’s trying to twist the knife.”

“She’s right, though,” you said, your voice barely audible. “I—I did this to myself. To us.”

“Hey,” Joel said firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You hear me, sweet girl? This isn’t on you. It’s on them. On her.” You wanted to believe him. But the weight of everything—the fallout with your mom, the shame, the fear of what came next—it was too much.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you whispered, tears welling up again. "Maybe it don't need fixin'.." Joel’s expression softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” he said again. “One step at a time. But you’ve got to let me in. No more shutting me out.”

The road ahead felt impossibly long, the cracks in your relationship with Joel deep and jagged. But as he held you close, his arms steady and sure, you let yourself hope.

the nigh faded as your lids finally closed, the soft whispers of Joel a blanket over your tensed body. Finally, you fall asleep, escaping this day, hoping that when you wake up It'll all turn out to be a bad dream.

But as the night fell upon, you so did the day.

Joel stood on the doorstep, fists clenched at his sides. The brisk wind carried the faint scent of pine from the trees lining the street. He stared at the door in front of him, steeling himself for what he knew was coming. When your mother opened the door, her face immediately twisted into a scowl. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” she spat. Joel held her gaze, his jaw tight. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, we do?” she snapped, stepping onto the porch and crossing her arms. “You’ve said enough, Joel. Or maybe not—seems like you were too busy seducing my daughter to give me the full picture.” Joel winced, but he didn’t look away. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then what do you want?” she shot back, her voice rising. “To explain yourself? To justify this—this shit?”

“I want to make things right,” Joel said, his tone measured. “For her. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Don’t you dare pretend this is about her,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. “This is about you. About your selfishness, your inability to think about anyone but yourself.” Joel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I know you’re angry—”

“Angry?” Her voice grew louder, trembling with indignation. “Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it! Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Joel? My daughter—your stepdaughter. Do you even hear yourself?” Joel’s shoulders sagged slightly, but his resolve didn’t falter. “It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, really?” she interrupted, her laugh sharp and bitter. “Then explain it to me, Joel. Enlighten me, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been fucking her this whole time.” His head snapped up, and his voice took on a dangerous edge. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then what?” she demanded, stepping closer. “You ‘accidentally’ fell for her? And so did your dick inside of her? Was this why you got so close to her? Why you were so ‘supportive’ all of a sudden? Because you wanted her?” Joel’s chest rose and fell heavily. “I didn’t plan this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It just happened. She’s not a child, and this wasn’t some sick—”

“Don’t you dare try to justify this!” she hissed, cutting him off again. “You’re supposed to be her father. You were supposed to protect her—not—” Her voice cracked, and she had to look away, blinking rapidly. "Oh my god."

Joel stepped forward, his voice softening. “I never meant to hurt anyone.” She glared at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You think that makes it better? That it wasn’t ‘on purpose’? My God, Joel—this is why you married me, isn’t it?”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback. “What?” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “It makes sense now. You didn’t want me. You wanted her. You saw an opportunity, and you—” Her voice broke again, and she turned away, her hand pressed to her mouth. “That’s not true,” Joel said firmly, his voice rising just slightly. “I loved you. I cared about this family. I—”

“You used this family,” she snapped, spinning back around to face him. “And don’t you dare pretend otherwise. You’ve destroyed everything, Joel. Do you understand that? Everything. And for what?”

Joel’s expression hardened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “For love,” he said, his voice rough. “I love her. And you can hate me for it all you want, but that’s the truth.” Her mouth fell open slightly, disbelief etched across her face. For a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through the trees.

“You’re disgusting,” she finally said, her voice quiet but laced with venom. “Do you know what people are saying? What they’re going to say? You’ve ruined her, Joel. You’ve ruined her life, and you don't even understand."

Joel’s throat tightened, and his heart sank with every word that came from her mouth. “I never meant to hurt her,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion. He took a step forward, desperate to make her understand. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I love her, but I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I never wanted to destroy this family.” The words seemed to hit her like a slap. She blinked rapidly, as though trying to keep the tears at bay, but they came anyway—one by one, streaming down her face. “You already have, Joel,” she whispered.

There was a heavy silence between them. The weight of everything that had happened hung in the air like an oppressive cloud. Joel wanted to reach out, to comfort her somehow, but he knew he couldn’t. Not now.

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was cold, almost venomous. “You’re not going to get away with this. I’ll make sure of it. I’m telling everyone. I’ve already told people, Joel. You don’t get to just pretend this didn’t happen, that it’s all okay. I will make sure everyone knows what you’ve done.”

His blood ran cold. “You can’t—”

“I will,” she spat. Joel stood there. He wanted to scream, to argue, but the truth hung there. He had screwed up. And he knew that.

“I didn’t want this to happen. You have to believe me,” he said hoarsely, voice cracking. “I was trying to be there for her. I—I never wanted to hurt her or you. It just—it just happened. And I don’t know what to do, but I swear, I never meant for it to go this far.” She crossed her arms tightly, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt. “You never meant it, Joel? Then why did you let it happen? Why didn’t you stop? You could’ve stopped. You could’ve walked away.

His throat felt tight, constricted with guilt, but he refused to back down. “Because I couldn’t.” Her lip trembled, but she quickly bit it, hiding the emotion that flickered there. She took a deep breath, then looked him square in the eyes. “I want you to leave. Now.”

The command was sharp, final. Joel hesitated, his gaze lingering on her, and then he nodded—slowly. He wasn’t sure what else to say. There were no more words that could fix this, not right now. He turned, heading for the door, the weight of everything pressing down on him with each step.

He felt sick.

With one final glance at the door he’d just walked away from, he turned and walked down the street, away from the house, away from everything. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, but none of them made sense.

He had destroyed everything.

And now, there was no going back.

Joel had just come back from a supply run, the door clicking shut behind him. You glanced up from the couch, where you’d been sitting in silence, staring blankly at a book you weren’t really reading. He dropped the grocery bag on the counter, pausing before he looked at you.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he said, his voice rough but laced with concern. You shrugged, hugging your knees to your chest. “Not hungry.” He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, baby. I know it’s hard, but we’re in this together. You know that, don’t you?”

You looked at him then, searching his face for something—reassurance, maybe, or a sense that he really believed what he was saying. “Together,” you echoed, the word feeling hollow. “We might be together, but everything else is ruined, Joel. My mom hates me. She hates you... And everyone else knows now too."

Running away now sounds about right.

Joel crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Your mom’s angry. She’s hurt. But she’ll come around. And whatever others say... Fuck 'em.” You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. “She won’t, Joel. Not after what she said. Not after what we did.”

“She doesn’t get to judge us,” he said firmly, his voice low. “She can be angry all she wants, but we didn’t do this to hurt her. We didn’t plan for any of this.” You flinched at his words. “That doesn’t make it okay. We still—Joel, we still had an affair. We lied to her. I lied to her... and I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Joel reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re the same person you’ve always been...My sweet 'n smart girl. And you’re not alone in this. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You looked at him, his eyes filled with determination and tears. He meant it—every word. But that didn’t erase the reality of what had happened. It didn’t change the fact that you’d hurt someone you both cared about, even if that love had long since soured.

“Do you regret it?” you asked suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice trembled, barely audible. “Do you regret... us?” Joel froze, his hand tightening around yours. For a moment, you thought he might say yes—that he’d take it all back if he could. But then he shook his head, his voice resolute.

“No,” he said. “I don’t regret loving you. I can’t. But I hate how it happened. I hate what it’s done to you—to us.” Tears slipped down your cheeks, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You buried your face in his chest, letting yourself cry for everything you’d lost—for the family you’d broken and the love that had brought you here. “I’m scared, Joel,” you whispered. “What if it’s not enough? What if we’re not enough?” His arms tightened around you, his voice soft but unwavering. “We’ll figure it out. One day at a time, baby.”

You wait for the moon to rise and hug you.

Tonight, as the moonlight filtered through the thin curtains in his bedroom, you realized you couldn’t stay here anymore. Not in this town. Not surrounded by the memories of everything you’d lost.

Joel was beside you, his breathing steady but shallow. He’d fallen asleep sitting against the headboard, a book forgotten in his lap. His brow was furrowed, even in rest. You stared at him for a long moment before gently nudging his shoulder. “Joel,” you whispered. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a second, he looked confused, but then his gaze softened when he saw you. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded but didn’t answer right away. Instead, you sat up, crossing your legs and pulling the blanket over them. Joel straightened, too, setting the book aside and giving you his full attention.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” you started. Joel tilted his head slightly. “What’s that?”

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “Why don’t we leave? Just... pack up and go somewhere else. Start over. There’s nothing keeping me here, Joel. Not anymore. We could move, get away from all this, and just... be us. We could have a life, a family of our own. Isn’t that what we’ve always wanted?”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, the way he was trying to process what you’d just said. “You want to leave?” he asked finally, his voice low.

You nodded. “I can’t stay here, Joel. Not after everything. Everyone knows. They’re all talking about us, judging us. I can’t go anywhere without feeling their eyes on me. And my mom... She’s made it clear I’m not welcome. But we don’t have to stay. We could go somewhere no one knows us. Start fresh.”

Joel rubbed a hand over his face, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know, darlin’. Moving... It’s a big decision. And what about you? Your work, your friends?”

“They’re not my friends anymore,” you said bitterly, the sting of betrayal still fresh. “If they ever were, they’re sure not now. And work... I can find something else. None of that matters, Joel. All that matters is us. If we stay here, this will follow us forever. But if we leave, we can leave all this behind.” His shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked at you; sadness and longing. “You really think running away’s the answer?”

“It’s not running away,” you argued gently. “It’s starting over. Joel, you said we’d figure this out together. This is how we do it! We can’t change what happened, but we can choose what happens next. And I choose you.”

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Joel’s gaze locked on yours, and you could see the battle raging inside him. He wanted what you were offering—a chance to leave this mess behind, to build a life with you. But he was also scared of the unknown and the risks that came with it.

Finally, he reached out, his hand covering yours. “If this is what you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “then we’ll do it. We’ll leave. Wherever you wanna go, I’ll follow.”

Relief flooded through you, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you threw your arms around him. “Thank you,” you murmured against his shoulder. “Thank you..." He held you tightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You’re all I’ve got, darlin’. I’d go anywhere for you.”

That was enough. It had to be.

The hum of the apartment felt suffocating, but there was a strange comfort in it, too. You’d been in the same place for so long, yet now, every little sound—the refrigerator humming, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall—felt like a reminder of everything that had fallen apart. The town that had been home for so many years now felt like a prison, a place where the whispers never stopped, and the eyes of judgment followed you wherever you went.

But you weren’t staying here. You couldn’t stay here. You were both looking for a way out. Maybe you more than him.

Joel had been working overtime, pushing through his job, despite the whispers about him at work—the rumors that now tainted his every conversation. His job, the stares, the small-town gossip— it all got to him. to both of you.

As for you, you had quit yours. There wasn’t any point in pretending anymore. Your coworkers had given you that look— the one that said they knew but couldn’t talk about it openly. You didn’t need that anymore. You didn’t need to keep hiding in a job that felt more like a cage than an opportunity.

What you needed was space. You needed to leave. To escape. To start somewhere far away from here.

You stood by the counter, stirring a pot of vegetable soup as the familiar sounds of the apartment surrounded you. You were tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of fighting for something that had no resolve. It should’ve been an easy answer. You knew this would happen, how it would end up. And you could see it in Joel’s eyes, too. But every time you thought about leaving, about getting out of this town where everyone knew too much, there was a brief moment of hope. A spark. What if this was the first step toward something real? Toward a life that was just yours? Was it that horrible you wanted to he happy despite what you had done?

You let out a deep breath, your thoughts interrupted as Joel stepped into the kitchen, his tired eyes locking onto yours.

"Hi, baby." he murmured, his voice a little rough from the long day. You turned to him, a smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion that had been weighing on you. “Hi,” you said softly, and before you could say anything more, he closed the space between you. Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then your temple. “Missed you,” he said, his lips brushing against your skin. “Every damn minute I was at work, all I could think about was gettin' home to you.”

You laughed quietly, resting your hands on his chest. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, but there was no bite in your words—just warmth, just the comfort of knowing he was here. “Only for you,” Joel replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and his expression softened. “You’re my whole world, baby. Don’t you know that by now?”

Your chest tightened, but in the best way. You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I think I do,” you whispered. Joel’s smile grew, and he leaned down to kiss you—slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world falter away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his hands stayed firm on your waist like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“We’re really doing this..?” you said. “We’re leaving. Packing up and going to a whole new place..."

“Damn right we are,” his voice was steady. “We got that apartment a few towns over...with the balcony and all that sunlight you love so much, could maybe get a puppy too, who knows? It’s ours now. We’re making this happen.”

"Or a kitty." you giggle. "Whatever you want, angel. anything you want." You nodded, a smile breaking across your face. Your future home. Yours and Joel's. For how unreal it sounded, it felt like a lifeline. It was small but perfect, tucked away in a quiet area where no one would know your names. It was far enough from here that the whispers, the judgment, and the past couldn’t follow. It was everything you both needed. “I still can’t believe they approved us,” you said, shaking your head with a quiet laugh. “It feels too good to be true.” Joel chuckled, pulling you tighter against him. “Believe it, baby. It’s happening. And I can’t wait to see you in it. Can’t wait to start a real life with you..." he trails off, palm settling on your lower belly and, oh, butterflies bloom into your stomach. His words made your chest ache. He leaned down to kiss you again, his hands moving up to cradle your face. The kiss was longer this time, deeper, like he was trying to pour everything he felt for you into it. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were shining. “We’ll start packing this weekend,” he said, his tone laced with excitement. “I’ve already started thinking about how to load the truck. Gonna make sure all your stuff’s safe, no scratches or anythin'.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so practical.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be,” he teased, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “But seriously, I want you to feel at home there. I want it to be everything you’ve ever wanted. Hell, I don’t care if we’re in a shoebox as long as it’s with you.” Your throat tightened at his words, and you buried your face in his chest, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I love you,” you said softly. Joel’s hand came up to tangle in your hair, and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I love you, baby. More than anything.” it seemed real enough for you.

For a while, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the warmth of the moment settle around you. You weren’t just running from something anymore, or someone. You were running toward something— together. And it was wrong, yes, and maybe karma will eventually make it's way to you, but until then this was your chance to be happy.

taglist ⭐️ ㅡ @eviispunk @joeldjarin @whimsiwitchy @guelyury @untamedheart81 @dollyxzy @mybvalentine @am-3-thyst @cuteanimalmama @corinnedollete @lovely-vamp-princess

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Barbara felt her eye twitched but deep down she knew that it was better to do as told for once than argue. So, she took her paperwork and after almost two hours of paperwork she was finally able to get it done she went out in search for the love of her life

--

Beetlejuice had been leaning against his husband's lean but firm frame, snuggling into his side. Even though Beetlejuice was taller and bigger than Adam he was a great cuddler and so warm. Adam was enjoying himself; he couldn't help it! BJ was just so soft and even though his body was a little cold it was still nice. He was nice and kind but held so much fear and insecurity that Adam couldn't help but want to chase away.

Truly if Adam had never met Barbara, and Beetlejuice was still alive, then maybe they would be together. Another idea of all three of them together entered his mind but shook it away. Like that could ever happen, especially after BJ's less than Steller first meeting with Barb.

Although the two didn't know what the future held for them, they were sure they'd figure it out.

However, there question toward the future was going to be answered as Beetlejuice got a call from his coworker. He excused himself and answered the call from inside the house.

BJ: (groans) What the hell do you want Juno?

Juno: Good morning to you too stink bugs, I heard from a little birdy that your 'special prophecy' finally came true. I would like to extend my congratulations, but I can't.

He heard a heavy sigh from over the phone then her continuing.

Juno: Listen kid your new hubby is still alive, correct?

BJ: Yes?

He answered hesitantly he really wanted to know where this was going.

Juno: And he is here in the land of the dead?

BJ: Yes?

Juno: Then you do realize what that means for your marriage vows right?

BJ: N, no

Juno: Yeah, I didn't think so, basically kid you and your new husband are in hot water. For you see marriage was originally supposed to be till death do they part, and death has already taken one of the grooms.

Beetlejuice's eyes widen at that realization. He didn't even take into consideration about that.

BJ: What does that mean for us?

Juno: Well, the good news is that you have two options, one is to simply return him to the land of the living and move on with your life,

BJ: …and the other?

Juno: For you to be with him forever he must meet his final end. You both must re-take your vows in some type of holy house before he takes his life.

Beetlejuice gasped and dropped the phone. He backed away from it as if it was pure evil. Which who was on the other line and what she suggested pretty much made it that. He shook his head disgusted by even the idea. BJ: I could never ask him to do such a thing

Adam: Ask me to do what?

@kittenfangirl20

Corpse Groom

@kittenfangirl20

In a small town in the heart of Connecticut, called Winter River, there lived a man and a woman. Their names were Barbara Butterfield and Adam Maitland. They were a young couple deeply in love and after years of dating finally ready to tie the knot. They currently were in the town’s church at their final wedding rehearsal as the big day was tomorrow. Which was not good for Adam as he kept fumbling over his vows as nerves racked his mind. 

Adam: With you by my side I promise to wash over,

Priest: STOP! You did it again!

Adam: Uh…I did?

Priest: Yes, you said wash instead of watch

Adam: Oops sorry, so sorry

Priest: (sighs heavily) Once more from the top!

Loud collective groans filled the church that came from the wedding party. They had been there for almost three hours now and it was starting to affect everybody. Well almost everybody, even though Barbara was tired as well, and though she could use a break she still pressed on. She smiled and gently rubbed her thumb over Adam’s hand comfortingly. She knew this was stressing him out and it wasn’t like the priest was helping.

Priest: Mr. Maitland the vows go like so, ‘I promise to always watch over you, to guide your way through darkness and never stray from your side.’ How exactly is that in any way hard to remember?

Adam: Maybe it’s not so much hard to remember as it is…just not what I want my vows to be

The priest glares down at him

Priest: Explain.

Adam: (gulps) I don’t it’s just these vows aren’t really…me I guess. Don’t get me wrong! Of course I promise to never cheat or hurt Barbara in any way, it’s just watch over you…I’m her husband not her guardian hehe

Adam tried laughing it off but it only made the priest harden his gaze

Priest: These vows, are tradition! To reject them is to basically reject this marriage!

The priest was interrupted with a loud toll of the bell signaling the end of this rehearsal. Though many were happy to finally go they were also a bit worried since they hadn’t mastered the ceremony as they wished. 

Priest: We conclude today’s rehearsal as we return tomorrow for the actual ceremony. With that I leave with one final word of advice

The priest glares down at the slightly trembling groom and leans close to him.

Priest: Young man, Learn. Your. Vows

Later as the company leaves to rest before the rehearsal dinner Barbara turns to her fiance 

Barb: Honey, please don’t let that old man get to you. I think it’s actually sweet that you want to take into consideration of how the traditional vows make me feel.

Adam: I, I’m sorry Barb but it’s just…my parents expect me to say those stupid vows.

Of course it all came back to Adam’s parents, Barbara sighed. Though they weren’t the best people like Barbara’s they expected tradition. They were basically the human definition of ‘first comes love, then comes marriage, and then there comes a baby carriage’. They always expected that of both of them, especially the last part from their marriage. They weren’t even sure they wanted children in the future. Still it was heavily expected of them. Just like these vows.

Adam: I just don’t want to disapoint them, I NEED to perfect these vows before the wedding.

Barbara bit her lip in thought unsure of how to help her fiance, a glance towards the woods helped her acquire an idea. 

Barbara: Why don’t you take a walk in the woods? Some fresh air might help as you rehearse your vows. 

Adam: You don’t mind? 

Barb: I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t. 

Adam glanced at the woods behind him before going back to his future wife. He stared in her beautiful green eyes, they matched the foresty green that surrounded them. It also wasnt just his parents he simply wanted tomorrow to go absolutely perfect for her. 

Adam: Alright, (kisses her forehead) I’ll see you before dinner I love you Barbara

Barb: I love you too Adam

With a swift turn on his heels he headed into the woods, unaware of what awaited him.

(What do you think so far)

[punchelf]

Keepsake

"Erenville?"

"..."

"I have something for you."

"I don't need anything. I'm fine."

"Well that's too bad. I spent all day crawling around Tesh'pyani looking for this little one."

"...Tesh'pyani?"

"I know it can't replace what you've lost, but I believe this plant holds special significance for your clan?"

"Is that...? But how? There was nothing growing there!"

"I think it wanted to be found."

"I... don't know what that means..."

"It doesn't matter."

"Moni, I- I don't know what to say..."

“It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything.”

“…thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elftober, Day 24

(Fun fact: Moni's Special Echo Power™️ is talking to plants)

[crystalpallette]

so I finished side order recently

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[blimbo-buddy]

Girl who says "Brah"

[green-tea-lemonade]

hii can you please draw applebees/davesol/soldave/honeycrisp... they are my lifefurce....

Heeeeey anon

Sorry that this legit took so long to get to but this one and another actually stumped me a bit! But lets go ahead and talk some Honeycrisp!

It's funny but as I'm starting to go through ships, I actually find that Sollux is surprisingly moldable to ship with in most quadrants with any character with just a few characters that I think it's pretty obvi he'd be one way or another with them. Dave is one that I can actually see these two being an all-around deal. I think it's actually extremely easy to see either of them together in a red, pale, or pitch manner. Personal opinion though, I think I could see them shift from pitch to pale. However, I do understand the idea of them in red! Trying to go down a little bit of the more romantic route, Dave can somehow get Sollux to be pretty talkative when working if he says the right things. Both of them are pretty tall so there is a pretty frequent amount of them coming up behind the other and attempting to use them like an armrest just for the hell of it. Sollux's constant amount of electronic-like noises from his powers is actually fuel and used snippets in some of Dave's music. I see them being somewhat private about affections towards one another mostly because they don't feel like its anybodys business to glimpse into those parts from the outside of their lives. They're really casual about it though.

[breadclubrising]

idc enough to rip and upload the video or see if anyone has posted it already

but this video of kenny saying he went somewhere (not canada!) to "recruit an old friend" who is "near and dear", I would have thought was going to be a swerve, like 'yep, my old friend YUJIRO 'THE TOKYO PIMP' TAKAHASHI'...

i WOULD HAVE thought that IF i had not seen kenneth's lil smile when people IMMEDIATELY started cheering when he said "old friend who is near and dear to my heart." he also threw in what appear to be a bashful head drop and a trying-not-to-get-choked-up voice when he started talking again. even in this shitty lil twitter vid from someone's phone, that smile looks real enough to convince me to tune into blood & guts in a couple weeks.

[imwritesometimes]

Legitimately sat down with the full 100% intent to actually write. My laptop however seems to have other plans 😑

[no-brand-gays]

anime resale stores here always have absolute mountains of love live figures from every iteration of the franchise with every character and costume you could imagine...except i've never been a figure girlie so i always just look over the shelf in awe because i can't really see myself buying anything. except, that is, for the early love live sunshine aqours figures with no legs. that, i would buy

[elytrafemme]

today's therapy session was really enlightening which is obviously good but it was enlightening in kind of a freaky degree because i just figured out that something i have been doing for like the entirety of my life isn't actually a common thing and is probably representative of something not working right in my unconscious? dude i thought i was on top of my psychological shit but then it turns out something i wrote off as being emotionally inconvenient but presumably regular actually might be worth its own series of sessions like. what the fuck man.