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queers-gambit · 8 months

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Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen angst

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venussaidso · 4 months

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Vedic Astrology Observation (based on shows/films part 4)

I'm watching the series Archer and I guessed three main nakshatra archetypes correct! This includes Uttarabhadrapada, which is so potent in the two of the most prominent female characters in the main character's life.

First of all, this series is about espionage. So immediately, I know there are moon nakshatras. The main character, Sterling Archer, embodies lunar qualities: being a secret agent, going undercover, using disguises/aliases, trickery etc. etc.

Another hint that supported my theory of the character being lunar is how the fandom literally compare his character design to Henry Cavill who is a Shravana Moon.

As Henry Cavill is also famous for being in the espionage, spy film The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

Another hint is Archer being a huge fanboy for Burt Reynolds who he inspires after or quotes during his epic, spy missions. And Burt Reynolds is a Hasta Moon, Rohini Ascendant.

Burt Reynolds even guest starred in an episode as himself and we see our main character fanboying throughout.

Burt Reynolds is famous for his spy film Operation CIA in which he plays a CIA agent who is undercover as a university professor.

The character Sterling Archer has to be voiced by a moon nakshatra native, right?

Finally, I went out to find the voice actor and calculated his vedic chart. Thank goodness the guy has his birthtime available; and accurate, at that. And I guessed right!!! 😭👇🏼

Just like Henry Cavill, also Shravana, who was a highly voted candidate in the fandom to play the live-action version.

But, in the very beginning of watching this series, the character Sterling immediately struck me as a Sun nakshatra native. His inability to commit to a relationship or anything; having zero devotion to anything.

He improvises everything; not much of a planner which makes him come off more carefree. He is missing this cold, lunar quality to him of being a strategist or even just being highly intelligent. I've always believed that Sun men are quite... bimbos, to say the least. Claire Nakti explored this in her Sun dominant men video more articulately and respectfully; and Archer embodies this energy too.

So, in the beginning episodes of the series, I believed he was mainly Sun dominant before witnessing other aspects of the character expanding.

I also noticed that he is emotionally volatile and loud and extremely comedic, which is not really Solar or Lunar, but Rahuvian. And guess what? The voice actor is an Ardra Moon, which makes a lot of sense.

But, I was right, again, to assume him being a Sun nakshatra. Because the voice actor also has Krittika Sun. Ha!

The reason why his Sun nakshatra was more blatantly obvious in the beginning for me was because of his relationship with his ex girlfriend, Lana!

Lana, whose character design is quite literally inspired by Rihanna's physique.

Rihanna, who I personally believe is an Uttarabhadrapada Ascendant, as her birthtime is rated C (unlikely to be accurate). And even if you don't think she's Uttarabhadrapada, fine, but the character Lana is.

She is the Saturn nakshatra archetype.

She's very kickass, warrior-like and has a masculine edge— which are the type of characters usually played by Saturnians/Uttarabhadrapadas.

I immediately noticed with how she butts heads with Archer. Uttarabhadrapada is a nakshatra in which its women are known for emasculating other male archetypes/even going head to head with men ruled by fiery-hot planets such as the Sun. Their chemistry in the series is the epitome of the Saturn woman x Sun man pairing.

Sun and Saturn are literally mortal enemies.

But people with this planetary rulership tend to be intrigued by each other. It seems to be very similar to having an intense square synastry with someone, in my opinion, which might add sexual/romantic tension more often than not.

Archer's mother is another important female figure in his life who is also Uttarabhadrapada.

She's a hardened woman who is in charge of a spy agency, a masculine job, and she acts or looks very similar to characters such as 1996's Cruella Deville or Miranda Priestly (both also played by Saturn nakshatras; both characters' hair are pale white).

Malory Archer quite literally ruined her son's life since he was born; always emasculating him even in his adult life. She's had a very cold, (Saturn) oppressive nature towards him since he was young. Saturn nakshatras are either known to humiliate its natives, or natives under this nakshatra lord will further humiliate/abuse others into their cold grip.

A trope I've seen often with this nakshatra, which makes sense if you think of them being the literal ice dragon.

I immediately noticed that she is Uttarabhadrapada not just from her masculine, commanding role in the series— but from the outfits she wears in every episode. She's always wearing cold colours, especially powder blue.

Uttarabhadrapada characters almost always have something significant that is coloured blue, which you'll always associate with the character; as Claire Nakti brilliantly pointed out in her Uttarabhadrapada video. And that's how I knew.

And her relationship with Lana, who is also very Uttarabhadrapada coded, is interesting. The same way Sun men tend to respect each other and always find each other from across the room, Saturn women always have a quiet air of respect for each other's strength.

The first time Malory met Lana, she pointed a gun to her head and Lana stubbornly stood her ground. It was like Malory immediately recognized herself in Lana. She was so impressed by her that she hired her to work at her agency as a top spy, just like that.

I was so certain that they were Uttarabhadrapadas and finally had the courage to check their charts AND I WAS RIGHT! Both voice actors are Uttarabhadrapadas!!

Their dynamic features this very Ascendant-Moon synastry — I definitely couldn't have guessed that one. This synastry quite literally demonstrates seeing yourself (Moon) in someone else (the Ascendent person). I've been very into studying synastries lately and it's always interesting how it plays out.

Anyway, now it makes sense why Sterling has a connection with Lana. Even though Lana isn't half as worse as Malory, I've always noticed their similarities. Like Lana, Malory used to be a kickass, spy lady before Sterling was born. They both have very sharp, stern personalities and are frequently annoyed by Sterling's existence. And in Sterling's case, it is true that you'll subconsciously seek out traits in a partner that are similar to your parent's.

Also, Sterling's unhealthy relationship with women & sex (unsuccessfully) fills up the empty hole inside of him that was supposed to be nourished by his mother's love as a child. This makes him fearful of intimacy and closeness, which is common with Sun nakshatra natives.

Malory's neglect is still a running gag in the series — she's emotionally hardened which is a prominent theme for Uttarabhadrapada (especially for the female natives). Being the middle nakshatra in the Pisces segment, it truly is the only Pisces that can struggle with intimacy, vulnerability or melancholic fluff. Which makes sense as Saturn is there. Luckily in Revati, there is more freedom and unrestrained expansion. There is a reason why Venus exalts in 27° of Pisces, where Revati lies. Revati is everything love and philosophical. Uttarabhadrapada isn't always comfortable expressing sentimentality, as they tend to be very self-restraint or outwardly hardened.

Anyway. I'm not done with the characters. I'll make a part 2 once I have the energy.

Ugh I'm sooo good at guessing nakshatras! LMAOO 😭

Especially moon nakshatras. I'm still so intrigued by moon men.

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soapels · 1 year

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but my hair smells of war

simon “ghost” riley x female reader

tw: nsfw, mutual pining, size kink (i guess?), reader is a jittery virgin, soft! ghost, lovey! ghost, but there’s an overall dark, forlorn theme, (angst??) slight paranoia, 18+ characters

notes: my first cod fic ever :,) bear with me here while i learn to navigate the characterizations! anyways the title is really inspired by that quote by warsan shire! do tell if you enjoyed & let me know who you’d like to see next (^_^)’’ (soap + konig brainrot is REAL lately…)

all hearts and reblogs are very appreciated!

Just outside the safehouse, crickets chirp.

It’s a pleasant backdrop to the otherwise quiet area of the stables, hay so itchy it even manages to prickle at your skin through the thick fatigues, slivers of the moon filtering in through the windows.

It’s been a long day, you’d seen awful things again (and you know this is just your call of duty but bloodshed- no matter how repetitive- never gets old, never gets easy), and up until around fifteen minutes ago, you were still on the run outside, tired; veins pumped to the hilt with adrenaline, (sometimes you wonder if these levels are healthy) and admittedly quite fearful (that never gets old either).

The path you’ve chosen is frightening at the best of times.

But now you can rest. Even if just for a moment, even if sleep comes seldom or you have to beckon it until closer to sunrise- even if tomorrow, when you return to the battle and the chaos and the ever-changing future, you won’t make it out alive.

There’s some quiet chatter in the safehouse, unconsciousness to you is like nirvana and nirvana is rare, near unobtainable, but you can vaguely make out the low rumble of Ghost’s voice, and more clearly- the lighthearted quips of Soap- and it oddly puts you at ease. Nudges you along to that inviting darkness, bones so pleasantly weak and ready for that nothingness, even if the hay is uncomfortable and you’re sure at least a spiderweb or two is lurking somewhere above in the rafters (because it’s just too dim to see, and the wooden beams block most of the moonlight from here).

You’ve never trusted Graves. (What’re you thinking? Go to sleep.) …Not entirely, at least, and the Shadows are up to no good lately- you don’t know this for sure, to be honest you’ve said no peep of your niggling qualms- but you feel it from deep within that something’s… wrong.

Or maybe it’s paranoia, maybe, most-certainly, it’s just that warrior disease settling in. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted, and your heart always feels so laden when you’re all alone and the gunfire ceases. That’s why these awful thoughts creep in on you, you convince yourself, lashes fluttering as you approach a hopefully pleasant dream. That’s why your mind sabotages you like this.

Your comrades aren’t enemies- don’t shut them out. No one fights alone. (And now, the last thought you have before drifting off completely, is oddly of Ghost, and how his voice would rasp as he said those familiar words, and the way the foreboding skull of his mask shifts when he speaks. And that damned glow of his eyes, haunting… strangely-beautiful, whenever they flicker over to you. So cold yet distant too, like an iceberg peeking above a frozen tide, silent but fatal if you’re not careful enough to steer clear of it. They don’t call him Ghost for no reason, though you think Simon Riley is a rather befitting name too- because if he had to have one, if he had to be real, then that’d be it.)

And you’re almost there, a warm fuzziness within- so vague and shapeless as you fade from reality- almost to that quiet bliss. One of the things you learned over the taxing span of your military years- sleep is by no means a small luxury.

There’s a shuffling beside you. Faint, ever so slight. Shouldn’t be enough to wake you. But it is. It’s enough to have your eyelids flying open, all exhaustion crumbling away as you—

“Shh, sergeant,” a gruff voice hushes, and recognition clicks. “It’s me,” he’s stood at the edge of the bale, which is frankly closer than you anticipated, propping his gun against a beam before sitting himself down. You swear you feel his body heat as the backside of his thick fatigues brush against your thigh, instinctively drawing your legs closer to give him more room.

Partially confused, very caught off guard, and admittedly a bit flustered, you blink away from him, his silhouette brimmed with the pale, conniving moon as you muster up a coherent response.

“Ghost,” is all you manage to breathe. But he seems to be fine with that, those dark, untelling eyes regarding you cooly as your knuckles sheepishly brush away exhaustion from your lashes.

“Sorry, did-… are we off already?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly, and even his gravelly voice has dipped into something gentler, not as harsh around the edges. To see Ghost like this- so unguarded (not entirely, never, but it’s still surprising)- comrade or not, is… different, to say the least. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. Still.

“Get some rest …Didn’t mean to wake ya.” His whisper is calming; you trust him fully, wholly, you think if he asked for your life right now you’d give it to him. Easily. Without falter. Because despite it all, his rough exterior, his sometimes-lethal temper and his unforthcoming behavior towards others, you know he’d do the same.

(He’s killed for you. Save you too many times to count.)

The crickets and cicadas thrum, but despite it all- the soothing wildlife outside and the soft rustling of hay as across the stable, Soap situates himself for the night- you’re focused on the man sat beside you, not even a foot away as he regards you almost absently. (But you’ve learned that nothing about Ghost is absent.)

And you want to listen to him, belatedly settling your head down on the bale, you really do, but there’s just something off in the air as those deep-chestnut eyes sweep over you; relaxed, too relaxed, almost as if nobody was behind them (but you know that to be false, too), a peculiar, unfamiliar drawl to them as he appraises you.

You’re dusted pale, feathered with the moon like the stars stepped down to personally kiss you, and Ghost watches you for a second more, your fluttering lashes- making no move to close- your lips, the slope of your cheek and the curls of hair framing your face- and his black skull balaclava shifts.

“Sleep, sergeant.”

“I don’t think I can,” you murmur, so quiet and faint, yet your voice manages to resonate with him regardless. It earns a halfhearted snort from him.

“Haven’t even tried, have ya?”

Maybe there’s a sliver of jest there.

You take the opportunity to make a harmless tease at him, a sweet little smile carving into your cheeks, “Well, I almost succeeded until you came along.”

His silence isn’t rewarding, but you both know you’re right, and a heavy question weasels its way into your mind. And you know he can sense it, that unspoken thickness as your lids battle exhaustion, and you also understand that Ghost doesn’t appreciate dishonesty- or a lack of divulgence where it’s due.

So you ask him.

“There was… something you wanted? If you want me to do something-“ maybe you should be embarrassed, how quick you are to jump the gun if it meant helping your Lieutenant, “I-I’ll do it. I will.”

(How are you still so sweet? After all you’ve seen? Why aren’t you hardened? Why are you the bunny in all the places wherein he’s the wolf? How is it that you still manage to glow, even when you very well might be teetering on the precipice of an untimely, surely-brutal death? Simon doesn’t know. He doesn’t. He’s good at reading the room, digging into people’s minds- even the most fucked up ones, especially so- and finding out everything dark they’ve ever felt. With you it’s different. He often struggles to piece together a conclusion from just a smile you send him, wondering if there’s another layer to it. Stilling in his tracks whenever you laugh- so soft like you always do, pleasant like euphony- feeling something unbidden in his chest start to weigh.)

His chest puffs out a little at that, and he huffs low. And Ghost looks away from you, those umber eyes trailing out towards the window up above and somewhere behind you, and for a moment he just goes impossibly still, like a dog waiting for a sound, purposely searching for something there in the wilderness that doesn’t belong.

And you can’t help but feel like the two of you are somewhat out of place also, yet then again, if you were to think someone in the world had to share your loneliness with you, it’d be Ghost. Always. (Because you feel that you know him. He doesn’t have to say a word, his eyes say nothing, but simultaneously they scream everything too. All at once. All in one long wail.)

“No,” is all he says. All gruff and rasping. But soft too, somehow. A disinclined slump to his broad shoulders he only allows you and the team to be privy to (speaking of, Soap’s kneeing a few haybales together now, squishing them in so he’s got space to roll when he inevitably ends up stirring tonight)- but even then, it’s rare.

His eyes meets yours again, all shadows with a small, conniving highlight, brimmed with his balaclava.

“Scoot ova’.” he says it so simply, but your brain goes utterly blank for a fleeting moment.

His accent is quite thick- maybe you’ve lost yourself in it again, or fell too hard in the caramel pool of his eyes, or perhaps you’re just too tired to comprehend him right now- but once it clicks, you’re obedient to his wish. Right away.

The sound of clothes rustling fills the otherwise quiet atmosphere as you shimmy yourself all the way against the wall of hay to your side, letting Ghost- all big and tall- settle in beside you as you curl up to yourself. You’d burrow inside yourself if you could, face flushing warm as your Lieutenant’s body knocks and brushes against yours, and before you know it, the gentleness of shared breathing descends over you both as your noses point to the rafters. Dark, and silent. Comfortable, but at the same time not. A wordless dance of being convinced of your composure to having it singlehandedly ripped away whenever he made the faintest move beside you.

Ghost feels just slightly similar to drowning; just that cold world beneath the waves, hurtled into a murky tide, spun beneath turbulent waters. Uneasy, unsure of where the hell you are- only that you don’t know how you got in and you don’t know how to get out. Lungs aching, chest pouring…

But he feels like the merciful gasp of air when you finally resurface, too. That glimmer of hope, that split second thought of thank God I made it out alive as your chin thrashes over the ripples.

He’s the violent ocean and the life-ring thrown to you all at once. He is the silent chaos and he is the overwhelming relief- and he isn’t a kind man but the good side of him always seems to somehow win out.

“Ghost?” You breathe again. Not sure of even why, and your body quivers with sweat and nerves because Lieutenant’s so strong and he’s laying beside you (this isn’t even odd, this has happened before- sleeping with the team in cramped, awkward places that leave literally no room for complaints, but this time it felt different, like he was somehow closer).

His breaths even out in the pleasant air. And his silence could perhaps be welcoming on its own, but he deigns you with a reply anyway.

“What?” All gruff and low, thick yet- for you, now in the fall of night- gentle too. All Ghost.

(…But maybe partially Simon Riley, too, but you have trouble distinguishing two things when you’re hardly certain one even exists.)

“…” You chew on the words you want to say- or maybe you need to say them- but you don’t know what it is that sticks to your tongue like glue, and you’re rendered stupid, jaw-gaping, for a solid moment.

So you settle for simple. You settle for something good that will suffice, something pleasant and sweet but nothing that tiptoes too close to Ghost (you’re already close enough, and he did choose this bale with you, but still, you never know with him, and he’s not the sort of man you want to question).

“Goodnight.”

You’re sure he makes a soundless scoff at that. And for a splitsecond, you decide to take a peek over, because your stupid curiosity wins out and you just have to see him one last time before a permanent stillness ensues- sheepish hues darting over to his in the dimness—

“Night,” (you think you hear a scintilla of wry humor there) “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

—Only to find they’re already on you.

︻┳═一

The next time you and your Lieutenant are ‘forced’ to bunk together is closer to three weeks later, in a ratty shed by the river.

You turn away from Ghost just in time to miss him dragging out a body (finished him with a silencer, but it doesn’t matter anyway. his buddies wouldn’t have heard. his buddies are dead) as you awkwardly look around the decrepit place.

“Fix us up a place to call it a night, soldier.”

You’re quick to obey, chirping off an obedient yes sir as you take a few steps into the old storage shed.

It’s hard to see, and this time there’s not much moonlight to work with (when the door’s closed, it’ll go utterly dark), but with your scope’s flash you spot a disarray of pallets off to the corner, and you waste no time in hauling them together. You find a few cloths- puffy vests and discarded life-jackets, toss ‘em on the wood, and call it a cot.

“There we are,” you say with a smile when he inevitably walks in, door swinging shut as he does one last quick once-over before approaching.

“Good work,” (you hate the way your chest blooms at his simple praise; you’re a soldier, aren’t you? not some stupid schoolgirl) “Now let’s huddle up and kip down. Soap and the others cleared out the second field.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod curtly, fingers hesitating for a split second before you switch off the flash, the old shed blanketed in darkness as you set your rifle down and maneuver onto the makeshift bed (you weren’t complaining, though, you’ve both slept on far worse). Ghost follows in suit, his barely-clear silhouette lowering down onto the pallets with you, minding his muscle as he settles beside you.

…And for a while, it’s nice.

It doesn’t feel as awkward as it used to months- even just weeks, ago, yet still, sometimes you swear there’s an odd thickness to the air, an unprecedented drawl of tension that, like smoke, wisps by before dissipating. Like it was never there. (Yet the smell lingers, traces of something potent and simmering in your nostrils, caught in your clothes like gunpowder. Your hair smells of war and running, and Ghost smells so similar that it almost hurts, yet he’s more charred than you, you can feel it, and if you are a solider of team 141 than he is the bombs and shelter and war and relief.)

(No, perhaps he is the battlefield.)

That strange whiff of something close to vulnerability drifts in the space between you- wanting to say something, but having no words to offer, or maybe it’s a different feeling- like when you want to add something funny to the conversation, but it suddenly inches by and you’re left in your uncertainty, holding onto the joke with a tenuous grip. (Tenuous, yes, but you still want to say it, don’t you? You’re still looking for a window to speak your mind?)

And you’re sure Ghost can sense it too, because from beside you where he lies, he shifts just a bit more than usual, antsy and unable to find a comfortable position, his gear brushing against yours as you gnaw on the insides of your cheeks, feeling the same way.

“Lieutenant-“ “Sergeant-“

He turns over to you, and you see something in those dark eyes that glints as you glance over to him. His hues widen slightly, but whatever startle you thought you might’ve gleaned there flickers out and you’re once more left in the silence- this time, somewhat awkward, waiting for the other to break it.

You called him, and he called you. But now, neither of you return it.

Surprising perhaps the both of you, after what seems like forever passes and Ghost is the one to clear his throat, rasping out a quick, dismissive goodnight when your lips finally snap open to speak-

“G-Ghost—“

“Sleep, soldier. Tomorrow’ll be hell, and m’not carryin’ ya if y’legs give out.”

(He would. Of course he fucking would.)

︻┳═一

Soap and Ghost murmur for a bit with each other, tying off the threads of the last mission as you hesitantly approach. You don’t exactly remember Soap ever making it last night, but hours before sunrise you stirred in your slumber, and are now eighty-percent convinced you heard him settling in the otherwise quiet shed, exchanging a tired grunt or two with Ghost.

And it shouldn’t bother you. The men, you mean, because you’ve known them for months now, fought and bled and killed together, stuck to each other like glue as you endured all the shitty times and awful memories. But your fingers tighten around your rifle just that much more when you near, because Ghost is just so big and strong and the two mingle together for an unseemly yet fatal duo. (They’d never hurt you, never, and you know this damn well, but you’ve always had a shy nature and their respective sets of eyes never get any easier to stare at- you think sometimes you prefer the barrel of a gun over those sage, umber voids.)

Soap’s the first to spot you, those oceanic blues drifting over Ghost’s shoulder, rippling with what you suspect to be genuine mirth as you stop a foot short of the two.

“G’mornin’, sleepyhead,” he greets with a vaguely-boyish grin that sort of twinkles, eyes running over your dewy lashes, slightly-mussed hair and the crooked bend of your straps and gear bands. You smile sheepishly in lieu of a reply, giving him a tipsy little nod that his smile deepens at before your lips part open.

(And you’re afraid your voice will quiver or give out entirely when Ghost’s eyes, sunken beneath his skull mask- but just as haunting and intricate- snake over to you. But, thank God, it doesn’t.)

“Y-You got a spare ‘clava?”

Soap’s chest puffs and swells briefly when he scoffs halfheartedly, those gorgeous hues never slipping from yours for too long as he rests a hand along the butt of his pistol in his pocket, the other dipping back into the bag slung over his shoulders. (Big and broad, his build is similar to Lieutenant’s, but Ghost is taller and holds more mass. Both are purely muscle, though, all death and chaos- Soap’s just always been more friendly with his destruction, delivers it with a laugh or a pat on the back.)

“Y’embarrassed? Don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed head quite like y’rs, lass.” He says it with a playful chuckle, stepping forward (and his legs are long, he reaches you in an instant) and proffering the black mask out to you. You accept it with soft thanks, cheeks warm from embarrassment and perhaps some odd sort of pride as he ruffles your hair and smiles. Like, really smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling just slightly as he nods, “there y’are, lass,” he says, “we’ll all meet up back at base, yeah?”

“You’re leaving already?” You chirp highly, traces of dejection caught in your voice (aw, you sad he’s leaving? makes two of you), eyes all starry and confused as he toys with the straps of his vest and quirks his head to the side some. “‘Fraid so, got some loose ends to tie- won’t be long, promise.”

You accept his words with a small, silent nod, offering him a gentle, if not somewhat sleepy smile as he reaches a fist forward, knuckles you lightly on your collar, and belatedly brushes past you. The heels of his boots clip dully against the floor when he reaches the janky door of the shed, daylight weaseling in through the splits and cracks of the wooden walls. Bathing the three of you in a golden porridge of early morning and twittering birds and that odd emptiness of your stomach that always churns at around six o’clock.

With one last pleasant glance to Soap (his cerulean gaze seems to linger and corrode into you, somehow) you allow him to trade a simple goodbye with Ghost, wasting no more time in slipping the mask over your head as Johnny did the same. (Even in your head, it feels forbidden to call him that- only Ghost is allowed to- you don’t know why, but were never brave enough to beg the question.)

And he departs. And the once-comfortable silence betrays you and Ghost yet again.

Still, he turns over to you, letting the door shut, watching as you lower yourself onto the pallets and fix your shoelaces. (But your thumbs tremble, wrists twitching, nervous, like the task is foreign, like it’s not one of the simplest things you’ve ever done in this business of war.)

And those brown, all-seeing eyes sweep over you (you can feel it), those thick boots of his brushing over the dusty floor as he makes his way over.

Your hues collide with his, something off in the air- a calling, or a warning maybe, but it’s heavy and the look he meets you with just before he approaches plants a pit in your belly- frightful and needy- feeling so small and perfectly useless as it builds and builds and-

“Sergeant.”

“Yes?” Breathless without any good reason.

You wonder if he feels it, too. That weight in his tummy that buckles his knees, makes them knock together, dizzies his head. Makes his heart skip faster. But the thought is dismissed too quickly, because you’re certain it’s fear you feel, strong and overwhelming- too great a respect to label. And Ghost isn’t afraid, clammy palms have never been a part of his brand. He doesn’t hesitate.

Yet, now, that all seems like rubbish. Every preconceived idea of him you held withering away as Ghost does just what you knew he never would. His hand, all big and capable (stained with blood, too) hesitates.

But this time- unlike all those sleepless nights where you felt skin brush against yours unbidden, his eyes burning against your quiet profile as his fingers contemplated over your face- it reaches you. Fulfills what it wanted to for a long time coming.

And now you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. “Ghost,” you whisper, so thin it might break- and your voice does shake, like a leaf in the wind. There’s something in his eyes, you notice, as they trail along you, his large palm swallowing up your cheek, gloved fingertips eroding the thin fabric over your skin in the best way possible.

Every lick of pain comes with a spark of pleasure, a needy, gentle ache masquerading as limitless fear.

(But those deep-brown eyes know no limits.)

“You afraid of me?” Ghost is a lot of things. But now you have a niggling, loud feeling that who you’re gaping back at now isn’t he or his mask, but rather what’s beneath it.

You shakily stand, maybe to grasp the illusion of having some control over yourself, or perhaps just to get closer to the door if you wanted to make some stupid excuse to leave. “Simon- I-“

He cuts you off with a low huff, but it sounds more like a groan than anything else- all displeased yet thrilled all at once. It shuts you up. It paralyzes you. (Barely keeping your gaze on his simmering one, you want to lie on your fucking back, and for the life of you, you don’t know why.)

When he says nothing, just continues regarding you with that weird fucking look (it’s not bad- it’s good, you think, but terrifying too) and lets his hand finally slip off your cheek, you try again.

“Simon,” (Simon hears you swallow, watches your throat bob, all tender where he’s cold, soft where he’s covered in jagged heaps of ice) “I- W-We should go.”

Ghost takes a pensive moment to respond.

“We don’t even got our mission yet, do we?”

Your confusion must be palpable, brows pinching together in a cute little knot that has his belly doing backflips as your eyes sparkle up at him. There’s an odd twinkle to his own, broad chest swelling out for a bit longer than a breath should as your lips part open.

“We-…” (f-fuck, just speak, soldier!) “We’re meeting everyone at base, yes?”

Earning no response from him, and the silence quickly killing you- you add:

“I- I thought we… Were meeting up, all of us.”

He grunts at that, low and quiet. And you look up at him like he owns the world, like there’s nobody else in it but him, and your eyes are starry and so unapologetically warm that it burns him from the inside out. His chest aches, he’s wanted you for too long a time to not act on it, to not do something about it, but for once in a very long time, Simon’s… afraid.

Or maybe uneasy is the better word, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s so big and you’re so small and sometimes he worries that if he were to touch you without gloves on, you’d wither completely.

He’s used to that game. His kisses are gunpowder. His love is death, he believes it because he’s seen it. Everywhere. All the time.

But he can’t help it, not now. Not when he’s got you all alone and it’s like the birds chirping outside are telling him to fucking do something already- and Simon knows if he doesn’t make a move, someone else will. They’ll swoop in and steal you away, scoop you off your feet and treat you like a princess- the only way you ever should be- and you’ll be happy and smiling and so fucking far from him.

Safe.

…But maybe he’s selfish. He knows he’s not all that good, he wasn’t made to love or be loved- he is a product of war and brokenness and an endless cycle of pain- but maybe you can be his good thing.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters beneath his breath, “take it off.”

“What-“

“Show me your face.”

(Hah. How ironic; when every soul in the military who’s ever crossed him has wanted to say the same damn thing, but always balked before they could because his eyes alone are killer enough.)

His voice is a little rougher now, your brain registers it as an order, so with a shaky, uncertain hand, you peel off your balaclava and hold it awkwardly in your lap. And your hair’s quite messy from a wakeful night, and your skin glows ever so slightly from sweat and sleep and smeared gunpowder and your pulse is so rapid you fear it may explode.

You want to hide from him.

But, catching both of you by surprise, Simon leans in, one hand raking up his mask- stealing a blurry glimpse of his mouth- and captures your lips in his. And he doesn’t let you hide.

Run, either; he slots his hulking body up against yours, kneeling down on the wooden pallets as he lowers you atop them, making it physically impossible to wrest yourself away if he really wanted you to stay.

(And he really wants you to stay. Fuck.)

You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so fucking embarrassed and your legs feel heavy and your bones’ve gone to jelly because Simon is so big and strong and perfect and his lips are on yours.

“Simon,” you were going for a half-rebuttal, a plea for a moment to grasp just what the hell was happening. But you make a pathetic sound closer to a moan instead, all frail and cute as you whine his given name, and it makes his pants feel that much tighter, exchanging a groan into your mouth as he holds you beneath him.

And his grip is sort of awkward, you think, like he’s made the split-second decision to go all in but now he’s worried he fucked things up and you’ll end up hating him. So his tongue prods against your soft lips, hesitant, and his long lashes occasionally brush against your cheekbone, but he ultimately pulls away.

Like the recoil of a gun; sharp, sudden. There’s a blip of panic there, of what the hell did I just do. But there’s no regret. Because in Simon’s head, it had to be done- else he would’ve crumbled, else your smile would steadily become torture and someone else would’ve done it.

Your eyes are still shut when silence falls over the rundown shed and you feel the tip of his nose carve almost awkwardly in the juncture of your neck. Because you’re afraid. Because your tummy is burning and so is your face, your heart, too. Because there’s still a little unreasonable part of you that, despite feeling his lips brush against your collar, is scared that when you open them, he’ll be staring back at you- mask rucked up and all- genuinely Simon- and you don’t want to see his face if he doesn’t want you to.

“I should stop,” he murmurs into your neck. “I should stay away.” And it almost feels like it’s all over now, the fucked-up calm after the storm. The residual smoke and death on the battlefield- the smell of gunfire and metal. Water under the bridge—

“But that’d be hell.”

And he pulls the trigger again. Those lips, cold as bullet shells, colliding with yours once more. Nipping, and all tongue with the occasional clash of teeth, but it feels so fucking good and you realize with a spark of dismay that you don’t want it to stop.

Never.

“Simon,” and you’re chanting it now, all teary-eyed, lashes thick with pleasure as his mouth descends upon you, his deft fingers already working at tearing off your clothes- straps unbuckling, gear clinking softly as it rolls off the pallets and onto the floor.

Fear- respect- or whatever the hell you’ve always felt for Ghost- bleeds into something closer to… love, you think, and your chest is swelling by the time his gloved fingertips reach there, gliding over your bare skin. And you glow in the golden streaks of young sun, flesh soft and too fucking inviting to pass up on.

(He doesn’t.)

Simon leans away, then, and you dare open your eyes at the lost contact, the lower half of his face bathed in a dim-yellow, his balaclava clinging midway up the bridge of his nose. And within the cage of the printed skull (iconic and terrifying, sort of like batman- an omen of evil’s bane on the way), his brown hues glint, all hazy- far from sober as they sweep over you.

Flickering; giving out; flickering. Burning, and then lessening, sparking like a broken fuse before it becomes so hot you feel you may wither beneath him-

“Gorgeous,” he breathes.

And he’s on you again, tongue laving at your neck and chest, one hand kneading a tender breast while he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. You whimper; his cock throbs; he made the impromptu decision just as Soap left that he’d bring you to ruin, and his plans haven’t changed at all.

“I need you, Simon,” you confess, because you do. You need him, you’re sure of it. On the battlefield, on base, on any fucking mission you’re given. You need him above you and on you and inside you.

(Fuck, you want him inside, you want him everywhere. In the mushy, warm crevice between your ribcages and now, between the river of your thighs. Now now now—)

There’s a screech of a zipper. It jams, but he’s impatient and dislodges it quickly, flimsy metal snapping as he shrugs off some of the weight and tugs down his pants.

And, goodness, it’s big.

Flushed red at the tip, angry and twitching as he drags you in by your hips, appraising you with this simmering, foggy look that has your legs quietly splitting. But Simon’s big all over, and you’ve always known him to be stronger (so much stronger), so when he slots himself up with your core, murmurs out a string of reassurances and fuckin’ beautiful’s, you lie back and let him take you.

You, that pretty, sopping cunt, and your virginity.

And as he deflowers you (there’s a dull, hot pain, he’s so big and thick- it hurts- but he folds himself over you and hushes you and tells you it’s okay), you think he takes your heart, too. (If he didn’t already have it.)

When the sting subsides and he realizes you’re not sniffling into his shoulder anymore, he bumps up the speed, entering a controlled, careful pace, the wood jostling beneath you as he fucks and breaks and loves you.

“Please,” you beg, “give it to me.”

“Am, darlin’,” he rasps at your ear, an echo of a high-pitched sigh there. “Giving ya everything I’ve got… And you’ll fuckin’ take it, yeah?”

When you nod and tighten up around him, those velvet walls sucking him in like a perfect vice, and pair it with a mewling yes, Simon, something in his lower abdomen clutches. A pit forming there already, all hot and pleasant as your pussy overwhelms him, beckons him further in until he’s hitting deep deep deep and a pale-pink is oozing between your legs, traces of your blood caught on his pelvis as he gives it to you. Everything. All of it.

Every piece of him, every bad memory and gentle kiss on his forehead, every grey cloud and good grade and bout of death- he stuffs it all inside you. Buries his hate and love there, cock grazing your womb as he thinks about the one he came from, and all the shouting and cracked beer bottles and spatters of smoke and red on the field.

And you suddenly tighten up around him completely, eyes going wide as your mouth gapes with some unwarranted, foreign wave of pleasure.

“There y’are,” he grunts, half breathless and half utterly feral, brown voids enamored with the sight of you crumbling beneath him as his jaw falls open and his eyes roll back. All the way back, ‘til his lashes- pale in the morning sunshine- kiss the points of his cheekbones and he can’t hide the desperate groan he tries to stifle in the dip of your neck.

Gloved hands grasping at the soft fat of your hips, digging and unintentionally hurting, leaving purplish semi-circles behind as his hips stutter one last time.

And he paints you on the inside. Roots himself there. Cums with a murky moan of your name that claws itself into every vital part of your soul and refuses to let go. (You don’t want it to.)

And the longer you two lie there, bathing in the gold of early morning, the less inclined he feels to leave.

Your fingertips, delicate as snow, graze over his back, swollen lips tickling his jawbone and the side of his face as he pants into the arch of your neck.

And his nose nestles into your aura, the messy tresses and gentle wildlife of you, gloved hands marking up your hips. And Ghost thinks your hair smells of war, too.

#call of duty #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader cod #cod x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader smut #call of duty smut #finally finished this #sorry if theres typos my brain feels like a bowl of cereal sometimes #mw2 #smut

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upat4amwiththemoon · 10 months

Note

Hello I was wondering if I could request friends to lovers Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader fluffy with these quotes “stop looking at me like that!”

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes sparkle in the moonlight.”

“How mad would you be if I kissed you?” Please! Thanks :D

Moonlit

Summary: Even with the moon and the stars, the only thing I want to look at is you.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 475

a/n: hope you enjoy :)

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Natasha and Y/N are sitting at the beach. They had a picnic together and now, after eating, they’re watching the night sky together. “That’s the Ursa Major,” Y/N points at a constellation, “it’s the third largest constellation, did you know that?” She asks, her eyes bot leaving the sky.

Natasha’s eyes on the other hand, haven’t even glanced at the sky. She’s only looking at Y/N. “I didn’t know that.” Her hand lays near Y/N’s, she is debating is she should grab it.

“And that’s Ursa Minor right beside it.”

“Mhm.”

The lack of answer makes Y/N turns her gaze to Natasha, slightly surprised to see her already looking at her. They stare at each other for a while. Warmness starts spreading through Y/N’s body. “Stop looking at me like that.” She giggles quietly, letting her head fall down to hide from the intense gaze.

“Like what?” Natasha bites her lip. She is grinning from the shyness.

Shrugging, Y/N starts playing with her hands. “Like I’m the only thing you pay attention to.”

“But you are.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Cheesy.” She mumbles, crossing her legs to sit more comfortably. “I thought we were here to look at the stars.”

“We are, I just prefer looking at you.”

Leaning her head on her own shoulder, Y/N tries to suppress the smile growing on her face as she looks at Natasha. She always had a way with words. Their friendship had a lot of innocent flirting, but lately, Y/N has started to feel herself meaning the words she says. However, she’s way too nervous to bring it up to Natasha. She doesn’t want to ruin the friendship she has with her.

“Has anyone ever told you, that your eyes sparkle in the moonlight.”

“Shut up!” Y/N laughs, throwing her head back.

Natasha starts laughing too, “but it’s true! I’m not kidding, Y/N.”

Quietening down, the look on Y/N’s face turns into a serious one. “What are you getting at?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, that I like you.” Natasha states, her voice gentle. She moves her hand up to Y/N’s cheek, rubbing it softly with her thumb. “How mad would you be if I kissed you?” She looks straight at her eyes.

Y/N tries to find traces of playfulness from Natasha’s face, but she can only see sincerity and nervousness. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

With a smile, Natasha’s free hand takes hold of Y/N’s waist. She moves towards her, slowly, her hands caressing her. For a while they stare right in front of each other, breathing the same air. When their lips finally touch, Y/N’s eyes flutter shut. She wraps her arms around Natasha’s neck, holding her close as they kiss.

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barblaz-arts · 1 month

Note

Hey! Since you mentioned "Soul Eater" before, can I ask what you think about it? From the anime, from the manga (if you read it), the powers, the story in general, the ships, the chops, the humor, etc.

The anime was stunning! I love that it managed to translate the gothic but campy vibe the manga had. The soundtrack was insane too. I used to be so obsessed with Paper Moon and the second ED. Even the character OSTs like Kidd's theme and BlackStar's theme were really good, even if the lyrics didn't make a lot of sense.

The character designs and powers/fighting style for each character was soooo cool btw. The aesthetic for this whole show was just so good. Like. If Tim Burton and Doctor Seuss went and collaborated on an anime idk what I'm saying.

And the animation for the fight scenes were just mesmerizing. Bones(the animation studio) are just real damn good at what they do.

Seeing Maka fight with that giant scythe changed my life. At the time shounen rather than shoujo/slice of life anime were my thing. It was my first time seeing a female main protag for a shounen anime, that was probably one of the reasons I was as obsessed with the show as I was. I saw myself in maka for many reasons, i loved her a lot.

I had my gripes with the anime. Like. The ending was a lil weird with how they defeated Asura, but I did love that it had Maka also be a weapon. Also the fact that Crona was alive and well by the end is a nice bonus.

I vividly remember being obsessed with this scene in particular. I had such a huge crush on them lmao

Also not to like out my cringey 12 yo self, but I used to ship Crona/Kidd. Looking back it's so funny.

Soul/Maka is still one of my favorites anime ships ever tho. Ships that start off being besties that gradually turn romantic are just always gonna be my favorite i guess

Also just... Soul's dedication to always keep Maka safe was so dang sweet??? He'd catch a sword on the chest for her. He'd break her fall for her. He'd really do anything for her. Like damn...

As for the manga, yes I did read it! I think it ended when I was in high school? I followed the manga as it updated along with other mangas like Pandora Hearts and Reborn etc. Soul Eater was the only shounen I finished reading (Unless PH counts as shounen. I don't think it does...).

The direction it went with was so painful. Crona leaving Maka and going back to Medusa was my NaruSaku fallout istg. It sucks that things didn't end happily for Crona in the manga, but I still enjoyed the journey it put me through. As dark as it was, the chapter where Crona finally kills Medusa was kinda cathartic.

And although the manga didn't have weapon!Maka, i like the upgrade when she honed the abilities of her grigori soul. Maka riding scythe!Soul like Cardcaptor Sakura with her magic staff was so cool. And the way she had Soul's blade turn into piano keys and turned the black blood into a dress was kinda badass. I wish we get to see these in reboot FMA brotherhood style someday

The humor was great. My brothers and I still quote/reference a lot of the funny stuff from it. I just wish it wasn't one of those animes that can get so pervy to the point it's uncomfortable....

Anyways, loved it a lot. Sorry I probably could have talked about Kidd and BlackStar too and I love them, but this reply would be a lot longer than i have the energy to do lol. They're popular anyways. This show had one of the best female anime characters in Maka and it will probably always have a special place in my heart.

And the chops? Great as always

#asks

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liveyun · 5 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 ; KSJ

title. white sand

pairing. kim seokjin x female oc/reader

genre. angst, exes au

warnings. mentions of broken marriage, arguments, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, missing communication in a relationship ; divorce ; non descriptive smut, allusions to miscarriage ; surprise ending?

wc. 3.3k+

listen to : playlist

masterlist | taglist

The sky is gloomy today.

Do you want to turn a river in its bed,

Or plant a barren wilderness with wheat?

Warm water ripples underneath your feet, giving you a feeling of you being still alive. That certain feeling of your stomach churning never leaves you, as you inhale a deep breath. This wasn't new to you, at least you knowing that wasn't. Your heart throbbing with pain each time whenever you see colors swirling around your life, but not you. Everything felt blank, everyday was an endless loop.

Your thoughts never ran twice before committing anything, resulting in indiscretion.

You didn't know why you'd visit the beach once in the year when the water felt bizzare to your skin; but at least this feeling of your feet sinking in the soft wet sand, the feeling of the cold breeze soothing your skin calms down your racing thoughts.

If you can meet with triumph and failure

And treat those two impostors just the same

Triumph. You weren't sure of when you met triumph, but failure, for sure was met by you. Failure is the secret ingredient to your success, they say, but when you actually fail, there aren't many who still stand by their quote.

The bubbling pot of jealousy inside, being compared to others, despised, accused of being a traitor, these all were some things which you craved to forget, but some things can't be just forgotten, can they really be?

If you can bear to hear the truth they've spoken

That you stepped right in trap for fools. But when?

They get buried inside your own self, in one such deep crests inside your heart that when even a glance is spared over, your whole self falls into an endless slumber of contriteness. Was it fair to lead on in this way? Pity for others, harassment for your own self. The truth is factual, you have heard it by your own self, and you are ready to accept it all. It itself might hurt but all these things, at least have an honesty within that you haven't been through unfair means to provide you a bittersweet nostalgia.

They say that success and failures are like the two faces of a coin. They're both an outcome of luck with a probable chance of 50-50 for each. Hard work does not always bring success, no matter how hard you put in your efforts.

But they also say that to keep a drowning relationship afloat, you have to put in effort.

It hit you hard when you’d realized that the risk of risking it all can also mean losing everything you've ever had in your life.

It hits you even harder when you remember how the decade old moon pendant still rests peacefully between your clavicles, against the resonating of your heart. You'd wanted to throw that away in the vast ocean, wanting the hues of the blues carry your pain, the memories to a place far, far away from you.

But you never had the heart to part away with something so close to your heart.

It's the seventh year you're seeing the imprints of your feet on the dunes of the damp sand on the same day, every year.

It's the seventh year you're walking alone on the beach with no sounds of squeaky giggles tingling your ears.

You wonder if the pendant still holds the tiny pieces of paper between its leaves which have both of your initials imprinted, or it's faded away like your footprints on the sand with each wave hitting the coast. Like how the castles you'd build together did.

4th December.

Your heart beats like crazy within your ribcage when your fingers feel the gentle surface of the white pendant, a relic which once was the reason for your smile blooming like lilies in a pond. But now, it only reminds you of your failure— your failure to keep your relationship afloat. Of your broken connection.

It's the seventh year you're reminded once again that it's truly over.

It's the seventh year you've realized that you're no longer together with your childhood friend whom you'd married.

It's the seventh year you've realized that maybe you've died. Maybe a part of you has, because till death do us part did not do any justice to you. To your best friend, your husband— ex husband.

It's the seventh year you're living without him, as many would say that you're doing completely fine, maybe only you know that a part of you never has ever stopped yearning.

Never stopped loving him.

You take off the pendant from your neck, gently unfolding the metallic celestial halves. The white paper in both of the tiny compartments unveiled bold, black scrawls with tiny hearts surrounding them.

KSJ ♡ YN

You feel the pain right in your chest, spiraling up your lungs to down your stomach till you could no longer breathe properly.

It's not a vague memory in your mind the day he gifted you the pendant. The event replays in your head like it's yesterday, when you were both young adults with warmth glowing in your faces, in your hearts, surrounding each other with the blanket of love. You still remember how young he looked with flushed cheeks and eyes twinkling under the moonlight, half squeaking, half laughing at some lame joke. His warm, big hand enveloped yours as you two walked to the waves in this same beach, feet sinking to the white sand glowing in the night.

You still remember how Seokjin had made a note of how warm the water was in comparison to the weather, and you'd make a note of how the tips of his ears were a shade of crimson.

You still remember when he had handed you the pendant, smiling so brightly, saying that he's forever grateful to the moon for blessing him, and you still remember the freshness of his breath as his lips touched yours for the first time ever.

You still remember how scared you two were. Having discovered your love for eachother after pining like idiots, you knew you had a lot of talking to do. You still remember how hot his lips felt on your skin, promising you words of affirmation that you both got this.

You still remember how delicate he was at that night of your first time together, how gently he made love to you, and how he coaxed releases after releases from you, gently kissing your heated flesh with each stroke to your skin. How he'd turned to mush after you'd touched him back with the same passion, with the same desire.

You still remember his teary face when you'd met him at the altar, when you'd exchanged your vows of eternal love and fidelity. You still remember how different the kiss you'd both shared felt to be, almost like a seal to your newfound journey.

You still remember how happy you two were. You two had promised that you'd got this together.

You feel your eyes stinging with tears amidst the bitter smile that hangs loosely on your lips, because you still remember the first time when things got hard. Really hard. You still remember the shaking of his dark pupils like an autumn leaf hanging on the tree, quivering with guilt suppressed anger when he saw you flinch. He had yelled at you, for the first time ever. He stroked your back with flurries of apologies as he kissed you to sleep that day.

You remember how any squabbles were silenced without any communication gradually and how any quarrel would be slept on without any apologies from either of you.

Despite the slowly forming gap between you two, he'd still make sure to have prepared breakfast for you when you'd wake up late. How he'd still prepare the vase every two days with your favorite flowers. How he'd pull you closer to his broad chest, lulling you to sleep, or occasionally telling you about his days.

You still remember how slowly the arguments turned to sleepless nights with a fidgeting heart and a choking stomach. How everything was so gradual that it took you time to realize that it was happening, and you'd taken it for granted.

How the loud voices of you both threatened to blow off the ceiling, and how your eyes hurt after crying yourself to sleep. How dark the bags under his eyes seemed every morning. How scared you were when you realized that he was no longer behind you, let alone stroking your back when you were bawling your eyes out as he used to do earlier.

How you'd wake up to an empty side of your bed, how your texts went unanswered most of the time. How every day after work you'd return to an empty home, flowers withered and dead on vases and everything picking up layers of dust.

How you'd fall asleep with untouched food on the table when he'd return back to home late from work. How you'd no longer smell the piping hot food everyday when you'd woken up. You would wake up to the same, empty place, knowing that he had been there, but he left without even sparing a glance.

You'd also miss how Seokjin would return to home with a throbbing guilt in his heart, never putting off the blame in his heart which accused him for everything which has been happening in your marriage.

How his heart would shatter to pieces each time after a quarrel, realizing the situation. How heartbreaking your sobs were behind the closed rooms or the running showers.

But he'd never got to apologize, because a part of him wanted that to come from you too. He'd wonder at times if you thought the same.

You still remember the lone happiness which bloomed inside you after so long when you'd seen two lines on the pregnancy stick after days of throwing up in the morning. How you'd thought that maybe, maybe this could fix everything between you two. Everything which you weren't ready for, but were thrown onto. Everything which you didn't know existed between you two, but was clearly visible day after day. You were positive that it definitely would.

How fucking selfish of you.

You still remember his absence and his ignorance when you were so excited to let him know about the happy news. You still remember the piercing fight which took place when he returned from his three month long business trip. You vaguely remember how you'd cry for him at nights to hold you, trashing beside the empty bed, how you'd throw up and clutch yourself to sleep. How the doctor had already warned you of your difficult pregnancy and to avoid mental stress as much as you can.

You vaguely remember how he'd asked you why do you look so pale. You barely remember the panic, the pain when the conversation flowed to another fight, now you yelling at him. He'd screamed at you that you were a burden to him.

You faintly remember the agonizing pain at your lower abdomen, strong enough to blur your vision and strangle you down to the ground where he'd cried your name as you fell down, and everything had blacked out.

But you actually remember the look on the doctor's face when she told it out loud.

And even clearer, the look on Seokjin’s face.

You don't really want to remember everything else which happened after that. Your friends had taken you home, away from him, suggesting that it's for the best. Some of them had already warned you beforehand when things had started to fall gradually and they emphasized their surmise of the situation.

You don't want to remember anything else which happened after that. You don't want to remember how you'd know that his company had gone completely bankrupt, and how he'd tried his best to save it.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd sent him the divorce papers and the look on his face, ignoring his thin frame, dark bags underneath his eyes which seemed devoid of any light in them, at all.

You don't want to remember all the times he came back to you, called you, texted you endlessly and begged forgiveness for everything he'd done to you but not even once to come back to him.

Maybe he knew already that you wouldn't.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd gone to your once shared apartment to get back your stuff. It felt. . .empty and devoid of any life, your once warm home staring at your face with a cold air around it, partially suffocating you from all the memories you'd created together. Whether they were the happy ones, or the terrible ones.

You'd purposefully ignored the vase of fresh flowers greeting you or all the furniture being spotlessly free of any dust. You'd ignored how your heartstring tugged at you when you'd see that his clothes are still with your own in the closet and how the bed was changed into the bedsheets which you'd bought at the beginning of your honeymoon.

But you couldn't refrain yourself from stepping into his study. Maybe it was because you were sure that you wouldn't be seeing him anymore, and the court would be the last place and time when you'd see him. Maybe because there was a part inside of you which wanted you to hang on for him. Hang on for you, but you'd ignored that, suppressing the voice inside you.

You absolutely don't want to remember whatever you'd seen there anymore. Whether it was the unfinished yarn you'd knitted to a poorly made mass during those three months knitted to an almost finished sweater, or the photos of you both framed on the shelves where you'd previously seen trophies of his youth camping on.

From small kids grinning ear to ear to adolescent teens with awkward poses to full grown adults and your last photo you'd taken together at Ilsan a year ago then as a couple. Each of them rested one beside another and other memories which were caught in small handicrafts you'd thrifted during your small visits to nearby towns in your early teens.

Because that only makes you fall into the endless pit of guilt, again and again, realizing that you'd never heard his part of the story. Your initial anger had always refrained you from thinking that way, but you'd know that despite everything, every effort you two had put into your marriage, had been in vain. You remember how pale, dull, thin and silent he'd seemed at the day of your divorce. He'd just a thin jacket on his frame regardless of the freezing cold outside with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He'd acknowledged your presence with a slow, long stare of his dim, puffy eyes, a small single nod of his head. You'd ignored how much it hurt to see Seokjin like that, but you'd instead decided to move forward, no matter how painful it was.

You remember the silence from his side when the judge had asked him questions about the reasons why your marriage broke down to pieces. You'd held your breath in your chest which already hurt with the constant throbbing.

He'd answered with a voice that you couldn't recognise from the person you'd known for more than half of your life.

“I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most.”

The judge had asked again, why'd he give up. If he knows, shouldn't he be trying to make it up to you? His answer, perhaps, had shocked the judge, too.

“Once a knot gets tied between a thread, the knot forever remains, no matter how much you try to untangle it.”

The actual last time you saw Seokjin was after you two were divorced, sitting beside each other, having signed on the papers which officially meant that you two no longer were married to each other. Your heart felt numb with the pain and your eyes were devoid of any moisture, having exhausted them all within the painful months you'd spent alone with the memories haunting you.

You hadn't looked up at him, and you knew he didn't, too, and you didn't want to. You'd seen his fingers twitch on the paper where he held his pen, close to yours own, but made no further move. You'd itched to say something to him which you didn't know if you should've, but you'd kept quiet all the while.

You'd heard his tiny please forgive me,if you can the last time before you exited the court, but also from the place where you'd relished your memories, a souvenir to your old love.

You close the pendant with a snap.

It's the same day you divorced your ex husband.

4th December.

It's his thirty-first birthday, too.

As the waves crawl gently towards the white sand of the coast, you exhale in the breath you were holding in. You run your thumb on the craters like designs on the outside of the golden pendant, silently feeling the burden inside your chest now being a bit lighter.

You don't know if you've truly moved on, but the bitterness in the memories doesn't really feel bitter to you. At times they overwhelm you, but it's not intense.

You wonder if Seokjin is doing well.

We were taken from the ore-bed

And melted in the furnace pit—

We were cast and hammered to design,

We were cut and filed to fit.

You don't like nostalgia, but sometimes it reminds you that failure and struggle are the components who develop your character. If anything, it reminds you that mistakes were made and consequences were beared, but it also leaves you with a tingling curiosity inside. Is Seokjin living in the same city? Is he..is he celebrating his birthday today?

Birthdays for him were fun. Birthdays with him were fun.

You don't know. You guess it wasn't really within your imagination to imagine what it would be like for him. You just hope and wish he's doing okay. You hope he has healed well, or is healing well.

You stand up, your pendant still clutched in between your palms, no longer feeling the weight it carried for you, from you throughout the years of your life.

The weather begins to get chillier as the sun slowly makes its way away from the face of the world.

The low rustle of the waves and the slow whoosh of the wind tells you that it's time to leave.

Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding on, you turn to exit the beach. A simple smile spreads on your lips when you suddenly feel the pendant slip away from your slightly sweaty palms to the sand underneath.

You bend down to pick it up, and your hands brush against another hand which doesn't belong to you.

A warm one, and an oddly familiar,big one.

A pair of warm, curious pupils, twinkling within the dark pools of coffee hidden underneath tresses of dark hair greets you.

You look up.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes are wide and shaking slightly by the time you both stand up, your hands dangerously close to his which clasps the pendant within. He looks healthier, fuller and he's gained some much needed weight over the years. He's dressed in a white tee and black shorts, and you notice that he's let his hair grow. His cheeks have a flush which you'd notice was new to you. If anything, he looked handsomely young, as if he'd aged back.

Walk down the white sand just to watch his lonely footprints get washed away by the currents. He's trying not to fall back to the habits which tore himself away from him, but he's never been truly free from the guilt which pokes his chest in every aspect of his life.

When he saw you seated on the edge of the coast when he was out to visit the beach that meant the most to him, he couldn't believe his eyes. Every year on his birthday he'd visit the beach in the evening with a selfish hope in his heart, which he knew wasn't rational at any cost.

He used to sit on the coast the whole night, feeling the moon soothe away the burning memories of you. Hoping he'd ever find you, but always in vain. Hoping he could apologize for everything he's done except uttering a small sorry like a fucking coward.

The beach would always remind him of you.

Your hair is shorter than how he saw it the last time. Your cheeks are fuller, and your eyes have their light returned back to their places. You sat there in the same silence which he did at a distance, refusing the rational part of him which told him that it's wrong. He'd promised himself that he'd go away before you'd get up, and you seemed lost in thoughts as he took you in. Even if you two weren't together anymore, he was happy. Genuinely happy to see you okay. After everything you'd gone through. He knew, he was by no means rightful to ever look at you even, because he knew ever since then that you don't need him anymore.

Even if he tried, he could never stop loving you. Trying to be a better man everyday, wishing he could stop time and go back, knowing it's impossible. Everyday he'd wished he could. . . .

Now you're looking at him, and he doesn't know what to say. How to talk. You looked peaceful. You looked happy. You—

But when he'd seen the pendant he'd thought you wouldn't have it with you anymore, he lost it.

“Seokjin?” Fuck. This is the second time you've called him, but he doesn't find the crease in between your eyebrows as he'd expected to. You're rather smiling, a sight which he finds his heart racing miles at.

You don't wait for his response.

“Happy birthday.”

a/n : happy birthday to our silly moon prince~ hope you liked this one which i actually managed to finish in the brink of time ong

don't be sad, he's coming back soon home! :D as always, reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated 🌙🌹

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epinebleue · 7 months

Text

for the rest of our lives | jung jaehyun

not every little girl dreams of being Queen one day.

pairing: prince!jung jaehyun x princess!reader (female)

genre: royalty!au, angst, fluff (but you’ll miss it if you blink).

warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety.

author’s note: for the rest of our lives was one of the fics that marked my beginning as a tumblr writer, so starting this new but familiar journey with it feels just right.

listen to: hush by everglow (you’ll see that i’ve introduced quotes (in pink) from the song in the story).

The red roses are growing.

Spring has arrived earlier this year. The garden is splashed with pink, peach, and orange flowers that can be observed from the terrace of your room. The air is chilly, but not cruel like that of winter. It’s refreshing, it smells like a new start. Maybe that’s the reason why your mother insisted on celebrating the wedding in April.

Standing on the terrace, you follow your father’s figure. He’s walking down the pebble path; his crown, made of gold and rubies, shines under the sun. Even from the heights, you catch the smile hidden under his big, black beard. His eyes shine even more than his crown. He’s happy, how couldn’t he? His daughter, his only child, is finally getting married. One step closer to becoming Queen.

Behind him, your mother talks to one of the maids, pointing a graceful finger towards the garden. Two men carry a table, placing it exactly where your mum has asked. She nods, ordering them to go grab the chairs. Jae, your husband-to-be, wanted an outdoor banquet, and it's hard to tell him when he gives you that charming smile.

Your heart starts to pound faster in your ribcage. Husband-to-be. That’s a serious title. You press your palm against your chest, feeling the silky texture of your nightgown under it. You close your eyes and take a big breath in. Your life doesn’t feel yours anymore, yet, somehow, you’re living it. It’s like a dream you aren’t able to wake up from.

A light knock on your door startles you, but every worry that clouds your mind disappears the moment you hear your favorite voice coming from outside.

“It’s open, you can come in.”

Jaehyun is holding a bouquet as if it were his newborn child. It consists of roses, tulips, and baby's breath: a mix of your favorite flowers. You accept it, even if you think you don’t deserve it. You force yourself to look into his eyes, ever so soft. They make you feel better. Jaehyun always makes you feel better.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Your tone is playful and so is his smile. “Isn’t it too early for flowers?”

“Any time is good to give my future wife flowers.” He leans forward to steal a kiss from you. You don’t fight it. “I’m going back home in a few minutes; I’ve got to pick up my grandma for tonight’s dinner.”

“So, you’re abandoning me.”

He doesn’t laugh, because you’re not joking. He has a younger brother who could bring Queen Haneul, but Jaehyun is the favorite grandchild, the one who will become King. You understand, in a way, but you wish he had said no for once. He knows how much you hate organizing big events.

“Don’t be like that.”

All in all, he knows you can’t stay angry at him, so his smile doesn’t disappear. Even his eyes are smiling, forming half-moons. Forget your father’s crown, Jaehyun’s smile is the shiniest thing you’ve seen today. “I'll be here in no time. You won’t even notice my absence.”

“I take that as a promise.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again. It’s not a little peck this time, but a proper kiss. Your lips capture his and you get lost in his arms, which hold your waist. Now, this is a dream you'd like to live in. You wish you could turn it into liquid and pour it into a bottle to take a sip whenever you need to. Here, in Jaehyun’s embrace, you feel safe, you feel happy, you feel free. Or, at least, the illusion of all of it.

Someone clears their throat, making you break apart with a jump. Jaehyun turns around with a straight back to find your maid. She looks down, avoiding eye contact and trying to hide her rosy cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You turn to Jaehyun. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

Jaehyun says his goodbyes, pressing his lips to avoid a laugh coming out, and the maid bows to him when he passes by.

“I’m sorry, princess, really sorry.” She repeats, getting in the room.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Lami. We should’ve closed the door.”

Lami is still young, a bit inexperienced, and clumsy. But she’s also genuine and funny. It reminds you of when you were a child.

Lami makes your bed while you have breakfast, then walks to your closet to choose a dress for you.

“Would you like to wear yellow today, princess?”

You like yellow, so you agree. Leaving the flowers carefully on the couch, you get up and hop into the bathroom to brush your teeth and have a shower. The yellow dress makes you feel fresh, just like the flowers Jaehyun has gifted you. You sit in front of the dresser, noticing that a sleepless night has taken its toll: the bags under your eyes are huge.

You grab your hairbrush from the drawer. It's a gift from your late grandfather, who bought it during one of his trips. It’s made of gold and your initials are engraved on it. It’s so old that it’s all scratched, and several sows have fallen.

“Are you excited?” Lami asks, watching you brush your hair. It’s your favorite moment of the day. The sows against your scalp relax you, and God knows you need it today. “I can’t believe the wedding's tomorrow.”

Something inside you screams, but you remain silent. The moment has finally come.

You're getting married tomorrow.

Everything ends tomorrow.

“Should we move this table a bit to the left?” Your mother asks, authority disguised as a friendly request. The servants nod and move the table under your mother’s hawk gaze. “There, perfect. What do you think, sweetheart?”

“I think it looks perfect, mother. Everything’s perfect.”

You walk behind the Queen with arms crossed, pretending you care greatly about the position of the tables and the color of the tablecloths when, in fact, you couldn’t care less. You wish Jaehyun was here. Everything’s easier when he's by your side.

“I can’t believe it.” Your mother claps. “It feels like yesterday when you met Jae for the first time, doesn't it?”

The fond memory makes you smile. “I never imagined that I'd marry the boy who spilled his lemonade all over my dress, then tried to make the stain go away with water.”

“Isn’t it crazy?”

You can’t stand the proud look that your mother gives you. The fact that you'd be Queen one day was never a secret. A big grin appeared on your face anytime your parents brought up the subject, a grin that hid your true emotions. It was your destiny, and you had learned to accept the life that came with it.

A life trapped inside an iridescent crystal cage, always able to look out but never allowed to leave.

Jaehyun always keeps his promises.

He shows up earlier than you thought, so he’s the one in charge of welcoming the guests as you get ready.

Jaehyun’s at the bottom of the stairs as you go down. He doesn’t notice you at first, looking away and bouncing his leg. When his eyes finally find you, the face he puts is priceless. The dress you’re wearing tonight is pale pink, a gift from Jae. You love how it fits you, but you love how Jaehyun looks at you when you wear it more: as if you were the most precious thing in his life, if not the only; as if he would fight wars for you.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He mutters once you're by his side.

“Just tonight?”

Two guards stand in front of the door that leads to the garden, where everything’s ready for your grand entrance.

Jaehyun offers you his arm, and you don’t hesitate to grab it. You’re so nervous that you think your legs will fail and you’ll fall in front of everyone. As if he read your mind, he whispers so that only you can hear him.

“I’ve got you.”

You know he does.

Jaehyun nods at the guards and they open the doors, the clapping of the guests deafening. Both of you wave your hands at them as you make your way towards the main table, where Jaehyun moves the chair for you to sit, and then occupies the seat beside you.

The dinner goes smoothly. Jaehyun kisses your hand at every opportunity, but you don’t complain. It makes your heart flutter, it makes you forget.

Your father stands up before dessert comes, softly hitting a glass to announce he’s about to talk. He tells a joke that makes everyone laugh before giving a speech that makes your mother cry. You blow him a kiss from your seat, mouthing that you love him. He tells you that he loves you, too. You wonder, would he still love you if you ran away?

Jaehyun rises to his feet with a hand extended in your direction, which you accept. He leads you to the center of the garden, standing in front of you. There's a bow with his hand on his chest that makes you giggle, then you're placing your hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. He grabs your waist, and the orchestra starts to play. The pair of you move around swiftly as if your movements were natural and not the result of months of training with the world's best dancer.

“Tomorrow by this time we'll be married.”

Your jaw clenches, and your heart stops for a second.

“I know.” You manage to answer. “It doesn't feel real.”

“I can’t wait,” Jaehyun whispers. “I can’t wait to make you my wife and form a family. I’ll tell our kids magical stories, stories in which fairies will save princesses and monsters will become good things.”

Only Jaehyun would make you feel like you deserve something as precious as a family with him. Does wanting to run away make you a bad person? Of course, it does. The only thing you love from this life is him, but it’s not like you can choose. It’s all or nothing, it has always been. Tears that you think he mistakes for those of happiness slide down your cheeks, ruining your makeup.

“You’re like the twinkle star I imagined every day since I was five." You press your face against his chest. He allows your tears to wet his shirt. “I love you, Jaehyun. I love you more than I love myself. You believe me, right?”

“Of course I do. And I love you, too. I'll always love you, even when I'm grey and wrinkly.” He kisses the top of your head, then hides his face away to whisper in your ear. “No matter what you decide. I promise.”

Jaehyun always keeps his promises.

Your aunt tries to console your weeping mother only to fail miserably because she can’t stop laughing at her crying face. They start bickering, and you’re grateful for not being the main focus.

You’re standing on top of a big, white stool. Fluttering around you, the maids make sure that everything’s seamless, that nothing’s out of place. The wedding dress is the perfect size, yet you feel trapped in it. You inhale, then exhale. Once, twice, three times, but it doesn’t work. The pressure against your chest doesn’t disappear.

There’s a mirror in front of you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at your reflection. You wouldn’t recognize the person there.

“Princess?” Lami calls. She seems to be the only one in the room who sees you, who really sees you. “Are you okay?”

You nod, forcing a smile. “I’m just nervous.”

Someone comes in to inform that all the guests are in the church and that the prince has arrived, too.

It’s time.

Lami helps you get off the stool. You hold onto her hands as if they were a lifebuoy in the middle of the sea, and you, a shipwreck. Every step you take out of the house and towards the carriage is heavy and hesitant. You get in, glancing at Lami through the window. You press the palm of your hand against the glass, eyes slowly filling up with tears.

This is a goodbye, but not to Lami. Not to any other than yourself.

The young maid presses her hand right where yours is and nods.

“It’ll be okay.”

That’s the last thing you hear before the carriage starts moving.

The way to the church feels endless. The weight in your chest grows and grows, until you think you’ll stop breathing.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way. You’re marrying the love of your life. That should be enough to ease you, shouldn’t it? The woods advance as the carriage moves. You fantasize about the idea of jumping out of the vehicle and diving into the forest, getting lost in its depths, forever.

Your dad, dressed in uniform, helps you get out of the car when you arrive. A red carpet covers the way from the carriage to the church’s entrance. You stand at the beginning of it, holding onto your father’s arm with one hand, your white bouquet on the other.

“You look beautiful.” He says, teary-eyed. “I’m proud of you.”

The doors open all of a sudden. The wedding march starts to play, so you walk. Better said, your father drags you because there’s no way you feel in control of your body anymore.

The pews are full of family, friends, and strangers with their eyes fixed on you. Yours can only focus on Jaehyun. He’s wearing his uniform as well, and that smile you love so much. But there’s something wrong. Something in his face looks off. You reach the aisle, where your father hugs you and kisses your forehead. He’s crying. You rarely see your father cry.

You stand next to Jaehyun. The priest talks but you don’t hear a thing. You can’t do this. You thought you could, but you can’t. Jaehyun holds your hand; the murmurs are instant. What a lovely bride, she’s so nervous. What a lovely groom, look how he’s comforting her.

The memorized vows come out of your mouth easily. You glance at Jaehyun’s shaky hands before looking into his eyes, overflowing with fear. He isn’t scared of forgetting his vows, he’s scared of losing you.

“Do you, Jaehyun, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

Jaehyun responds right away. “I do.”

“Do you, Y/N, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

The question feels like a death sentence.

You love him, you love him so much that it breaks your heart. You want to beg him to run away with you, but he'd never do that. It would mean leaving his kingdom behind, and he loves his kingdom as much as he loves you. Forcing him to choose would be a selfish move.

But again, condemning yourself to a life that won’t make you happy would also be selfish. Leaving Jaehyun will break your heart, but you're not sure if you can die from a broken heart. Being Queen, however, will certainly kill you.

This isn’t the life you want. You’ve always known. Jaehyun has always known.

Adults want a quick answer, their voices wondering why you’re taking so much time to answer. You try to ignore them, but they’ve already made their way through your brain. You’ve already made up your mind, though, their words can’t change your mind.

“I love you, Jae.” You grab his hands with tears in your eyes and kiss them. “Please, please, forgive me.”

You turn around and run away. People get up, gasps ricocheting against the walls of this sacred place. There’s a scream that comes from your father's throat, and you swear he’s chasing you. Jaehyun begs him to stop.

You look back once you reach the door, hesitating. Is this a good idea? A teary-eyed Jaehyun nods, handing you your confidence back. You open the door and make your way towards the woods.

The dress hooks on the branches that you have to fight against to make your way through the forest, they scratch your skin. Taking off your heels and throwing them aside, you continue your race.

You arrive at a clearing, deciding that it’s time to stop now.

You let your hair loose and check your exposed skin, now red and bloody.

If you are free then why are you crying? Running away is what you wanted, right? But at what price? Losing your family, losing Jaehyun, losing everything you have ever had.

The clearing is covered in soft grass and sunlight. Birds chirp in the distance. There’s calm surrounding you but in the ocean that is your soul, you're fighting turmoil. Maybe you should’ve stayed to know how things would've worked out. Maybe Jaehyun would’ve been your rock through it all like he has been all these years.

You can’t help but wonder.

Now, with a small collection of wounds, is it too late to turn back?

No reposting or translations allowed.

#nct #nct fic #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fic #jaehyun angst #nct angst #jaehyun fluff #nct fluff #jaehyun imagine #nct jaehyun fic

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thebottomfromhell · 9 months

Note

In regards to the post about reader dying in their arms, could I request something along the lines of once the upper moons die, reader was waiting for them so they could go to hell together?

Thank you!

Got it. This is also an interesting one since there would be [mentioned in some, to make my life easier] interactions with Koyuki, Daki and Shinobu. I would like to add that this last one wouldn't be a positive one, so sorry if you are a fan of Shinobu, but she is not liking reader so reader is not liking her neither.

Uppermoon meets their male (tbh in this one is more GN, I just say male bc the other prev. ask was more explicit in the gender) demon S/O reader after dying before going to hell. Previous ask here. Also an incorrect quote inspired in the Douma hc.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, A bit of angst (pk, maybe a tad more than a bit, but still), Mentioned dead/murder, Akaza and Douma have things going on with female characters, Gyokko and Douma are their own warnings, and Karaku starts making out with you the second he sees you.

Gyutaro + Daki:

"Y/N! What is this place?! It's awful! Where is onii-chan?!" You hear a well known high pitched voice first, but the girl in front of you... you knew Daki was young, still a girl rather than a woman, when she was transformed, but this? She can't be older than fourteen. She looks so similar, and yet so different. Unlike you, she looks human and doesn't even seem aware of it. "Daki... stay close, we will find your brother." You say as you turn around, offering your hand whish she takes, feeling the light following you, almost heating up your back, as if telling you to hand over the girl to it. You only fix your grip as you look for Gyutaro in the nothing, and it doesn't take you that much to find him.

"Onii-chan!" Daki screams as she speeds up, still holding your hand to force you to do the same. It's a relief that Gyutaro looks the same as always, you missed that ugly face of his, as he puts his attention on his little sister as she complains and orders him to fix things. Then he looks at you. "Y/N... what are you doing here, ne?" You smile at him gently, he doesn't seem good, beyond the fact that he is dead. He looks... sad. "I was waiting for you, Gyutaro." You answer honestly as he turns around. "Make Ume go towards the light." Ume? Who is U- "What?! What do you mean?!" Oh......... oh...

You are still processing everything as the siblings fight, Gyutaro trying to scare Daki... Ume towards the light, saying hurtful things as she begs to not be left behind. Daki begging? It's just so wrong, but again... this is Ume, just a little girl that has the chance to not pay for more than a century of murder, in between other crimes. And she is the little sister of a young man who is nothing but willing to let her go in order to protect her, the same way he didn't hesitate to become nothing but an extension to her so she could get the lives she wanted and with him only there when she actually needs him. "You and I are not siblings anymore, you are nothing to me." "Gyutaro! We both know you don't mean that!" You have to shut him up after that, but he just sounds so defeated... "Daki, your Onii-chan wants to protect you, to have a better chance that we will. Do you want to go towards the light?" There is little to no people that asks them what they want, you were always the one to fix that.

Ume shakes her head as tears still fall from her face. "NO! I WON'T GO! IF ONII-CHAN DOESN'T GO THEN I DON'T WANT TO! HE PROMISED! HE PROMISED ME WE WOULD ALWAYS BE TOGETHER! HE PROMISED!" When Gyutaro turns around you already have her in your back, shutting her up by the surprise. "Take her hand, she will need her big brother by her side. I will take her there so you don't have to." So he doesn't have to feel the weight of being the one to bring his little sister, his beautiful child, to hell only because he doesn't have the strengh nor the ability to get her something better. "Ne... thank you, Y/N, for everything." He says as he takes her hand, and you step into the fire as she cries.

She probably doesn't even know why she is crying, but she is. You also tear a bit and when you look at your side, Gyutaro is crying too. It's the end, but at least you are together.

Gyokko:

You don't have to say anything, just smirk as you arch one eyebrow as Gyokko's head appears in your hands. "Hey, Gyokko. So you died too, huh?" He barely showed any sympathy towards you when you were dying, and honestly... this is karma. "Urg. Y/N, you will not believe the night I just had!" He inmediately starts complaining, just like the good old times. Honestly, you don't know how much time you spent sitting in the... ground? Is this even a ground? Still, it's nice, you even massage his scalp with your fingers as he goes on. Alive, he could do this for hours, but now there is no time, no real worries, not even the damned sun.

"And everything has been so stressful since you left. Everyone else lacks taste and talent, don't know how to do anything! For the enlightened, I really should have protected you better..." he remains in silence after that, making eye contact with you, as you atill process how to take it. It's a confession or regret? An apology? An "I love you"? None of them? All of them? It still manage to turn your smirk into a brave smile. "I missed you a lot, I didn't really expect you to die but... I guess I really hoped we could be like this once again." He also smiles at that, probably remembering your last conversation when you were dying.

"I also missed you, don't ever go on your own again." "Will you miss me?" You asked that day, and you got the answer you hoped for a second time. "I'm also glad you haven't changed a bit, you are the same as always. The demon I fell in love with." "I love you, Gyokko. Never change" you told him, and he still remembers, you can see that by his facial expressions. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him, you want to ask but at the same time... you know exactly where you are. "Your body is not regenerating." You point out and he sighs in frustration. "I will probably have a full body again the second we step into hell... " there is a pause there, Gyokko is probably as scared as you are to get in that place.

"You know? I remembered that my parents died when I was a kid, their corpses were just in front of me, but I could only feel fascinated by them. I wanted to keep them in the hallways to always be able to contemplate them, but I wasn't allowed. People don't understand the beauty of death, if you had left something behind I would have kept it." It makes sense, maybe because you are still like a demon, but it makes sense. Keeping those you hold dear close even after death, if you need a corpse to do so, so be it. So be it... you stand up, holding Gyokko's head against your chest, protecting it with your arms as you walk into hell. "You will also need a body for me to keep you around." He looks at you a bit surprised, but relaxes and laughes "Well then, I trust you."

Hantengu:

Hantengu inmediately starts a tantrum, throwing himself at the ground (can you even call it ground?) when he saw he was in front of the gates of hell, crying and screaming, trying to gain sympathy of beings that were not around. Just you, but he is so scared he hasn't noticed you yet. "Hantengu." You call him, making him turn around to see you before running straight towards you, hiding his hace in your chest as he wraps he arms around you to keep crying. "Y/N! Y/N! Oh, thank the gods you are here! Why are you in this awful place? It's so scary!" You pat his hunched back to comfort him as you smile, he hasn't changed one bit. "Hello to you too, Hantengu."

It's hard to say how long did you stay like this, Hantengu holds into you as if you were his last chance of salvation, but you were not able to even save yourself. The best you did was stay in this place, awful as he called it, to avoid stepping into hell. You know Hantegu's sanity, if there is any left, won't be able to handle the darkness and emptyness of this place. He is the first being you have seen in what it feels ages, and while you know having a dear face should make it easier... maybe the best is to keep going. Still, you only try to help him to feel better, not knowing how to voice out your opinion. "Please talk to me... say something, anything..."

So you talk, not of anything in particular, you tell him how much you missed him, how much you thought about him, how much you love him, as he rubs his face against you, looking for both physical and emotional comfort. You talk for an even longer time than he was crying, being listenes as he uses your voice as a medium to scape reality, to relax against you and pretend everything is fine. "And... Hantengu, I think we can't really stay here. Nobody is meant to be here." He sighs against you, keeping quiet before answering weakly. "I know, but it's so scary. Why must this happen to us? What did we do to deserve this?" You both know what you did.

You smile, ignoring Hantengu's attempt to fool everyone, himself included, that he's innocent. You only take one of his hands and put yourself behind him, covering his eyes with your free hand. "Do you trust me?" You asks as he trembles against your touch as you blind him, he has always been so paranoid... "I do." But you have always been his safespace, and so he leans on your hand as you guide him to hell, both of you together. There isn't much left to say, but it's ok... it's ok as long as you have your beloved by your side.

Sekido:

{You didn't say anything to Hantengu when you saw him and he doesn't notice you are there. What were you supposed to say? You were not with him, you were with one of his clones, who were just that. Clones, not their own individual, so none of them should have an existence besides Hantengu's Blood Demon Art. But he was not just a clone for you, he was the one you fell in love with, with his defects and quirks. The main body shrieks and cries, trying to hug the ground or whatever this is, not wanting to move on the same way you don't. The black smoke starts to cover him as you only think about your beloved, then you notice said smoke is actually covering him instead of passing as air. When you can hear Hantengu anymore you go where he was and manage to grab his arm to pull him up, only to find him instead.}

"Sekido?" You aske before recieving a hit in the face that makes you fall down, Sekido is clearly angry at you still. "YOU! YOU DIED! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE AFTER ALL YOU PUT ME THROUGH?! YOU LITTLE SHIT! FUCKING BASTARD!" He is still the one to grab you to help force you to stand up before hugging you. "Fuck you, Y/N.... fuck you.... I'm so fucking pissed with you. I told you to not leave." You start to feel the tears in your shoulder, there are so many questions of how this is possible, but for you, the only important thing is that you have Sekido in your arms as you hug him back tightly. "Why did you have to leave?"

You pat his back to comfort him, you didn't want to leave him neither. You genuinely thought you would never see him again and didn't want to go to hell until you came in terms with that. But Sekido is here, so you grab his face softly, tears still falling off his eyes as you go for a kiss. "I missed you too, Sekido. I'm glad I was able to see you again." You smile at him as he begins to curse and avoid looking at you, trying to hide his crying face. "I'm sorry for hurting you" you say even though you know he won't say it back, but your priority is to make him feel better, or at least good enough so he won't hit you again. "Whatever.... I missed you too."

There is a lot going on in your mind right now. Is Sekido real? Or will he turn back into Hantengu the second you both step into hell? The idea scares you, and a lot. You just got him back and you don't want to lose him just now, not yet. You don't even dare to ask, you just want to spend a bit more with Sekido. He notices eventually as you just hug him in silence, he inhales deeply before pulling apart. "You have been here long enough." He takes your hand to guide you to hell, but you refuse to follow. "We will go.... later.... right now can we stay together? Just cuddle?" He sighs tired before hugging you "Fine, we will stay here for a while, but we have to go to hell sooner or later. I'll just wait for you... to feel better about it. But we can avoid it forever." and you say everything you wanted back then but couldn't because of time. You will go to hell eventually, but right now you just want your Sekido in your arms.

Karaku:

"Karaku?" You ask before he takes softly the sides of you face to kiss you in this same position. He sucks into hour mouth as if he was a drunk with his favorite drink, hugging you as he wraps his free hand through tha back of your neck. He doens't pull apart for a while, but grins in a just so wholesome way when ge does. "Hey, hot-stuff~. It's been a while, hasn't it?" There are some tears accumulated in his eyes as he stands up and lunges forward to hug you again. "I missed you so much. You have no idea how glad I am to see you again." You really never thought you would see him again.

"I missed you too." He breathes in by the side of your neck before kissing you again, hungry for you as his arms remains wraped around your neck. There are slurping sounds as he slips his tongue in, making this as messy as he can, and you let him. As if you need this to prove that this is real, that Karaku is really here with you and is not leaving anytime soon. Maybe he also needs to convince himself that this is real, but the trail of saliva joining your tongues together definetely is. "Your kisses are still the sweatest." He says rubbing the liquids of both tears and saliva off his face before using his thumbs to do the same to you as you were to numb to do it yourself.

"What now?" You find yourself asking, because everything is so new and so scary. You don't want to lose Karaku again, and he seems to notice your fear, so he grins with confidence. "Well, Sekido would tell us to hurry up and go to hell, as we are supposed to be doing... but I'm not Sekido. I say we stay here for as long as you need, together." He kisses you again as be both start openly crying, none of you really know what you will do. Or if you even will ever be ready to go to hell... but you are together, chasing for a good time as always. There is no hurry, just enjoy the present if you think the future will take said gift away. Karaku will support you, so stay with him a little more.

Urogi:

"Urogi?" You barely manage to ask before he jumps over you, making you fall down in your ass, wraping his arms and legs around you (around your neck and around your waist, like he used to do), using his wings to shield you both from everything. "Y/N! Y/N! YOU'RE HERE! YOU ARE ACTUALLY HERE!" He digs his talons into your skin as he digs his face in your neck, just under you jaw so you are careful with his head, speacially his horns. You can feel him smelling you as if yo make sure you are... there? That you are you? It's hard to tell, but you hug him back, just relieved you got to see him again. "Hey birdie. It's nice to see you. I missed you a lot."

He pull apart slightly to look at you, his face is full of tears as he keeps smiling. "I really missed you too. I missed you a lot. I missed you a million times!" He rambles, repeating phrases and making some expressions he probably doesn't understand as much. He is really all over you, crying and with knots in his nose, not caring of how he looks or if he gets any fluid over you, just that you are finally there after you left. "I love you so much. I don't want you to go like that again, ever. Promise me you won't leave again. Promise!" You can't help but chuckle, it's almost like a child making a tantrum. He is not behaving that different from a dog welcoming it's owner back home after this one left for more than a day. It's cute, but Urogi has always been cute to you.

But you can't help but fear... will you be able to keep that promise, if you make it, once you cross the path into hell? You are just so happy that you have Urogi right here, right now, and Urogi clearly feels the same way about you. But... will it end? Do you want to risk it? Of couse no, you know that you will have to go to hell eventually... "Baby bird... fill me up with what happened since the last time we have seen each other. I want to hear you talk and make up for lost time. Here and now..." he giggles as you rub the liquids off his face, nuzzling against your hands. You kiss his cheek "And once we are ready... will you fly me to hell?" His wings stand up at that, if he realized your fears you have no idea. "Yeah, we have a lot to make up. Specially that las flight! I'll give you the best flight ever after we finish!" He cuddles with you, and you hope it takes the longest time for him to give you what could be again the last flight.... just a little more, you want him for yourself... a little more.

Aizetsu:

"Aizetsu?" "Y/N?" He just makes eye conctact with you for some seconds before standing up properly. "Hi... It's good to see you.... it's been a long time..." He says shyly, playing with his sleeves, and you just have to wrap your arms around him and dig your face on the side of his neck. "Aizetsu!" He instantly husg you back tightly, none of you let the other go, Aizetsu even lets some tears fall down into your shoulder. "I missed you so much. What happened? Are you ok? How are you here?"

Aizetsu doesn't answer for a while, he lets some more tears fall before rubbing them off his face, calming down, before speaking back to you. "I don't know how, we fused into Zohakuten when it happened, but... we died. Please don't feel... bad about it, I wasn't even aware it happened until I woke uo here. I do feel sad for Zohakuten and Hantengu, though..." he explains as sensible as he can, as always. "I just know my last thoughts, even if I couldn't physically have them, were about you, and suddenly you were actually there, pulling me from... I don't even know from what." That only leave one question. "Will you dissapear back into Hantengu once we cross hell?"

There are some minutes of silence before he answers "I don't know, sorry." He looks away, clearly uncomfortable with his own answer, wishing it was different. "Don't apologize. Maybe we could just... stay here... for a little longer." You cup his face in your hand as you offer the idea, having Aizetsu nodding. He closes his eyes and makes a pout with his lips, clearly asking for attention, so you give him a soft kiss. You can stay together for a little longer, hopefully you won't separate in hell... but your now you both just want each other, before the chance of never seeing the other again, this time for real. "Please more. Kiss the sadness away." You were never able to say "no" to Aizetsu.

Nakime:

After Nakime, you knew a thing or two about patience. For her, for music, for goals... you knew how to be patient. But now you were not being patient, with her Infinity Castle and her role on his (still scary to even think it out loud, even if you are already dead) side, you just never thought she would die. You were just... lost, not knowing what to do anymore, not really wanting to step into hell of all places, when she arrived. "Oh my- Nakime? Wha- How are you here?!" She looks at you, just as surpirsed, when you run to her side.

"I..." she starts softly, still as elegant as ever, even when she looks... defeated. "I'va lost..." How? Against who? No matter how hard you try, you can't even phantom how anyone would survive a fight against her interdimentional fortress. She can control it as her will, smashing anyone against walls and rooms, locking up others for as long as she wants, get the ones around to the other side of the castle with one note... nobody us supposed to defeat that. That is why he prefered her as his right hand instead of making her an Uppermoon the second he stablished the Kizuki. Because she was too important, too powerful, to something else to be put with his best fight hounds. It takes you a little to calm down before talking to her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You give the most gentle and soft voice you have, just like you she never thought she would be able to die. Nakime looks so lost, so confused, maybe even scared without her fortress shifting at her will, protecting from everything and anything. You take her hands in yours as she slowly regains confidence to tell you everything, how the Hashira got into the castle the same time she got careless as he gave her his favor after she was the one to find their base. She became confident as she managed something not even Kokushibou and Akaza could do after more than two hundred years of searching. "I could... should have killed them with one cord.... but I let them sneak into me with the help of some.... random traitor..." You kiss tha back of her hands to comfort her.

You stay like this for a while, both of you knowing you must go to hell right now. You can feel the itch to move on, nothing compared to the crave od hacing her near that you felt since you fell in love with Nakime. "You did your best. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." She only shakes her head, clearly not wanting to talk about your own death. You just smile at her "Do you want to finish the journey? Or would you like to stay here a little longer?" She only looks at you for some seconds before walking to hell, still holding one of your hands. Even now you are the one following her, and you wouldn't want it any other way. "I love you, Nakime." Ypu day as you both step into the fire, she answers after a while. "I love you too, Y/N."

Akaza:

Just after you died you stayed in the fine line in between heaven and hell, not being properly able to move on, just like Akaza never did. The surprising part was that there was already someone there, waiting for him. A petite young girl, no older than 16 when she died, Koyuki. She was Akaza's, Hakuji's fiance, and wants to see him again. "Do you really think he will get here? He is Uppermoon Three and the reason there is a Kizuki system. There is no way he will die to the hands of slayers." You were partially right, he didn't die at the hand of slayers. He died at his and Koyuki's.

"Akaza?" You found him crying in her arms. You didn't take part in his defeat, you never would, no matter how much you wanted to see him again. You also wanted him to live. Maybe that is why Koyuki didn't, because the one alive was Akaza instead of Hakuji. "Y/N... you still look like a demon..." he looks torn between both of us, and you can't help but glance at his fiance. She won't go to hell like you both will, and even if she could sneak to it, she would not survive as good as you both could. You are his demon love and she is his human love, one was meant for heaven and another for hell. "I am a demon Akaza, or should I call you Hakuji?"

He looks at his human arms. In the end he chose to die for her instead of living for you. "I will head over to the dark, go when you are ready. I will be waiting, but she has already waited enough for you." You don't want to accept he is dead yet, he had long road to go. What about defeating Douma? Kokushibou? To be the stronger? That was his goal, a simple one but a goal you always supported him with, and that support was everything you left to him. But it doesn't matter anymore, as always, you just want his happiness. "Ok... ok... I'll meet you there.... I love you."

You smile at him and nod, you will say it back after you meet again. If you do... for now, you walk into hell by your own, as you should have all those years ago. Maybe it would be the best if he stayed as Hakuji, maybe is he stays here enough time he could. "Take your time." You are not saying goodbye, even if it feels like one. But you know by Koyuki he was already forcefully taken away from his human life and love, and you always supported him. No stopping now. You love him too much for that, so again, you will wait for something that is not meant to come. "Akaza..."

Douma:

"Who the fuck are you?" You really need to curse right now. You stayed to be able to watch over Douma, sooner or later you should be able to have a glimpse lf something, and you knew he would kill a lot of people, but this is the first time anyone just pops out of nowhere in front of you. A Hashira of all humans, a short and young woman with a fake smile and a venomous gentleness. You can tell inmediately she despises you, and honestly? You are on the same page. Such a polite tone for sarcastic insults and toying with you, parts of you wants to kill her. "What the FUCK?!" You curse again when Douma's head also suddenly appears.... in front of her.

"Oh, hi Y/N!" It's all he says with those fake smiles of his and what- Why- HOW the FUCK is he here? He is Upper Two! Did he eat too much human food?! Did he step on the sun because he was bored?! You can't phantom what happened as that gets you worked up as you take his head away from her as the damn Hashira starts a monologue you don't give a damn about. "Douma WHAT happened?!" To what he smiles sheepishly "Oh, I was poisoned by that lovely woman over there and beheaded by a talented girl and Kotoha's son, Inosuke. Do you remember them? She was extrmely dumb but a sweetheart, and his son was just adorable, he has her face and eyes. But let me tell you, the girl was very rude." Inosuke? You barely remember him, it has been 14 years, but you do remember Kotoha. Douma adored her and she was a sweetheart. From the fact that that baby is alive to that Douma got decapitated, it's all too much to sink in at once.

The Hashira doesn't seem too happy to be ignored, so clears her throat and you let her finish her monologue, mostly because you are still processing everything Douma just told you. Then you snap out of it when you hear "I think I'm in love with you.", you turn and see he meant the Hashira... really? This woman? He didn't say this to Kotoha, but to her he does? "How about you come to hell with me?" Now you press his face against your chest as you turn to dhoield it with your body in disgust "No!" Thankfully, she looks as she hates the idea as much as you and sends Douma to fuck himself before leaving, if to heaven or hell, you have no idea, but she leaves you both alone.

"Douma?" You move his head, holding it gently, to your face level to make eye contact. "You have never been jealous before, did I make you uncomfortable?" You just chuckle as you shake your head. "You did make me uncomfortable." You admit, making him lose his smile, showing an empty face, just like the last time you saw him. "Sorry, it wasn't my intention. But what are you doing here? Don't tell me you were waiting for me." You can only nod at that, making him sigh as he laughs "Wow, you are as dumb as Kotoha. You could have stayed waiting forever like an idiot. That sounds boring, and you should now I wouldn't want that for you." You laugh with him, you are an idiot, you know that as you walk him to hell as you both talk. This is a better way to go down. "A lot has happened since you left, things have been emptier since that... I'll fill you up."

Kokushibou:

You will be honest, even though you were waiting... you really didn't expect Kokushibou to die, much less so soon. And yet the familiar three pair of eyes make tou freeze. What is he doing here? There is no way he actually died, is it? Uppermoon One? The most powerful Demon after the first one to exist? You don't even know what to say, if you should say something, more convinced this is an illusion caused by how much you miss Kokushibou that the chance that he is actually here. It's just not possible, that is why you are here instead of hell, because it wouldn't make a difference since in neither case you would see him again. You were not waiting, yearning yes, but not waiting. "Y/N." He is the dirst one to say anything after a while of uncomfortable eye contact.

It is his voice, but you still can't react. It's. Not. Possible. You rub your eyes thinking Kokushibou will dissapear, getting frustrated as he doesn't, on the opposite, Kokushibou walks closer to you. You tense as he is just three steps away from you, then holds your head, just the same way he did to secure you in his lap as you were dying. "Kokushibou?" You have to ask, and he seems pleased to be recognized by you. "What happened?" You really have to ask, because you still can't phantom how did he get here, with you, to the dead ones. He evades your gaze, clearly not wanting to talk about it. "It doesn't matter, I'm glad of seeing you again." You still don't know how to react. Kokushibou died, he actually died.

"Are you ok?" Is all you can ask after some moments of silence, usually you were the one talking between the two, and for the first time since you started your relationship, you don't know what else to say. He looks at you firmly after you asked, also not saying anything, just giving a deep sigh. "Yes... I wanted this." He says, but you know better than to believe that. "Don't lie to me, or even try to lie to yourself in front of me." You can tell, he never wanted any of this. He didn't want to die, he never wanted to die, even as demons you could tell, he feared death, but it was something none of you had to worry about. Until you died, and until now.

"I still need... time to think. I have been doing everything wrong for a long time... I will be better... maybe." Maybe... you really don't know what to make of that, but he offers his hand to you. "We should get going." You can see Kokushibou trembling, he is actually scared to cross... whatever this is. Only because of that is that you actually take his hands and walk before him, guiding him to hell. There is still a lot to think about... but you will have time later. "I missed you." You say as you fix your hold as you both walk through the flames, when you turn around Kokushibou seems fixated by them, to the point you don't know who is he talking to. "I missed you too."

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #top reader #kny x reader #douma #karaku #urogi #gyutaro #sekido #aizetsu #akaza #kokushibou #hantengu #gyokko #nakime #kny headcanons

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nicole-timey-wimey-stuff · 4 days

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Southern & Slow

Joel Miller x Reader

Shorter Drabble based on Luke Bryan’s song Southern and Slow

Warnings - reader described as female, soft smut, piv, sex, talk of sex, mentions of pregnancy and having a baby, age gap, reader late twenties 28 Joel around 48, feelings, talk of love, no outbreak au, quoting of The Notebook, my terrible writing. No use of y/n in this one.

Word count 1.6K

This song just reminded me soo much of older Joel with his loyal sweet girl.

When you love me slow and southern like a Sunday

Like muddy water rollin' by a riverbank

Like some sleepy little town, down with the moon

Livin' like honey drippin' off a spoon

Like the sun that takes an hour to get behind the water tower

'Bout the speed of watchin' wildflowers grow

Ain't but two ways this old boy's gonna go

Slow and southern, southern and slow, southern and slow

Waking up in the warm Texas sun with your gorgeous cowboy pressed up against you ………. that will never grow old. You're both still naked from last nights activities, and the feeling of his skin against yours is heavenly. You roll over so you can see his face, smiling at the sight, his hair is stuck up in every direction and curls sticking to his forehead in the sweaty Texan heat. His face looks so relaxed, frown lines almost invisible, the weight of the world off his shoulders for a little while. You loved Sunday mornings, they were always lazy, slow and intimate. They usually lead to slow, calm and lazy days, walks by the river, soft kisses, slow dancing in the kitchen, and watching the sunsets from the porch while Joel plays his guitar.

The small town you’d moved too was sleepy on Sundays, no one ever had anywhere to rush too. After you both were married Joel built you both a home, one you’d both spend the rest of your days in. You’d designed it together, you’d said you ‘want a white house with blue shutters and a room overlooking the river so I can paint’ quoting your favourite story. But Joel bless him he took it very seriously, so that’s what you got a beautiful little White House, with gorgeous pale blue shutters and a small room facing the river, where you had space to paint, draw and write.

Life was good, Joel had taken a extra day a week off work, giving more of the reigns to Tommy. Therefore giving himself a longer weekend to rest and spend time with you. You worked for a writing and editing company so you mainly worked from home, only having to go to Austen sometimes. You are also working on writing your own book, slowly but surely.

Looking at your sleeping cowboy once more you gently move a curl from his forehead, stroking down his cheek, watching as his face twitches and his eyebrows furrow. My goodness you loved him, sometimes you worry you love him a little too much, but he loves you equally so you guess it’s ok. How could you not love a man like Joel, a man who loves you so completely, who protects you, makes you laugh, sings songs for you and builds a home for you both.

When you’d first told your parents about Joel, they weren’t too sure, there was an obvious age gap and they felt you had a whole life to live. But the second they met him that all changed, they got it, understood wholeheartedly why you loved this man. Now he’s part of the family, as you are his, Sarah warmed to the idea instantly, surprising you both as you feared she would be the one to object, you were only eight years older than her. But it was Tommy and Maria who took a bit longer to warm up to you, but seeing how happy you made Joel everyone eventually accepted your relationship, five years in now and you both couldn’t be happier.

Joel stirs awake mumbling “Good mornin’ darlin’” nuzzling his face into your neck, “Morning baby” you hum. Bringing your hand to run through his curls, slowly scratching his scalp. He lets out a contented groan, causing you to smirk to yourself. Joel begins tentatively kissing your neck, finding your sweet spot and gently sucking. You moan arching into him, the sheet barely covering you both slipping down around your thighs now, Joel took that as enough of a reason to slowly slide on top of you, his hands stroking and grabbing at any skin he could find.

“I can never get over how soft you feel under me sweetheart” Joel begins, his hand now sliding between your thighs “soo soft and smooth and wet for me huh” he continues bringing his mouth back up to yours, licking slowly into your mouth, his tongue caressing yours. His fingers glide through your slick, bringing it up to rub slow circles around your clit, causing you to gasp into his mouth.

No matter how much time goes by, every time with Joel is like the first, every time makes you erupt with butterflies and quiver under his expert touch. You arch even closer to him, moulding your body to his as you begin rocking your hips into his hand. “Needy this mornin’ aren’t we darlin’ don’t worry I’ve got you” he hums, inserting two fingers into your heat, and using his palm against your clit. He finds your toe curing spot instantly and precisely, using the come hither motion while simultaneously rubbing your bud “Joel fuck! I’m gonna cum” you moan, “That’s it baby let go for me” Joel instructs, and you do you cum hard around his fingers, gasping into his ears.

You’re still coming down when you feel the blunt end of his cock pushing into your core, as he slowly nestles his way home. Grabbing your hand he laces his fingers with yours, kissing your palm before rolling his hips into yours. Your spare arm grabs his back for purchase, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. “God Joel you feel so good” you pant, “Yeah?” He asks “You’re made for me sweetheart, made for me and no one else, this pussy is mine! Only my cock can make you feel this good right baby?” He trails off while punctuating everything with deep hard thrusts. “Yes Joel all yours, I am all yours!” You mumble back then like a mantra you repeat ‘Joel Joel Joel’.

There’s no rush on these lazy mornings, he never speeds up his thrusts, just keeps the steady rhythm as he makes love to you deep and slow. “Fuck Joel I’m close, come with me” you moan, now meeting his movements with your own. “Ok baby girl shit! Almost there hang on a bit longer for me” he rasps. He kisses you passionately, his kiss matching his thrusts slow and steady, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Now baby! Let go for me” he pleads, hand moving between your legs once more to roll over your sensitive pearl, “Joel!!!” You whine as you come undone, pussy clamping down on his cock, Joel reaching his end simultaneously and emptying himself inside you with a low moan.

You run your hands up and down his back, while placing sweet kisses to his shoulder, pulling his head up he looks at you with such a soft and loving expression, “I love you darlin’” “I love you too” giving you a quick peck he pulls out, walking on wobbly legs to the bathroom where he turns on the shower, “Come on sweetheart, let’s clean up” he insists, pulling you up with him and carrying you to the shower.

The morning carried on lazily, your shower was spent carefully washing each other with dopey smiles, all while having long snuggles under the steaming water. You made coffee together and enjoyed drinking it on your porch, watching the river flow, and the wildflowers blow in the breeze. Before an impromptu call to Tommy, inviting him, Maria and their beautiful baby girl, over for lunch.

You stood leaning on the doorframe lovingly watching Tommy and Joel play with the baby, while Maria sat close by engaging in casual conversation with the men. You couldn’t remember when you’d last felt so content, and watching Joel play with the baby did something to you. A new sensation of butterflies coursing through your stomach. Joel looks up at you then, smiling to himself as he stands and makes his way over to you.

Wrapping his arms around you he pulls you in close, stroking a hand down your cheek. Warm pools of chocolate searching your eyes, “What do you think darlin’?” Joel hinted, nudging you and looking over at the new parents, “Huh?” You reply confused. “Should we have one? Been thinking about it a lot recently, you all round carrying my baby” Joel smirks as you gasp “Really” you stutter, shocked he’s really suggesting it. “Yeah really, I think you’d make a wonderful mother, and I’m getting on now. So if we were going to have one it would need to be now, well at least soon” he replies, obviously being completely honest.

You grin so wide your mouth ached, you’d love to have a baby with this man, but with Sarah being all grown up you didn’t think it would be in the cards for Joel, and you had accepted that, Joel would always be enough. “Your sure? Because I mean we don’t have too if you don’t really want an….” Joel cuts you off with a soft kiss “I’m sure darlin’ in fact nothing would make me happier” you grin again “Ok, yeah let’s have one” you reply, “Yeah?” He asks once more, “Yeah I’d love to have your baby Joel” you affirm. He smiles and pulls you in close again, arm over your shoulder, while watching his brother and niece.

Yeah, you loved these slow southern Sundays with your cowboy.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller age gap #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us #joel x female reader

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wooahaeproductions · 6 months

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Magic in the Moonlight

Moon Taeil x Female Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship au

Word count: 1k

Warnings: surprises, mentions of food, kissing, semi public sex (in a tent in the backyard), tiny bit of clit play and unprotected sex

Rating: 18+

A/N: This is the last of the Kissing Booth drabbles and honestly a self indulgent fic for myself because Taeil is one of my sleeper biases. I always imagine him being a soft and sweet boyfriend. Enjoy! ~Bee

A Kissing Booth Drabble

“Seriously, Taeil…where are you taking me?” you whined as your boyfriend led you somewhere unknown, his hands covering your eyes. You weren’t one for being surprised usually and he knew that, so it made you even more anxious to know what he was up to.

“Quit complaining and just trust me, okay?” Taeil huffed at you, slowly directing you through the sliding door and into the backyard. You had a rough month navigating the merger between your company and a new one. After seeing the toll it took on you, all Taeil wanted to do was give you a break in any way he could.

He stopped you on the edge of the deck before taking his hands away from your eyes, revealing a projector that was set to point at the smooth back of the house and a tent that was in the middle of the yard, the top adorned with string lights that were just starting to glow as the day was fading into evening.

“Do you like it?” Taeil asked, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he watched you take in what he had set up for you.

“I love it, Taeil,” you breathed out. Maybe you did like surprises sometimes, if your boyfriend was the one doing the surprising.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand in his and bringing you out to the tent he had put up. You followed him as he unzipped the front, pinning it to stay open. Warm blankets and pillows had been set out, as well as some of your favorite snacks. He led you into the tent, indicating for you to sit down on the fleece blankets.

Settling in to sit down next to you, he pulled the remote for the projector out of his pocket and started the movie. He scooted closer to you, leaning his back against the pillows and put his arm around you. You smiled as the opening scene of your favorite movie played on the side of the house in front of you. Taeil knew all your favorite things.

Your stress was slowly melting away as you enjoyed the movie and snacks in Taeil’s warm embrace. The evening sunset that was there when he first brought you out into the backyard had now given way to a bright crescent moon. You ate, laughed, and quoted the movie all while he laughed with you, watching you in one of your most natural atmospheres.

Eventually the ending credits started rolling and you looked over to find Taeil looking at you with the most adoring expression. You paused, a chip midway to your mouth. “What?” you asked him with a laugh.

“I just love you,” he said, a goofy smile that only a man in true love could have on his face.

You let out an amused noise. “I love you too.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and then your nose causing you to giggle. He peppered your face with kisses until you fell backward from laughing. He collapsed on top of you and as your laughing subsided, the look on his face had changed to something else familiar.

The mischief in his honey eyes turned darker as he moved his lips to your jaw and neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on all your tender spots. A slight whine left you as he teeth lightly grazed the base of your neck. Taeil slowly tugged at your shirt and you raised your arms so that he could pull it off. Your hands reached to grab the hem of his and you rid him of it as well.

You two kept kissing, Taeil alternated between your mouth and your neck. You were in enough of a trance that what felt like seconds must have been more like minutes and both sets of your clothes had been completely removed, leaving you both completely bare under a blanket that Taeil had pulled over you.

His hands roamed over your skin, fingers light as a feather that sent shivers through you. His warm body pressed against you, his length nudging at your sensitive bud and making you buck up against him. “Patience, my love,” Taeil said with a chuckle and you gave a small pout. He rubbed against you, pulling a second whine out of you before his hands moved to rub circles on your clit.

You gasped at the feeling, your core becoming wetter by the minute. “Please, Taeil,” you said softly, knowing you were more than ready to have him inside you. He searched your eyes for a moment, confirming you were indeed ready before he lined himself up and pushed slowly inside you.

With every slow push, he kissed a different spot on your face, ending with a kiss on the lips when he fully bottomed out in you. He let you adjust before he began pumping in and out, enjoying the warmth of you around him. He began a slow and steady rhythm, winding both of you up. Taeil had always been a gentle lover.

He was steadily making the coil in your stomach tighten, both of you letting out moans as you were getting closer. Your neighbors probably heard, but that was a problem for later. “Are you ready to cum for me, love?” Taeil asked, his voice bright as he chased his high too.

“Yes, Taeil. Please make me cum,” you begged through louder moans. He moved your legs up so they were resting on his shoulders, allowing him to hit a deeper spot. “Fuck, yes,” you said, almost falling over the edge.

Taeil reached down to rub your clit once more and the coil snapped. Your mouth opened wide in a soundless scream as you orgasmed, hard. The sight of your face showing so much pleasure sent him over as well and he stilled, groaning as he painted your insides.

He carefully pulled out of you as you both came down from your highs. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and moved to lay next to you on the blankets. “So, do you like surprises now?” he asked, playfully.

“Only if they are from you, the most perfect boyfriend ever,” you said with a grin, scooting over to cuddle into his side. The stress you had felt in the weeks previous was gone and you were content, cuddling under the blankets with Taeil, the moon and the stars.

©️wooahaeproductions

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#neohub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #kbookshelf #nct 127 #nct smut #nct taeil #moon taeil #taeil smut #the kissing booth

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lorcandidlucienwill · 4 months

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Quotes about Elain in ACOSF: Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to … reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” “Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Look who decided to grow claws after all,” she crooned. “Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.” “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.” “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

“Why not tell Elain about the baby’s sex first?” “She discovered the pregnancy. I wanted you to know this part before anyone else.” Elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers, but her imagination had stretched no further. Also the direct contrast between Nesta and Cassian's thoughts: Elain was like a dog, loyal to whatever master kept her fed and in comfort.

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

We see Night is wrong for Elain and Spring is right: Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.

But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her. Too bad her sister refused to see her. Nesta would have told Elain to visit this place.

We see Nesta taking the rose carving made for Elain: Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. Her father had died for her, with love in his heart, and Nesta held love in her own heart as she pulled the small, carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he’d tried to bring into the world.

And then there's her mate Lucien: He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

“Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit.

Koschei said, “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.” Mor failing to form agreements in Vallahan and its implications: Indeed, Mor’s eyes shuttered. “They don’t want to sign the new treaty.” “We are weakened—all seven courts. Even more at odds with each other and with the rest of the world since the war. If Montesere and Vallahan march on us, if Rask joins with them, we will not withstand it. Not with Beron already turned against us and allied with Briallyn. Not if Tamlin cannot master his guilt and grief and become what he once was.

“But you and yours have more important things to think about than ancient history. My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he’s not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too. I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash.” And Spring has fallen into disrepair and Beron wants it: “They say a beast prowls these lands now. A beast with keen green eyes and golden fur. Some people think the beast has forgotten his other shape, so long has he spent in his monstrous form. And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability. Even his manor has fallen into disrepair, half-eaten by thorns, though rumors fly that he himself destroyed it.” Eris’s fingers closed around the petals. “Who says he wants land on the continent?” He surveyed the orchard—as if to make a point. Silence fell. Rhys murmured, “Beron knows another war that pits Fae against Fae would be catastrophic. Many of us would be wiped out entirely. Especially …” Rhys tilted his head back to take in the apple blossoms. “Especially those of us who are weakened. And when the dust settles, there would be at least one court left vacant, its lands bare for the taking.”

And a bonus...from the bonus chapter. He slept as well as could be expected, but when Azriel returned to the river house to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain's necklace amid the pile.

"But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she'd disappoint you all." "But I also think we haven't seen all she has to offer." "Let's focus on helping one sister before we start on the other." Make of that what you will 🤷‍♀️

#elucien's book is next i don't make the rules #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #this isn't even all the quotes but it'll get too long lol

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queers-gambit · 1 year

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Not So Heavenly Surprise

prompt: you share exciting news with your husband but don't receive the reaction you thought you'd get. and then, the Outbreak.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!wife!reader only height mentioned: you're shorter than Joel

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 7.2k+

warnings: angst, angst, angst, slutty angst club, cursing, character death, major major major spoilers, death of a child, descriptive language - we talk about death and dead bodies!!! canon-level violence! NOT edited!!! (will get around to it) this work is super NOT FOR MINORS ❗️season one, episode one spoilers

September 02nd, 2002 one year before Outbreak Day

"You're going to have to tell him," you sighed to your reflection, trying to amp up the bravery. "He's gonna notice, you don't want him questioning anything, now do you? No, nope, no way, you don't. Okay, so, that's it - you're gonna tell him when he gets home. No big deal."

There was a knock at the door, Sarah calling, "Are you okay in there?"

"Girl!" You laughed, reaching for the knob and opening it to see her. "Ever heard of this thing called 'privacy'?"

"Not in this house," She smirked. "Can I get in? Wash my face?"

"Oh, yeah, totally," you moved out of her way, continuing with your nightly routine.

"So, who were you talking to?"

"Myself," you mused. "It helps me work out big decisions."

"Oh, so, you're finally gonna tell Dad you're pregnant?"

"What!?" You yelped, dropping the jar of night cream and groaning when it dolloped out from the fall - landing on your foot. "What the hell, Sarah?"

"What? You're surprised I figured it out?" She teased. "I found the pregnancy test."

"What? You were digging in the trash?"

"Well, if you must know, I dropped the toothpaste in there and found it when I was fishing it out..."

"Sarah," you sighed.

"You know he's going to be really happy, right?" She smiled at you, massaging her cheeks to curate foam from her face wash.

"Maybe," you sighed, stooping to clean your mess. "But I've been trying to figure out what to say."

"What's to say? Just tell him," she giggled. "C'mon, you guys have been married 8 years now! Isn't this, like, what was supposed to happen?"

"Well, yeah, but - "

"But nothing," Sarah laughed. "You're getting all nervous for nothing. It's just Dad, he loves you. He's going to be happy, I promise."

You sighed, nodding slowly, "All right, well, I'll try to tell him tonight."

"There is no try, only do."

"You did not just quote Star Wars to me!"

"Well, is Yoda wrong?"

You whined a little, "No..."

"So, get it done," she smiled. "This is really exciting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "I've always wanted to be a big sister."

"You'd kick ass as one," you agreed.

"Think how upset and flustered Dad will be when I teach Baby to curse!"

"Sarah, you teach the kid any curse words and I'll wash your own mouth with soap," you teasingly warned with a pointed finger. "I'm a little nervous, I think," you admitted.

"Why? Daddy loves you, he'll be really happy," Sarah defended. "Maybe a little shocked, but he'll be over the moon with joy."

"You think?"

"I know," she nodded. "Tell him tonight!"

"Tell who, what?" Tommy asked, appearing in the doorway to make you both shriek.

"What happened!?" You heard Joel, but then, everything was drowned out as you and Sarah started yelling at Tommy for scaring the shit outta you both. Joel appeared in time to see his little brother throw his hands up in defense, laughing at the two of you.

"Not cool, man!" You barked, shaking your head. "Didn't hear y'all come in, the hell's wrong wit'chu?"

"Y'all didn't lock the front door, again," Tommy smirked. "I came up real quick and quiet."

"Jackass," you muttered, wiping your hands on a towel before exiting the room. "Hi, baby," you muttered to Joel, pausing to rock onto your toes and plant a kiss to your husband's lips.

"Hi, honey," he mused, arm anchoring your waist. "What's with the screamin'?"

"Your brother's an ass," you pouted, giving your best exaggerated bottom lip.

"You had it comin', darlin'," Tommy teased. "Told you to lock up, huh?"

"Why're you even here? Why are you always! Here!?" You whined lightly. "Go home!"

"I'm staying the night," he mocked gently.

"You better not clean my fridge out," you warned him with slitted eyes. "I just went to the shop."

"You get them cookies you like?" Tommy perked a brother, watching your eyes widen a small fraction. "YOU DID!" Tommy laughed, turning, and bolting down the stairs - making you yelp and start yelling after him, following closely.

Joel and Sarah could be heard laughing from upstairs.

It was close to midnight by the time you and Joel finally settled for bed. Sarah's homework was done, whole family fed, Tommy was nursing a bonked head with a small ice pack, and you and Joel were turning your bed down.

"Hey, uh," you cleared your throat as you both got in the sheets, "so, I was wonderin' somethin'."

"What's that, sugar?"

"What do you think of when you consider the future?"

Joel paused, then shrugged, "We go to Nashville with Sarah this summer."

"No, baby, I mean the future - like, years from now."

Joel chuckled, "Uh, I don't know, baby, I just think of you and Sarah and Tommy... There's not many others left 'round."

"That's all?"

"I don't know, I think sometimes when Sarah goes off to college, that girl's goin' on a scholarship, you know? So, you and I could maybe take some time for a vacation. Finally take you on that honeymoon I promised."

You hummed, settling against his chest, "Where we goin'?"

"You know I'd take you wherever you wanted," he sighed, "but maybe we could afford... I don't know, trip to... Vegas?"

"So we can renew our vows with Elvis?"

"Why not?" He chuckled, squeezing your hip. "Might be fun, right?"

"You just wanna see the strippers."

"Can you blame me?"

You laughed and smacked his chest, "Easy, mister, you're on thin ice."

Joel laughed lightly, "You know I'm teasin', darlin'. C'mon, anywhere we could, where would you go?"

"Oh, the Maldives, without a doubt.," You smirked. "But how about we keep it simple? Go to, say, Paris?"

Joel snickered, "That's simple?"

"City of Love for our honeymoon? Baby, I'd say that's more cliché than anything. Besides, don't you wanna kiss me at the top of the Eiffel Tower?"

"'Course, sugar, but the food there?"

"Oh, like you've ever been!" You laughed, looking up at him. "Don't talk shit when you don't know."

"Hmm," he considered, "solid advice, sweetheart."

He reached out to caress the side of your cheek, making you sigh, "One thing's missin' though..."

"What's that?" Joel smirked.

"We'd have to find a babysitter."

"Sarah will be older than - "

"No, no, baby, not talkin' 'bout Sarah."

"Who, then?" He chuckled. "Tommy? Though he likes proving us wrong, he can take care of himself."

"No, I'm talking about a babysitter for us."

"Lost me again, sweetheart."

You stared at him for a moment, then admitted, "I'm pregnant. So, we'd need to find a sitter 'cause we'd have a little one by then." However, Joel just stared down at you, brows slowly furrowing as he processed your words. "Joel?" You wondered when he didn't answer, but instead, looked off past you. "Honey, you still with me?"

"I heard you," he grit, making you instantly sit up and off of him.

"Joel?"

He sighed deeply, "Why'd you have to do that?"

"I'm sorry?"

Joel sat up and swung his legs from bed, making you feel instantly smaller than you actually were. "Why'd you have to go and do that? Huh? Get pregnant?"

"Joel - "

"No, what the hell's this!?" He demanded, looking far too upset than you ever considered. "You're pregnant? You're really pregnant?"

"Yes - "

"God fuckin' damn it!" Joel swatted at a lamp, knocking it over, and waking the entire house - not that either Tommy or Sarah were asleep yet. "You can't seriously be pregnant!" Joel barked at you, and if he could, you knew he'd be gnashing his teeth.

"Why is this such a shock?" You asked. "This is what happens when you're married - "

"You were supposed to be on birth control!"

"It's only so much effective when you're cumming in me like some sex doll!" You snapped back, aware of your loudness.

"Don't turn this on me!"

"I'm not! Fuck's sake, I'm happy about this!" You stood from the bed, too. "I'm happy we're havin' a baby! Why're you reacting this way?"

"We can't afford a baby right now!" Joel looked enraged now. "We don't got the space - fuckin' Tommy crashes the couch! Where we puttin' a whole baby, huh? Where we puttin' a kid? How're we gonna afford more groceries? More schoolin'? You didn't think this through, now, did you!?"

"Fuck's sake, Joel, do I need to give you a sex-ed course? Explain how you're just as much in this as I am? I didn't do this to myself, we both took risks - but I didn't think this was gonna be an issue! I thought you'd want this!"

"When have I ever said I wanted another kid? Huh? Don't put words in my mouth, woman! I got Sarah, ain't no kid better than that! Why would I even want to bother? Knowing our situation!? You think you're ready to be a mom? All you do is work, and it makes you a pretty shaky stepmother! Neither of us are in a place to just stop and take care of a kid, we're in too deep with our current bills!"

You felt too stunned to speak, every defense you had lowering in pure sadness as tears collected in your eyes. "You serious, right now?"

"Completely," he sighed, hands to his hips.

"So, you... You don't want this baby?"

Joel's jaw flexed. "Not right now, no."

"Okay," you sighed.

"I can't take care of another kid," he shook his head. "Look, why can't Sarah be enough? You've known her her whole life."

"Why is it so wrong to wonder what it's like to be pregnant? To have my own child? Since you have Sarah."

"We have Sarah," he snapped.

"No... We don't, since I'm only a shaky stepmother."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No? How'd you mean it?" You wondered sarcastically. "Maybe that I won't be a good mother? That you don't want a kid with me, is it? Whatever, Joel, look, there's no compromise here. You don't want this baby, but I do... So, this it is."

"What is? To what?"

"Us," you sighed, gesturing between you. "If you really don't want this baby, then I don't see how we can still participate in a marriage."

"The fuck - "

"I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"I want you, just not the baby!"

"So, understand this. Because I'm growing that baby currently, you simply don't want me. So, it's all right, now. I'll get my shit and get out, figure out what to do movin' forward, and I'll have the divorce papers sent - "

"Like hell, you are!" Joel raged.

"How're we gonna fix this then!?"

"Fuckin' Christ, woman, you really know how to piss me off! This ain't my issue - this is your problem. But we ain't gettin' a divorce, so, you better figure it out."

You scoffed, "Who the hell even are you?"

"Come again?"

You gestured at him, "This is not who I married."

"Neither are you. When we got married, you said Sarah was more than enough - "

"You know what? Feelin's change!"

Joel scoffed, "Yeah, fuckin' tell me 'bout it."

"Wow," you sighed, turning for the closet, muttering, "wow, wow, wow, wow, WOW!"

"Fuck!" Joel snapped. "C'mon, doll, don't do this."

He watched you pack a suitcase frantically, the fight continuing to wage farther into the night. Back and forth, you two went round after round after round, trying to make the other understand and see reason. To Joel, it was a matter of financials and space. To you? It was everything else.

By 3 am, you had finally packed your necessary belongings into two bags - a suitcase and purse - before you were charging down the stairs with Joel still hollering after you. Tommy was in the living room, pacing, and Sarah was laid on the couch, eyes red and swollen as she clutched a pillow to her chest. You came to a halt when you saw them both, Joel still sneering but silencing himself when he saw what you stared at.

Just like that, he understood his brother and daughter had heard every word he shouted at you, and never had he felt such shame. You swallowed harshly, nodding at Tommy before looking to Sarah. With a wobbling smile, you managed to garble, "I'm sorry."

"Mama, wait!" Sarah gasped, shooting off the couch as you fled for the front door; Tommy catching her around her waist. "No! No! Daddy, go get her! Don't go! Mama! Please! What's happening? Why won't you go after her!?"

But to Tommy's shock and horror, Joel silently descended the stairs to push the front door closed and locked it - bolting them inside and his wife outside. "Joel," Tommy shook his head, confusing marring his features. "The hell happened?"

But Joel only sighed, turned, and headed up the stairs again. Not a moment later, his bedroom door closed - making Tommy release Sarah. She rushed to the door but stopped, only staring out, and Tommy understood she could no longer see your car.

"Hey, Sarah?" Tommy called softly. "You can stay home from school tomorrow. All right?"

She only nodded silently, taking a seat at the front door and just watching. He frowned, wanting to shoo her off to bed, but understood that her child-like mind could only understand so much. She wanted to wait for you to come home, she wanted to see you coming... However, the following morning, Joel found his daughter slumped against the front door and his brother on the stairs from watching her.

His heart had plummeted to his feet when he saw them, more so when he understood you weren't home. The house already felt colder.

September 26th, 2003 Outbreak Day

Your daughter was barely a few months old by the time "it" happened. After leaving Joel, you went home to your parents and they were gracious enough to welcome you and the babe growing in your womb.

They made up your childhood bedroom into a nursery and let you transform their home office into a spare bedroom as your little brother was living in the guest room and older sister in the basement. It was an incredibly tiny room, but it worked for now; and your little girl was a ray of sunshine that you barely noticed how miserable you truly felt.

You hadn't seen Joel since the birth... And before that? Not since your fight. He really didn't want shit to do with your daughter, and while you always told him when your appointments were, he never showed. When you went into labor, your father was the one who called him because you only sobbed through the pain that you wanted your husband. So, Joel showed that day, but didn't go into the delivery room. He just waited outside it, listening, feeling his heart shatter again and again as you begged someone to find your husband, but no matter how your mother and father begged him to go in, he wouldn't. He couldn't.

It was only after the baby was born did he venture in.

You looked beat to hell and the sheets seemed bloodier than usual, but he didn't want to linger. He only nodded at you, hands in his pockets, "Good job... She's real beautiful."

You blinked, glancing over to where a nurse was swaddling the just-cleaned baby. "Thank you," you whispered. Then, he turned to leave, "W-Wait!" You begged, making him pause. "Don't you... I-I don't know, want to help name her?"

Joel sighed, glancing at you over his shoulder, "No, 's all right. Whatever you want, she's your daughter."

Your heart broke all over again, watching him leave. So much so, when the nurse brought your daughter over for you to hold, you broke down in horrendous sobs that the nurse actually shied away. You couldn't breathe from the pain, and it actually set off a few alarms on your hospital monitors.

Your mother watched in despair as a team of professionals had to sedate you in order to calm you down enough; holding her grandbaby and rocking her arms. She waited for days, hoping you'd ask to hold your daughter, but never did. Only when the lactation expert came in to help you nurse your daughter did you actually "willingly" hold her.

It just broke your heart to even look at her because she looked so much like Joel that it should've been illegal. Eventually, you came around and felt as if you couldn't set the baby down, but for the first few days were exhaustingly tough. Your parents were a huge help, but that didn't make it easier on you to try and process life without Joel. You loved your husband, wanted him back, but after his behavior, you couldn't fathom being within 6 feet of him again.

However, life had much different plans.

You didn't feed your baby formula, opting for breast feeding. Ironically, during your pregnancy, you had developed an intolerance to gluten and never wanted flour-products even after giving brith to your daughter. However, your father loved your mother's cookies...

It was nearly 2 am when it happened.

Your father had been the first "Infected" of the family, and only your mother was in their room with him. You heard the thumping and screams, peering out of your room only to see blood pooling from under your parent's closed bedroom door. "Get back," you hissed at your little brother, darting down the hall to your daughter's nursery.

"DADDY! NO!" You heard your brother scream a minute later, panic enveloping you as your daughter started to cry.

"No, no, no, it's okay, hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart," you whispered, trying to shush her. There wasn't time to spare, and just as you secured your daughter to your chest with tight arms and made it from her room, your father came barreling out of your little brother's room - scaring the shit outta you. "D-Daddy?"

He snarled, neck snapping when he looked at you - but that wasn't your father. No, this creature was something else and while it was in your father's body, it wasn't your Daddy, and you weren't safe here.

"Down here! NOW!" Katie, your older sister called, making you shoot off down the stairs in a blind panic. Your father came crashing down behind you, knocking into your legs as you reached the bottom - forcing you to turn over and land on your back to protect your kid.

"OH MY GOD!" You screamed when your father bolted upright.

"STAY DOWN!"

Your sister swung her softball bat, knocking your father's head back with a sickly snap. He went down, and for a moment, it was all quiet. "What the fuck?" You panted, baby still crying.

"I don't know," Katie panted, reaching for your arms and helping you up. "I-I didn't - I didn't think," she stuttered, looking at your father, who's head was split open and spewing blood. "I-I killed him."

"Between us?" You nodded, "Think he was already dead."

"Where's Mommy? And Billy!?"

"Upstairs..."

"You don't think...?"

"Should we check?"

"What if they're alive and we just left them?" She worried, blinking back tears. "I-I don't know what to do."

"I think we need to get the fuck outta here," you admitted, looking around you two. "We aren't safe here, Katie, we should move."

Just then, there was a thud from upstairs. Your sister uttered your name in fear, and you had to steel yourself. "What do we do?" She whispered.

"Kitchen, there's only one door and the basement," you nodded, the two of you turning and hustling into the room. You looked around and found a long cerated knife, standing at the ready with one arm around your baby.

"What's gonna come for us?"

"Whatever the hell happened to Daddy," you gulped. "I still think we should run for it."

"But Mama - "

"She's probably dead!" You snapped. "But we aren't. We don't have to die if we play smart. I say, we get what we need and get the fuck out of here."

However, before she could answer, there was a snarling from outside the door. Your baby still cried, and soon, the door was bursting open with your mother's Infected body being hurled through the door. Your sister begged your name in a yell and you repeated at her that it's not really your mother - keeping the kitchen island between you three - and that she needed to swing the bat.

However, your little brother came barreling inside right after and knocked into you. It was a struggle as you had to let go of your baby to keep the 10-year-old demon off your body; hip teeth gnashing as pale tendrils came curling out of his mouth.

"NO!"

You couldn't look back at your sister, struggling to keep the suspiciously-strong boy at bay. You used your feet to kick him off you, snatch up the knife, and as he came back - snarling and screaming - you only stabbed the knife up into the underside of his jaw. Yanking free, blood and more came gushing out, and your brother when down.

When you turned, your sister was panting and leaning against a counter. Mother laid dead at her feet. "You good?" You asked.

"Yeah... You?"

"Yeah," you sniffled, moving to collect your baby from the bloody linoleum floor. "Can we get the fuck outta here now?"

"There's no more threat."

"Seriously?" You snapped. "Honey, if it happened here, it's happenin' elsewhere and we need to fucking move before we get left behind. Understand me?"

But then... There was a sickening sound from the only other door in the kitchen... The one leading to the basement...

"Katie?" You called your sister's name, "it's time to run."

"GO!" She screamed when a new body, that of your next door neighbor, came bursting through the door. You both ran, your daughter tight to your chest, and just made it outside your family home when a truck was screeching to a halt.

Joel leapt from the passenger seat, hollering your name in panic, and making you shoot off like a Roman Candle towards him. He caught you easily, holding you and your infant close to his chest as Katie came sprinting from behind you - taking cover behind Joel.

"What - "

"JOEL!" Katie screamed, pointing towards the body rushing from your home.

"Tommy!"

There came a gunshot, making you flinch into his chest as he turned you from the sight. "Get in the truck," Tommy called, Sarah opening the door from the inside to invite Katie in.

"We gotta go, darlin', it's time to go, let's go," Joel muttered to you.

"What the fuck is happenin'?"

"We don't know, but it's bad," he nodded, looking around frantically. "We need off the streets, baby, please, get in the truck."

But you paused, asking him, "You came back for me?"

"For the both of you," he sighed, caressing the top of your daughter's head - who still wailed in fear. "Please, baby, it's time to go - get in the truck." When you did, he rambled, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, all right, Tommy! Let's go!"

When everyone was in and doors shut, a new game began: Get the Hell Outta Dodge.

During the ride, Tommy and Joel filled you and Katie in with what they knew from the broadcasters that were once on the airwaves. Sarah held onto you tightly, infant child still wriggling in your lap and arms. You were trying to flee the suburbs, making for the highway, but it seemed, everyone else who hadn't been killed off had the same idea and created intense traffic.

"We're okay," you whispered to Sarah on repeat, almost in a chant. Katie frowned and slowly reached over Sarah's lap, taking hold of your daughter. You slowly let go only to latch full onto Sarah and try to comfort her with slow rocking and cooed words of encouragement. Joel knew that in your time apart, you and Sarah saw each other often - nearly on a daily basis - and could understand that you were her mother, through-and-through.

You both needed the comfort right now.

Someone to lean on.

Someone to be scared with you instead of saying "buck up."

"Take the field, Tommy!" Katie barked from the back, holding your screaming baby to her shoulder and trying to offer her warmth and comfort. However, it was impossible with the tangible panic and loud blaring of horns and cursing voices. "We can cut across and pick the road up on the west side."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. West, West, all right. All right, hang on," he turned the wheel, everyone bracing for the sharp movement before the bumping of the terrain became wildly uneven.

Around them, other cars followed suit, and the field was soon flooded with civilian cars trying to flee. "The fuck could be happening?" Katie asked you, gulping, "You're the doctor!"

"I-I don't fucking know, Katie, please," you whispered back, gulping in nerves as Tommy drove you all over the grass.

However, when they came over the hill to catch sight of their destination, there was a flooding of lights and choppers in the air. Tommy cursed, "Shit! Fuckin' Army!"

"Isn't that good?" Sarah asked from your embrace.

"It's good for them, but that's the highway we're tryna get to," Tommy explained, coming to a halt as cars flooded past them.

"All right, keep movin'. Head north," Joel advised quietly, his mind trying to settle.

"Could be a lotta people," Tommy argued lightly.

"Well, we can't go south, we can't go east, we can't go west," Joel pointed out. "Hell else we supposed to go?"

"Tommy, fuckin' drive!" You grit, Katie joining you in on the last word.

"Tommy, c'mon!" Joel followed right after. The tires squealed as Tommy pressed on the gas while turning his wheel, making the truck turn and speed off for a distant suburban town; lights in the distance guiding you. "Yeah," Joel muttered. "Yeah, I know that place. This can work."

"Yeah, all right, fine, cool, but then what?" Katie asked. "Where are we supposed to go then?"

"I don't know. Mexico. Just far, far as we can," Joel answered uneasily. "How much gas?"

"Three-quarter tank," Tommy answered.

"Go through town," Joel advised. "Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade, then we're out."

"I'm gonna throw up," Katie whispered, head tilted back with her eyes closed.

"If you're feelin' sick, hand me my baby," you snapped, looking at her with fear.

"No, girl, it's anxiety," she snapped back. "I'm not sick."

"How can you be sure?" Sarah wondered.

"Cause it would've hit us the same as it did our family..."

"Who'd it hit?" Tommy wondered, looking back.

"We're all that's left," you sighed, saving your sister from answering. "Daddy turned first, then Mama... Billy after... We got out."

"They bite 'chall?" Tommy asked, glancing back.

"No," you answered, looking at Katie. "You bit?"

"Nope, I beat 'em to the punch," she sighed. "Ah, fuck, my stomach."

"Throw up in my truck, darlin'," Tommy muttered, sucking his teeth.

"Throw up on my baby, Kate, and I'll beat 'cho ass," you snipped, perking a warning brow at her.

"Girl," she sighed, glancing at Sarah - who had sat off you in contemplation. "Sarah?" She whispered in wondered.

"Maybe it's everywhere," she voiced, glancing at the two of you sat on either side of her. "Maybe there's nowhere to go..."

"Well, hey, we'll just have to find somewhere safe," you nodded back at her, but furrowed your brow. "Anyone hear that?"

"Oh, shit - "

"What the fuck!?" Tommy called over Katie, glancing up towards the roof as there came a deafening sound of a plane flying far too low to the ground.

"Cover her ears!" You begged Katie, reaching for Sarah to press your hands over her ears. Your sister held your daughter's ears closed - her still screaming bloody murder - as the plane flew over the truck.

"Fuckin' hell!" She looked back, noting the sky. Sarah whipped around, too, only to spy two more planes in the sky - all flying low and at odd angles.

However, ahead of them, cop cars were speeding around the streets and cutting off any route. "Son of a bitch," Tommy cursed. "Gotta go around. Grab somethin'!"

You held onto the designated 'oh shit!' bar over your head as Sarah leaned over to hold Katie and your baby. Tommy took a sharp right into an alley, between buildings. When you all rightened, it was only to see the people on the street running around, screaming, cars zooming past them all. Tommy took a left, then another right, and joined the bustle of the street.

"All right, keep goin', keep goin'," Joel pointed ahead, but tommy blew past a stop sign. "Shit - TOMMY!"

Another car came to a screeching halt, barely missing T-boning the Tommy's truck. They moved on, only to discover people mauling each other in the street - blocking most of their path. "Oh, my God," Sarah whispered, reaching for you as your arm came around her shoulders again as Tommy came to a stall.

"Tommy, you can't stop here," Joel reminded.

"I can't drive through 'em all!"

"Are you serious?" Joel barked. "Just keep goin'!"

However, ahead came the smashing of glass and a stampede of people - all running wildly and making you assume they were Infected, too. "Ohhhhhhh, shit," Katie whimpered.

"Go, go, go, go, back, back, back, back, back, back," Joel encouraged his brother, who hastily switched gears.

"I'm trying!"

However, when you and Sarah looked back to watch the crowd and stay out of Tommy's range of sight, you saw a distant threat and tuned everything else out. "Joel!" You begged, reaching for his arm as the sight of an airborne plane turning in the sky to head back your way was far too pressing right now.

"Dad!" Sarah echoed.

"Holy shit," Katie sobbed, cradling your baby tightly and without you even noticing, put her seatbelt on.

"Move. MOVE!" Joel told Tommy.

The plane took a nosedive into the ground, exploding, and send a flurry of parts around the surrounding area. One of those areas happened to the building you were driving past, and one of the steel parts ricocheted off it and into the truck.

Everything went black.

"Baby? Baby, can you hear me? Hey, hey, hey, darlin', c'mon, open them pretty eyes for me, c'mon, baby, please."

"Fuck," you wheezed, eyes slowly opening.

"Hey, hey, hey, there you are, hey," Joel whispered, Tommy, Katie, and Sarah already out of the truck. "There you go, c'mon, you all right? You hurt?"

"No," you blinked a few times, wiggling your toes and fingers. "Fuck's sake, what happened?"

"Car accident," he nodded, "c'mon, sugar, gotta get up for me," he looked around. "We ain't safe here, c'mon, baby, that's it."

You nodded and let him pull you from the wreckage, grunting when shattered glass pressed into your skin to create long drips of blood that resembled a child's melted-crayon canvas from elementary art class. When out, Sarah kept weight off her ankle and wobbled in her stance, making you frowned, "All right?"

"Ankle," Sarah sniffled.

"We gotta get off the streets!" Tommy called from the other side of the car.

"KATIE!?"

"I got her!" She called back, and then, you could distinguish her shrill crying. You sighed with relief before Tommy was profanely screaming and Joel turned you and Sarah from the car just as an out-of-control police car came smashing into the truck.

"I got her," you told Joel, taking hold of Sarah in full as he nodded in thanks before turning for the wreckage they couldn't get around.

"Tommy!? Tommy!? Katie!? TOMMY!"

The brothers found a glimpse of each other through the flames, Tommy telling his brother, "Head to the river! We'll find a way! Get them outta here, Joel! Go!"

"Take care of my daughter," he nodded back.

"C'mon," Tommy told Katie, and the two were taking off with Tommy's gun slung over his shoulder.

Joel turned back for you and Sarah, gulping nervously at you, "Darlin', listen, I'm so sorry - "

"Joel, now's not the time," you panted. "We gotta go. Okay? We're good right now, but we gotta stay good. Let's get the fuck outta here, please. We can talk later!"

He nodded back, looking at Sarah, who refused, "We can't leave them! K-Katie has D - "

"They'll be fine," Joel insisted. "Tommy's with 'em, they'll look after each other. Can you run?"

"No," she shook her head, making Joel sigh.

"Can you?"

"I'm good," you nodded, worryingly looking at Sarah. "I can carry her - "

"'S all right, darlin'," he muttered, sweeping Sarah into his arms and making her arms latch around his neck. "You keep your eyes on me," he told his daughter. She nodded. "Okay?"

"Okay," Sarah breathed.

"Okay," Joel nodded. "And you don't look anywhere else." Sarah buried her head in her father's neck, his eyes meeting yours. "And you..." He panted, swallowing nervously. "You stay with me, you stay right with me, all right?"

"All right."

"All right," he agreed, hurrying off down the alley. You were true to your word, keeping up with him easily, but both slowing when the end of the alley only lead to a group of Infected motherfuckers feasting on the flesh of other humans.

You panicked for a moment, looking around you, and nearly missing the sound of the a distant explosion - sounding more like a crack from this distance. However, it was enough of a sound to draw the attention of at least one Infected Fucker - who looked up to stare at you, Joel, and Sarah.

Joel lead you to a building behind you - but the Fucker followed. "Joel, go, go, go," you hissed, easily taking the lead to use your body to burst through doors. Joel followed, understanding that because he was carrying Sarah, you had assumed the role of "guide" and wanted to clear his path - but it also cleared a path to be followed.

It made horrendous sounds as it chased you three, literally hauling it's body around as if it had no real control over it. The feeling inside your chest was chaotic, the tension tangible through the air as you lead Joel through the closed-diner.

The creature still followed.

Finally outside, you didn't have to restrict yourself but couldn't find it in you to leave Joel and Sarah behind. If this was the end, it was only right you fell as a family - and while deeply stupid of you, it was oddly poetic. However, as you heard the beast in pursuit just nipping at your heels, so sounded a reverberating gunshot.

It made you pause, looking back to see a headshot had taken the Infected Fucker out, and yet, no obvious sign of the shooter. Joel comforted Sarah, looking down at you - making you nod, telling him you were okay - before looking around again.

Then, a flashlight blinded you as a Humvee's lights flashed on, a voice demanding, "Don't move!"

"Joel..." You whispered, holding onto his elbow as he readjusted so he was slightly in front of you.

"My daughter's hurt!" Joel called to the military man. "Her ankle!"

"Stop right there!" He barked again.

"Okay," Joel muttered, nerves being shared as you had a bad feeling about this. "Easy now. We're not sick!"

But the solider, instead, radioed in, "I got three civilians by the river, one of 'em injured... Ankle..."

"What about Uncle Tommy and Aunt Katie?" Sarah asked her father.

"We're gonna get you somewhere safe first, with your Mama. Yeah? Then we'll come back for 'em, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, repeat?" The solider asked into his comms system - earning your attention again. Joel tried to step forward, but the flashlight was right back up into your face, the man snapping, "Hey! No one told you to move!"

"Joel," you worried. "They have shoot-to-kill orders."

"What?" He whispered.

"In the event of extreme violence, similar to this, they have orders to shoot-to-kill," you told him shakily, watching the man. "I know you wanna trust 'em, but they're not our friend right now. Get ready to run..."

"Darlin' - "

"Joel," you hushed, squeezing his elbow.

The solider answered his commanding officer with three, spaced out, "Yes, sir's," before he was slowly picking up his firearm and the light was again in their eyes.

Joel realized how right his estranged wife was in that moment. "We're not sick," he tried to remind. But the man approached, making Sarah's breathing pick up as she held on tighter to Joel's neck - blindly reaching out for you. "Sir," Joel begged, "we are not sick!"

But just like you had said, the orders were shoot-to-kill, and the rapid gunfire sounded in the knight - only barely masked by Sarah's high-pitched scream. You felt a searing burn in your thigh, all three of you toppling over down the short hill you were heading towards; all three rolling away from one another.

When you came to a halt, you seethed in pain, holding your thigh, but hearing a much worse sound. Sarah hyperventilating. You looked up as the solider leered over Joel, army-crawling towards her just as a gunshot sounded. However, when you weren't struck, you kept going, and reached your stepdaughter.

"Baby?" You whispered.

"Mama," she begged. "Mama, Mama," she repeated, barely able to swallow her saliva - much less her fear. "Hurts," she grunted, soon losing the ability to form words.

Tommy had seen the scene and rushed forward to shoot the solider, leaving Katie at his side with your infant daughter still in arm. "I got'cha, hey, hey, hey, I"m here," you whispered, literally whipping your shirt off to press into her stomach. "JOEL!" You cried, looking over your shoulder to spy him on the ground.

He quickly scrambled to Sarah's other side, taking in the situation, and looking at you with absolute devastation. You cried as you held pressure, but you knew, from the entry wounds, Sarah didn't stand a chance. Her aorta artery had been hit and shredded by a bullet, only giving her moments left in this life.

Watching Joel was possibly harder than watching him walk away from you in the birthing room. He was desperate, trying to save his daughter but only being able to hold her as she grunted and sobbed in pain; bleeding out in her father's arms. Joel begged you to help but you couldn't, unable to form words, so, he turned to his brother and screamed at him - and your sister - to help him.

But in that moment he had looked away, Sarah's life had left them. "Joel," you whimpered, making him look down and realize what happened. He sobbed, drawing her in tightly; rocking helplessly on the ground as he couldn't fathom what had just happened.

However, amongst his mourning, there came a sound you never wanted to hear again. Whipping around, you caught sight of your sister starting to twitch and leapt to your feet; limping in hurried motions to snatch your screaming baby from her tightening grip.

"Katie," you begged in a sob, backing up towards Tommy, "oh, God, no... No, please."

But the bite on her forearm had turned a sickly black-and-blue, alerting she had been bit at some point and never voiced it. Before your very eyes, she turned from your dear, sweet older sister into a blood-thirsty monster. Yellowed and dead eyes, snarling and uncontrollable twitching, limbs that turned up in odd angles as the infection took over completely.

When done, you sister gave a shriek before you pleaded, "Tommy!"

He took aim and fired once, putting Katie out of her misery; sending her corpse crumbling to the ground. You panted, tears in your eyes as you couldn't process this night, but then... The unexpected.

"Oh, God, no," you gasped, wrenching your daughter from your chest as she started wriggling uncontrollably. "No, no, no, no, no, no," you sobbed, dropping to your knees and laying her down. Quickly opening her baby blanket, you noted the adult-sized bite on her whole shin, sobbing harshly. "Delilah! No, not my baby, no, no, oh, fuck, no, c'mon, not you, too. Not you, too, Delilah, please, my angel, oh, fuck, no, God damn it!"

"Darlin'," Tommy stuttered from behind you. He looked up in fear, finding his brother's confused gaze and calling, "J-Joel!"

"Delilah, please, fuck, h-how do I fix this!?" You begged. "No, fuck, God damn it! Why can't I help my daughters!?" You snarled at Tommy, sobbing until your chest hurt. "Why!? Why can't I save them!?"

"Doll," he whispered, his older brother slowly letting go of Sarah to lay her down, shut her eyes, and rest her arms over her stomach before turning for you.

"Not her, too, please," you begged. "That's everyone, please, no, please, th-this can't - please, this can't be happening! How do I help, Delilah, baby, please?" You still begged, looking at her bite. "I-I can - I don't know what to do! Wo-Would amputation work? Oh, fuck, no, no, it's - no, please!"

Joel stumbled to his feet, nearing you, but pausing as he could only stare as his infant daughter, whom he had only just seen, twitched and convulsed as the infection proved too great for her little body. It also wasn't lost to his that you had name her after his own mother, long since departed from this world and who would never meet her granddaughter.

"Oh, my God," Joel whispered, slowly nearing you as you sobbed over your daughter; hands hovering all over as you weren't sure where to touch her.

"Please!" You begged nobody, sobbing uselessly as Delilah came to a slow but jarring halt. "Oh, my God," you squeaked, leaning back in shock. "Oh... Oh, my fuckin' God, no... Not our kids, c'mon, no, God, please, fuck - this has to be some fucked-up nightmare. Right?" You looked desperately at Joel. "This... This isn't real, right? This isn't really happening? Please, Joel, you have to fucking tell me this isn't real - this can't be real."

"I'm sorry," Joel wheezed, slowly reaching for you.

"This didn't happen," you shook your head. "O-Our daughters - what the fuck just happened?"

Tommy slowly took the seat on your other side, Joel easily tugging you into his embrace as your sobs wracked your whole being. There were no words to be shared, only the grief of two parents who had just lost everything. Sarah's blood stained both your skin, Delilah laid perfectly still in her baby blanket right in front of you, and Tommy, who felt his gun weighed more than himself after failing to protect those he loved most in this world.

Joel, who lost his daughters but kept his brother.

And you... Who lost your husband a year ago and both your daughters, your mother, father, little brother, and older sister all in a single night. You, who would carry this night of great loss with you, for life. You, who felt confused on how "moving forward" was ever possible. You, who would eventually lose feeling in your head and heart that would result in years of violent turmoil.

You, who would eventually find a path to redemption, but for tonight, you, who grieved loudly and openly in the bloody arms of your estranged husband.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel miller hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou joel

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