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moonlight-prose · 2 days

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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 07. BENEATH THE STAINS OF TIME

a/n: wow i stalled on writing this chapter until the last minute. i think i really just didn't want to put them through this, but also i love the angst so it's an internal war i fought with myself. this is the pinnacle of the entire series. the one thing i plotted when i first came up with the story. so grab your tissues, a blanket, and a comfort fic for afterwards. because i am sorry for what's about to happen.

summary: he never liked the variant from your universe; the be all end all hero. but in the depths of anger and pain, logan howlett is forced to make a choice his variant self once made. save your soul and the people you might harm...or save the you he loves.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: DARK THEMES AHEAD BE WARNED, angst, pain, ptsd, talk of drowning, insanity, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: death, grief, violence, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, deadpool & wolverine energy, laura kinney has enetered the chat y'all, father daughter bonding, wade wilson's commentary, sacrifice, time.

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He couldn't breathe.

Logan had been underwater before, felt the press of the ocean against his chest and struggled for oxygen. Battling for breath, no matter how small. He understood what it felt like to drown—sink to the bottom and never get up. His adamantium skeleton had been the cause of him drowning far too many times in his life; until he'd grown accustomed to the sensation of fighting for air.

This felt magnified. As if he'd been at the bottom of the Atlantic—straight down the Mariana Trench—for centuries.

Was this how it felt to be buried alive? To find yourself in a grave six feet deep with no way of clawing to the surface.

He never thought he'd understand the sensation that kept him up at night; the prospect of death was too little a threat for him to actually worry about. Unimportant to a man who had spent two centuries of his life barely finding any meaning to it. After all, what was the fucking point when he wound up right back here. In the shallow end of his grave, waiting to lay down and exhale his final breath.

Time fell back into place the moment you left. Fortuna. Someone he never thought would find him here; now brought him to his knees with one simple act.

There was misery in love. He knew this the moment he fell in his own universe. He understood the cost of what might come from you using your powers without restrictions; what Charles told you. Yet he fell anyway. He allowed his heart to open up and give you leeway into the broken pieces of his mind—a part of himself he chose to ignore.

He should have fucking known better than to repeat history here.

He should have ignored the strings that bound his heart to yours and left you alone.

He should have, he should have, he should have...

But he didn't.

Now he bore the brunt of consequences he knew would one day show up.

Your apartment door slammed open, nearly getting torn off the hinges as a familiar echo of heavy boots thumped across the hardwood floor. He felt his spine tense where he still knelt—hands clutching the pieces of your shattered mug. Fortuna wouldn't be returning. He knew her tricks, knew her endgame, and coming back to the scene of disaster was never her forte.

The scent of vanilla and Ambrose filled his senses, stinging his nose, as a familiar dark browned girl rushed to his aid. A backpack hit the ground, sunglasses discarded on the counter, as his variant's daughter clutched his hands in hers. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when he broke right there in a place that held such happiness.

She seemed to understand. Peeling the porcelain out of his palms and placing it back on the table; finding what other shards she could to put them all together. The silence felt safe. Familiar.

Logan found himself suddenly thankful for the variant that once existed in her world. She could see the cues before they even washed across his face; the bitter grief that her father once went through. He knew from when he met her in the Void, he couldn't be that person for her. But when she looked at him like that—a daughter willing to fight alongside her father—he hoped that maybe...he could.

"Althea called me," she said softly, hands wrapped around his wrists. "Whoever she is attacked Wade's place first."

His head rose, anger trickling in his chest as Laura's brown eyes mirrored his own. "She's..."

"I know," she muttered, pulling him to his feet. "Wade filled me in."

"Is he-"

"Takes a lot more than that to kill a Deadpool." She grimly kicked shattered glass to the side, shoving it to a corner as he staggered to his full height. He wore a neutral expression—somber even. But Laura could see the pain in his eyes; an exact replica of the older man she once clung to as a child—begging him to live for her sake. "He sounded pissed. Althea hung up before he could fill me in on the gory details."

"Fortuna," he sighed, eyes fixed on the demolished window. He'd have to help you fix it after all was said and done—after he apologized for dragging you into a mess that was never meant to touch you. "She found me."

Laura's nose scrunched, brows furrowed. "You're ex? I thought she could control time, not...multiverses."

"Charles's theory was that she wasn't exactly controlling time. More like what made up the universe as a whole."

She nodded. "Time included."

"Time included," he repeated. "I didn't think she'd...get this bad."

"You left her behind," she stated, rummaging in your fridge for something to drink. "I guess a part of me can understand her anger."

He knew she wasn't talking about him, but rather the man she once looked up to. Nonetheless the words still stung the same.

In a different world Logan could picture her here on nights not spent at the mansion studying and training. He could see you bonding with Laura—teaching her the history of the X-Men. Showing her the love of a mother she never had.

The image punched him in the chest until his breath became nonexistent and suddenly...he was drowning again. A choked noise echoed in the back of his throat. Laura's head snapped in his direction with concern etched across her face. Any other day he'd loathe that look, but tonight he couldn't dig his way out fast enough to care.

The soda can she tossed his way nearly smacked him in the head; effectively snapping him out of whatever fucking stupor his own mind was intent on trapping him in. He caught it, breath rushing back to his lungs, and gulped down the shitty sugary crap his own kid loved.

"That's fuckin' disgusting," he bit out, watching her smile into her own can.

"I like it."

He winced as the taste hit the back of his throat. "You're a kid. You'll grow out of it."

"You've said that before Dad. And I'm not a kid-" She tensed as the word left her mouth. The title that was never meant to fall upon his shoulders; never supposed to tie him to another person.

Something hesitant flashed in her eyes, mouth now a thin line as she waited for his inevitable reaction to her slip up. The words he uttered beside the fire no doubt on the tip of his tongue: Whoever you think I am...you got the wrong guy. But standing there, watching his kid hold hope in her eyes that he might say something different this time, made him finally understand what the fucking point was.

He didn't want to be the wrong guy.

He just wanted to be what she needed. What you needed.

"No," he sighed, lips curling into a smile that said enough. You can call me Dad. You can give me that responsibility and know I'll fight like hell to make sure I live up to his legacy. "I guess you're not."

They allowed the silence to sit in their chest for a brief moment. A moment of understanding passed in their grim smiles that held so much more. He'd tell it all to her one day. How he once longed for a life exactly like this, for a kid of his own. How he never believed himself worthy of the title Dad. How he'd lay down his entire being if she asked it of him.

Today though, they shed the titles of father and daughter and donned one they knew all too well. Wolverine. Ironic that the one thing he loathed would one day be given to a girl who wielded it with pride.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked, pushing off the counter and reaching for her bag.

"Find her."

"And when you do?"

His heart paused as the realization of what was to come began to reenter his mind. Fortuna had you captive, dangling you on a string in the hopes he would latch on to rescue the person who held his heart. Logan felt the urge to leap. Save you from the clutches of someone willing to kill you just to bring him unimaginable pain.

To get even for what he couldn't do that night.

But he also knew...Fortuna didn't deserve what happened. The humans destroyed what the X-Men built. They were the cause of everything that occurred since he left. He couldn't let their trauma bring down the woman he once loved. Even if she was so adamant on watching him give over his life for a version of her not yet broken by unimaginable pain.

"I don't fuckin' know," he admitted.

She took another sip, crushed the can in her palm and tossed it to the bin in the corner of your kitchen. "Wade's gonna want to speak to you. Find out what happened here."

He nodded. "You got everythin'?"

"I'm set."

"You know you don't have to do this kid. It's not your fight."

Her eyes narrowed, the firm set of her mouth so much like his own. She was a fucking mirror he never thought he'd have; showing him pieces of himself he once thought too ugly to be seen. Yet they were the reason she shined so bright. He could see the stubbornness ingrained into her very own DNA. A testament to his own unwillingness to let things go; to take on the battle for someone else as long as they didn't get hurt.

So much like him. So identical.

He felt a streak of fear run down his spine at that thought alone. She'd have to suffer for it. Just as he did. But goddammit if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to save her from the pain of bearing the title Wolverine.

"You love her," she stated plainly, as if nothing else mattered in this world but those three words. "Which means she's my family. We protect our own."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, scooping up her sunglasses and propping them on her nose with a huff. Maybe she didn't notice how he stood there, eyes wide as something pricked his heart. Maybe she ignored it for his sake—so uncomfortable with being vulnerable like him. But either way he couldn't deny the fact that stared right at him in big shiny letters.

She was his daughter. Through and through.

"She took my arms!" Wade's voice echoed down the hallway, giving Logan pause as Laura took the lead. "Do you know how petty that is? When I find that Scarlet Witch carbon copy I'm gonna shove my katana down her throat as I dance to dub-step-"

"Hi Wade," Laura said, cutting him off from what was about to be an impressive rant.

He spun, baby arms swinging limply at his side. "Oh good. The clone of the man I actually need. Tell me, did you find your father cause mommy has to speak to him."

Logan took that chance to follow her through the open door. His eyes took in the destruction of a once nice living room. Burn marks stretched from floor to ceiling in multiple places where Fortuna's whip had made contact. He spotted two limbs in a pile by the couch, blood pooling on the carpet as Wade steamed with enough fury to sharpen his senses.

She’d come here first looking for him. Which means she somehow knew exactly where to find him.

"Peanut!" he shouted, eyes narrowed and baby fists clenched. "Did you have a nice morning? Get some good head? Because I was attacked by the long lost daughter of Princess Diana."

Laura's head cocked to the side, brows furrowed. "Diana Prince."

"Whatever!"

"Wade." His greeting could have been better. Though he was never one for handing out sympathy to the nearest victim.

Wade ceremoniously collapsed to the floor on his back, thumping his head against the carpet as Logan stepped further into the room. The window was ripped clean out of the wall, glass scattered everywhere which showed how Fortuna found out about her variant self. Logan could practically see the fight happen in the present time.

It made his stomach sour—his heart a rapid beat against his chest.

"How long will it take for those to finish?" He gestured to the arms that currently pointed two middle fingers in his direction.

"Couple hours. Why do you ask? Want a handy?"

"Ew," Laura sighed. "I'm gonna find some food. Want anything?" When Logan shook his head, she quickly dipped back out into the hallway, leaving him to deal with the wallowing lump on the floor.

He sighed, stepped over Wade and grabbed him. "Alright c'mon."

"I'm half the man I used to be. Literally. She took the only good thing I had until Ness got back." The limp wave of small hands in his face had Logan cringing back.

"So she came here first then."

Wade barked out a laugh. "Oh you mean your ex? Sabrina the teenage BITCH!"

Logan huffed, dragged him to the couch that had long chunks ripped out of the fabric. "She's a lot older than you think mouth."

"Sorry my bad. We didn't exchange your preferred blowjob tips and trade secrets about you when she was cutting off my arms!" The roll of his eyes was involuntary, barely there, but Wade latched onto it like a dog with a bone. "Did you just-"

He turned his head, exasperation bleeding into the air. "Did he just roll his eyes at me?"

The room went still as the gears in Logan's head began to turn. The fear was now palpable enough for Wade to figure out exactly what was happening. He sat up straight, gaze latched onto the apartment across the street. The wall gaped like a wound, leaving a trail of ghastliness in its wake. Wade was surprised to see minimal bloodshed, merely the path of destruction left by a being with too much power, but the inkling of you in pain made his stomach churn.

The amount of information he extracted out of Fortuna was slim to none, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what she went after once she was done wreaking havoc in his home.

"Logan," he started, anger trickling into his heart. "Where is sweet angel?"

He sagged into the couch—grief cutting into his chest as images of your smiling face plagued his mind. No answer would have been good enough to explain what happened. His face stricken with despair—the way he clutched his hands into fists on his knees—told Wade everything he needed to know.

Fortuna wasn't here to only kill Logan. Why dismantle one life when she could bring an end to the memory of Logan Howlett in this universe too? She'd take all of them down with her if it meant enacting her revenge.

Starting with you.

"No," he breathed.

"I don't know where they would have-" He bit down on the inside of his cheek until copper burst on his tongue. "Where they'd be."

The longer he sat there, the more he felt himself sink into the despondent pit in his mind. Yet no matter how he struggled to claw at the ground, it continued to drag him in earnest. The sharp peal of laughter—of taunting words that set his teeth on edge—mimicked the sound of Fortuna.

He wanted to scream, but who would be there to listen? Who would be there to drag him from the darkness now that you were gone?

A bag was tossed to the couch, barely breaking through the murkiness in his own mind. Laura dragged the only working chair in the kitchen closer to the couch. The snap and hiss of a Coke being opened filled the dire silence. Giving Logan something to latch onto. He might tell her one day how being near her settled the raging storm in his head; the calm he could never quite acquire somehow flowing through her with ease.

He had people to help him find you; people who cared for your well being.

People who would die to bring you home.

There would be no end for them where you weren't safe. Where they didn't offer themselves up on your behalf. You were the best of them. It certainly wasn’t your fault you fell in love with a man too twisted and mangled by pain to offer you even the illusion of peace.

"I know someone who might be able to help," she said, chewing thoughtfully on a granola bar. "You may not like it."

Wade's sigh was deafening, his body flopping back onto the couch with a groan. "We are not dragging McAvoy into this. Not when Stewart is better drama wise."

She took another bite, distant gaze stuck to a busted picture frame of Wade and Vanessa on an anniversary of some sorts. Wade wore red, Vanessa wore black. They resembled a couple others might look up to. Logan used to stare at it often in his fitful nights of sleep. More so when you wandered into his life; thoughts of a future tantalizingly close to the tips of his fingers.

He wanted that with you. A life worth more than every battle he fought, every scar that didn't stick. All the fucked up things he did evaporated like steam floating off water the second he met your eyes.

You and your honey-like smile; your hand a soft yet sturdy grip in his.

"Is your universe similar to this one?" Laura inquired, back in the moment as her mind reeled with possibilities.

"Somewhat."

"In what way?"

"Places and people still exist. It's pieces of time that are different. History isn't the same here." He could recall you begging him to explain his past. What wars he fought in, what happened for him to get to this point. Yet whatever you recorded wouldn't match the history books housed in your library.

Laura nodded, downing the last of her soda. "So places. Anywhere special she might have gone that might mean something to you?"

His mind fell to the one place even he couldn’t approach. The space that housed so many memories—so much agony. But going back there would mean facing the other X-Men and Fortuna wasn't stupid enough to risk falling into that trap.

"The mansion is too risky."

He thought back to your shared room. The walls that once flickered blue with Fortuna's power as he held her through the nightmares. He thought of a small two story farmhouse that sat on the outskirts of the property line. A home Charles offered. One he intended to rebuild with the promise of holding onto a love so permanent.

His heart dropped, laying in the base of his stomach like a stone he never intended to swallow. "I know where they are."

Wade perked up, arms an inch longer than before. "Mind sharing with the class peanut?"

Logan couldn't hear him over the noise in his head; the knowledge that Fortuna would pull such a heinous act of revenge. Taking you to the place he promised her. It made for the perfect ending to her already tragic story. Logan wasn't sure if he wanted to rip his claws into the couch below, or charge out the door with no plan.

He settled for heading to the hall closet, yanking the door open with more force than intended. It slammed against the wall as he tugged free a black unlabeled duffle bag from the top shelf. After the battle to save Wade's universe, he didn't think he would need this old yellow suit anymore. At the time he was tempted to throw it out and forget it existed.

He eventually came to his senses.

Salvaging what he could and rebuilding small pieces in case the time came formed an amalgamation of what once resembled an X-Men suit. His fingers traced the silver X attached to the belt. The symbol that once held so much hope. Fortuna wore the same. A tie that kept them forever bound; forever each other's equal even in a different universe.

"You're going after her," Laura said.

"Of course he is." Wade stumbled to his feet. "We're finally getting that family road trip."

"Would now be the wrong time to say Avenger's Assemble? Or should we wait for the third act battle sequence?"

Logan felt the gaping maw of his heart grow the longer you were apart from him. An itch formed beneath his skin. The source was indeterminable but he knew what caused it to start. His entire being called out to you, begged you to survive until he managed to carry you to safety. Yet the biting horror of reality began to settle like a frozen chill in his veins.

What if he finally destroyed the only good thing about his life?

What if he was too late?

What if...you didn't survive?

You couldn't differentiate night from day anymore. After the first two hours, you were left with a stabbing pain in the side of your head—turning your vision blurry. After what felt like five or six (or perhaps eight) you gave up on trying to keep count. The veins were prominent against your hands as blood steadily dripped to the floor.

A pool of crimson agony that you could practically see yourself in.

If you opened your eyes, would you see the broken parts of a soul she seemed intent on dragging out? Would they match hers? The sound of her gravel lilted voice murmured in the corner of the room where she waited. A stoic figure of patience. Seeking penance for the harm caused to someone so innocent.

You both knew this was a fight meant for Logan. You knew only one of them walked away from whatever age old hatred still burned bright enough to burn the skin off your body.

That didn't stop you from wishing you could shoulder the burden for him. The words collateral damage didn't mean anything to you before. Merely things spouted to harm your already vulnerable and emotional state. But the longer you gave them time to sink in, the more you accepted her veracity. You would cease to exist one way or another come tomorrow morning.

This was the ugly undeniable truth.

The one thing Logan could not save you from.

"I know you're awake."

Fear curled around your heart like a fist as your eyes cracked open sluggishly—triggering a dull pain in your skull. The ability to speak was stripped from you after an hour of screaming. The hoarse echo of your voice sent a throbbing knife down your throat you chose to ignore.

So you stared at her; watched while she paced the floor in front of you—blue rolling off of her like waves from the ocean.

"He's gonna come for you," she muttered more to herself. "He'll show up."

You groaned and watched her stiffen—milky eyes flashing cerulean. The burn of the rope on your skin counteracted the searing ache in your torso. Her whip hung around her waist—coated in a dried layer of your blood. The sight sent bile up your throat even though your stomach remained empty. She stared at you as if you were someone else entirely; someone from a past life you'd never know about.

The need to inquire—to know more—began to build under your skin. But your body would no longer respond to what you wanted. The depletion of your energy affected more than your ability to speak; it tore at what little movement you had, ripping everything to shreds on the inside. You knew you looked half dead—felt like it too—but she could see the slight twitch of your mouth almost ready to open.

"Charles would have liked you," she revealed as if it were a small secret meant to be kept between the two of you. "He always had an affinity for those interested in mutant powers."

Sucking in a breath, you managed to force your voice to work. "I-I know the history."

"I bet you would." She glanced at the window where dusk crept into the late afternoon sky; brilliant hues of orange and red mimicking the pain in your body. "I didn't think I'd exist in this universe."

"You don't," you croaked. "I'm not a mutant."

Her lips curled, a small laugh exhaling from her mouth. "Yeah. I guess you're not. Maybe that's what he likes about you."

Logan's face seeped into the back of your mind; the tender smile he wore when you woke up together. The hope in his eyes that this might remain a consistent part of his life. That he may have lucked out on the prospect of getting to have you for as long as you chose to keep him.

Suddenly that part of your life felt a million miles away. Just barely out of reach, growing further in distance the harder you tried to capture it.

"I-I'm you," you mumbled, head tipping to the side. "That's why."

"No. You're not me." She regarded you with a look of pity, lips down turned in a mock pout. Ire burned in your chest with the embers of a flame lit by Logan. "You're weak."

You huffed, digging your nails into your palms to divert your attention from the pain. "I survived you."

The slap that whipped across your face was unexpected. You cried out—head falling back against the chair—as she stood over you. Power emanating from her stance. This wasn't someone to toy with. You could see how she craved to rip your tongue from your mouth; the need to silence her variant crawling beneath her skin.

But something held her back from approaching that final line.

Something scared her.

"You won't die if you do it," you wheezed, struggling to breath through a nose so clotted with dried blood. "That's not how this works."

She sneered. "And you're smart enough to know how all of this works."

"So it seems."

Her fingers gripped your wrist, nails boring into your already sliced open skin, as she leaned over you. "The Logan in this universe is dead." You stuttered out a halfhearted breath; body ringing with a plea to stop. To put an end to this fucking torture. "How did he die?"

You winced, leveling her glare with one of your own. "He sacrificed himself."

"You're fucking with me," she laughed, the sound shrill and hoarse.

Neither of you heard the creak behind her. You could barely register anything other than the rush of blood that pounded against your eardrums. She seemed to be enjoying how your body slowly deteriorated beneath the strain of the pain. Far too distracted to notice the person creeping into the house—sunglasses on her face—claws extended in a stance of defense.

"Who garnered enough fucking attention from Logan Howlett for him to sacrifice himself?" she jeered.

"His daughter."

Fortuna spun whip in hand, as a young woman stood mere feet away. Her head was cocked in interest as if she'd never quite seen two identical people in the same room. You knew her name the second your eyes locked on her form. The same dark hair, same grim tight lipped frown. The same silver claws and stubborn streak.

The sight of Laura Kinney took your breath away.

She stood before you every bit the girl that Logan made her out to be as he spoke about her in shared conversations at your kitchen table. You could see the mirror image of her father in each expression, each small twitch of her body that prepared to fight. And something flared to life in your chest.

You were angry that Fortuna was about to hurt her. Logan's daughter was ready to put her life on the line to rescue someone she'd never met before.

A missing detail which didn't appear to matter to her. Logan loved you. That was certainly enough for her.

Fortuna gaped at her—astounded by the familiar details and hints that Laura was indeed telling the truth. Not only had Logan Howlett died in this world, but he left behind a legacy that would live on for him. He saved the only important thing in his life so she could one day do the same for the version of her father who would stay.

"He's here isn't he?" she asked calmer than you expected. The whip snapped to the ground. You flinched at the sound. A fact that Laura clocked within seconds—her head tilted in your direction.

Though you couldn't see her eyes behind the pink sunglasses, you knew that fury burned in them as they would her father's.

"He sends his regards." Laura's fingers curled into fists.

"A child," she spit. "He sent a child to do his bidding?"

She shrugged, lips curling into a false grin. "Don't worry. I'm more than capable of killing you."

You felt pride flicker in your heart as Logan's cocksureness bled through her words. Where Laura went, Logan wasn't too far behind. You pulled at the restraints, the burn of ropes dragging along open wounds, but you refused to let Laura do this on her own. It seemed that the both of you had turned to the same page—her head nodding in your direction subtly.

"Well." Fortuna stepped forward, sapphire pouring off her body. "I suppose Logan's legacy won't last long in this universe."

Laura charged forward with a scream, claws slicing at Fortuna's middle only for the whip to wrap itself around her arm. With a shout, Fortuna flung her to the side—watching with an unhinged smile as Laura hit the wall hard enough to make you wince. You tugged at the rope—a hoarse cry ripping from your throat when a boot slammed into the legs of the chair.

"Don't tell me you're ready to leave," she shouted. "We were bonding."

"Fuck you," you snapped.

"Ouch." Her hand gripped your chin, lifting you to meet her expressionless eyes. "Is that the best you can do, human?"

"No," you gasped, hand scrambling for the knife at her thigh. "This is."

It embedded in her arm, slicing open skin as she shouted in rage, stumbling back into Laura's vicinity. Claws ripped through the back of her leg, cutting open her calf, as a familiar dark head of hair slid past her, crouching in front of your chair with a roar.

"You bitch!" Fortuna tossed the blade to the side, her hand forming around the open wound.

It clattered against the floor seconds before the door burst open—a man in red bursting through and flinging yet another baby knife towards Fortuna's healing body. She ducked, whip coiling like a snake in the air, slamming down with a crack. Wade shrieked, flipping to the side and ducking behind the broken couch as the familiar click of a bullet falling into the chamber resonated in the air.

"I'd say I'll put my hands up but you'd probably tie them together huh. You kinky minx!"

You winced through the grin, Laura's eyes tracked Fortuna's movements like a predator waiting when to strike. Whatever the plan was, Logan was sure to make sure someone was on you at all times. If only to get you out of the house and into the forest safely. From there it was quick to disappear.

Wade seemed to be the distraction in this case. Fitting.

His head peeked over the couch—the whip slicing over him with a sound that pierced through you. "You die tonight Deadpool."

"You don't want me. You want my buddy right outside this house." He stood, finger pulling the trigger quicker than you expected. Only for a silver and blue whip to slice through it—the fragmented pieces of a smoking bullet hitting the floor and rolling away.

"Surrender you walking condom."

"Pump the hate brakes Wanda Maximoff." Another bullet slid into place. "Peanut junior? Would you like to take it away?"

Launching herself into the air, Laura toppled Fortuna to the side with a scream, her claws slashing to get her pound of flesh. Wade laughed, striding towards you—boot effortlessly kicking his knife up and into his hand. You’d never wanted to hug the man more.

He winced at the sight of your puffy face; your right eye was nearly swollen shut from where Fortuna decided to land her hits. A pastime she seemed to enjoy, simply to hear you scream.

You wondered if you took off the mask, would you see Wade's face bleeding with rage. Or did he too wear an expression of pity.

"Logan's gonna kill her," he muttered, crouching in front of you and sliding the knife through the ropes with ease. "I've got ya sweet angel."

"W-Where is he?" You staggered to your feet, Wade's arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you upright. "He can't be here. She'll kill him Wade."

He clicked his tongue, leading you to the front steps, past where Laura was busy twisting Fortuna's whip around her own neck. "He knows what's at risk, angel. Believe me. I offered to be the noble sacrifice but I played that card when it came to saving this universe and there's no take backs."

"He's gonna die," you rasped, your knees buckling as he got you over the last step. "H-He can't die."

Wade gripped your arms, settling you to the ground with a grunt. "You forget who you're fucking sweet angel. He's the Wolverine."

"But she's-"

"A toxic ex who can't seem to take no for an answer. We've all got one of those."

You huffed. "She's more than an ex."

"I know." Pulling the gun free from his thigh, he made sure you were safe before stepping back to the front stoop. "But that doesn't mean this isn't a daytime soap opera." He turned to the treeline with a sigh. "You coming, your majesty or should I roll out the red carpet?"

A glimpse of the man in question stopped your heart, the breath catching in your throat, as Logan finally stepped forth. His suit was sewn with pieces of black leather (no doubt from Wade's leftover stash), a yellow X stretched across his chest now became the sole focus. Yet that isn’t what filled your body with warmth.

This time he wore the suit with pride. A glint of determination was in his eyes that once never used to exist. He stepped forward the X-Man this world needed; ready and willing to take on the legacy of a man he once loathed. You felt your heart twist violently at the sight—love pouring into your chest faster than you could stop it.

"Honey," he breathed, rushing over—hesitation and a storm of outrage clashing together in his hazel eyes.

"I'm okay."

He huffed through his nose, hands gathering you gently in his arms. "Don't bullshit me honey."

Wade's cough was exaggerated, his hands gesturing to the doorway. Laura's shouts and the crashing of furniture being demolished spilled through the broken windows—her rage matching her father's right down to the familiar lilt of her roar. She was a fighter. Just like the man who held you as if you were glass. Your pain, now a reflection in his eyes as he took in what Fortuna did to you.

"You can't kill her. She’s too powerful," you stated.

“You’re safe.” He didn’t seem to comprehend your words. Opting to press you close enough to feel his body heat sink into your frigid form. “That’s all that matters.”

Wade ducked down, pressing his face close to Logan's. "Yeah. I don't mean to interrupt your romantic hero kiss the girl moment. But what the fuck are we gonna do?"

"She can't keep going like this," Logan replied. "Eventually she's gonna have to tap out."

"Of course! Makes perfect sense. Mind elaborating for the audience honey badger?"

Logan sighed, his hand cupping your face with a pained noise in the back of his throat. "Her energy will run out. Same as Charles and...Jean. They couldn't keep up the fight forever."

"Okay but the whole freezing time business." He glanced to the side, shoulders lifting in a perfunctory shrug. "I know right, we really could have explained this earlier."

"Mutants are aware." Logan rose to his feet, leaving you to sit on the ground, your hand outstretched to keep him here. "We have to struggle but we can break free if she's weak enough."

"Wow." Wade sagged, a muffled groan coming through the mask. "That's just lazy writing."

You gripped Logan's hand, forcing him to step closer. "You're not going in there."

"Honey-"

"No." Gripping the stair railing, you struggled to your feet—eyes blazing with a headstrong fighting spirit Logan loved you for. "She'll kill you Logan. I can't lose you. I-I won’t."

His breath was heavy, hand curling around the back of your neck to press his forehead to yours. "You're not gonna lose me alright? Not today."

"Logan-"

Wade gripped your arm, drawing your gaze to him. "Don't worry sweet angel. He's got a bodyguard." You leveled him with a glare that would have sent him six feet under if his mutant power wasn't regeneration. "Have I ever mentioned that your eyes are the perfect shade of rage and violence. It's like a beautiful fucked lava lamp from the eighties."

You weren't sure if he was paying you a compliment or trying to lighten the mood. Logan sighed against your cheek, disappointment practically bleeding through his words.

"Seventies Wade."

"He would know. He's from 753 B.D." He turned. "Before Deadpool."

"A.D.," you spit, fighting the hint of a grin that threatened to bloom across your face.

"Not in this universe."

A shout tore through the small sliver of peace as Laura was thrown from the house, landing in a bloodied heap on the grass. Mere seconds passed before she was flipping to her feet again, claws extended and glasses forgotten about in the dirt. You wondered if the surge of warmth in your chest was pride or something else entirely.

Perhaps one day you'd get the chance to figure it out.

"Time to go do what heroes do," Wade said, nudging Logan as Fortuna floated through the open doorway, landing mere feet away from where you stood.

"Wolverine," she crooned, her boots a steady thump against the wooden porch. "Come to rescue the human I see."

Logan gripped your waist, moving you away from the house with quick steps. You clawed at his back to get him to stop. To keep him from leaving you behind. But Laura's hands on your shoulders forced you to remain calm—to remain on the edge of the property and watch as the man your heart screamed for walked away.

"Logan!" you shouted, fighting against the girl's hold, but the wasted energy was all for naught. There was no breaking away from a determined Wolverine.

He rejoined Wade with a darkened grimace. His claws ripping through the flesh of his knuckles as Wade pulled free the katanas strapped to his back. Your voice shouting his name set his entire body on edge; the urge to go to you, comfort the panic that filled your veins, nearly breaking his spirit.

But this was not your war and Logan would go down fighting before he let another person he loved fall into the hands of death.

"Alright," Wade grunted, cracking his neck. "Maximum effort."

Fortuna's whip snapped in the air, slicing a gaping hole in time as Logan and Wade charged. She leapt forward, boot pushing off the railing and toppling into them with a shout—a stolen knife carving into Logan's shoulder. He shoved her off, claws swiping for her neck, teeth bared in a snarl.

She ducked, foot slamming into Wade's stomach, rupturing the surrounding area with a blast that sent Logan sliding back into the dirt. He grunted, claws burying into the soil as Wade reached for his guns. A single katana forgotten on the ground.

"Pathetic," she sneered.

"Look who's talking McFly." Wade fired off three rounds, watching her roll to avoid the bullets, her hands crushing the dead grass beneath her.

She pointed to Wade. "You're first."

He laughed. "Bring it on you witch bitch."

Fortuna scoffed, glancing at Logan. "Does he ever shut the fuck up."

"Ha! Good luck with that. I can go on forever."

The whip unraveled from her wrist, rapidly slicing towards Wade—wrapping around his arm in a dramatic rendition of what already happened. This time he was prepared. Sprinting towards Logan, he rolled to the side as claws dragged down your arm. Opening a wound in her arm; blood pouring down her skin, dripping onto the grass.

“Fuck!” she snapped, knife lodging into Wade’s back as she leapt towards Logan.

His knee met her stomach, slamming her a few feet back until she landed on the ground. A groan reverberating in her chest.

Time flickered, punching them in the chest as they fought to move. Air rushed to his lungs as she stumbled to her feet—time falling back into place. Wade grabbed the second gun strapped to his thigh with a huff. The shot went off, the bullet finding its mark in Fortuna's wounded arm.

She screamed, falling to one knee—waves of blue pouring into the ground, forming a bubble of safety. She plucked at the fabrics of the universe, pulling them towards her as Wade pulled the trigger until the mag was empty. A pile of bullets by her body now trapped in light.

"Fuck!" Wade tossed his gun to the side.

Logan turned to see Laura holding you back, your face stricken in fear as you watched them battle it out. It was a struggle to have you here. To keep himself sane. He longed for you to be you close. What he wouldn’t give to take you away from all of this carnage. But you weren't safe as long as Fortuna was around.

She would always be a step behind, ready to chase him to the ends of this universe simply to watch him burn. He knew what he had to do. But the cost of making that choice weighed heavy on his chest—choking the very breath from his lungs. Wade could see it clear as day even as Fortuna began to build enough strength to keep herself going—to pull one final move.

With a shout, she swung her arms out, forcing enough energy their way to fling them into the air. Logan watched as spots began to form on his skin—time ripping away the very makeup of his DNA as she swung her whip in the air. It latched to his waist, dragging him forward until he was on his knees—body struggling to heal from something so unknown.

"Is she worth it?" she sneered, fingers curling into his hair to maneuver his head to keep his eyes on you. The struggle you put up to free yourself from Laura's grasp. "I'm going to kill her next Logan."

"No." He pushed against the vice of your whip, eyes latching onto the white streak hidden in your hair. A sign of what Fortuna had already started.

"I'll age her day by day, year by year, until she's dust."

"NO!"

She laughed, her lips brushing his cheek. "And you? You will have to live without her."

Tears stung his eyes when you finally managed to slip through Laura's hold, legs trembling as you forced your body to sprint his way. The sight of Logan's hair graying, wrinkles carving across his skin, brought you to the edge of your sanity. It ripped at your chest until blood poured from your heart. Staining the ground beneath you.

You couldn't lose him; you didn't know how to breathe without him. And you refused to watch him die from the sins of his past; actions he did not commit.

"Wait!" Laura shouted, running after you as Wade staggered to his feet.

"Angel!"

There was no thought process to your actions, no sense why you did what you did. All you could think about—all that filled your heart with dread—was the knowledge that Logan wouldn't survive this. He wouldn't be there to love you, give you the future you desperately ached for. He would never know you loved him.

That alone drove you forward with a pained cry.

Flinging yourself onto Fortuna, you sent the both of you flying a few feet away as Wade and Laura ran to rip her off you. But time stopped. Every sound stilled, and they were forced to stand and watch as Fortuna straddled your waist—her hands reaching for your throat.

"What do you have huh?" she snarled. "What the fuck do you have that I don't?"

"Please!" You punched her wherever you could reach, desperate to get her off of you. "He-"

"He what?"

"He wouldn't want you to do this Fortuna."

She laughed, manic enough to chill your heart with fear. "Who Logan? You think I fucking care? I would kill him in a-"

"CHARLES!" She froze, eyes flashing sapphire as her grip loosened. Giving you a chance to suck in air. "H-He loved you. Logan told me."

"Charles," she mumbled—a glimpse of your shared original color of her eyes coming through the expanse of white. "He's..."

"Dead." You gasped, turning to see three people you'd die for struggling against time—their bodies battling the power of someone far too corrupt. Someone who forgot where they came from; who their home was. "Your family...my family...they wouldn't want you to become this. P-Please. Charles, Jean, Storm. They didn’t want this for you."

She turned, gaze softening. "You would die for them."

Hot tears burned your frigid skin—falling down your temples and into your hair. "I would."

Stuttering out a breath, she fixed you with a gaze of someone you might have recognized in the mirror. A woman so broken by what time did to her. What the humans caused all because of her DNA. You wanted to promise that life might have turned out different if Logan stayed; that she would be safe. But even you knew it would be a lie.

There would be no saving her from the one thing that created her.

Time.

Leaning down, she pressed her forehead to yours—defeat curving around her shoulders, weighing heavy against her heart.

"Tell him I'm sorry," she murmured.

Pain detonated under your skin before you could open your mouth to respond, forcing your body to convulse in her tight grip. Scarred hands pressed tightly to your face, pinning you to the ground as her whip latched around your chest. Logan's roar became a distant buzzing sound that surrounded you as blue washed over your twisted bodies.

Her brows furrowed, eyes bleeding white as her iris began to form once more—the long lost color that matched your own gaze.

A mirror you wanted to shatter. Damn the bad luck that might befall you; this remained too agonizing to endure.

Her lips pressed to your ear, the pain ebbing from your veins with each pulsing wave. You clawed at her wrists, nails slicing through calloused skin as a scream erupted from the depths of your chest. Piercing the air and slamming directly into three chests.

People who were ripping at the ground to get to you—pulling their bodies across dirt as the curse of time began to lift from the air.

"Do better than me," she whispered, the hot drip of her tears mixing with your own.

Someone yanked her off of you, hurling her to the side with a familiar rumbled growl. You gasped for air, dragging your half limp body away from where Logan stood over her—claws a silver shine emanating with a promise.

"No!" Laura and Wade's hands clamped on your shoulders—keeping you at a safe enough distance. This time refusing to give you any leniency in your movements.

Logan lowered himself to one knee, chest heaving with stunted breaths as Fortuna lay before him—eyes wide with fear. He knew you were behind him. He could feel the burn of your gaze. But all the pain Fortuna caused began to splinter at what little mercy he might have held onto. Yet still the familiar fist of grief wrapped around his heart, reminding him of who Fortuna was.

The woman he once loved.

The woman he couldn't save.

"P-Please," she sighed, hand gripping onto his wrist, tugging his claws against her chest. "Before I hurt you Logan. Before I hurt her."

"I-" He squeezed his eyes shut to the sight of a you so broken—so defeated. "I'm sorry."

She grinned, eyes clear for the first time—weightless after such suffering. "It’s okay. I-I’ll get to see them again. Charles. Jean. Storm."

A sob wracked his body as he dragged her into his lap, hand cupping her face with the tenderness she deserved. "Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them..."

"I will," she murmured, allowing him the freedom to break the final vow of their love. "Till death huh baby?"

Your shouts of his name echoed in the background—Wade's voice mixing with Laura's—and suddenly Logan understood why he found himself here. Why he would stay.

They weren't just his family. They were pieces of his heart sliced open and bared to the ravages of the world. And he would be their protector. The one to meet what danger threatened them head on; willing to fight till his last breath.

He'd be the person he could never be for her.

"Of course," he sighed, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Till death."

"Love her," she breathed, cupping his cheek and forcing his claws to pierce her chest. He sliced through her with a choked shout, the warmth of her blood spilling over his hands. Tainting him further; breaking his already tormented heart. "Love her how you couldn't love me Logan."

"I will honey." Her eyes dragged to how you lay on the ground, Wade's body practically covering yours to keep you from getting any closer. "I promise."

Light flickered in her vision—white and blue and perfect—as Logan clutched her close. Sobbing over a woman he would forever hold the memory of. The last of his family that he couldn't save. Her lips curled into a smile—serenity glistening in her eyes—as a familiar voice echoed in her mind. Tugging her close into welcoming arms.

"Hello Fortuna."

She stuttered out what little breath remained in her chest, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Charles."

"I like it," a voice mumbled, breaking through the darkness that shrouded your body. "And not just cause Ness has one."

A girl hummed. "It's cool."

"Very superhero."

You groaned, body battling any slight movement as your eyes fluttered open with a wince. Light streamed through a grand window, the bed too soft to be yours, yet you knew who sat beside you. Even through the blurred haze of vision, Wade's face was unmistakable. Shifting, you felt everything in you lock up—a hoarse cry falling past your lips.

Hands pushed you back down, steadying you gently as you were finally able to see the other person sitting on a table, munching on some fries. She had a shake beside her—feet propped up on the back of Wade's chair. The sunglasses she lost in the dirt were back atop her head, keeping her hair back.

"Whoa there angel face." He fluffed the pillow violently, jolting you slightly. "You've got two broken ribs and a wound across your torso that would give me being ripped in half by Juggernaut a run for my money."

"W-Where's-"

"Shhh." He raised a crystal glass of water to your lips. "Nurse Wade is here to take care of you. Sorry I don't have the outfit. I couldn't get to a Spirit Halloween in time."

Laura snorted into her food. "It's July."

"That doesn't matter. Those stores are like herpes. You can't ever get rid of that fucker."

"Where's Logan," you said through a broken whisper.

The silence isn't what scared you. No, you'd been through too much to be scared by the threat of nothing but melancholy looks in favor of telling you the truth. You could handle the quiet. What sent terror into your heart was the fact that you knew before you even opened your eyes where he was. His warmth was nowhere to be found in this bedroom; it barely lingered on your own body.

The man who held your heart, who promised to always protect you, was gone.

"No," you breathed, tears welling up and once again blurring your vision.

"He didn't want to go," Laura interjected.

You blinked furiously to keep them at bay. "What do you mean?"

"Fortuna." She pointed to the window that overlooked an expanse of green.

With a pained gasp, you turned to see what she was directing you towards—eyes fixing on a clearly buried grave covered in fresh dirt. A shovel stood straight, plunged a foot into the ground—the handle covered in a stain of deep brown.

Laura exhaled heavily. "She's dead. Logan buried her after he...killed her."

The breath rushed from your lungs, anguish slicing through your heart. "He..."

Wade nodded, somber and horrifyingly quiet. "He wanted to stay sweet angel. We forced him to go."

"Why?" you exclaimed, your body trembling under the stress of waking up too soon. "If he wanted to stay-"

"He was broken. I thought when I found him it was bad. This was worse angel face." Wade gathered your hands in his, drawing you close with a sigh. "He needs to grieve her."

"But I love him," you whimpered, unashamed by how fast the tears were falling. Laura watched you with the eyes of her father—striking your heart in a way that split you in two. "I-I didn't get to tell him."

"He knew," she murmured softly. "Trust me."

Wade pressed a swift kiss to your hands. "He'll come home. I made him fucking promise to return to you. But right now he's gotta figure some shit out."

Laura slipped off the table, curled onto the end of the bed and handed you something folded and crumpled—streaked in stains of blood and ink that bled through the thin notebook paper. You took it with a shaky breath, cold hands closing around hers with a grim smile. Something to let her know that you were thankful for everything she did.

She wasn't your daughter. This you knew. But you wouldn't mind if she bestowed that title on you one day.

In fact...you hoped she would.

"He told me to give that to you," she said, eyes brighter than before.

You sucked in a painful breath, unfolding the letter with trembling hands. Seeing his handwriting was like a punch to your chest. The smudged words and crossed out lines as he attempted to explain himself in words for the first time. This wasn't his forte—you understood that—but the fact that he tried filled your chest with warmth.

Honey,

Don't hate Wade or even my kid for me not being there. Believe me I fuckin' wanted to. Almost ripped him to pieces when he told me I had to go for your sake. But they were right. You Fortuna was the only family I had left. I have to remember what loving her felt like. I need to let her go.

Wade and Laura are there to protect you, care for you like I can't right now. But I made a promise to you and her. So you can expect me back one day.

I care about you

I love you.

So much.

I'll love you till the end honey. Don't forget that.

-Logan

You clutched the paper to your chest, salt coating your taste buds as you sobbed for the man that you failed to protect. You would have died for him. He knew this. Perhaps that's why he left; to give you a chance to heal without him. To return as the Logan you met, not the one mangled by grief.

Laura moved closer, her hand shifting to clutch yours as tears glistened in her eyes. A solemn smile on her face. This is what Logan offered you. People who loved you; people who would die for you. Logan made sure that even in his absence you'd be safe—protected.

He gave you the one thing he couldn't keep for himself. The one aspect of his life he had to learn to accept.

Logan left you a family.

note: my brain is mush but i love you guys. it will get better i promise!

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #my writing

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avcdgrdn · 2 days

Text

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part two ]

[ a continuation of part one ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1875

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine holding a man you had just met the same day.

but stan … was different.

when your eyes first locked with his from across the counter, you could tell that he was hurting, and badly. he was trying so hard to cover it up, and it worked for the most part — after all, up until now, nobody had cared about him enough to see through his facade.

but you saw straight through him. and not only that, you actually did something about it. you offered to care for his needs, at your own expense.

his father only ever saw him as an expense.

so, there you were, sitting at the bar, holding onto the maroon fabric of his jacket as he trembled like a leaf.

the scent of cigarette smoke and pine needles was strong in your nose as he buried his face into your shoulder. you could feel his stubble scratching against your skin.

there was a part of you that wanted to speak up and comfort him, but ultimately you decided against it. you didn’t quite know enough about him to be able to speak to his situation.

after a few minutes, stan seemed to be calming down. his breathing became even, although he was still clinging onto you tightly.

“i …”

his voice was cracked and raspy.

“i … screwed up. i don’t … know how i’m gonna fix it.”

your brow furrowed as you listened to him.

“y’know, stan … i don’t know what you’re going through. but can you do me one favor?”

“... yeah?”

“look at me.”

slowly, the brunet lifted his head, pulling himself back just enough to be able to look at you. his eyes were red and puffy, but his gaze was sincere.

you looked back at him, determined. “i’m gonna help you out.”

stan didn’t know how to react. he swallowed a lump in his throat, scanning your face as if to check whether you were lying to him or not.

“... you don’t … hafta do that. i brought it on myself—”

“i don’t care.”

his eyes widened.

“if i can keep somebody from a worse fate, then i’ll do it. let me give you a place to stay, even if it’s just for a little while.” you smiled warmly, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “you shouldn’t have to feel like your life means nothing.”

“… you’re an angel.”

those words made you blush. “i–i wouldn’t say that—”

uh-oh, he’s smirking now. chuckling lowly, he let go of you so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“what, are you tryna tell me you’re not sent from heaven? think about it. you’re saving my biscuits here, toots.” there was serious gratitude in his tone, despite his teasing. at least he seemed to be in a better mood. “i think i’ll hafta call you that more often, yeah? angel.”

you laughed nervously, trying desperately to distract yourself from your red hot face. “really? h–how interesting …”

stan snickered again, gazing at you for a moment longer with fondness dancing in his brown eyes. then, glancing at the wall clock, he realized the time. “damn, it’s midnight. i should probably stop bothering you ‘nd get to bed, huh?”

“huh, it is late … i should sleep, too.”

“then it’s decided. i’ll see ya tomorrow.” he hummed, standing from his seat and stretching out his arms before cracking a soft smile and turning around to walk towards his room.

you were left to watch him leave, your eyes following his footsteps as he made his way back up the staircase.

approximately eight hours later, you awoke to the sunlight gently filtering through your bedside window, causing your eyelids to flutter open.

the events of last night came flooding back into your mind.

i guess i’ll be seeing a whole lot more of him …

sitting up in bed, you yawned, rubbing your face sleepily.

“mm … what time is it …”

the alarm clock on your nightstand read 8:02 am.

shoot, i overslept—oh, wait. it’s my day off.

that little fact was enough to put you in a good mood for the morning. humming happily to yourself, you began to get ready for the day, picking out a comfortable outfit and a few accessories.

descending two flights of stairs, you wandered into the lobby of your inn, greeting a few different patrons and employees with a cheerful wave. it was breakfast rush hour for the kitchen, and you could catch glimpses of your executive chef running to and fro behind the bar.

he seems pretty busy today. maybe i’ll grab a bite to eat somewhere? hmm, but the question is where …

just then, your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name.

you whipped around to locate the voice’s source, and there was stan, walking towards you at a leisurely pace. a radiant grin broke out on your face.

“stan! hey, good morning! how’d you sleep?”

raising a brow, he chuckled at your energy. “well, good morning, sunshine. i slept like a baby, thanks t’ you.”

“ah, don’t mention it.” you smiled, placing your hands on your hips. “i’m just glad you could sleep.”

the two of you looked at each other for a second.

why did his stare make you feel butterflies in your chest?

probably unimportant ………… right? yeah.

clearing your throat, you averted your gaze before you started to blush again. “so, um … have you had anything to eat yet?”

“nah. i was just about to, though.” to be frank, he had totally forgotten that he had access to breakfast until you just mentioned it.

“sounds goo–”

you paused mid-sentence, remembering something.

“actually … i was planning on eating out for breakfast today. would you wanna join me? since the kitchen is bustling and all …”

oh, wow. did you really just ask him out to breakfast? it didn’t hit you until after you had said it out loud that it could be considered that way. oops. was that weird? were you weird? augh.

stan had half a mind to tease you senseless for how cute that was, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. he wouldn’t wanna ruin his chances at having breakfast with you.

“you kiddin’? i’d love that.” he nodded his head, flattered and amused. “not many people can say they’ve had breakfast with an angel, ya know.”

your ears turned red.

i walked right into that one. darn you and your smooth talking …

“oh, let’s just go already.” embarrassed, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along towards the front door. stan laughed heartily, allowing himself to be led.

it wasn’t long before you arrived at one of your favorite diners in town, known for their homey atmosphere and good breakfast. walking into the building, you were met with the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. the two of you breathed it in simultaneously, sighing.

“reminds me of breakfast as a kid.” stanley mused, thinking of the days when he and ford would poke at each other’s food and giggle. you smiled, watching his expression.

“c’mon, this way.” you beckoned him over towards the table you usually sat at, and a familiar waitress walked over to you as you settled in.

“good morning, loyal patron~ i see you’ve brought a plus one today, yes?”

“uh—yes. don’t go jumping to conclusions, though …”

the waitress grinned innocently. “of course. now, what can i get for you two?”

stan wound up ordering pancakes with bacon and eggs, while you settled on some waffles and a mug of coffee. you could have sworn you saw that waitress giggling to her coworker about something as she went on her way, but you shook your head to yourself in an attempt to ignore it. instead, you directed your attention towards the man sitting across from you.

“so, i’m guessin’ you’re a regular here?” he tilted his head, leaning back against his seat. there was a smirk plastered onto his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“you would guess correctly.” you hummed, picking up the salt shaker on the table and fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “have you ever been?”

a rumbling sigh escaped his lips.

“nah … i’m not exactly from around here.”

your gaze was trained on him. so far, he’s kept a laid-back demeanor, not to mention that little smirk that drives you insane—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more depth to his character than he let on.

“yeah? where’re you from?”

“...”

there was a brief silence. his chocolate brown eyes, warmly lit by the sun, stared into your soul.

“i’m from new jersey.”

your eyebrows shot up. “from jersey? wow … you’re far from home, then.”

“it’s not home anymore.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again. stan was staring out the window, a frown creasing his face.

“i … sorry. sensitive topic?”

he turned back to you, a faint blush appearing on his face. “uh … well, yeah, i guess … it’s okay.”

“come again?”

“... it’s, uh—i–i’m okay, if it’s you.”

he was a darker shade of red now, scratching awkwardly at his stubble. he felt so … vulnerable. but somehow, he was okay with it.

at that moment, the waitress came back with plates of food. “order up!”

you watched as you were served, salivating as you saw golden waffles covered in butter and syrup smiling up at you. it didn’t take long for the both of you to start digging in.

“... wow.” after the first few bites, stan had stars in his eyes. “it tastes just like ma’s.”

“was your mom a good cook?”

he snorted. “well, she wasn’t exactly a michelin star chef, but she could make some damn good flapjacks. at least, i sure thought so.” putting another forkful of pancake into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. you simply propped your head on one hand, watching.

“i always told her she could sell ‘em for a fortune.”

his tone was soft with nostalgia.

“she just laughed. prob’ly cause i was five when i told her that.”

“they must’ve been really something, huh?”

“they were. all my life, i dreamt of selling somethin’ as good as that. i haven’t stopped trying, either.”

he scoffed.

“most of ‘em have been a bust.”

you hummed softly in understanding.

“you’re still trying, though. that’s worth more than any failed effort.”

he looked up from his plate. “... you think so?”

“sure i do.” lifting your mug, you took a sip of coffee. “perseverance is worth a lot.”

stan could barely handle your uplifting words. his heart was squeezing in his chest. covering his flustered face with one hand, he leaned against the table, grumbling.

“... an angel … God sent an angel.”

“what?”

“what? nothing.”

a few hours later, you were walking side by side back to the inn. stan couldn’t help but admire the way the fall breeze tousled your hair, and the gentle smile on his face was speaking his thoughts out loud.

he’d never known that somebody this beautiful could even exist.

maybe ...

maybe he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite yet.

end

author's note:

thank you for all the love on this fic !!! :D

part three ....????? any part three hopefuls out there?

i gotta keep cooking.

if you have any fic or headcanon requests, hit up my askbox! <3

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002

#local man gets appreciated for first time ever #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #mullet stan #mullet stanley #sfw #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines x you #part two #avcdgrdn fic

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pedrilcvr · 2 days

Note

i just LOVE ur pedri stories, can we get one where he loves slinging his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him? just suuuuuuper fluffy!

Right side of my neck — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pedri had a habit of pulling you closer every chance he gets, and a lot of the time, it just so happens to be your neck thats closest.

Disclaimer/s: none just fluff <3

A/N: i’m actually so in love w this man it’s baaad. I had to do 3 parts bc i couldn’t figure out what scenario to use..

Act one;

The city streets bustled with the last minute Christmas shopping crowd, leaving you and your boyfriend to constantly dodge strangers who were rushing to get the last of whatever present-worthy things were left.

It was unfortunate that your favorite cafe was right in the middle of a shopping market.

Since it was winter, you’d made sure to bundle up before going out. Your hands stuffed slightly comfortingly in your jacket pockets as you stayed close beside Pedri. He’d done the right thing and wore gloves, something you didn’t bring, insisting they would ruin your outfit.

Every time you brought out your hands to breathe hot air onto them, he couldn’t help but tease you. His eyes crinkling every time, “Cariño, I told you to just wear the gloves. Nobody would see them anyways, you have your hands shoved in your pockets.”

You huffed, shooting him a short glare. “Pedro, I swear—if you bring that up one more time.”

He would laugh, head flopping forward to hide his amusement. “Just saying!”

Pedri, eventually feeling enough pity, takes his hands from his own pockets, “come here.” He grumbles, a small upturn to his lips as he swings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side.

He added little actual warmth, but you smile up at him anyways. He keeps his head forward, only sparing you a smile back, his hand squeezing your arm slightly.

Just being that close with him, seeing his smile, it was enough to build your body warmnth, an effect only he could ever have on you. Leaning into him, you two continue your walk toward the cafe.

Act two;

Leaves littered the ground around you, crunching every time you stepped on them. Pedri had Nilo’s leash in one hand, his other intertwined with your hand, keeping the two most cherished things close to him.

Cars drove past but only in long intervals, so it was a quieter afternoon. Just the three of you, and the beautiful scenery.

The different colored leaves had your full attention. Fall was one of your favorite seasons, it’s beauty captivating every inch of you. Pedri would say the same, but only to bring a smile to your face. He didn’t care much about the seasons, but he did care about the way your eyes sparkled every time you smiled.

Mid walk, he wrestled his hand out of yours, quickly moving to wrap it around your shoulders, pulling you toward him.

Pedri’s arm tightens around you, grabbing your attention. “Huh?” You ask, eyebrows furrow slightly when you look up at him.

He shrugs, grinning boyishly, “you’re just quiet.”

“Oh, sorry.” You grin sheepishly, resting your head on his shoulder. “You ready to turn around?” There’s a slight amount of hope in your voice, a hope that says ‘please say no’. Pedri see’s it, that tiny downturn of your lips.

“I was thinking we could take the longer route today.” He says, pulling you closer to place a kiss to your temple.

Act three;

The house echoed with laughter. A sound you’d grown to love ever since you started dating Pedri. A few of his teammates had came over to play video games and eat dinner, which of course you’d cooked, and they were all having the time of their lives.

Walking into the living room, you stand with your hands on your hips, waiting for them to notice you. Pedri, sensing your presence, shushes the boys. “The food is done, feel free to come and eat!”

You hadn’t even finished your sentence yet when the group of guys shot up from their spots, hunger etched across their faces. Pedri among them, makes his way to your side, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he walks you both toward the kitchen.

Even while seated and eating, Pedri’s arm stayed near you. Whether his arm was wrapped around your shoulder or resting on the back of your chair, it was always keeping you close.

You noticed this about him after you started dating. He seemed to always keep you close that way. Most people held hands, or locked arms, but Pedri seemed to prefer this way. You didn’t know why, and you didn’t care to ask. It was sweet and something you’d simply grown to love.

Dts , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl !

#pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #pedri #blurb #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez x reader #fluff #fc barcelona #i love him

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tetsuissohot · 3 days

Text

Toji Fushijuro ONESHOT

☆summary. After a painful breakup, Y/N thought she had moved on from Toji Fushiguro, but when he reappears in her life, old feelings resurface. Toji, determined to win her back, confesses his regret and desire for a second chance. As the two wrestle with unresolved emotions, Y/N faces the struggle between her lingering love for him and the fear of getting hurt again. In the midst of their heated confrontation, passion takes over, and Y/N must decide if Toji’s promises are enough to trust him once more.

☆warning/tags: 18+fem!reader, casual, SFW, building up tention, ex's to lovers?, part 1

☆word count:5.1k

☆a/n: This my first work lol, please be kind and tell me where I can get improve! I'm thinking of doing a second part for this oneshot where things get a bit spicier. I hope you enjoy!

part 2

The dimly lit bar was buzzing with the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses, but Y/N barely registered it. She stared blankly at the glass in her hand, swirling the amber liquid inside as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—missions, responsibilities, and emotions she had long since buried.

But all of that seemed insignificant when he walked in.

Toji Fushiguro.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass at the sight of him. Even in the crowded bar, his presence was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an aura that both attracted and warned people to stay away. His dark green eyes scanned the room with a predator's calm until they landed on her. A smirk tugged at his lips.

He walked toward her, his steps confident and sure, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe he did—Toji had always been direct, never one to beat around the bush. But it wasn’t his confidence that made Y/N’s heart race; it was the fact that seeing him again brought back memories she had worked so hard to suppress.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was deep, gruff, and achingly familiar.

Y/N didn’t bother looking up as she took another sip of her drink. “It’s a free country.”

Unfazed by her cold response, Toji pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, his eyes never leaving her face. He leaned back casually, arms draped over the chair like he had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Y/N finally met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I’m not avoiding you, Toji. We’re just... done. I thought we both agreed on that.”

Toji’s smirk faded, and his face took on a seriousness that Y/N hadn’t seen in a long time. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Maybe you did. I didn’t.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay composed. “You were the one who walked away,” she reminded him, her voice steady. “You were the one who said this—we—weren’t meant to last.”

Toji’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. He remembered that day all too well. The bitter words he had thrown at her, the way he had convinced himself that he was better off alone—that she was better off without him. But now, sitting across from her, the regret felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he admitted, his voice softer now, laced with something Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from him—vulnerability. “I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Y/N scoffed, setting her glass down with a clink. “Easier? You think walking out without an explanation made things easier for me?”

Toji winced, his usual unshakable demeanor faltering. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being the one in the wrong. But he knew he couldn’t sugarcoat it, couldn’t charm his way out of this like he did with everything else.

“You deserved better,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I was messed up. Still am, probably. But…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m not here to make excuses. I’m here because—dammit—I want you back.”

Y/N stared at him, shock flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with indifference. “You don’t get to just come back after disappearing, Toji. I moved on.”

Toji’s eyes darkened, the idea of her moving on hitting him harder than he anticipated. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone else. The thought of Y/N with anyone else made his blood boil, but he forced himself to calm down.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m asking for a second chance.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to keep the walls she had built around her heart intact. “You can’t just walk back into my life whenever it’s convenient for you. I’ve been fine without you, Toji.”

He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming. “Have you? Because I haven’t been.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words settle over her. Toji was never one to admit weakness, never one to let his guard down. But here he was, laying it all out in front of her, as raw and honest as she’d ever seen him.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice rough. “It’s not. I’m no good at this… at us. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’ve spent every day since we split wishing I hadn’t walked away.”

Y/N could feel the cracks forming in her defenses. She wanted to be angry—was angry—but there was something in Toji’s eyes that made it hard to hold onto that anger. She’d never seen him like this, so exposed.

“Toji…” Y/N began, but her voice faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Just tell me there’s still something there,” Toji said, his voice almost pleading now. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she searched his face, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion, anger, and longing. She had loved him once—loved him deeply. And even though she had tried to move on, a part of her had never really let go.

But was that enough?

“You hurt me,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. “And I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

Toji’s face softened, his hand reaching out across the table, hesitating before he touched hers. When his fingers finally brushed against her skin, it was tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch her anymore.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I swear.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken feelings. Y/N looked down at his hand on hers, feeling the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his gaze.

She had every reason to push him away, to tell him it was too late. But in the depth of her heart, she knew that despite everything, she still cared for him.

“I need time,” Y/N finally said, her voice soft but firm. “I’m not promising anything, Toji. But… I’ll think about it.”

Relief flooded Toji’s face, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled—really smiled. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

As they sat there in the dim light, their hands still touching, Y/N realized that maybe second chances weren’t always about forgetting the past. Sometimes, they were about finding a way to move forward—together, despite the scars.

And maybe, just maybe, Toji Fushiguro was worth the risk.

Thank you for reading xoxo

let me know if you want part II!

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brunchable · 2 days

Text

BIG DICK's Revenge | Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Boyfriend Bucky Barnes x f!reader Themes: Funny? Bucky performing his revenge with the help of Steve and Sam. Summary: It's been a while since you made Bucky wear the shirt that says, "BIG DICK, is back in town" Bucky wanted to wait until you've simmered down and tonight, was the night. He promised you it would be HELL and he kept that promise. A/N: Hah. . . my stomach hurts, I hope this is funny enough. I honestly don't know how to top the first one. A/N: This is the part 2 for BIG DICK's back in town.

Tags: @brnesblogposts @mrs-elsie-barnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

It all started innocently enough on the night Bucky had Steve and Sam over for mens’ night. You’d come home from running errands, half expecting them to be huddled around the TV, but instead, you found Bucky lounging on the couch with that signature smirk on his face—the one that meant trouble was brewing.

"Hey, babe," he said casually, giving you a kiss on the cheek as you walked in. "I brought home a little something."

You turned, raising your eyebrows. "Brought home what?"

"Meet Shadow." He grinned wider, gesturing to the space beside him.

"Shadow?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the empty space.

"Yeah," Bucky said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Our new dog."

You stared at him for a moment, glancing back at the air he was pointing to. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at first—you liked dogs—but when you looked again, your smile faded. Completely.

"Bucky, where is the dog?"

There was an edge to your voice now, a genuine confusion. Your brow furrowed, and you scanned the empty space beside him once more. You loved dogs—always had. The idea of a new pet had instantly excited you, but now there was nothing. No wagging tail, no soft fur, nothing. Just the strange, empty spot where Bucky insisted Shadow was.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly still in full prank mode. "He’s right here, babe. Big guy, super chill."

But you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling growing in your chest. Your excitement from moments ago dissolved, replaced by bewilderment and, for the first time, doubt.

You blinked in disbelief. “Bucky, I— I don’t see anything.”

Before Bucky could respond, Steve walked into the living room, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"Hey, what’s up?" he asked casually. Then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he bent down and petted… nothing. "Hey, Shadow! Who’s a good boy?"

You stared at him. "Steve… Do you see the dog too?"

Steve straightened up, looking at you like you were the one acting strange.

"Uh, yeah? He’s right there." He glanced at Bucky, confusion on his face. "Why wouldn’t I see him?"

“Because there’s no dog!” you said firmly, your voice rising in frustration, the enthusiasm from earlier now gone, replaced by frustration and a tinge of hurt. Why couldn’t I see him?

Staring at what felt like thin air, you felt oddly excluded from something they were seeing, something you couldn’t.

Steve exchanged a glance with Bucky, and then Sam strolled in from the kitchen, carrying drinks for everyone.

"Yo, what’s with the yelling?" He looked over at you, then down at the same empty space, before grinning. "Oh hey, Shadow. Who’s my boy?"

Your mouth fell open as you looked from Sam to Bucky to Steve. "Are you all messing with me?!" you demanded. "There’s no dog!"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Uh… Y/N, are you messing with us?"

You froze. "What?"

Bucky leaned back on the couch, a playful smirk on his lips. "Yeah, babe, it’s starting to feel like you’re pranking us. I mean, come on. Shadow’s right here."

He patted the air beside him, pretending to scratch an invisible dog’s head.

Steve nodded, "I get it, you’re trying to be funny, but don’t you think you’re taking it a little far?"

"Good one, though. Making us think you don’t see him? Classic." Sam chuckled, crossing his arms. Then Sam shook his head, glancing at Steve. "I mean, if she’s trying to prank us, this is commitment."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, she’s really selling it. I respect the effort, honestly."

You couldn’t believe it.

"I’m not pranking anyone! There’s no dog!"

Bucky stood up, walking toward you, his face softening with concern. "Babe," he said gently, "we’re not messing with you. Shadow’s right here." He patted the empty air again, his expression as sincere as ever.

You groaned in frustration, burying your face in your hands. "You’re all insane!"

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky, "She’s really pushing this. Maybe it’s us who don’t get the joke."

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Damn, Y/N, you’re good. You’ve got us all second-guessing ourselves now.”

You threw your hands up in defeat, but before heading off, you decided to get to the bottom of this. Who better to set things straight than Tony? He wouldn’t play along with something so ridiculous—he was a tech genius, and you figured he’d help you prove they were pranking you.

Without hesitation, you pulled out your phone and dialed Tony. The boys glanced at each other, their grins growing wider as you paced away from them.

After a couple of rings, Tony’s face popped up on your screen. He looked like he was in his lab, tinkering with something as always.

"Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite civilian," Tony greeted with a smirk. "What’s up, Y/N? Need some help fixing something Bucky broke?"

You wasted no time.

"Tony, I need you to help me settle something. Bucky, Steve, and Sam are telling me there’s a dog here named Shadow. There’s no dog, right?"

You turned the camera toward the empty spot where the boys claimed Shadow was. You held your breath, fully expecting Tony to tell you what you already knew: there was no dog.

Tony looked up from his work and squinted at the screen. He wiped his hands on a towel, looking far more serious than you anticipated.

"Wait… are you telling me you don’t see Shadow?"

Your heart dropped. "What?!"

Tony blinked at the screen, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, uh… that’s definitely a dog. Big one too. Looks like a scruffy mutt. Where the hell did Bucky get that thing?"

"Tony… no. Don’t mess with me. There’s no dog here!"

Tony raised an eyebrow, his face etched with confusion. "Y/N, I see the dog clear as day. You don’t? That’s… concerning."

Behind you, the boys were snickerin, and you heard Sam mutter something like, "Oh man, this is gold," as they tried not to burst out.

"See?" Bucky called out from behind you. "Even Tony sees him!"

You spun back to the phone, feeling your pulse quicken. "Tony, you’re not serious! You’re messing with me, right?"

Tony leaned back in his chair, glancing around casually. "Messing with you? I wish. But hey, maybe you need one of those eye scans I’ve been working on. Could be a fun side project. But seriously, Y/N, I see him. Maybe you’re just tired?"

Your mouth dropped open. "Tony, this isn’t funny!"

Tony’s expression didn’t change, though you swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I never joke about dogs, Y/N. You’re the one who’s missing out here. I’ll bring some Stark tech next time I visit—maybe we’ll figure out why you can’t see the pooch."

You felt like your world was tilting as Tony gave you a lazy wink and hung up, leaving you standing there, phone in hand, utterly dumbfounded.

You slowly turned back to the boys. Bucky leaned against the arm of the couch, his face a picture of calm satisfaction.

"You’ve been ignoring Shadow all night, Y/N," Bucky said softly, as if he were genuinely concerned.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and marched toward the bedroom, muttering under your breath about needing to change into something more comfortable. You didn’t even look back as you disappeared down the hallway.

The moment you were out of sight, the living room erupted in soft snickers. Sam doubled over, shaking with barely contained laughter. Steve grinned, trying to keep it together, but his shoulders shook with amusement.

Bucky glanced toward the hallway where you had just gone, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he tried to hush the others. "Shh, shh, you’re gonna blow it!" he whispered, though he couldn’t suppress his own quiet chuckle.

× × × ×

Later that afternoon, you stood by the kitchen counter, cooking up some snacks for the boys, trying to get some peace, while they settled down for NBA 2K27 on the PS5. The sound of the game’s commentary filled the room, with Steve clearly fascinated by the graphics.

"You know," Steve began, pausing to admire the screen, "the PS5 has got to be one of the greatest inventions of all time."

Bucky laughed, glancing over. "Oh yeah? Even better than vibranium?"

Steve shrugged. "I mean, second close."

"I don’t know, Cap. I think you’re just impressed by anything with buttons." Sam leaned back, tossing his controller on the couch.

Steve gave him a mock glare. "Says the guy who can’t beat me in Rookie mode."

"Man, you know that’s because the controller’s busted." Sam’s face twisted in mock offence.

Bucky laughed before turning to you. "Hey, babe? Do you mind feeding Shadow? His food’s in the pantry."

"Sure, I’ll feed your dog." You rolled your eyes, playing along.

Bucky grinned as you disappeared into the kitchen. The second you were out of sight, the boys exchanged triumphant grins, their quiet laughter breaking out as they tried to keep their cool.

Just as they were all stifling their laughter, you suddenly reappeared in the doorway, eyeing them suspiciously. "What are you boys laughing at?"

The three of them immediately straightened up, coughing awkwardly, trying to mask their grins.

"Uh, nothing," Steve said, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. "Just, uh… Sam losing. Again."

"Hey!" Sam protested. "I told you, the controller—"

You glared at them, but decided to let it slide as you walked back into the kitchen.

As you rummaged through the pantry for the "dog food," Sam quietly followed behind you, grabbing a beer from the fridge. You could hear him open the can, but as he turned to leave, he suddenly froze mid-step.

"Aw, man!" Sam shouted, hopping on one foot. "Are you kidding me? I just stepped in Shadow’s poop!"

Your head snapped up as you stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. "Sam, come on. There’s no poop."

“Y/N, I’m telling you,” he said, gesturing down at his imaginary dirty shoe, his face the perfect blend of disgust and frustration, "it’s right here! This is why I told Bucky he needs to walk him more."

"There’s nothing on your shoe, Sam." You stared at Sam, your sanity hanging by a thread.

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes as if you were being difficult. "Okay, so now I’m imagining poop? Great. This just keeps getting better."

You groaned, storming back into the living room where Steve and Bucky were deep into the game. "This has gone on long enough!"

"What’s wrong, Y/N? Stepped in poop, too?" Steve didn’t even look away from the screen, chuckling.

You shot him a glare. "There is no dog! And there is no poop! You guys have been messing with me!"

"Babe, you’re the one who’s been acting weird. We’ve been chillin’." Bucky said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Sam said, walking in with a dramatic limp, still acting like his shoe was covered in something. "Y/N’s the one who’s got some explaining to do. Trying to convince us Shadow’s not real? That’s cold."

You stood there, utterly baffled as the boys continued to snicker amongst themselves. Before you could even process what to say next, Bucky turned to you with that charming grin that always seemed to get him out of trouble.

"Babe," he said smoothly, "Shadow’s still waiting for his food. Poor guy’s probably starving by now."

You blinked at him, speechless. "Seriously?"

Bucky nodded earnestly, "Dead serious. He’s been a good boy, waiting this long. And hey, don’t worry about Sam stepping in... uh, ‘Shadow’s business,’ I’ll clean it up later."

"Seriously?!" You threw your hands up, feeling like you were trapped in some alternate reality where everyone else could see the invisible dog but you. "Bucky, there is no dog, and I’m not feeding an empty bowl! What is wrong with you guys?!"

Bucky gave you that soft, slightly pitying look again. "Babe, come on, you don’t have to keep this up for our sake. Shadow’s part of the family now, and he’s hungry. Just help him out, alright?"

You stared at him, feeling your resolve crumble as Steve and Sam both watched you with expectant looks, clearly trying not to burst into laughter again. Part of you wanted to storm out of the room, but the other part just wanted this insane night to end.

You sighed dramatically. "Fine! I’ll feed your dog."

Bucky grinned victoriously as you stomped back into the kitchen, yanking the pantry door open and grabbing the "dog food." The boys were behind you, and you could practically feel their stifled amusement as you begrudgingly poured kibble into the bowl.

"There," you said with a huff, placing the bowl on the floor. "Happy now?"

"Thanks, babe," Bucky called out, still trying to suppress his laughter. "Shadow really appreciates it."

You glared at him. "Mhm, I’m sure he does."

Bucky glanced down at the empty space on the floor, making a show of looking impressed. "Wow, look at him go. He’s really chowing down."

Sam joined in, nodding seriously. "He was probably starving. Poor guy."

× × × ×

You sat on the couch, flipping through your phone, pretending to be engrossed while Bucky, Steve, and Sam played another round of NBA. But the whole time, you felt their eyes occasionally drift toward you, like they were waiting for something.

Then, just as you started to relax, Bucky’s voice cut through the room.

"Hey, babe," he called out, casually, "Do you mind grabbing Shadow’s leash from the closet? I think he needs to go out."

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. Shadow’s leash. The words hung in the air like a taunt. Your first instinct was to snap back, to refuse, to end this ridiculous charade once and for all. But then you hesitated. They had been so relentless, so convincing all afternoon, and part of you just wanted to get through it.

"Sure," you muttered, standing up with a sigh. "Let me grab it."

The second you said it, you regretted it.

You knew this would only fuel their sick joke, but you were in too deep now. If you refused, they’d only mock you more. And worse, that tiny voice in the back of your mind—the one that wondered if you were actually the one missing something—pushed you forward.

You walked over to the closet, yanking the door open. There, hanging neatly on a hook, was a leash. You couldn’t believe they had gone this far.

"Got it," you mumbled, grabbing the leash and walking back into the living room.

Bucky grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he watched you. "Thanks, babe. Shadow appreciates it."

You rolled your eyes but played along. "Yeah, sure."

As you held the leash in your hand, you glanced down at the empty spot where Shadow was supposed to be. For a split second, you hesitated, wondering how far you should take this. But then, with a resigned sigh, you bent down and clipped the leash onto… nothing.

"There you go, boy," you said, trying to sound casual as you stood up, holding the other end of the leash. "Ready for your walk?"

Bucky grinned, leaning back on the couch. "Enjoy your bonding time with Shadow!" he called out, waving his hand nonchalantly as you headed toward the door.

You opened the front door and stepped outside, gripping the leash in one hand as you walked out of the house, dragging it behind you.

“I can’t believe I’m walking thin air.” You mumbled angrily.

As the door clicked shut behind you, the boys immediately jumped up from the couch and raced to the window, carefully parting the curtains just enough to peek outside. They pressed close, their shoulders bumping as they struggled to keep their laughter in check.

There you were, outside on the sidewalk, casually strolling along with an empty leash trailing behind you. That’s when you started noticing people.

A man walking his actual dog came to an abrupt stop, his brow furrowed as he stared at you. His dog sniffed the air, seemingly confused by the leash you were holding, but then the man gave you a polite nod—though his eyes clearly conveyed the What the fuck? expression.

Behind the window, the boys were silently losing it. Sam covered his mouth with his hands, his body trembling with laughter, while Bucky leaned so close to the window, he was practically pressing his face against it.

A group of teenagers on bikes rode past you, slowing down as they spotted the leash trailing behind you. One of them leaned over to his friend, pointing at the leash.

They giggled to each other before one of them shouted, "Hey lady, where’s your dog?"

You felt a surge of embarrassment but kept your head high, trying to ignore the growing crowd of puzzled onlookers.

"He’s right here," you said stubbornly, pointing down at the invisible dog. "His name’s Shadow."

The teenagers blinked, clearly not expecting a response, before laughing and riding off, shaking their heads."Oh man, did you hear that?" he gasped between laughs. "She’s talking to Shadow!"

× × × ×

After what felt like the most bizarre walk of your life, you finally returned to the house, gripping the empty leash.

You opened the door, stepped inside, and unclipped the leash from thin air.

"There you go, boy," you muttered, "Good walk, huh?”

The room was dead silent. No laughter, no snickering—just… silence. You looked up, expecting to see the boys grinning, but instead, they were all staring at you, wide-eyed, as if you were the one who had lost it.

Steve broke the silence first, his voice laced with concern. "Uh, Y/N? What… what are you doing?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" you asked cautiously.

Bucky furrowed his brow, looking genuinely confused, “Why are you holding a dog leash?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "What?”

“The dog leash—who are you talking to?” Bucky repeated, standing up from the couch, his expression completely serious.

You blinked, your grip tightening on the leash. "No. No, no, no. Don’t do this. You’ve been telling me all afternoon that there is a dog. You’ve all been talking about Shadow."

Steve and Sam exchanged a worried glance, "Y/N, we never said there was a dog. You’ve been acting like there’s one all night."

Your stomach twisted into knots as their faces remained serious, and the playful atmosphere from earlier had completely vanished.

"You’re messing with me," you said, your voice shaking. "You’ve been messing with me all night! You said there was a dog!"

Bucky shook his head, stepping closer to you. "Babe, I think you’ve been imagining things. There’s no dog. There’s never been a dog."

You stared at him, your pulse racing. "No. No, you’re lying. You said his name was Shadow! I fed him, Sam stepped on his—”

Desperation clawing at your mind, you bent down again and reached out, pretending to pet the air. "I’m petting him right now," you said firmly, your hand hovering over nothing, trying to prove a point, trying to see something—anything—that would make this madness stop.

Steve tilted his head, his eyes concerned. "Y/N… why are you petting the air?"

Your hand froze mid-motion, your breath catching in your chest. "What? I’m petting…”

“Heh… heuh—” Sam tried to hold it together, but a strangled laugh escaped his lips. He quickly looked away, trying to cover his mouth.

Suddenly, all three of them broke. It started as a low chuckle from Sam, but laughter was contagious and it escalated into full-blown laughter. Sam doubled over, sinking down onto the couch, howling, clutching his stomach as tears of laughter welled up in his eyes. He sheslapped Steve on the arm repeatedly as he gasped for breath.

"Oh, man!" Sam wheezed, trying to speak through his laughter. "I can’t—I can’t breath!"

Steve wasn’t faring much better. He had collapsed back onto the couch, laughing so hard that his face turned into a tomato. He covered his face with one hand while the other pounded the cushion next to him.

Bucky leaned against the wall, biting his lip in an effort to suppress his laughter, but when he saw Steve and Sam in tears, he couldn’t help it. He doubled over, shaking with laughter, holding his sides as he struggled to speak.

"Oh, babe," he said between wheezes, "you should’ve seen your face!"

You stood there, frozen, the leash still dangling from your hand. You blinked, your heart still pounding from the shock of their sudden shift, and then—finally—it hit you. The sheer absurdity of it all. The way they had committed to the prank so fully, the ridiculousness of pretending there was a dog named Shadow, and now the complete reversal.

A part of you wanted to scream at them, but another part of you—against all logic—found yourself biting back a smile. It was too much. Too ridiculous.

Sam had slid onto the floor by now, still laughing uncontrollably as he leaned against the couch. "Shadow! Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually started feeding him. . .and, and took him for a walk!" he managed to get out between fits of giggles, wiping his eyes.

Steve wasn’t much better, leaning back with his hands on his face, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. "The look on her face when she clipped the leash onto nothing!" he cried, his shoulders shaking.

“You know what? You three deserve each other. You guys are assholes,” you muttered, shaking your head, a grin threatening to break through your stern expression.

Bucky, still laughing, walked over and gently took the leash from your hand, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Babe, I can’t believe you actually started thinking there might be a dog."

"Are you kidding me?" you shot back, crossing your arms. "You were all so convincing! You had me second-guessing myself all night."

Sam wiped away another tear as he climbed back up onto the couch, still chuckling. "Hey, that’s the art of a good prank. We had to go all in!"

Steve nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "Yeah, we didn’t expect you to actually start playing along with the leash thing. That was the cherry on top."

You glared at them, though you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face now. "I hate you guys."

Bucky pulled you into a hug, still grinning ear to ear. "You love us, and you know it."

You huffed, but leaned into his embrace anyway. "Yeah, well, you better watch your back. This isn’t over."

Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Bring it on. I’m ready."

Sam pointed a finger at you, still smirking. "Yeah, and don’t think we’ll forget this!"

"Shut up, Wilson," you shot back, shaking your head.

But as you stood there, wrapped in Bucky’s arms, surrounded by the laughter and teasing of your friends, you couldn’t help but laugh along with them. It was ridiculous, and you had fallen for it, but in the end, it was exactly what you expected from them.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” you mumbled through your smile, your tone making it clear there was no room for negotiation.

Bucky opened his mouth, about to defend himself, but you cut him off with a raised hand. “Nope. Don’t even try. Couch. Tonight.”

And one thing was for sure—this prank war was far from over.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x f!reader #winter solider x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n #james bucky barnes #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan x reader

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inkspiredwriting · 3 days

Text

Countless cups of coffee

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves stared at the half-empty cup of coffee on the kitchen table. The steam curled into the air, mingling with the morning light filtering through the curtains. It was a quiet moment, one that he had come to cherish in his otherwise tumultuous life. The coffee was strong, just the way he liked it, but it wasn’t the caffeine that he looked forward to. It was the company.

Across from him sat Y/n, her hands wrapped around her own mug. Her eyes were still sleepy, her hair tousled from the night before. Five found solace in these simple moments, the world reduced to just the two of them and the warmth of their morning brew.

“I think this is the best part of my day,” Y/n said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was like a soft hum, comforting and familiar.

Five smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Mine too,” he replied.

Their lives were often chaotic—filled with timelines, apocalypses, and the never-ending struggles of time travel. But here, in the soft glow of the morning, it was just them. The rest of the world could wait.

Their relationship had always been complicated, fraught with the trials of Five’s time-hopping existence and the burdens they both carried. Yet, somehow, they always found their way back to each other. Coffee had become their ritual, a way to ground themselves amid the madness.

Y/n reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Five’s. “Do you ever wish things were different?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

Five considered her question, his gaze lingering on the way their hands touched. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think about how lucky I am to have you, even in this crazy life.”

Y/n’s smile was soft, her eyes filled with understanding. “I feel the same way. These moments... they make everything worth it.”

The peace of their morning was suddenly shattered by a loud crash from the other room. Five sighed, knowing exactly who it was. The Hargreeves household was never short of chaos, and his siblings had a knack for disrupting even the calmest of moments.

“Klaus!” Five called out, irritation creeping into his voice. “What did you break this time?”

Klaus appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Just a vase. I was... uh, redecorating.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “You and your redecorating.”

Klaus grinned, unrepentant. “Hey, if you guys didn’t want chaos, you wouldn’t live here.”

Five rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Despite the constant disruptions, he wouldn’t trade his family for anything. And he knew Y/n felt the same way. She had become part of their crazy world, fitting in seamlessly with the dysfunction.

As the day went on, Five found himself caught up in the usual whirl of events—family squabbles, and the occasional existential crisis. Y/n was right there with him, her presence a steady anchor in the storm.

By evening, they were both exhausted, sinking onto the couch together. Five’s mind was still buzzing with the day’s events, but Y/n’s hand on his arm brought him back to the present.

“You’re thinking too much again,” she said, her voice a gentle tease.

Five sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Can’t help it. There’s always something to worry about.”

Y/n shifted closer, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. “Then let’s not think for a while,” she suggested. “Just be here, with me.”

Five looked at her, taking in the warmth of her gaze, the softness of her expression. He nodded, his heart feeling lighter. “I can do that.”

They spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the familiarity of home, that Five realized how much he cherished what they had.

As they sat together, the memories of their journey played through Five’s mind. Their first encounter, the struggles they had faced, and the way they always found their way back to each other. It was like their relationship was written in the stars, no matter how many times the timelines tried to tear them apart.

“Hey, Five?” Y/n’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something,” she said, her gaze steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll always find our way back to this. To us.”

Five nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. “I promise,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what.”

The next morning, Five woke to the smell of coffee brewing. He smiled, stretching as he got out of bed. Y/n was already in the kitchen, her back to him as she poured their cups.

“Morning,” he greeted her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Y/n leaned into his embrace, her smile evident in her voice. “Morning. Ready for another day of chaos?”

Five chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as I have my coffee and you, I can handle anything.”

Y/n turned in his arms, her eyes sparkling. “Then we’re set.”

They took their coffee to the table, savoring the warmth and the quiet. It was another day, another chance to face the world together. And in that moment, with the scent of coffee in the air and the person he loved by his side, Five knew that together, they could face anything.

Years later, Five and Y/n still held onto their morning ritual. Life continued to throw challenges their way, but their love remained a constant, unbreakable bond. Over countless cups of coffee, they built a life together, finding strength in each other’s presence.

And as they sipped their coffee, sharing dreams and fears, they knew that no matter where time took them, they would always find their way back to each other. Their love, like their morning ritual, was a testament to their enduring bond, a promise kept through every twist and turn of their extraordinary lives.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

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sonotpattismith · 2 days

Text

My Lost, Fearless Leader.

(Yuta Okkotsu x Reader)

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned, because love’s never lost once perspective is earned.

word count: 9k

warnings: angst, me never making it easy for poor Yuta

a/n: inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift. Lowkey a self-insert as I too am a therapist, tee hee. I hope y’all enjoy it, I absolutely love writing for Yuta even though I make him suffer every time 🥹🫶🏻

masterlist.

Dear Okkotsu,

I know you only landed last week, but you left me with so many questions when you said goodbye. At the risk of sounding too forward, I thought for a moment that you would kiss me before you left. You had a look in your eye, one I’d never seen before, and I even thought I saw you square your shoulders like you were about to charge into battle.

Inumaki offered to give me your number when I asked about you, but I feared too quick of a response if I were to text you. After all, I love to torture myself. Somehow a letter felt safer, more disconnected. Still, I hope you have the time to write back to me while you’re out there growing as you so desperately wanted to.

You still have me in your corner here in Tokyo.

With kind regards,

L/N.

Dear L/N,

I hope this letter gets to you soon, though I know it has some way to go— I don’t want to leave you waiting again. I wondered if I should just text you, but you’re right, maybe this is best for wimps like me who were too scared to kiss the girl they like before traveling oceans away. There’s more courage in me hiding behind a pen than I ever had standing in front of you.

No matter how badly I wanted to show you how I felt, I didn’t feel worthy enough when I looked at that scar on your face— one I should have been able to prevent. There’s so much for me to learn about this world, and Gojo-Sensei says Kenya is where I need to be. I trust him implicitly, and I only hope here I’ll be able to grow into someone worthy of coming back to all of you at Jujutsu High. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I hope to become someone worthy enough to indulge myself in you as well.

I hope you can find it in you to wait for me all the way in your corner of Tokyo.

Respectfully,

Okkotsu.

Dear Okkotsu,

You were right, your letter did travel far, and after two weeks, I feared I may not ever hear back from you.

What happened with Geto Suguru wasn’t your fault, and, if I remember correctly, you were the one that saved all of us that night. It breaks my heart that you feel you don’t have a place here with us. I never thought you needed to prove yourself, and if that’s the only reason you went thousands of miles away— then you should board the next flight back over.

If I had known it was the scar on my face that stopped you, I would have covered it just for you. No one else around here is willing to take the blame for me when I break one of Maki’s spears— that alone should earn you a spot right beside me over here. Speaking of, I hope the bump on your forehead has gone down.

Luckily for the both of us, patience is my best virtue, but I do hope you don’t make me wait terribly long. You don’t have to be the strongest.

Holding my breath,

Y/N.

Dear L/N,

Maybe eventually I’ll work up the courage to call you, but our weeks of waiting in between will just have to do for now.

I think you’re beautiful— regardless of your scar, and I hope I didn’t send the wrong message when I said it’s what stopped me. I only meant that it reminded me of the kind of guy that deserves your attention, one that has brought about more good than he has bad in his life.

I’ve hurt so many people, and it wouldn’t be right of me not to try to make up for the wrongs I’ve caused. It’s only been a month, but Miguel has taught me so much, and I’ve seen so many wonderful things. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m sending you some pictures of all my favorite parts.

I hope Maki has been merciful to you, and, yes, my bump is gone. Still, the little scar there reminds me of you each time I see it. So, I suppose I should thank her.

We’ve been talking so much about me, but I want to hear how you’re doing back in your corner of the world. How have your classes been going? I almost miss hearing everyone arguing with Gojo-Sensei every morning.

I don’t want to be the strongest, but I want to be strong enough to be worthy of you. The last thing I want is to keep you waiting too long, but however long it takes for me to be able to make a mark on those who have shown such faith in me.

Thinking of you,

Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

Surely that’s not you in that picture beside the giraffe? It’s only been two months— what are they feeding you over there? I had to do a triple take. You look well, Okkotsu.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you behind that ink. You were never so bold when you were here. Do you have a ghostwriter? I have my doubts, but I still hope all those thoughtful words really are coming from you.

I can see how hard you’ve been working, and I hope you’re beginning to find in yourself the pride I and all us here at home have always had in you. I don’t think anyone blames you for the unfairness that’s clung to you thus far, and no one expects you to make up for any of it— at least I know I don’t. If you really insist on doing so though, maybe you can start by giving me a call every once and a while? I’m sure you're busy, but I’d love to hear your voice again.

Classes have been going well. We’re almost going into our second year now, and everyone still talks so fondly of you. We wish you were here to start the year with us. I certainly miss having someone who was equally as clueless when it came to this world— it felt like you were the last shred of normalcy I was hanging onto. It’s okay though, I suppose I have some growing to do too.

Also, you don’t need to be so formal with me, I think you’ve earned the first name basis. Unless of course, you need to build up the courage for that, too.

I only felt it was fair to send some pictures of all of us here as well— though they’re nowhere near as badass as your safari photos. Please keep sending them— I’ll cherish the ones I have here for now though.

Still waiting for you,

Y/N.

Three months following Yuta’s departure from Tokyo, you first received an actual call from him. You had just turned in for the night, muscles aching from the mission you and Maki had just returned from only an hour or two prior. Truthfully, you were having a difficult time with the added responsibility that was accompanying your new year at Jujutsu High.

Last year, at the very least, you had Yuta there who seemed on a fairly level playing field with you. Still, he held more of a determination to move forward in his life as a sorcerer than you did. After your encounter with Geto Suguru that had left you partially blinded in your right eye, it was difficult for you to find that gusto you had when you first arrived.

The deep lulls of slumber had just begun to penetrate your exhausted mind, and you could swear a more pleasant dream was just beyond your reach. When your phone began vibrating underneath your still cool pillow, your brows furrowed at the intrusion. The sound caused an electric-like jolt in your body that had you shooting up as if someone had just pulled the fire alarm. Calming your racing heart, you reached down to snatch the device up. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the blue light emitting from the screen, and you saw a number you didn’t recognize. Under the caller location though, it indicated that it was coming from Kenya.

Sitting up with a gasp, you gaped down at the device, uncertain excitement bubbling in your stomach and up your chest. Without a second thought, you swiped to answer the call. Amidst your anticipation of who you thought might be on the other line, you forgot to greet the caller.

“Um… uh- hello?”

A smile spread across your cheeks at the sound of his timid voice.

“A call from Kenya,” You began teasingly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. “I wonder who it could be.”

There was an abrupt shuffling on the other line, and you could already picture him pacing around whatever space he was currently occupying.

“You got me!” Yuta quipped nervously, quickly checking the time on his phone upon hearing the sleepy tone that laced your voice. It wasn’t too late over in Tokyo, and he figured if he didn’t call you now while he still had the nerve to do it, he never would. Okkotsu had determined during his time in Kenya that his confidence somehow peaked right after a successful mission. Naturally, this was when he calculated it would be the best time to call you with the lowest possibility of making a stuttering fool of himself. “Di-Did I wake you? I can call back another-”

“After you took three months to gather all that courage up?” You joked with a fond smile, reaching down to toy with the corner of your pillow. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, you shook your head. “I think I can stay up for a few minutes.”

He was grateful, so eternally grateful that you couldn’t see the way the blood rushed up his neck and into his face. Pressing a cool hand against his cheek as if it would make the heat die down, he forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It had been too long already since he last spoke, and the silence on the call was becoming overbearing as he thought of anything to say.

“You there, Yuta?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh-- still here.” The boy chuckled pathetically, pounding his balled up fist against his thigh, willing himself to quit being such a loser. Shooting up to begin his short trek around his room once again, he took a deep breath. “I-I wanted to thank you. You know, for writing to me the past few months. I think they’ve been kind of motivating me, actually.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, lying back down on your pillow to stare stupidly up at the ceiling of your dorm. In hearing that shy voice that you had been missing for so long, you had forgotten about the aching, abused muscles that had been assaulting you just minutes prior. In its place was the rushing endorphins of your child-like crush on the boy on the other line. “So, when you come back strong enough to beat Sensei’s ass, I can take partial credit, right?”

His soft laugh filled your once silent room, inciting the overwhelming butterflies in your stomach to erupt in a fluttering haze.

“It’ll all be you.” Yuta joked halfheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck in relief that he’d gotten past the awkward silence unscathed. He flopped back down onto his bed and looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Uh… speaking of Sensei, how is everything over there? The exchange event is coming up soon, right?”

This made your smile slowly wane.

“Yeah, it’s next month. There was some drama with the first years, but everyone else seems to be pretty excited.”

“Everyone else? It sounds like you’re not including yourself in there.”

You sighed gently. Yuta was always so determined about growing as a sorcerer, so these types of events were always right up his alley. Not to mention the manner in which he absolutely wiped out the sister school at last year’s event. It actually caused a bit of second-hand embarrassment to watch the whole ordeal play out— no matter how quickly it concluded. After the atrocities of the past few months though, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be excited for the goodwill event.

It wasn’t that long ago that you watched all your friends meet near death at the hands of Suguru Geto, and you weren’t too far behind. They had all seemingly moved on from it all so fast— all of them except for Yuta Okkotsu. It seemed that all it had done was given him more ammunition to spark his journey of self discovery. You wished it had had the same effect on you. In truth though, all it sparked was a fear that your life, along with your friends, was constantly at the mercy of a crueler fate than most your age would be subjected to.

It felt wrong. Yuta shouldn’t have felt the need to bear the weight of you and your friends’ injuries all on his own. He shouldn’t have needed to go off to search for some unknown answer to all the insecurities his grueling life had thrust upon him. Still, it was so important to him. You could see the way it gave him purpose, a will to keep going despite all that he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but you always wished you could have found that same purpose within slaying curses and putting your life on the line.

A soft call of your name on the other line pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts. Shaking your head, you attempted to lighten the mood.

“Last name again? So formal. I thought we were past that, Okkotsu.”

“Oh-- right, sorry.” He stammered out before trying your first name out on his lips. It was delicate in the way it rolled off his tongue, sending warmth straight through your chest. Recalling your sudden silence once his nerves subsided, his lips pulled pensively into a thin line. “Um, have you been doing okay? You know, since…”

Brows rising just a hair, you were shocked at how easily he read through your sudden change in tone. Your lip quivered into a slight frown. A deep breath was suddenly pushing down that biting urge you had to tear up.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just… wish you were still here is all.” You confessed into the dark, lonely dorm room. “I think you were the only one who understood how overwhelming this all was.”

Yuta felt his chest constrict at your earnest confession. Part of him felt guilty for not being there, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing by building himself up before he allowed himself to come back— especially to you. Still, the boy knew where you were coming from. It wasn’t easy being the newcomer in a world where your peers had a fifteen year head start on.

The two of you understood each other—empathized with one another. You both strived to make sure the other was doing okay; whether that be sneaking out late at night to practice with one another in hopes you both wouldn’t make fools of yourselves in training the next day, or just being someone that the other could glance knowingly at when one of your classmates mentioned something it seemed that everyone else was privy to, except you two.

“I’m getting stronger everyday.” Yuta offered earnestly, a soft, empathetic smile playing on his lips— the kind you could just hear through his gentle tone. “And I know you are too. We’re gonna kick some major butt one day, y’know?”

The boy was relieved when your glittering laugh filled his speakers, and he found himself laughing along with you. A comfortable silence blanketed over you two, and for a moment it felt as though you were laying right beside him, your gentle breaths lighting a fire within his soul. The courage that he thought he had lost upon hearing your voice for the first time in months was slowly flooding back to him, and he began pensively rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Hey,” Okkotsu called out feebly, resting his hand down on his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his fingers. Reaching down to your discarded letter beside him, he picked up the picture you’d sent along with it. It was of all the second years, and he wondered with a smile if you had Gojo-Sensei take it for you all, and, if so, how much he complained about not being included.

You stood in the middle of Inumaki and Maki, Panda standing proudly and towering behind you. His thumb reached out to graze softly over your face. In the photo, one of your hands was teasingly covering your right eye, and he blushed as he remembered your earlier conversation about that scar. You hummed in acknowledgment on the other line. “Did you mean it? You know… when you said you’d wait for me?”

“Did you mean it when you said you were gonna come back for me?” You countered quickly.

Yuta exhaled nervously, the churning in his chest making him feel as though he might pass out. Staring back at your smiling face in the photo, he nodded breathlessly.

“Of course, I meant it. I meant every word.”

“Then so did I.”

Yuta Okkotsu’s reassuring promise helped ground you in your studies of jujutsu for a while longer, but you could still feel the aching insistence in the back of your mind that told you this wasn’t where you were meant to be. Your friendship with the sorcerer continued to grow even over the thousands of miles that separated you.

He’d call you whenever he had the chance to, and you’d text him about updates on what all his friends had been up to without him. Although both Inumaki and Maki kept up with him regularly, he allowed you to retell stories he’d more often than not already heard from them.

He could tell that you were struggling to find and hold your place as a sorcerer. You always listened enthusiastically when he’d tell you about the new techniques he was learning or the missions he’d been sent on, nodding along on the other line and hanging onto every word he said. Still, when he’d await to hear the progress of your training or how your latest mission had gone, you didn’t have the same enthusiasm in your tone.

It had been almost a year since he’d been gone. The two of you had never implicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, but your lingering promise to each other seemed to be enough to keep your hearts locked safely away for the other’s return. As the months dragged on though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth staying in the world of jujutsu that seemed to so expertly traumatize you and your peers.

You insisted on video calling him for once, eager to once again put a face to the voice that had been filling your every night for the past few months. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you saw those warm, inviting eyes again paired with that timid smile, you’d find it in you to hold out just a bit longer.

“Ca-Can you see me?” Yuta’s ever anxious voice filled your quiet room once again. The palm of his hand briefly covered the camera before it was moved away, and it appeared as though he had propped you up on a dresser of some sort. He stepped back, hunching over so his face was still in the frame, staring hesitantly into the screen.

A brief exhale of disbelief left you at the sight of him. He had changed so much over the past year; from the inches he’d sprouted up, to the new broadness of his lean shoulders, right down to his more maturely parted hair as it swayed in his face.

His features appeared sharper than when you’d last seen him, a testament to how much he’d grown physically as well as mentally. The dark circles you remember being everpresent under his long, midnight-blue eyes seemed even more pronounced now, and you wondered just how hard this Miguel character had been working him. Despite his apparent lack of sleep though, he grinned cheerfully upon seeing your face.

Forgoing your previous concern, an ecstatic smile of your own lit up your face as you took him in. You had always thought he had a sort of innocent, gentle cuteness to him, but time and knowledge seemed to have morphed those characteristics into the sharp, hauntingly striking ghost of the boy you once knew presented before you. For the first time since knowing him, you thought you felt more nervous than he did at the moment.

“Wow! You look--” He paused, a slight flush filling his face, and suddenly he was that timid boy again, staring down at you with the false promise of a kiss. Your heart melted at the sight. Yuta was still looking nervously back at you, mouth hanging open as if his mind was running faster than his tongue could process. You raised your brows expectantly at him, hiding your amused smile. “Uh—pretty! You— you look really pretty.”

A soft blush fell across your cheeks.

“Thanks, Yuta.” You laughed softly, eyes fluttering across his face admiringly. “You look like you’ve… grown.”

“Oh, me?” He laughed skittishly, hand coming up to rustle through his jet black locks. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked down at his own appearance as if he was only just now noticing the growth spurt he’d had in the past year. “Yeah! I guess—”

“Is that blood on your shirt?” You suddenly noticed, leaning forward so your squinting eyes could get a better look at the dark matter that clung to his white top. His eyes shot up to meet yours, and in an instant, his fumbling hands were working to unbutton his uniform shirt. It was no use though, the white t-shirt underneath was also stained through.

“Sorry, I just got back from a mission.” He admitted dejectedly, grabbing the phone and sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed behind him. “I would’ve showered, but I didn’t want to keep you up too late.”

You sat back against your headboard tentatively. It was incredible to you how he was never phased by the violence and bloodshed that shrouded this lifestyle. There were so many nights that you lay awake, eyes unblinking as you tried to forget the horrors you’d witnessed just long enough to get some sleep.

“How do you do it, Yu?” You asked timidly.

Yuta took in the way your wide eyes glimmered with the threat of unspilled tears. There it was again— that underlying fear in your tone and demeanor that told him that something wasn’t quite right, and it hadn’t been right since you came so close to death.

“What do you mean, love?” He wasn’t sure where that term of endearment came from, maybe from the concern that had been pooling in him for months and had now suddenly burst upon seeing that broken look in your eyes. Either way, it was too late to take it back now.

“Act like everything’s normal when you come home covered in blood and guts and watch people die— watch your friends—”

“I’m doing this for my friends.” His response had a defensive edge to it, but his wide eyes were gentle, taking in your vulnerable state carefully. “And for the people I’ve had to watch die. Bad things will happen whether I’m a part of them or not. How can I sit back and do nothing when that’s all I’ve done my entire life?”

You suddenly felt small in your corner of the world. He was selfless, fearless, purposeful in his mission as a sorcerer, and you couldn’t fault him for it. Moreso, you faulted yourself for lacking that same drive.

“I just– sometimes I feel like this isn’t for me. I’m not like you, Yuta. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Yuta continued to insist upon believing in your growth, just as you had believed in his. His persistence in your strength of character only served to break your heart more. You knew the deeper his faith in you ran, the more crushing his disappointment would be when you inevitably let him down.

In the weeks following your dismayed conversation with him, you weren’t answering his calls as often, afraid he would be on the other line hoping to hear of your growth and the things you’d overcome— but you had none to show for. You usually texted him with false excuses that you were on a mission, or that you were simply too tired to talk that night. No matter how hard you tried to pride yourself in your little victories, your faith in your abilities as a sorcerer was waning quickly before your eyes.

He had always said that he was the one undeserving of his place in this world— of his place beside you. The stronger he grew though, the more you only noticed the opposite.

It was a month after your phone call that you received a small package from Kenya, recognizing the stamp immediately as one of the various animal themed ones Yuta seemed to keep stockpiled just for you. Chewing at your bottom lip, a sense of guilt washed over you, knowing you hadn’t been keeping up with him as much as you once did. Despite this, he continued to try, desperate to get through to you somehow before you slipped from between his fingers all together.

Ripping open the orange, padded envelope, you overturned the contents onto your bed. The wooden beads of a bracelet clacked softly against one another as they fell upon the comforter, a letter landing gently atop it. You ran your fingers along the thin bracelet, thinking maybe if you concentrated long enough, you’d be able to feel the warmth of his fingers lingering from when he’d carefully placed it into the envelope for you. You picked up the accompanying letter.

Dear Y/N,

It seems like they’ve been keeping you really busy over there in your corner of the world! I had so much I wanted to tell you, but I thought maybe it’d be best to put it all into a letter so you could read it at a time that’s best for you.

Gojo-Sensei says that I’ll probably be coming back soon, maybe in the next couple of months even. If all goes well, I hope to be joining everyone for our final year. It’d be nice to all be together again. It’d be nice to actually see you again.

You don’t have to tell me everything, but I know you’ve been going through a hard time recently, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you. You were wrong the other night on the phone— you are stronger than you think. This life isn’t easy, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not fit for it just because it hurts you right now.

When I felt I had no strength left in me to keep going, it was you who lent me some of yours until I could stand again. I’m sending it back to you now, so please use it to keep moving forward until I can lend you some of mine. Please, keep waiting for me.

The beads on the bracelet I sent you represent all the things I wish for you. The red represent bravery and strength, the kind I know you have in you still. Until you find them though, let these be a reminder. The yellow are for growth, and until you can see it coming your way, let these motivate you.

I got one just like it for myself, so I can be reminded everyday of the things I love about you. I’ll keep it on me always, and I hope as you’re waiting that you’ll do the same.

Still yours,

Yuta.

Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks and staining the precious letter before you. With wobbling lips, you bit back a quiet sob as you carefully slipped the thin bracelet onto your wrist. Strength. Bravery. Growth. They were all pillars that seemed so far away from you, but Yuta was convinced you held them just within your grasp. If anything, the beads would serve as a reminder that someone important was counting on you, and you’d rather suffer the uphill battle than disappoint him.

The next morning, you woke early to speak with Gojo. He was lounging lazily in his large, plush chair, laptop sat carelessly on his lap when you came in. As if expecting you all along, he looked up from his bored typing to offer a sly smile— the type that told you he was always steps ahead of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo greeted, closing his laptop and setting it haphazardly on his desk. Leaning back, he laced his fingers casually in his lap, jutting his chin toward the seat in front of him.

Hesitantly, you sat down. Your posture was rigid as you stared back at his half-covered face. Although your sensei had never given you a reason to fear him, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of how he might react to your request.

“I… I don’t know how to say this.”

He stayed silent, allowing you to collect your thoughts. The small smile tugging at his lips said he already knew what was plaguing your mind. Fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, you were reminded of the importance that you stand your ground here.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a sorcerer.” It was out there, and it hung heavily in the air around you. Looking down at your twiddling fingers, you felt that familiar lump building in your throat. Your sensei was silent before you. Glancing up at him through tear soaked eyes, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. “I’m not like the others. I can’t bounce back like they do. It scares me; the death, the fighting, the loss— it terrifies me, Gojo. I can’t do it anymore. I-I just—”

“You’ve been struggling for a while now, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question— an observation he’d been holding onto for some time. The older man wasn’t oblivious, he could see when his students were beginning to slip away; physically and mentally.

“How did you know?” You briefly wondered if Yuta had mentioned something to him during their regular check in calls, but you doubted it.

Standing abruptly from his chair, he strolled leisurely around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You remind me of someone, is all.” Gojo’s cryptic message left more questions than answers. Though you had grown used to his dodgy answers and coded messages, now was really not the time. Before you could express your annoyance, he continued. “You’re not stuck, you know.”

Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in disbelief. Standing up to face him as he stared out the window, your mind was racing at the possibilities.

“You mean— I could leave? Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’d talk to the higher ups today for you if that’s really what you want.” Still, the edge in his tone indicated that he wasn’t about to let you off that easily. As if sensing your apprehension, he tilted his head playfully toward you, a fond smile on his face. “I’ve seen what this gig can do to people. I don’t need to see you fall victim to it too.”

“I mean— I…” You were stumbling over your words. For the past few years, you were sure that your future was set for you— one you were apprehensive about living, but one that was secure nonetheless. Where would you go from here?

Gojo hummed pensively— invitingly. God, how you wished he would just spit out what he clearly wanted so desperately to say. Of course, he always wanted his students to come to their own conclusions, set their own fates.

“The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” The sensei announced dramatically, taking another lap around the room. You shivered at the mention of that night. He leaned toward you with a raised brow. “That’s when this all started, am I right? You almost died, if I remember correctly.”

“I would have if it hadn’t been for—”

“Yuta Okkotsu.” He cut you off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and for a moment you thought you saw his head tilt down as if to look at the bracelet you were currently rolling between your fingers. Nodding softly, he continued. “Still, you cut it pretty close. Must have been traumatizing. Partially lost your sight, almost lost your friends, your life.”

You nodded silently, unsure of where he was going with this long winded rant. Of course, him giving you a simple out was just too easy for Gojo-Sensei’s ‘everything is a life lesson’ style of teaching.

“Tell you what, why don’t I set up a meeting for you to meet with a counselor? Someone who specializes in all our creepy-crawly problems?”

“Like… like therapy?” You questioned with furrowed brows. A therapist for sorcerers? You didn’t even know such a thing existed. Still, the prospect sparked a certain hope in your chest, one that the six eyes saw instantly. He didn’t bother to conceal his victorious smile.

“Yup. Nice, comfy couch and everything.” He advertised as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His long fingers began typing purposefully against the screen before he looked up at you again. “Of course, she’s kind of running a one-man show, so her schedule is pretty tight. I can pull a few strings for you though.” His words rang in your mind with a faint echo. That suggestive, underlying tone in his voice, it was beginning to seep through, and your gut was telling you his suggestion was a lot more calculated than you would ever give him credit for. “That kind of work is in high demand, you know— what with all the new curses popping up since Itadori came along.”

Gojo was continuing to drop hints, but you had already heard him loud and clear. This was something he thought you could do— somewhere he knew you would fit within this hectic world. As a teacher, it was his job to train the up and coming sorcerers for the perils that lay ahead of them. In the same prospect though, he had also become incredibly adept at discovering their potential and nudging them toward it— even if it wasn’t as gently as he thought.

The following week you met with the therapist Gojo had supposedly pulled so many strings to get you in to see. She had a small office just minutes away from the school, and you wondered why she wasn’t on campus. She hadn’t suggested it to you first, though she was well aware of what Gojo was trying to do when he set up this meeting.

So, amidst your explanation of everything you had been experiencing since that night, you dropped in questions. How did she know this was the right path for her— how closely did she work with Jujutsu High— how did she get where she was?

By the gentle and encouraging manner in which she answered all of your questions, you had a gut feeling once again that Gojo had already been three steps ahead of you. You were set to transfer out of Jujutsu High the following week.

Your sensei funded your education through an outside university, who’s higher ups had connections with the school. Kaori, the god-sent sorcerer counselor who’d seemingly fallen from the heavens right when you needed her, was more than happy to take you under her wing as well. In truth, she was relieved to have some help around the office given the influx of referrals she’d been receiving recently.

Everything had been falling into place, yet there was still one last loose end you had yet to tie up from your life as a sorcerer. You looked down at the box of letters you’d kept over the past year or so from Yuta.

Following his last letter, and how determined he seemed to be that you would make it as a sorcerer— you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you had given up. After everything he’d done to grow himself into the man he was now, a fearless and loyal sword to his friends and the innocent— and you had given up. In the end, despite his insistence that it was him not worthy enough to stick around, you realized it had been you all along.

You weren’t worthy of Yuta Okkotsu.

Your trembling finger hovered over his contact, but you couldn’t do it. Clicking your phone off, you stared up at the ceiling of your now empty dorm room and allowed the hot tears to burn your cheeks, dripping down your neck and into the hem of your shirt. He was still finishing up his training, growing into a man he could be proud of, experiencing the things that made him feel alive. It would be selfish of you to drop this on him now.

Setting down the box on your desk, you pulled out a spare sheet of paper and sat down to draft your last prose to Yuta Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you will have already heard about my departure from Jujutsu High. I wanted to call you and tell you everything that’s been on my mind, to give you a proper goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt your progress overseas.

I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me over the years. I’ll cherish each bit of it as long as I live. You kept me holding on through my lowest points, even if it wasn’t the life of sorcery that I was holding onto.

I know I’m cowardly, but I just couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you that I had given up. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to hold your place here, and I suppose a part of me feels foolish for giving mine up so easily.

Your passion for undoing the wrongs in this world is so beautiful, and although I couldn’t share it with you, it only ever made me love you more. Please never take it for granted. Continue to fight to hold your place here, because you hold more power than you could ever come to know. I can feel it, even when you’re not here.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait for you.

Forever yours,

Y/N

When Yuta Okkotsu arrived back at Jujutsu High three months later, he had already been sitting on the news of your departure for two weeks. His friends thought it best to at least prepare him for when he returned, but he figured so much when you stopped responding to his calls and messages. No amount of preparation could have stopped the hole from opening up in his chest upon reading the letter you’d left in his dorm room. It sat neatly on his untouched pillow— a ghost that haunted him the second he stepped in.

He tried with fervor to be excited for his return, smiling along half heartedly when his friends shoved a party hat on his head and insisted upon celebrating all the birthdays they’d missed. Those haunting blue eyes only stared lifelessly at the cake before him, his soul still sat on the edge of his bed where he’d read your letter.

Forever yours.

Yuta wondered if those simple two words meant the door was open for him to swing in and come find you as he so ardently promised he would. Gojo-Sensei said you were happy though— working toward your place in the world. It was one he no longer felt he had a place in— not when his life consisted so wholly of the very things you were running from.

Months passed, and the both of you tried so desperately to move on. Despite being content in the roots your lives had sprouted, there was always a missing piece that stopped the both of you from blossoming. You always held your breath in hopes he’d come back to you like he said he would, and he always hoped you were still waiting for him despite his insistence that you were happier without him. The both of you were only kids when you’d carelessly thrown out such a vow, after all.

Gojo felt whole-heartedly confident in his whim to have Kaori train you. There was a spark in you, one that wanted to heal those that this world had so carelessly wounded, even if that meant you having to heal yourself first. In the end, it was the right decision, and he prided himself in the fact that there was a happy medium to keep your talents within the jujutsu world still while also fulfilling your purpose. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that lingered ever present though, and that was the infuriating case of you and Yuta Okkotsu.

It was getting depressing— watching the boy mope around pretending to not have the very obvious chip on his shoulder all the damn time. Your old sensei still kept up with you and your progress often, seeing as the school worked closely with Kaori to refer in need sorcerers on a regular basis.

Each time he’d pop in for a visit or called unexpectedly, you’d always ask how everyone back at the school was doing. Sure, you really did hope your old friends were doing okay, but you were really holding your breath for when he’d mention Yuta. Gojo always spoke of him so highly, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly each time, thinking of how proud you were at how much he’d accomplished— just as he said he would. Still, the six eyes never missed that morose glimmer in your eye as you’d nod along to his stories.

“Have you ever tried sleeping at night, or are those dark circles just a part of you now?”

Yuta was snapped from his stupor when his sensei dropped unceremoniously beside him as he looked on at his friends ahead of him. As if having just been reminded of his perpetual exhaustion, he reached up subconsciously to rub at those aforementioned dark eyes.

“Oh, haha,” Yuta’s halfhearted attempt at a laugh only served to drive Gojo’s purpose right home. “Yeah, guess my sleep schedule never really adjusted back to normal, huh?”

“You aren’t performing like you should be, Okkotsu.”

He gaped exasperatedly at his sensei, blinking a few times as if maybe he just hadn’t heard him correctly. Frankly, he had been kicking ass lately, and everyone around him knew it too. Still, if Gojo-Sensei was telling him he was falling behind, it was seemingly the only opinion that mattered. Even if it wore him down till only his skeleton remained, he would keep getting better until he could prove himself to the man who took a chance on him.

Already picking up on the look of determination on the boy’s face, Gojo put out a solemn ‘slow your roll’ hand in front of him. Sighing in amusement, the sensei thought the boy would crush a semi-truck between his hands if it’d make him grow— meant he could prove himself.

“Your mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been since you got back. I can tell, you know.”

Okkotsu’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. No matter how much he worked to train physically, to learn to control his cursed energy and techniques, there was always that one lingering barrier that seemed to keep him from reaching his potential. Of course, he knew he had been more distracted since your departure, but he figured— hoped— it would pass eventually. He thought maybe if he ignored it long enough, pushed down that frenzy to rip his hair out by the roots and bellow out every frustration he’d held in for allowing you to slip away, each day as the urge melted away into dreams of you at night that woke him with a crater in his chest— maybe eventually it would fade just as you did.

“Try to get some rest, clear your mind. Do what you gotta do.” Gojo emphasized, leaning down to tower over his apprehensive prodigy with a knowing smile. His covered eyes flicked down to where Yuta’s fingers were rolling the beads of his colorful bracelet pensively. He hummed in amusement. “You know, I know someone who has that same bracelet.”

His student perked up ever so subtly upon hearing this. The prying man quickly moved to grasp his wrist and inspect the bracelet closer. It made Yuta feel exposed, wanting to crawl under his covers and not come out again if it meant no one else would lay their eyes on the one connection he still had to you. Gulping thickly, he snatched his wrist back, covering the wooden jewelry protectively under his other hand.

“Oh, you know her, don’t you?” Satoru feigned remembrance, snapping his fingers dramatically. “She used to go here.”

The stunned boy stammered out your name in question. It still felt so natural, so effortless rolling off of his tongue despite the prolonged period that had passed since he’d uttered those syllables.

“Yeah! Saw it on her just last week.”

All the blood seemed to drain from Yuta Okkotsu’s face. His wide, haunting eyes suddenly transfixed hazily on the smiling man before him in a manner that would have been terrifying had it been directed at a stranger. You still wore the bracelet he got you? The prospect had his mind spinning, and his stomach churning anxiously. The poor guy looked as though he would short circuit at any moment; brows twitching into a deep furrow, the corners of his lips fluttering in uncertainty. He blinked a few times before looking up at his sensei with a new sense of determination clouding his eyes.

“Where did you say she went?”

Bingo!

The clock’s ticking mocked you menacing as you raced to finish your assessment notes within the hour. Kaori was always merciful with you, understanding that you were still learning and would likely take more time with things, but you couldn’t help but urge yourself to do better.

It had been almost a year that you had been studying while working alongside the counselor, and you had blossomed in a way you never thought would have been possible. Granted, you weren’t able to do any of what you had lovingly labeled as ‘the fun stuff’ yet, you had adjusted surprisingly well to the countless intake assessments and documentation your mentor had entrusted you with. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having a second counselor there with her, but anything helped ease the weight of her overwhelming caseload. She knew it was good experience for you too.

Despite her hectic schedule, Kaori still found time to meet with you often to check in regarding the struggles that brought you to her in the first place, insisting it would be a crucial step in your training as well. Slowly but surely, you were beginning to rebuild that confidence in yourself and your own purpose in this monstrous world. It felt cathartic, being a part of the process of healing for those torn down by the very things that hurt you so long ago as well. It was meaningful— fulfilling.

You wondered if this was how Yuta felt when he was out there, helping people as well, just in his own way. A sharp pang struck you each time your mind wandered too far though, and you were always quick to reel it back in.

Your bottom lip was caught ruthlessly between your teeth, and it seemed the clacking of your keyboard was fighting against the ticking of the clock for dominance. A small spark of defeat struck you as you heard the door of the office creak open. Looking up at the time, your brows furrowed in confusion. You were sure that you had already completed the last intake Kaori had scheduled for you today. Scrambling into the drawer beside you to pull out a new form, you hoped you would at least look somewhat prepared whenever the unexpected patient came to your desk.

“Hi, there!” You called out from your tucked away cubicle, fumbling to save the document you were working on. “I’m back here, you can come on in.”

Slow footsteps approached closer and closer before pausing in front of your desk. Pushing the hair from your eyes, you looked up with a warm, inviting smile.

Oh.

The smile on your face slowly faded as Yuta Okkotsu towered over your desk. It wasn’t the version of him you once knew; this one was taller, more refined, more calculated with the manner in which he held himself. His wide, midnight-blue eyes regarded you carefully, but his face revealed nothing. Your mouth opened and closed pathetically, your mind desperately trying to catch up with the way your day had suddenly progressed. Stepping forward, he calmly sank down into the chair in front of you, hands gripping the arms casually.

“Yu—”

“I heard you offer counseling for sorcerers, right?” He was suddenly smiling sweetly at you, but there was a controlled glint in his eyes— holding him back. Not allowing you to respond, he continued. “Well, I have some things to get off my chest, so it’s lucky I found you, huh?”

You sank back into your chair, allowing the papers in your hands to slip from your fingers and swoosh softly onto the desk. Nodding gently, you urged him to go on, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. He launched off on a long-winded story, one you already knew like the back of your hand— you lived it, after all. Your already knowing the climax didn’t stop the furious blush that overtook you as he recalled the letter he’d found in his dorm upon his arrival back to Tokyo.

“She always had this sweet way of signing off all her letters to me.” Yuta recounted with a soft smile, eyes glimmering as they looked back at you. Yours, on the other hand, were holding back the dam of tears that had been building up for countless months. As the first tear slipped down your cheek, you saw his resolve start to crumble, gaze chasing the drop as it raced down your skin. His bottom lip trembled. “She signed that last one— she signed it off ‘forever yours’, but I never saw her again.”

“Yuta—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?” He finally snapped, his own tears swimming in his eyes. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leaned forward desperately. “I would’ve understood, I would’ve—”

“I tried! I tried to tell you, but you were so sure that I was going to get through it. How was I supposed to look you in the eyes after you gave up so much of your life to train to be better? How was I supposed to tell you I was giving up?”

“You promised me!” His cry rang out in the quiet office, shoving his chair back to stand over you once again. You heard Kaori’s office door open abruptly, likely startled by the perceived altercation. Despite his dominating presence and lingering stance, you couldn’t find it in you to be intimidated by him. You shook your head softly toward your mentor, letting her know you were fine. As the door hesitantly shut once again, Yuta was sinking closer to you despairingly. “I would’ve come back for you— I wouldn’t have cared where I had to look, okay? I wouldn’t have cared that you left everything— but you weren’t supposed to leave me.”

His wounded tone finally caught up to you, and you let your head fall down onto your crumpled hands as you cried. Yuta sighed softly, almost regretting his stinging confession. Quickly looping around the desk, he settled down on his knees in front of you and turned you to face him.

“I’m sorry, Yuta.” You cried, falling into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair. He was stronger than you last remembered him being, but his touch was just as delicate. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now, right?” He assured gently, pulling you away from his chest so he could look at you with a smile, tears still clinging to his lashes. His cool hand ran down from your shoulder to your wrist, and he traced the bracelet that hadn’t come off your wrist since you received it. A soft flush covered his cheeks. “You kept it, huh?”

“You kept yours, too.” You laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheeks with one hand and grasping his bracelet with the other.

“I told you, I always meant everything I said to you. I still do.” His words almost made you break down again, but you worried if you started boo-hoo crying again that Kaori might just burst through the door with more determination than she had last time.

So instead, you took a moment to glance over his matured face, shaking your head in amusement upon seeing those familiar dark circles still hanging under his eyes. Your heart clenched as your eyes ran across the small scar that Maki left on his forehead. When you met his gaze once again, it gave you pause. Yuta had that look in his eyes— the same one he had all those years ago before he left for Kenya. The rapid patter of your heart could be felt in your throat.

Despite your nerves, your lips twitched up into a knowing smile. You reached up tentatively to place a hand over your right eye, covering the scar that had stopped him all those years ago. He pursed his lips at this action and shook his head. In an instant, his long fingers were wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“Don’t.” Yuta said simply before leaning down to capture your lips in his, more assuredly than his sixteen year old self ever could have dared to, but just as sweetly as the boy who promised to come back to you would have.

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clrasecretdiary · 10 hours

Text

Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader

cutesy, cheesy fluff

In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.

Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader

Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!

He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.

You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.

Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure you’d never see him as more than friends.

–

You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.

After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.

“Garcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, i’ll just ruin our friendship”

“Oh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. There’s no way he’s not into you, at least try pretty please” She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.

“Alright, i’ll try but if he ends up hating me you’ll have to bake me cookies everyday until i die” You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.

“Ohhh i’ll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!”

–

So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator

“Hey are you fine?” A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess you’ll have to do this right now

“Oh hi yeah, I was just um… meditating”

“Did you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?” Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator

“Ummm breath in, breath out i think” You say, unsure how to respond

“That's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight response” He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.

You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.

“I brought you something” You say, handing him the coffee shop bag

He opens it and smiles at you “I can’t believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so much” You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how there’s no way you can continue on without dating this man.

“Actually, I need to tell you something spence… I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or something” You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.

“Really? Of course i want, to be honest i’ve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought you’d never see me like that”

“Are you kidding me spencer? I’ve had a crush on you since we first meet”

The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare

“There’s something happening here…” She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if she’s profiling you two

“I asked him out”

“Oh my god finally, you see? I’m always right, I don’t even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, he’s glowing, ohh i’m so happy” She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x bestfriend!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x self insert

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discordiansamba · 3 days

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some more spitballing for the Avatar Zuko AU:

After the Agni Kai, Zuko is afraid of his own fire. The one who ends up helping him through this is Gyatso. His life might have been brought to its end by fire, but he is old enough to remember a time when firebending was not just associated with destruction.

The valley in which Aang grew up in was of the subterranean variety- the last place anyone would ever think to look for airbenders. Before Zuko arrived, he'd never left it, though he would often climb up until he could see the sky.

(his father left once, to get medicine for his mother after she fell ill during her second pregnancy. he never returned, and his mother and his younger sibling died.)

Aang at first only knows Zuko as 'Li', but once Toph joins them, she very quickly outs that as an alias. He's forced to admit his name is actually Zuko, and that he's the exiled former prince of the Fire Nation.

Aang, looking Zuko up and down: ...are you sure about the prince part?

Zuko: what's that supposed to mean?

According to rumors, the new Avatar is an Earth Kingdom boy named Li. Long Feng knows this is impossible- his predecessor had the former Earth Kingdom avatar in his possession, but allowed him to kill himself before the Dai Li could take complete control of him. Therefore the new Avatar must be from the Fire Nation.

All the more reason to capture him and bring him under his control.

Sokka: Okay. You know how I said you were being paranoid about the whole 'everyone wants to kill you thing'?

Zuko: Yeah?

Sokka: ...I think you might have been right about Long Feng, actually.

Zuko: No shit.

the rumors of Prince Zuko being a traitor reach the Fire Nation before the rumors of him being the Avatar do. when Azula is sent to collect him, she's in for the shock of her life.

What do you mean, Zuzu is the Avatar? He's Zuzu! He's not even a very good firebender!

Iroh arrives at the North Pole after Zuko does, after his friend Pakku sends him a very curious letter informing him that the Avatar has arrived there. Finally, he will have his chance to teach the young man firebending. He seems to know the basics already, but Iroh knows many advanced techniques he is certain will be helpful.

When he gets there, the Avatar is trying really, really hard to avoid him.

Aang: Why are you avoiding Mister Iroh? I thought you said he was your uncle.

Zuko: He is. That's why I know he wants to kill me.

Toph: Pretty sure Pakku said he wanted to teach you firebending.

Zuko: Well that can't be right. Why would the dragon of the west want to teach the Avatar firebending?

(Iroh will eventually run into Zuko despite his best efforts... but he is only deeply confused as to how his nephew got to the North Pole. Pakku, why didn't you tell me he was here? You know I have been searching for him.)

#avatar zuko au #pakku just staring at zuko. zuko very purposefully not looking at him.#what do you MEAN the avatar is Iroh's nephew?#he holds his tongue though. if the avatar wishes to conceal this then it isn't his place to say #iroh will find out regardless.

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liahaslosthermind · 11 hours

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~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔 ~

(Past) Rhysand x OC, (Eventual) Azriel x OC Part 2 of Betrayal

Summary: He was out of his mind with grief. Azriel had been through his fair share of trauma. He had seen and done horrific things, but that was always with Adelaide by his side. Now, he didn't know what to do, and he was losing it. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, grief, Hurt/No Comfort

His limbs ached as he stood up from his chair. He had been sitting there so long that walking felt much harder than it usually did.

He rubbed the haze from his eyes while walking to the door, the incessant knocking making his headache worse.

"Fuck, Az. You look- how do you- do you want me to..." Cassian stood in front of his brother, a man he'd known for 500 years, and didn't recognize the person he saw.

It had been the first time in almost 2 months that Cassian's knocks were answered. He had come to her room, everyday, multiple times a day, to plead with his brother to talk to him, to eat something, to just let Cassian look at him so he could see he was alive.

Azriel said nothing as he turned around and went back to the chair he had been occupying. Cassian closed the door behind him as he took in the room.

It was the same as it had been the day she left. Even though this had been the place Azriel spent most of his days, the Shadowsinger had kept it all the same, only touching her bed that he would sleep in the nights he could stomach it, or the chair he was currently in now.

A mess of papers on the desk brought tears to Cassian's eyes. Adelaide, sweet and caring Adelaide, had been making a list of Solstice gifts for her family when she was called to join some of the Inner Circle on a meeting all those months ago. A meeting that had been a trap for them. A meeting that ended up taking her life.

Azriel cleared his throat when Cassian went to pick up a piece of paper. He had tried to hard to keep her room clean while also not disturbing things from the spot she had put them in.

"Nesta told me that her and Elaine have been leaving you food but it remains untouched."

"Is there a question, brother?" Azriel asked. His voice had always been rough, and he had always been more on the quiet side, but Cassian could tell that because of lack of use, it hurt him to speak.

"Why aren't you eating? How can we get you to? I would do anything, Az." he pleaded.

The spymaster didn't answer.

"Whats the end goal? Believe me, if you want 1,000 years to mourn her, I will be with you every step of the way. I've tried to give you space, but you are killing yourself! You sit in here all day, only coming out when everyone is asleep or gone. What do you need to care about your life again?"

He was met with a distracted look from Azriel.

His brother was never distracted. He was never careless. He hadn't missed a day of training for no reason in hundreds of years. Cassian knew he still trained every once in a while, but Azriel always found times to do it when no one else was around.

Azriel didn't have an answer for Cassian, at least not one he would like.

How could I care for my life when her's is over? he thought. By the desperate look on Cassian's face, he could tell his brother knew the answer.

"I lost her too. I know it was different with the two of you, you were each others'... person, but she was as much my sister as you are my brother. I didn't... I didn't even get to say goodbye." Cassian finally broke at the confession. He hadn't let himself think about it, he had to keep himself together for Azriel. "The last time I talked to her, we where fighting over food. She stole the slice of cake I had saved for myself, I called her an inconvenience and a burden, she called me a spoiled bat who needs to learn to share." He let out a bittersweet laugh at the memory. They were usually at each others' throats, and when they weren't, they were teamed up to annoy someone else in their family. But they loved each other, always were there for one another, except in the end, when it mattered most.

"24 hours later, I was picking out the sarcophagus my sister was going to be laid in. I would have let her have all of my leftovers, all of my desert, if it meant I just got one last conversation with her." Choking up, Cassian sank to the floor, a wave of familiar grief washing over him.

Azriel joined him, crying as he hugged his brother.

The two illyrians, sat like that for a while. Long after their tears had dried, long after the sun had gone down, Cassian finally spoke up.

"Why don't you go see her? Visiting helps me, talking to her even though I know she can't hear is something I do often."

In truth, Azriel hadn't gone to his best friend's mausoleum since the funeral. He couldn't see her like that, couldn't come to terms with it.

These past 6 months had been dark. Everyone was mourning her, many of the people of Velaris included, but none more than Azriel. Part of him had died, laid in the cold marble box that held her body. For the first few months, he had completely disconnected from reality. He went on with his daily routine, he trained, ate, went on missions, did paperwork, slept. But it was as it he was on autopilot, as if the real Azriel had been asleep that whole time.

Two months ago, he woke up. It was sudden, he had gone to his room for the first time in a while to grab some books that had been long overdo at the library, and the priestesses had kindly told him if they didn't get them back he would be banned for life.

Thats when he saw the blanket on the chair by his desk. She had given it to him over a century ago. It was a birthday present, a wool blanket that was enchanted to smell like her always. She had played it off as a self centered gift, so he doesn't forget about his favorite person while away on missions, in front of their friends, but Azriel knew it wasn't that. Adelaide had always been a master gift giver, and she also knew Azriel had trouble sleeping most nights, but he never had any problems falling asleep on the couch next to her after a long night of conversations, wrapped comfortably in her own wool blanket.

He hadn't slept without it till the night she died.

Then, he picked it up, trying to see if the enchantment still worked. And that was all it took for him to wake up. It was awful, every bad feeling he had been too far disassociated to feel hit him at once. He curled up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his hands and stayed there for days, silent tears never ceasing to fall.

After getting yelled at by Madja, who Nesta had called to knock some sense into him, he got up and went to her room, where he remained most of his days.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, only eating to quiet his stomach, and tried as hard as he could to detach himself from the never ending agony that was his life now.

He told Cas he would see her, the general's face lighting up at the news.

He felt guilty, making Cassian so happy for something he knew would later destroy him.

Hours after Cassian had left the room, as the sun came up, Azriel went to his room to grab the blanket he hadn't touched in 2 months. Then he grabbed Truth Teller, wrote his final request, and went to see Adelaide.

The building was large, and beautifully constructed. He would have been happy that she had a resting place deserving of her, but he knew Rhysand only spent that much money and made it this beautiful to try and lighten the guilt he felt.

The Shadowsinger stopped by the entrance, the sarcophagus without a lid placed up on the platform.

Before the funeral, Helion had come to place a enchantment on her body that would keep it preserved.

It had been a show of good will, Adelaide had been head of the Night Court's scholarly texts, education, and research. The two had met to have academic conversations at least once every few months for decades.

But as Azriel looked down at her, it felt like a cruel punishment from Helion.

6 months later, she was still as beautiful as she was the last time he saw her, and she was still just as dead.

This was where he would remain, his final request was to be laid to rest in the same building. He would be adding unnecessary pain onto his loved ones who had suffered so much already, but for the first time in his life, Azriel had decided to put himself in front of his family.

Looking her over one last time, he realized he was now completely numb.

Azriel held the gifted blanket and went to take off the one she currently had. Based off the fact it seemed to have been picked out with meticulous care to match Adelaide's coloring, and her outfit, there was no doubt it had been placed their by Mor.

On her lap, previously being covered by the blanket, laid a large and very old book.

Had one of the scholars she worked with placed it? One of the educators?

Strange marks littered the cover, but no title. Not till he opened the first page did he see what it was.

The Walking Dead

A cruel pick. Who would ever leave such a book with a corpse?

The second page was blank, so was the third, so was the fourth. Thumbing through the book, Azriel just about gave up looking at the blank pages when he finally found one with writing.

It seemed to be a poem, but it was formatted too strangely.

The title at the top read Eternally Intertwined.

A spell.

He almost dropped the book at the realization.

No one had left this book, it had been fate that had given it to him, kept it here waiting for him to stumble upon it.

He knew what he needed to do.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader #azriel angst #azriel #acotar fic #rhysand x oc #azriel x oc #~ lia's betrayal series ~#rhysand

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tetsuissohot · 12 hours

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Lice?!

☆summary. you check their head for lice!

☆warning/tags: fem!reader, mostly crack, fluff, jkk men with lice?

☆word count: 6.2k

☆a/n: I don't know how I came up with these, but I still hope you enjoy and that this brings a smile to your face!

Nanami Kento | Gojo Satoru | Toji Fushiguro | Geto Suguro | Choso

Nanami approached you in the living room, looking uncharacteristically flustered. He adjusted his tie for the third time in two minutes, clearly uncomfortable.

"Y/N," he said, voice calm but with an underlying urgency, "I need you to check my head."

You blinked, setting down the book you were reading. "Uh, what?"

Nanami sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled blond hair. "It’s nothing serious... well, probably nothing. But I’ve noticed I’ve been itching. A lot. I can’t afford to be distracted on the next mission, so just... check."

You suppressed a smile, biting your lip. Seeing the always-composed Nanami unsettled by something as simple as an itchy scalp was too adorable.

“Sure thing,” you said, standing up and motioning for him to sit on the couch. “Come here, let me take a look.”

Nanami sat down, stiff as a board, his back straight and eyes fixed ahead as if preparing for battle. You took a seat behind him, fingers gently parting his hair.

After a few moments, you broke the silence. “So, should I call Satoru if I find anything? Maybe he’ll bring you a lice comb—”

“No.” Nanami cut you off instantly, his voice firm. “Under no circumstances should Gojo find out about this.”

You chuckled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Relax. No lice. You’re clear.”

Nanami visibly relaxed. "Thank you." He stood up, adjusting his suit once more. "But remember, we never speak of this again."

"Agreed," you said with a grin. "But if you’re ever itching to come back for a check-up, let me know."

He shot you a deadpan look. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Gojo waltzed into the room with his usual swagger, but something was off. He scratched his head casually, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t bothered, but you caught the third scratch in as many minutes.

“Babe,” he began, a playful grin tugging at his lips, “you wouldn’t mind checking my head for lice, would you?”

You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Lice? Satoru, you literally have Infinity. What, did they evolve to pass through it?”

Gojo plopped down on the couch beside you, leaning in close. “Listen, Infinity protects against curses, not tiny, itchy creatures. They might be cleverer than we think. I can’t risk this perfect hair being infested.”

You snorted, grabbing the comb from the table. “You really think you’ve got lice?”

Gojo gave you a dramatic shrug, scratching his head again. “Well, if you loved me, you’d check and make sure. You wouldn’t want the strongest sorcerer being brought down by some tiny bugs, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but part of you found his vulnerability oddly endearing. “Fine, hold still. Let me make sure your Infinity isn’t on vacation.”

You ran the comb through his hair while he hummed, grinning all the while. “You know, I could get used to this. You, doting on me, fingers in my hair. It’s pretty romantic if you think about it.”

“Keep talking and I’ll start charging you for this,” you teased. “Also, no lice. Your perfect hair is safe for now.”

Gojo beamed and leaned back, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. “Ah, wonderful! I guess I’ll have to come up with a new excuse for you to pamper me next time.”

You playfully pushed his shoulder. “Get out of here, drama king.”

Toji barged into the room with his usual swagger, but the moment he started scratching the back of his head, you knew something was up.

“Toji?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He scratched again and grunted. “Yeah, yeah. I know how this looks.”

You blinked. “Like you need some flea powder?”

Toji shot you a glare but then sighed, leaning against the wall. “Look, I’ve been itchy, okay? Maybe it’s nothing, but I need you to check my hair. Make sure I don’t have any of those... lice things.”

You had to stifle a laugh. Toji Fushiguro, the man who took down powerful sorcerers and curses, was worried about lice.

“You? Lice?” You chuckled, motioning for him to sit. “Aren’t you supposed to be too tough for something like that?”

He scowled, sitting down with a huff. “Just check. I don’t want to be distracted on a job.”

You grabbed the comb, shaking your head as you began parting his hair. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you worried about something so... small.”

Toji grumbled. “I’m not worried, I’m just... irritated.”

After a minute or so of combing through his thick, dark hair, you grinned. “No lice. You’re good. Maybe you’re just allergic to being so grumpy.”

Toji looked over his shoulder, his smirk returning. “If you’re done messing with me, maybe you can help me... de-stress.”

You flicked his ear and laughed. “Sure, but next time, try not to come in here scratching like a stray dog.”

You were chilling in the couch when Geto came in, looking suspiciously thoughtful. He sat down beside you, scratching his head absentmindedly.

"Y/N," he started, his voice soft but curious, "do you know what’s causing this? I’ve been itching for days."

You tilted your head, looking at him with amusement. “Scratching your head a lot lately, huh? Want me to check for lice?”

Geto chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Lice? Really? That’s your diagnosis?”

You shrugged, already grabbing the comb. “Well, you’ve been scratching a lot, and lice don’t care how strong a sorcerer is.”

Geto leaned back slightly, allowing you to start combing through his long black hair. “I’ve exorcised curses and fought cursed spirits my whole life, but I never thought I’d need protection from something so... mundane.”

You laughed softly. “Well, even sorcerers can’t escape normal human problems.”

Geto closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose that’s what I have you for. Keep me grounded in the world of lice and hair care.”

You chuckled, running the comb gently through his hair. “Exactly. Someone has to make sure you don’t lose your head over a few itchy spots.”

After a few moments, you gave him a pat on the shoulder. “All clear. No lice.”

Geto smiled, his eyes soft as he glanced over at you. “Thank you, my love. I feel much more at peace now.”

You kissed his cheek. “Glad I could help. Anything else bothering you? Maybe you’re allergic to all that long hair.”

Geto grinned. “Perhaps... or maybe it’s just an excuse to have you take care of me.

Choso shuffled into the room, looking slightly unsure of himself. He scratched his head awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Y/N,” he started slowly, “I... think I might have lice.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the blunt admission. “Wait, what? Why would you think that?”

He scratched again, looking down at his feet. “I’ve been itching a lot, and I heard some people say that could mean... lice. I’m not sure, but it’s starting to worry me.”

You smiled softly, walking over to him. “Hey, it’s okay. Sit down, I’ll check for you.”

Choso obediently sat down, his shoulders tense as you grabbed the comb and began parting his hair. His usually calm demeanor was replaced by visible uncertainty.

“I’m not familiar with this... lice thing,” he admitted quietly, glancing up at you. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s just tiny bugs that can live in your hair. Annoying, but not dangerous. And don’t worry, if you’ve got them, I’ll help you get rid of them.”

Choso relaxed a bit under your touch, his tense shoulders lowering. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d have no idea how to handle something like this.”

You finished checking his hair and smiled. “Good news, Choso—no lice. You’re safe.”

Choso looked up at you, visibly relieved. “Thank you. I feel much better now.”

You ruffled his hair affectionately. “Next time you’re itching, just come to me. I’ll make sure it’s nothing serious.”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm. “I’ll remember that.”

Thank you for reading until the end! I hope you enjoyed it. This piece was more of a spontaneous writing, so there may be some imperfections in the scenario. I just had these ideas and wanted to put them down quickly. xoxo

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mostly-marvel-musings · 2 days

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Caffeine fix and beyond - Part 2

A/N: Did I come up with the worst fic title? Lmao. This is for @elixirfromthestars Thank you for hosting the cutest writing challenge.

Sitting at the Coffee shop AU table, with some sweet treats - “I’m only doing it because you’re cute.”, “Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” & Saying ‘I love you’ for the first time.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warning: fluff!

Word count: 2.4k

Find Part 1 here.

It had been a whole fourteen hours since your first kiss with the most famous Avenger and the smile that decorated your face still refused to leave.

After sharing a few more soft kisses and some delicious pizza, Tony left your apartment with a promise of seeing you at your shop the next morning. One could call it the hyper excitement that came with a new relationship but that night, you baked him his favorite blueberry muffins, picturing his handsome, grinning face as you’d feed them to him.

The next day your staff noticed an extra spring in your step as you entered the shop, nobody mentioned the eagerness with which your eyes would scan the door as someone entered in hopes to see that strikingly good-looking face again. The day went by as usual, busying yourself in work seemed the only way to get through without letting nerves get in the way as the clock ticked.

Day morphed into evening and eventually it was time to wind down and head home.

You had checked your phone only about a hundred times to see if there was any message from Tony, every notification only brought disappointment when it wasn’t from him.

He probably had a good reason for his absence but you felt dejected nonetheless. Shrugging your obsessive thoughts aside, you went home and took an elaborate shower. With no updates from the genius billionaire, you turned off your phone and went straight to sleep.

Your colleagues sensed something was up the next day when you arrived, your mood was snappy and irritated which was rare considering how much you loved coming to work. They did their best to not piss you off and you did your best to not have a meltdown over your silly little heart for hoping so much out of that one moment of connection you shared with Tony Stark.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee mixed with delicious baked goods filled the air as usual, something that always brought a smile to your face. But not today. Today you had busied yourself at work to a point where your legs began to ache, you had a headache for some reason and you hadn’t a peep from Stark.

The next day you arrived earlier than you normally would, you hadn’t slept a minute you were in dire need of some caffeine. You almost rolled your eyes realizing the fact that you were behaving like him now. As the day drew on, you were back in your groove, mingling with your regulars at the coffee shop, chatting with your staff.

Commotion could be heard outside as you came back out after lunch. The source seemed to be a few blocks away from the shop, which was also where Stark tower was located. You could see Tony in his suit hovering above the helipad before a blast resounded, making everyone gasp.

You could see a blue beam of light shoot straight up in the sky, making way to a portal that had opened up. You saw Stark head straight up towards it as sentient beings from outer space streamed down from the portal. He hit a few of them effectively, blasting them into smithereens with repulsors but there were too many incoming.

A collective gasp echoed as these creatures flew closer and began firing before people began scrambling to safety. Cars overturned and chaos ensued, making it seem like everything happened too fast and in slow motion all at once.

All while you felt frozen on a spot, there was something bigger incoming from the portal that had opened up, a monster floating down towards the Earth. There was no time to think as a car exploded just a few feet away from you, blasts coming in from all directions making you head back inside for safety.

While it all seemed unreal, you jumped into action by dragging a few injured individuals towards the kitchen, helping a few others get inside right before the glass facade of your coffee shop blew up, shattering to bits as the aliens or whatever these beings called themselves flew by.

You were sure Tony was right in the middle of it all, you just prayed somehow he would come out uninjured. By the looks of it, it seemed like a losing battle, the destruction, debris everywhere, you couldn’t bring yourself to think how many civilians had lost their lives up till this point, and how many would until someone could put an end to it.

Tony’s POV

As unbelievable as the whole situation was, he knew he had to keep going. New York was under attack, it seemed like a losing battle but he knew if the team gave up, the world would probably be ruled by the likes of Loki and his army. They were running out of resources and they were heavily outnumbered. The Chitauri had an endless supply of these monsters and the Avengers, despite their best efforts, were falling short.

He heard Fury over the comms that a nuclear missile was headed towards the city, ordered by the World Security Council. Thinking fast, he decided to use it to their advantage by guiding it towards the wormhole as a last resort.

He knew it could all be over soon, and that he may not make it out alive, but he had to try. The weapon zoomed in and he flew along with it, grabbing it with the suit before increasing the thrusters to maximum speed.

“Sir, shall I try Miss Potts?” JARVIS chimed through the suit, sounding solemn as he too knew there was no way Tony would make it back.

“Might as well.” he mumbled back, partly paying attention while his mind raced through every possible thought; his thoughts landed on you as the wormhole inched closer and closer. Pepper didn’t pick up, the line went blank after ringing hopelessly and he was about to get JARVIS to call you, in hopes that you had somehow survived this, when the AI glitched and went offline.

He released the nuke and watched it head straight towards the enemy before his suit gave up and his eyes turned heavy and he passed out. It was when the missile exploded that the impact of it threw him back towards Earth, sending him hurtling towards the ground just as the wormhole closed.

When his eyes opened, he was on the ground surrounded by the team, heart hammered in his chest, indicating he had by some miracle made it and the mission was successful.

“Please tell me nobody kissed me.” his thoughts quickly returned to you as he said it, wanting nothing more than your lips on his, to let him know he was indeed alive.

It seemed like an eternity later that you crawled out of your hiding space, unscathed minus a few cuts here and there, your heart dropped down to your stomach when you saw the condition outside. Dust and rubble had settled but the silence was deafening. You could no longer see the portal that was opened but you couldn’t be sure if all was over.

As people slowly scrambled out and on their way, you found yourself right outside your shop, looking dazed as you plopped down on the street, unable to comprehend.

There was a shuffle behind you, before Tony Stark appeared right by your side and wordlessly took a seat next to you. It was at that point that you felt tears gather in your eyes and cloud your vision.

He pulled you in a hug, clinging onto you just as much as you were to him, stroking your hair in a gentle manner.

“I was so worried, Tony.” you croaked once the tears subsided, leaning into his touch when he cupped your face.

“I know, Y/N. I’m just glad we still have this, well parts of it, anyway. God knows I can’t do without your coffee.” he joked, chuckling when you hit him in the chest and touched your foreheads together.

All the day’s events were made just a little more believable when Tony’s lips touched yours in a kiss that was more of a promise, a promise that you were the sole reason for his more than frequent visits to your little shop.

…

It took more than a month to finally set up the shop post the repair work. You were grateful you had insurance that covered it all, but Tony being Tony, had taken care of a lot of things, even added a few upgrades after convincing you with persuasive kisses and cuddles.

He wore you down, like you even had a chance with that gorgeous smile and doe eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

This was something he always asked, something you didn’t know you needed to hear after a hard day. That one question had the power to dissipate any residual anger, frustration or unpleasant thoughts from your mind.

It made you wonder how on Earth was this guy known to the world as just a genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist. He was so much more than that.

It was five o’clock when he showed up one evening, making your little heart flutter as he gave you that winning smile.

“There she is!” Tony exclaimed, holding two cups of coffee as you made your way around the counter to meet him.

“Did no one tell you it was a crime to bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, Stark?” you frowned at the cups in his hands, wiping your hands on the apron you wore.

Chuckling, he placed the mugs aside before wrapping his arms around you, placing a loving kiss on your lips. You felt some heat rise to your cheeks as the onlookers stared at the pair of you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to display his affection for you out in public but it was still something you were getting accustomed to.

“Hello, my gorgeous girl.” he murmured, looking fondly at you while you hopelessly blushed.

“Hello, my handsome boy. How was your day?” you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, idly tracing the outline of his arc reactor.

“Just got better.” he winked.

The cafe was relatively empty as you made your way towards a secluded area which housed a cozy booth. Tony had brought you your favourite coffee from a cafe you loved. You liked yours with a hint of mandarin and there was one quaint cafe that made the best brew. You were shocked he remembered it given you must’ve mentioned it once in a random conversation; the man really was full of surprises. He admitted to having asked one of your closest friends who also worked with you at your cafe about your go to coffee, she had been sworn to secrecy to not mention anything to you.

He had also shown genuine interest in setting up a meeting with your brother, something you assumed he would forget eventually. You couldn’t be gladder that he was proving every assumption of yours wrong.

“This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Tony. Thank you.” you placed your hand over his, giving it a squeeze. You noticed how he weaved your fingers together and held them against his slightly trembling ones, letting you know he may have been underslept and over-caffeinated again.

It seemed to you like your life was turned into a romantic movie, with the perfect guy and rose-tinted situations. It was almost too good to be true, but you allowed yourself to dream on.

Tony stayed back as you closed up, even helped you clean up as best as he could, looking rather adorable in an environment that was foreign to him. But he was there for you.

It was then that you realized how hard you were falling for this man. It was inevitable, like you were meant to be. It felt right. He felt right. You and Tony.

“Earth to Y/N?”

You blinked as Tony waved his hands in front of your face, getting you to snap out of your daze. He pulled out a small bag of berries you hadn’t known he’d stashed away behind a counter, making you shake your head fondly.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Y/L/N?” he gently prodded again, feeding you a sweet strawberry from the bag.

“I–I love you, Tony.”

You blurted before you could stop yourself, your heart immediately leapt out of your chest at your confession, making it hard for your brain to process. Almost like in slow motion, Tony leaned away from the counter and made his way closer to you, standing between your legs with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Arms snaked themselves around your waist before pulling you flush against his chest, his face inching closer to yours as that stupidly handsome smile on his face grew.

“Say it again.” he whispered, nose nudging yours lovingly as his eyes scanned yours for signs of doubt.

“I’m in love with you, Tony Stark.”

You said it again, this time a lot more confident in your head as you matched his grin, locking your arms behind his neck.

“Again.”

“I love you, Anthony Edward Stark.”

“Jeez, not my full name, Y/N!” he made a face, chortling when you hit his chest, yelping when your fingers hit the metal arc reactor instead.

“You’re supposed to say something back, Stark. Not leave a girl hanging. Maybe a hey I love you too back, or a sorry I don’t feel the same way. Something? And ow! That really hurt.”

You were blabbering at this point, you were well aware, your overactive thoughts almost resurfacing until Tony Stark finally opened his mouth to speak up, shushing you with a finger on your lips.

“I love you too, Y/N. Of course I do. I think I have for a long time now. I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. You are the reason I smile so much these days, ask the team, really. They’re probably wondering what pills I’m on. I’m all yours if you’ll have me, my sweet Y/N. And you’re all mine, sunshine.”

Tony really left you speechless once again, smirking down at you before descending those godly lips over yours to prove how much of truth his words held.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fluff #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x female reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark one shot #tony stark fic #tony stark x y/n #tony stark #the stark squad #marvel fanfiction #anon asks #mostly marvel musings #writing challenge

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rise-my-angel · 3 days

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Heart of the Great Wolf

Stoking the Flames

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (one sided)

Length: 23.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussions of abusive relationships, implied past sexual abuse, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, mentions of anal, breeding kink

Notes: Enjoy the calm while it lasts, because part 5 is going to be a whammy of juicy whiplashing content. Previous Modern! AU Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Your eyes shined brightly, something both almost a wonder and yet in something a bit emotional as you looked it over. Hand running gently down along the soft material as your eyes tracked it all the way down to the ground. The designs on it were a faint grey along the white colour, but they were there and intertwined along the arms and front of the skirt to create a gentle abstract look. There was a bit of lace along the arms as well but not so see through that you’d be able to notice much skin, more to give it a sheer look.

You hadn’t laid eyes on it in months, you hadn’t even expected to see it again. After the call that Ramsay had cancelled the dinner on you even despite that being the rescheduled one, you had give up on needing it. A fancy restaurant in Torrhen’s Square, and Ramsay had sent you out to a specific store to acquire a specific dress he wanted you to wear to the date. You had come close to buying it, a short, thin strapped red dress that was tight and showed off far more cleavage then you’d ever willingly choose alone. Waiting for the attendant to come back with your size, Jon had muttered to you that he’d be right back.

He had taken you there, not wanting you to take public transportation that far into the city alone. But you had waited alone for the dress, your mind solely on another. The one you in the present were gazing over. You had spotted it the moment you walked in, on a rack surrounded by other assorted things which appeared mostly vintage, but you were not told to get it, so you ignored it no matter how much it caught your eye. Before the attendant even came back, Jon had brought it over to you and nearly shoved you into the dressing room to try it on without listening to you protest.

He was right, you didn’t know how he knew but it had been beautiful. It had gone unspoken between you both, that Jon was very clearly trying to hold himself back from just telling you he’d buy it for you, standing begrudgingly quiet at the checkout counter. Then Ramsay cancelled, twice. And you knew such a dress wasn’t going to be needed for anything else, you didn’t do fancy events, it was supposed to be special. You had put it in the bottom of a box to donate, not wanting to look at it again and you thought no more of it when you dropped said box off one afternoon.

Yet now, you stood in Jons room, your eyes running all over the beautiful dress you thought you’d never be able to wear, all because Jon saw it in the donate pile, and rescued it. So you could wear it one day in the future like he thought you deserved.

Turning to look back at him, Jon was leaning back against his desk. Fiddling with his phone, he was clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t watching you adamantly. But his peeking grey eyes were wide as they caught yours, the expression trying to hide away that he was somewhat anxious about what you were to say about him keeping it for you. But your voice softened those worries in an instant, gentle as it was he could still hear from across the room. “You kept it this whole time just for me?”

Jon’s response however, just made your expression fall flat as his grew into a grin. “I don’t think it’d suit me.” Your head tilted before turning to look back at it, the beginning sound of Jon approaching before you felt two hands sit along your waist. Putting his chest against your back, he let his hands run smoothly up and down to your hip and back. Your hand busy running along the skirt of the dress which you could reach as he leaned down to mutter into your ear. “It looked beautiful on you, I didn’t want that to be for nothing.” Pausing before his voice ran a little rougher, while attempting to sound as if he wasn’t feeling so. “Even if it meant only showing you I kept it for you, because I thought maybe Ramsay would’ve done something nice for you once.”

Biting down on your tongue, something in you felt both distant at the name, but warm through your veins at the insinuation. Feeling Jons lips suddenly press down against your neck, you somewhat leaned back into his touch, only for Jon to interrupt himself, muttering muffled against you that he needed more room not less. Finally bringing a smile back out onto your lips with a small shake of your head. “I wasn’t trying to-”

His chuckle vibrated against your back, sinking into your skin and reaching your heart making it feel light at the sound. Interrupting you, Jon smartly switched back to the topic at the forefront of his mind. “You don’t have to wear it. I just wanted you to know you could, if you want.”

A hand left the dress, reaching to grasp gently at one of his hands only for Jon to grasp it in his larger one. Wrapping it around your front to keep you pressed against him, the side of his head rested gentle against yours as he looked down at your thought filled expression. “You don’t think it would be too much?”

Again he chuckled, pulling you closer it possible as he dropped his head back to kiss just under your ear to rasp into it. “It’s a wedding, darling. If there’s one place you’re allowed to wear a gown like this.”

Naturally, you had been hesitant to agree to go in the first place. You didn’t truly know the bride nor groom, but it was Sam’s brother getting married. Dickon apparently had told his brother to give him the names of people from the North he wanted to invite, and whatever partner’s they may wish to bring. Sam naturally knew out of anyone only two people would go with him all the way back to Horn Hill for such an event. Gilly agreed right away, excited to see where Sam grew up, and Jon didn’t hesitate to go.

Knowing Sam and his father had a not so good past as it was put gently to you. Jon hadn’t thought twice to mention to Sam that you’d be his plus one, before he had even brought it up to you at all. It made sense in his head, bringing you with him until he told you, and that nervous look came about your face suddenly.

Plans had all been made, but one thing remained. You had needed something to wear, and you had nothing appropriate for a wedding. That was when Jon opened the side of his closet that you rarely ever saw, normally where his Nights Watch attire was kept and you saw a familiar, long, white gown draped against the floor even from where it hung.

Starting to mutter that you didn’t have to wear it, you took the reigns and was the one to cut Jon off first that time. “I want too.” Trying to catch your eye from behind you, you choose to quickly let slip and turn in Jons arms. Not moving anywhere from him, but your hands now braced on his own arms close to where he had swapped to holding by your waist. “At least if I wear it for this, I’ll have a chance to wear it beside the one person who actually wanted me to get it.”

His brows narrowed. Your own face fell just slightly, as Jon picked up on you realizing the sudden switch in the emotions between you. You hadn’t meant it to come out that way, but it did and Jon had you way too close between him and his closet to escape his questions now. “What does that mean?” Shaking your head, you opened your mouth to a lie that Jon cut off before it even left your lips. “Why wouldn’t he have wanted you to get the dress you liked?” Your silence unfortunately, spoke that answer for you as Jon was smart enough to put it together. “You told me the dress you were looking at was just a style Ramsay had mentioned before.” Your continued silence only made it worse as you looked to the side away from him, Jon leaning down to try and catch your gaze more to his increasingly frustrated one as he more sternly muttered your name.

Fingers flexing meekly against where you held at his arms, your voice attempted to play it off as it meaning nothing, despite knowing the real answer was going to make him mad. “Ramsay sent me to that store on purpose.” Jon only waited for you to say the real answer you weren’t yet saying. “I was supposed to get the red dress specifically. For the date.” The manner which you awkwardly muttered the rest of it weighed a thousand pounds between you both. “So I could finally wear something that might make him want to actually...go to bed with me.”

You were both well aware that you had phrased it much more diplomatically then what Ramsay would’ve really said and you could see that anger flaring up in Jons eyes. Tone dropped there was an edge behind it, yet his hands held you no tighter. “Make him want to-” Cutting himself off, Jons head dropped for a moment as his eyes closed. Inhaling through his nose, you knew he was trying to keep it down for your sake here and now when he looked back up at you. One hand drifting from your waist to cup your cheek. “You shouldn’t be dressing a certain way so your own boyfriend will want to fuck you.”

Swallowing roughly, it seemed Jon had no issue jumping right to the more direct path of what you were speaking around. It wasn’t meant as a defence for him, and Jon knew that, but you so easily reverted back to someone a bit less confident in what you both had, defaulting to saying something just to appease Jon. “It wasn’t like that, it was only something he said once or twice. We did things anyways, he didn’t mean it.”

Head jolting back a little, Jon took the moment to look you over more seriously. Turning you by his hold at your cheek to meet his eyes, much wider but a more sad softness within them then you would’ve otherwise expected. His thumb ran along the skin of your cheek he could find each passing moment. “That has nothing to do with why he said it. He fucked you because you let him, you didn’t have to do anything to get him to do that. He told you to dress like that, to buy that dress in particular, because he wanted to prove to you and himself, that you’d always do whatever he said.”

“I only-”

Swapping to cup both of your cheeks, Jon turned your head up at an angle you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “Darling, you don’t have to defend him, you know that.” Nodding ever so slightly in his hold, Jon sighed at the motion. Pressing his lips to your forehead before resting his against yours, your arms now gently grasping at his waist, the only sound in the air between you was his gentle rasp. “You don’t have to wear the dress, we can go out right now and spend however long it takes to find you one you like-”

Shaking your head as much as you could in his touch, your eyes were a bit brighter then before. “No, I want to wear it. You kept it for me.” Sighing deeply again, Jon pulled back to seek your eyes out only to find genuinity within them. That time, you leaned up yourself.

Meeting you in the middle, whenever it was a kiss you initiated, it never was anything more then something sweet and chaste. Wrapping an arm around your lower back, Jon pulled you close so one of your hands was forced high up against his torso. His other hand tilting your head at the perfect angle for him, despite you being the one to start. You went in with something innocent but Jon deepened the kiss within mere seconds.

His lips soft against yours, he always took the lead. His kiss guided you no matter who started it, pulling you along to let him enjoy you the way he needed. Which could be endless. It was still new to you, even after three months together, it was still a matter of getting used too. The way which Jon truly, deeply loved to kiss you. Some nights, Jon would hover over you in bed with the intention of sinking deep inside of you, but could get so preoccupied in your kiss that an hour could pass and he made no further move to escalate things.

Ramsay and Karl Tanner had only ever kissed you enough to keep up the appearance that they were trying. Kiss you to greet you once or twice in a day, but sometimes those weren’t even to your lips, a press to your cheek felt sweet at the time when you thought it was normal for men not to enjoy kissing the way you wanted to try more of. But now, with Jon? It was obvious how much they were both trying to trick you into thinking it was normal to never give you attention, that it was how relationships worked in the real world and you were just too sheltered as a child to have learned that lesson.

Yet, each breath of air as you stood there, was stolen by Jon with such passion. He controlled your every act here, and yet it was not a trick of any sorts. He could kiss you until you were faint, and still trail his lips along your neck afterwards without ever stopping. Even now, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck, Jons hand on your cheek moved to your jaw. Better keeping you in place, kissing you again and again with no care to stop. The hand around your front slid to your hip, running smoothly over your pants with his palm before it somewhat begun to tease elsewhere.

Never yet committing, but you felt his fingertips toy with the idea of digging into your ass without committing. He had never taken you there, not truly. The first night you both properly begun to make up though, he had introduced you to the idea. That it wasn’t just for him, that he promised that if you were alright with it, he could make you feel good with that as well.

Even now as he kissed you without moving indecently, you felt a flush crawl through your body at the thought. Jon had taken you in every other way that night. Tasting between your legs until he pulled tears from your eyes at how much he purposely left you overstimulated. How finally, finally, he let you get on your knees. The feeling of his hand at your jaw now reminding you of the controlling way he gripped your hair, how he ran his fingers through the soft stands even though he had you pressed right up against the coarse hair around his cock as he spilled down your throat. Then, you were alright enough to take him properly after. You weren’t even sure how much you came at that point, your mind a bit of a fog as Jon dictated the whole night. But then he wasn’t yet done.

Waiting until you could stand on two feet, Jon guided you to his dresser, the mirror sitting against it showing what a mess you were. Covered in marks and bruises from his lips and teeth, bruises along your hips where he grabbed you and the lewd, undeniable sight of traces of his seed left between your legs. Guiding you to relax against the wooden surface, Jon gently lulled you into it.

The feeling strange and hurt a bit at first, but the more Jon rasped in your ear and the more his other hand ran across your clit to help, did it get easier. One, then two, by the time Jon managed to get you to cum one last time for him, he had just managed to fit three thick fingers deep into your ass before he was done. Carrying you back to bed, you had fallen asleep not long after to the gentle murmurings in your ear that you did so well for him.

But now, Jon didn’t take it that far, no matter how much your mind felt a bit guilty for drifting towards it. Once, twice, three times Jon had gone back to kiss you again when he was the one who pulled back first. Gently nudging your nose as you playfully did it right back, a small smile formed on his face. His hand returning back to your waist much more obviously. ��It’ll be our first time at an event as a proper couple.”

The fluster showed through your small smile, only making Jons grow brighter against his handsome features. “We’ll only be gone a few days?”

Jon nodded, returning to let the hand at your haw begun to run through your hair again and again almost mindlessly. “We’ll get there in the afternoon, the wedding is that evening. I thought we could stay the next day, have a chance to sleep in, walk around the town, and take our time going home the next day.”

Your eyes narrowing playfully, Jon picked up on your tease right away. “This going to be your first wedding under the Seven, Snow?”

Jon only leaned in to press a kiss to your lips again with a smirk. “If I don’t burst into flames walking to a sept, it will be.” Jon had no care when he interrupted your laugh with a more firm kiss of his own. Unbeknownst to you, Jon certainly was having other thoughts about being with you at a wedding, and how much he was fighting with himself to keep those thoughts down.

Not that you’d know, but you helped a good degree in that matter at the least. The joke far too easy on your tongue as your brow raised playfully. “Suppose every tradition sounds strange to someone who prays to a tree.”

Jon didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes, grabbed you by the waist and all but hauling you in his arms across the room. Only to catch the attention of Ghost, who didn’t hesitate to run over to you both taking it as a sign to play. Part of you could only dread as the weather begun to grow colder and colder, how swiftly both wolves would take advantage and see how often they could all but knock you down into piles of snow.

“So what is the point of this again?”

Theon didn’t even need to take his eyes off the screen, wide to the point you were surprised there weren’t tears. “To get the fastest time.” Your face fell instantly, looking over to where you knew he could feel your stare as you asked why specifically. The subsequent smirk only told you that he had been vague on purpose. “Do you want the real answer or the mature answer?” Your silence told him everything. “Normally you do it to get the best time in the world, there’s a site dedicated to speed runs of games and it’s a lot of competition to be the best. The real answer is Arya said I couldn’t beat her time and if I’m going to prove her wrong I need to practice.”

Your eyes rolled as you let a smirk fall over your face, the lack of any shock that Arya was involved in any way. As you merely sat and watched, you looked over to the window on the other side of the room, the sky growing pitch black out. Telling yourself not to look at the time, it didn’t matter. He’d come home when he’d come home, you knew that. He told you that. But for some reason, you felt yourself constantly looking over to the window waiting for car lights to suddenly appear when they continued not too.

The couch you sat on always felt like it has so much room when you were by yourself, until any one of the three came along and sat next to you, feeling like the were so broad their shoulders needed a seat and a half. A sigh left Robb as he sat next to you, and you not at all aware of how as he let an arm reach along to rest against the back, how close he could come to toying with the loose strands of your hair secretly if he chose to do so.

He asked casually, you thought nothing of it or his tone, despite the slight head turn of Theon as he picked up on it, as Robb asked if Jon was going to be late again.

You nodded casually. “He said he’d rather work the overtime shift now then give up his off hours to make up for it when we get back.” You didn’t see any expression on his face, nor did you have reason to think there would be any. Asking where the wedding was, your eyes glanced over to his finally which appeared to look normal. Now missing how Theon did in fact turn his head to watch a few times with a suspicious look. “Horn Hill. It’s just a little south of Highgarden.”

“I’ve never been in the Reach.”

You only shrugged, a first hand knowledge of there and here and you knew which was better. “You aren’t missing much. It’s by the Sunset Sea which is nice, but it’s so close to Dorne that it’s unbearably hot in the summertime. Can’t imagine a Northerner would have much love for it.” Robb jesting that you got used to the opposite had you smirk a little. “Getting used to the cold is a lot easier then getting used to the heat. You get cold you just pile on layers, you overheat there’s only so many things you can do about it.”

The joke was nothing he had never said before to you, and you thought nothing of it once more, a playful grin in both his eyes and smile as Robb leaned more against the other edge of the couch gesturing down to you with a nod. “Think there’s a few things you could do about being too hot.”

The flustered smile came with an eye roll, moving to nudge at him with your leg, it pulled a warm laugh from him as you told him to shut up.

Your hair had grown out in the past few months, longer then it had been in years. A bit in a mess from being at the end of the day, it was easier. For strands to be gently toyed with and you didn’t notice. Robb too was subtle, able to let his eyes drift away from you right as you’d possibly catch him watching you. Only a few times did Theon be the one to meet his gaze when he’d turn away, but you didn’t spot that either.

Theon though, wasn’t the only one. By the time lights appeared in the window, clearly Jon had gotten home but by then you had been too preoccupied with Grey Wind practically asleep on your feet to be able to get up, and neither Robb or Theon were willing to disturb the grumpy direwolf to get him to move.

On the surface, everything seemed fine. Jon arrived home, already peeling off his heaviest layers you gave him a soft smile when he caught your eyes. But greeting everyone else, did Jons eyes stray slightly behind you and spot exactly what he thought he saw. Robb knew he was caught, but you hadn’t noticed. His hand staying in place for now, the strands still through his fingertips as Robb raised an eyebrow.

A challenge towards Jon to say something. Robb was doing nothing inappropriate that you’d be uncomfortable with, but it was the intention behind it that Jon was not alright with. An intention they both knew you were not aware of. It had only been a number of days since the incident at the main Stark house and both were well aware that Robb more then ever had been watching Jon around you.

Jon also was very well aware, that something not comfortable was sitting in Robb knowing that you were going to be hundreds of miles south with Jon alone for days. In his paranoia, anything could happen.

Not entertaining this in front of you or Theon, Jon only left for his room to change properly. Leaving in the morning, Jon could only smile that you had nearly everything packed both for you and him, not bothering to waste a second knowing neither of you would want to pack so much so early. It took him longer then it needed to, coming back out there. Sitting at his desk finally, Jon’s eyes kept switching from his computer screen to screenshotting something down on his phone adamantly, only to suddenly close the tab to a half way finished report the second he heard the door open. Phone closing and sitting flat on the table as he made quick moves to type.

Jons eyes only glanced up enough to spot that it was Robb, and for a brief moment the thought that it was you about to catch him made Jon forget for a second that Robb was on his tails just as much only with purpose. Closing the door behind him, there was quiet in the room as Jon let his brother take his time.

He could see from his side view that he was looking around the room. Jon wasn’t fooled to why. Once Robb knew exactly what this room looked like, and now, something implored him to check again. And it was obvious. You slept in here with Jon every night, this was as much your room now as it was his and it was clear. Jon had made distinctive effort to make sure you felt as comfortable as he did, a blend of you and him as your own bedroom was beginning to look more and more like the spare room Jon once used for his office space.

A deep sigh left him, “What?”

Robb leaned against the side of his desk, forcing Jon to suddenly turn looking up with unamused eyes as his brother kept a calm. Yet with a tone they both knew sounded far too much like a lecturing tone their father would so willingly give. “You know I wish I didn’t even have to ask you this.” Jon only muttered out ask him what, and found an instant regret in the answer. “Does she have anything to worry about on this trip?”

Slowly Jon pushed up from his chair. Robb standing straight to face him as Jon met his gaze, narrowed and throughout unamused. “Does she, or do you mean do you have something you think you want to worry about?”

Both brothers stared each other down, more then one thought running through both of their heads at what could be at play here, which angle each were going with. But Robb made it simple, going right for what he considered to be the biggest issue. “Going to a wedding alone with her, after what Rickon saw on your phone-”

As much as he could afford to raise his voice without drawing attention, Jon accomplished best he could. “Why do you have so little faith in me?” The question clearly took Robb off guard more then his did Jon, pressing forward with something more hurt in his distrust seeping through. “You’ve known me our whole lives, and suddenly you think I’m as bad for her as Ramsay was? I get your mad I ever put her in that position, but as soon as you hung up I made my way home. To make things right.” Your name coming from his mouth, but with far less weight of vitriol then before. “It was her I hurt, it was her I needed to make things up for, to earn her trust back. I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

Trying to move passed him, Robb stopped him. Grabbing Jon firmly by the arm, not needing to even pull him back as Jon himself pivoted to face him once more. Though there was something apprehensive in Robbs eyes as he kept his even tone still, “I’m don’t want you to prove anything to me, I’m only watching to make sure you don’t hurt her again, even on accident.”

Eyes narrowing in doubt, Jons head tilted just a bit as if exaggerating that feeling. “Are you?” Robb letting him go, Jon only paced somewhat as he ran a hand over his mouth before turning back to face him. Gesturing out to the hall beyond the closed door. “I hated protecting her, because it always meant that there was someone to protect her from. If I could’ve chosen between winning her heart by always rushing in to rescue her, or never having her but knowing she’s safe? I’d rather she never date, then have her that way.”

Robb opened his mouth, only to be cut off before he could get a word out.

Why Jon even said it, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know why it slipped out, what he had been thinking days ago, but it came out regardless. “You’ve had relationships before me. You had a lot of good relationships, I haven’t.” That time your name came out more with a forced strain attempting to cover up something akin to a crack in an insecurity long pushed away. “The only girl I’ve ever been with outside of her? You have no idea how desperate I was to get out of that. I trapped myself with someone who made me hate myself, but the morning after father told us she was coming back, I called her to tell her I’d pick her up in White Harbour. By the time I got there that night, I had finally found the courage to break up with Ygritte just because I knew seeing her again would be better even as friends then anything I was for years.”

It was obvious Robb was taken back, something hesitant in his eyes that was not expecting something so open about a time they all knew Jon rarely spoke of. “What did she-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Not for that conversation it certainly didn’t, Jon thought. Saying your name again he finally wrapped around to what he had spent a long time stewing over many nights ago. “She’s the first real chance I have at being with someone I love, and I’m hers. And I won’t let that go, just because you can’t trust me with the girl I’ve been in love with my whole life.”

Much the way Robb hung up the phone that night before Jon could get another word in, too did Jon open his door and make his way out into the main hall before Robb could speak. Whatever state he was leaving Robb in, Jon couldn’t focus on that. His brother had three days without either of you to think about what it is Jon said, and if he cared enough to do anything different about it before Jon had the patience to tackle it again.

Jon was fine admitting it was complete bias. But he thought it so many times in the long drive south that knew were he in the car with anyone else for that long he’d have prayed to the old gods for peace and quiet long before now.

But Jon loved driving places with you. You could drive, but Jon honestly couldn’t recall the last time he ever saw or heard of you doing so. You grew up on Dragonstone, a small island that had little space for main roads in the first place, then you spent your years on and off in Kings Landing. A larger city, but so cramped that anything you could’ve needed was always within walking distance.

The North though, was far too large. It alone was half of the country in terms of land. You could stand in Winterfell and look in any direction, and for hundreds of hundreds of miles it still would only land you further in the North. Having four younger siblings, Jon and Robb both got very used to driving them around and so when you would stay North, Jon was happy to include you in that. Even better then you came back from Kings Landing for good and moved there.

Finding a place close to Winterfell meant anytime you needed to go anywhere a bit too far to walk, Jon was more then happy to drive you. He was used to having you in the passenger seat. You never felt the need to fill the air with talking, you and Jon could enjoy the silence of the road. Sometimes Jon would play music but always low so that only in complete quiet with the windows up could you really hear it.

If it was in the North, Jon knew where and how to get there like the back of his hand, but here you proved his best driving companion for another reason. The south alone he was unfamiliar with, especially when you had gotten into The Reach. Meaning he relied on you for a lot of his navigation, but you were good at it. Quick and to the point, especially when passing on the edge of the much more populated High Garden.

Especially when he would be North of the wall, he had some truly terrible directions before. Both from his brothers garrisoned with him, and from some of the free folk who simply forgot that Jon hadn’t always known their lands as well as he did now.

By the time he had gotten you both to the hotel, you had joked about how Sam and Gilly got to stay in the Tarly’s fine estate while you both were in a small space with just two rooms. Dropping your overnight bag on the bed along with his, Jon only jested that there was also a balcony. You turned halfway back with a flat expression along with one raised brow, “Two rooms, and a very small balcony.” In correction.

Turning back to look at the view, Jon had come up behind you. One hand tenderly grasped your hip to almost steady you as he inevitably startled you, the other reached around to slide open the glass door. Just enough the warm breeze blew inside as Jon gently guided you to step out. Pressing you between him and the railing, Jon dropped his head to your ear with a rasp. “Fits the two of us just fine.”

Just to tease you further, Jon let a hand slip down from your hip as if toying with the idea of slipping under your skirt before you laughed his name in an embarrassed manner, grasping and pulling it back up only to be greeted by a warm laugh in your ear back. Pressing his lips to the skin just below, Jon let that hand now much more innocently wrap around your stomach, your hands reaching up to push back the sleeves of his shirt to grasp at his arm, leaning back into his touch.

“How much time do we have?”

Jon didn’t even need to see your face to know you rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a smirk. “Not enough for what you’re thinking.” Jon only replied you both would if you shared the shower with him, but you had him there too without skipping a beat. “If we share a shower here, we are bound to arrive late.”

Another laugh left him, and another kiss was left to your hair at the side of your head before turning you back into the room. “You unpack while I go first.” He answered your question before you had a chance to even think of it yourself. “So when you’re done I can help you get ready.”

It was an offer Jon knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, and that was fine with both of you. He had long since mastered the ability to do your hair for you. At first glance it would look very simple, but Jon had happily spent a long while behind you in front of the bathroom mirror, doing every small little braid for you, which all eventually entangled into a larger braid like design that you had once said was common for women in the Stormlands.

It gave him the chance to run his fingers through your hair for an extended period of time. It was how he became so good at braiding hair in the first place. When younger, you would stay over at the main house to watch movies late with he, Robb, and Theon. The later two always ended up falling asleep first, and you both would normally end up the only ones awake, finally able to watch a movie you both wanted. Normally a horror one that your own parents would’ve never let you watch at that age.

You would always end up sitting close to Jon even though you claimed you weren’t scared until one night you had enough of whatever it was. Suddenly turning into Jons side to all but hide from the screen, Jon even only twelve at the time felt warm at how much you trusted him to comfort you. So you both ended up having nights where you’d watch horror movies alone, since no one else had any interest in them. In his room when he still lived on the second floor, Jon would gather things so you both could sit back comfortably on the floor against his bed, since that angle it was easier for you to just sit back against him.

Much easier time turning to hide now that you knew it was alright to just admit sometimes the movies were scarier then you could handle. But, eventually Jon found a habit. Your hair so long back then always in his reach, and he eventually found himself trying to braid it. Even if just an excuse to be closer, and he ended up learning how to do it very well to the point that, much to Catelyns dismay, when his little sisters were still very young sometimes they just came to him asking him to braid their hair instead of their mother.

Now he did it mostly with you, and the past few months was truly striking gold for something Jon secretly always enjoyed to be close to you for. Though, Jon could admit he was less focused on the task at hand when he had helped you into the dress.

It was curse, a terrible idea keeping it. Jon remembered how beautiful it looked on you, but this was unfair. He had to have you out all night with all those other people, when he could barley keep his eyes off of you. The way it fit parts of you perfectly, but draped along so many others and down against the floor like a proper gown, you looked as if you had been born to exist in another period of time. Jon could imagine you in dresses just like this every day and never tire of it.

He had it easy, both he and Sam being in the Nights Watch meant formal events were normally told to be used as representative moments. Or as Mormont put it, “If you’re going to get so drunk you throw up on your uniform, don’t wear it in the first place.”

Though, it also meant Jon had a far less annoying time having to dress for events. It was downplayed for times like this, but it meant he could wear something he was generally already comfortable with and not wonder what he should be doing to fit in with other men. It also worked, his all black was suited perfectly with the white dress on you at his side.

Coming up to the wedding, everyone was still scattered outside by the time Jon parked. Only you didn’t move with him right away to leave, letting go of the handle to the door, Jon turned to you murmuring your name. He could see your hands toying with what you could reach of the skirt of your dress with something nervous in your eyes, as if you wanted to ask him to drive you back to the hotel instead of getting out. Reaching a hand over, he ran it over your cheek, tilting you to look at him while he leaned over to reach you better. “Talk to me.”

He could tell you bit down on your tongue, glancing out to the crowd from where your eyes could look from the side before gazing down instead of at him. The nerves prominent in your voice. “I told you it’s too much.” Asking what, he already knew the answer when you said it. “The dress. It’s way too much.”

Speaking from nothing but complete sincerity, Jon let his thumb run over your cheek as he tried to lean down to catch your eyes failing to meet his own still. “You look beautiful.” But the way you responded hurt, his heart heart at the sincerity which you said that it was alright if he wanted to tell you the truth. “The truth? What truth?”

That had you finally meeting his gaze, something nervous as it was frustrated that he hadn’t figured it out yet. “That you don’t have to keep lying about these things.” Jon didn’t even have a response to that, just something uncomfortable in his stomach as you elaborated. “Everything that happened with Daenerys wasn’t your fault, I know that. She tricked you into all of it, or forced you, I don’t know the right word, but you didn’t do anything on purpose to hurt me. So you can stop lying about things to try and make up for it, you didn’t do anything I need to forgive you for.”

Oh Jon did not have time to handle this, in the car, outside of a wedding. Swallowing it all down, Jon tilted you to look back up at him. His eyes bright but almost a bit devastated at how little he could voice the heartbreak in him all over again. “Darling, I don’t know what you think I’ve been doing, but this isn’t it. I wanted to make it up to you, because no matter what happened when I was gone, I still was the one who left when you needed me. And I’m not lying. I promise. You look beautiful, and I want everyone to see how beautiful my girl looks.”

You both knew there wasn’t much time for this, and Jon could see the insecurity bleed into guilt in your eyes for saying anything in the first place. But you nodded, suddenly pulling from his touch to collect yourself and nearly rush out of the car as if now that you brought it up, all you wished to do was avoid the conversation. Jon could only follow suit, trying to shake of the sudden weight in his own heart, knowing this was a bad time to try and understand what you just revealed to him, in front of all these people.

A hand reaching your lower back, Jon guided you through to the crowd where he had easily spotted Sam and Gilly. The former calling out to Jon, who knew the smile on his face was a little more forced then usual only hoping Sam didn’t notice. Gilly commenting right away that she thought you looked wonderful, Jon’s eyes flickered to you, the smile looking forced but not quite obvious that Gilly would’ve noticed as you replied. “Thank you, but really you look stunning.”

Nodding to Sam she had a gleeful smile, “His sister Talla helped me pick it out, otherwise I’d have no idea what to wear to something as fancy as this.”

As you found a bit of ease talking to Gilly, who was happy taking the reigns of a conversation, Jon turned to Sam hoping his own sudden unease was not noticeable, though knowing Sam, he’d pick up on it eventually. “Have you seen him yet?”

Both men knowing who Jon was referring too right away. “Earlier. He’s spent most of his time with Dickon, so, if I can get through the reception then without having to talk to him then this will be easier then I hoped it would.”

Sams relationship with his father wasn’t what Jon would call something to be envious of. The man for all he heard, sounded like a nightmare to grow up with should you be like Sam, and not live up to whatever high expectations he had. Sam had once joked that maybe he’d like Jon at least, only for them both to come to the somewhat amusing realization that considering Jon was not really highborn, then there went any chance of that.

In fact he thought, out of everyone in this little group only you would fit that bill. Jons eyes lingering on you, but with that worry he knew Sam was already noticing. Not hiding it as well as he wished he was, but it all just ambushed him so quickly. Hand somewhat running ever so slightly up and down your lower back, neither of you sure if to comfort you or him at that point.

By the time Jon wondered if you had finally come down a little, things seemed to ease up for him as well. As if your nerves heightened his own, and when they simmered so could he. Gilly looked over to the sept, as she asked “So how does it work down here? Getting married?”

Glancing first between Jon and Sam, Jon could only give a slight change to his face indicating that he didn’t know either. Mentioning at her questioning face, “I grew up in the North as well.” Sam asking didn’t they have a sept near Winterfell. “They do, but I’ve never been in it for that. My brothers and sisters were the ones that worshipped the old gods and the new, since their mother follows the Seven.”

A small look was shared between yourself and Sam, gaining Jons bemused attention. “You are in for a ceremony then.” His eyes narrowed at you, but you only held a smirk holding back what you were truly thinking. Not bothering to elaborate for him, Jon could only let his smirk out more openly. For once finding himself not caring about such closeness, Jon somewhat turned you by your upper arms, before sliding down to your waist to move you towards entering the sept finally. The smirk growing to a grin as you let out a gentle laughing protest of his name as his push.

Jon pretended not to notice Sam’s watchful eyes, not used to seeing Jon so open about being with you. In fact he knew it was the first time Sam had seen Jon spend time with you since you begun to date, this was almost brand new compared to Jons previous silent affections hiding away in his heart.

The sept in Horn Hill was much like what you said most average ones were like. Catching his curious glance, you clarified that in Kings Landing the Sept of Baelor was massive and immaculate. The statues of the Seven surrounding the main floor and reaching high to a ceiling that was taller then you knew how to describe.

Here the statues were more what he expected. Surrounding a half moon wall where the main area was modestly decorated. Banners around of the ancient sigil of the Tarly’s, a red painted huntsman yielding a bow and arrow against an array of green like grass. The septon stood at the main top with what Jon assumed was Sams father and brother. Dickon looked only a little like Sam, Jon supposed. But it felt like he was looking up to Randyll Tarly and saw nothing between the two of similarity.

In truth, the other sigil around was some he was not familiar with. More of the older houses of the Reach Jon wasn’t terribly familiar with, let alone the south in general. Though, he was here for Sam, so it didn’t truly matter. Looking down to you, he could see the hand near him was clutching the skirt of your dress a bit tightly, the nerves returning suddenly. Without much thought, Jon slipped the hand from at your back to grasping at the hand. Pulling it free enough from the fabric not to draw attention, as he slowly moved to encourage you to just let him hold your hand. Tugging you the slightest bit closer under the guise that it was more crowded in the sept then out there.

The ceremony was something. Keeping you close, Jon couldn’t help but let his mind wander nearly the entire time. There was a lot of talking. Mostly by the septon, but he felt as if he talked endlessly and Jon couldn’t help but feel it was all for the spectacle of ceremony. He hadn’t seen many, but the Northern weddings were much more simple, more quiet and certainly didn’t require someone else to conduct it for them.

Jon could just stand at the Weirwood in his own home, with his family and do it himself. Little was even spoken between the man and his bride if anything at all. Some swore their sacred vows out loud before kneeling before the heart tree to pray, some said nothing knowing that their prayers and promises here were enough and needn’t be spoken for the sake of everyone else.

It didn’t escape Jon that in this imagine created in his head, he could see you. Not even dissimilar to what you looked like now. A bit warmer of a dress of course. Here the men draped their bride in a cloak of their family sigils, but in the North, it was not as formal of a design. Coming from ancient times when in place of the outer clothes they wore now, cloaks made with a fur around the shoulders were what kept people warm. The man would wear it standing there, and the bride would come out to be given his fur to keep warm.

Jon knew that his family had well kept furs from years beyond counting for that very purpose, not that he had a chance to use it as such. His father had married Catelyn in her home of Riverrun, far from his own home. It had been during a time of political strife for the country. His father and your own father and uncle were all heavily involved in the situation in those days but no one seemed to like talking about it. But Jon couldn’t imagine having a marriage in a place like this.

He felt out of place, uncomfortable almost. He wanted you out in fresh air in his home, in the place he fell in love with you. He’d sneak you away before the reception was even over, a smaller guest house seldom used would be the perfect place. Keep you to himself for a while, and slowly take you apart before keeping you in his bed as long as you could handle. Which Jon knew was dangerous to think in public, but he certainly was learning how much you could handle. How much he was teaching you to handle.

Inhaling deeply, Jon willed himself to keep his mind calm. Keep that thought from coming so close to the forefront when he had a night to get through before he got you alone. He could think about it then, not now, not in front of other people.

Jon begun to think you perhaps were a bit less invested then you pretended to be. Eyes forward, but you slowly begun to fidget your hand in his, before Jon picked up right away what you needed. Gently toying with your fingers, tracing over what he could reach. Glancing down to you, he caught your eyes a bit brighter then before, no doubt realizing your mind treading into a bit of boredom was noticed.

He didn’t know most of these people, so Jon let himself not care. Pulling you closer into his side, you were able to turn a bit to rest your head more by his neck, the brush of his curls dancing along your own skin in return. The rest of the ceremony felt odd, even once it picked up. Standing beside each other, holding hands lightly did the septon tie a cloth around them before undoing it just as fast and again all he could think was how preformative it was.

Only for it to be topped, by a loud deceleration by Dickon, “With this kiss, I confess my love.”

Jon couldn’t imagine a world in which his father would’ve ever agreed to something that exaggerated for the sake of it. Turning to you, your eyes were still brighter then before like you could shake things off as you held a tone towards him of knowing. “So, was it as exhilarating as you thought it would be?”

Looking down with narrow eyes, Jon only muttered as he pulled you close again into his side. “You southerners talk too much.” Over the crowd it mostly blended in, but so close to his ear Jon could only smile as he heard you laugh freely.

Leaning into him more, you let a hand reach over to grasp at the belt across his person, “The rest is easy. Food, drink..dancing.” Jon only jesting that he couldn’t wait to see what you southerners considered to be dancing.

By the time he did, Jon whispered it into your ear directly. “If my father danced like this at his wedding, would your uncle have a video of it?” Whispering that you could ask, a mischievous look in your eye knowing how dangerous that would be in the wrong hands, and how tempting it would be to accidentally gift that footage to one of his younger siblings. “Is every dance like this?”

Shaking your head, you held a laugh still in your voice. “No, eventually they run out of tradition far before they run out of wine, and then people can enjoy themselves like normal.”

It came out before Jon could stop it. Leaning more to your ear, a whispered rasp making you shiver even without his touch. “I don’t think the way I want to enjoy you is what they have in mind.” Looking up with wide eyes and a flustered look Jon only smiled. Pulling your head close to leave a kiss to your hair mumbling to fluster you even further. “Bedding Ceremonies probably aren’t as exciting as what we already do.”

Hissing his name, Jon shifted to let one hand drape along the back of your chair, his hand on the other side freely running along your arm as his other finished what was left of his wine. You instead nearly hid in yours as you muttered for him only, “Anyone could be listening.”

That time he didn’t even hide his voice, just leaning down to you a bit knowing if someone heard, then they heard. “If there’s one place it’s appropriate to talk about taking the woman you love to bed.” The roll in your eyes was not at all meaningful, mostly a diversion of the feeling in your chest no doubt before people noticed Jon was making you feel worked up. But Jon let his hand run smooth along your arm, letting his head turn to rest more against your hair before his lips pressed a kiss there as you both watched the final of traditional dances begin.

Your voice was gentle when you spoke again. “Gilly’s doing rather well.” Both looking to where on the dance floor with other family and important guests were, Sam and Gilly both had joined the dances, Jon commenting he was surprised she knows how to when you shrugged a shoulder. “She had been practising nearly every night to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself.”

He tried to hold it in, he really did. But he lasted about ten seconds before it slipped out. “Is that why you’re not out there?” Your face fell as you glared up at him, Jon barley holding back a grin. “I understand, you don’t want to embarrass yourself. It’s been years why would you remember any of it?”

You stuck to a glare in silence for as long as it took to turn back with a huff and a shake of your head. “I’d have gotten up and danced with someone to prove you wrong, if you weren’t right.” That time Jon laughed, only he pulled you along with him as he did so. Your face twisting into something much more soft then before. “Listen, about earlier-”

Shaking his head, Jon pulled his arm from across your chair to cup the side of your face as he turned to you. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not mad.” Letting his thumb run across your cheek, his face twisted somewhat. “When did you start thinking that way? That I was only doing all this as an act?” Trying to stutter that you didn’t say that, Jon caught you in the lie. “Thats what you meant.”

Letting his hand slip more down to run along your neck, the sensation gave a shiver through you as if awakening you enough again to find your voice. “Margaery said something about it. That Dany was trying to manipulate you to get back at me, that everything I saw or heard she wanted me to hear.. not because it was happening organically.” Jon would’ve interjected, but he could see you had one more point being held onto. “That and.. Arya had said that if you couldn’t get her to take responsibility, then you would.”

Inhaling through his nose, Jon took a moment as his eyes closed to consider that he knew Arya meant well, but likely didn’t know how to phrase things that wouldn’t give you the wrong ideas. Looking back, Jon let his hand toy with the edges of your dress mindlessly. “I didn’t tell you any of that, because I knew it wouldn’t make you feel better. All I cared about was proving I never wanted to hurt you, and I’d never do it again.”

Glancing to the side as if checking no one was listening, you nodded gently. “You didn’t need to prove anything, I wasn’t upset because I didn’t trust you.”

Leaning a bit closer, he let the hand toying with the edge of your dress drift back more to your jaw as his thumb ran along your cheek. “And if I did anything, I’d want you to be upset about it. I’d want you to not trust me for betraying you like that. You’re allowed to blame me for things, sometimes.”

Looking back around once more, you shook your head as if trying to dismiss the conversation. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here.” Jons brows narrowed just the slightest picking up on your avoidance, but he let it go just for now.

The music finally having changed to something a little more normal, but on the slow side, Jon stood with a hand outstretched to you. That time you were the one who looked to him in a question, but he only nodded his head to the side where the dancing was to implore you. “When was the last time I got to dance with you for anything?”

A shy smile came over you as you accepted his offer. “Were we even teenagers?”

With a surprising amount of grace, Jon took your hand and all but spun you onto the dance floor before grasping both you by your other hand and pulling you into him. The timing worked well, the song only quiet and slow as Jon let one hand leave yours to run down your waist closer to your hip to keep you steady but close. The now free hand of yours ran to sit flat high on his chest, movements slow.

Jon could tell you were a bit flustered. Not used to something quite as openly romantic as this, but the thought only made him smile, catching your attention. “The Winter Harvest when you were twelve. That was the last time I danced with you.” Asking nothing but with curiosity why you both stopped then, Jons answer came with his hand at your hip pulling you just he bit closer as he leaned more down to you. “I was fourteen, my feelings for you were starting to get serious, and every other boy around me was only dancing with girls they were dating. I didn’t want you to think the wrong thing.”

A small smile came over you, nearly forcing one onto Jons in response. “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Closing enough of the gap that you could nudge your nose with his. “Wouldn’t want you to think what? That I love you?” Not giving you the chance to look away, Jon captured your lips with his. Nothing urgent, but a chaste kiss with just enough of a passion put into it that your eyes were still fluttering open by the time Jon pulled back to look at you. Waiting until you met his grey ones, he let them flicker down not just to your lips again but what he could see before returning. “I don’t want you to worry about what happened. We’re moving passed it, I want to just look forward to whatever comes for us next. I’ll always be sorry for leaving you like that, but looking back on it now isn’t making you feel better.”

Hardly noticing anyone around you, your voice came out gentle with a small nod. “I’m not sure Robb thinks the same.” His brows narrowed but allowed you to elaborate. “You told me a while ago not to worry about it, but I know something’s wrong. He’s angry, I thought it was at me but sometimes he seems fine, other times I don’t know. But I do know sometimes he’s angry with you.”

If he gave anything away, Jon had done a good job of hiding it. Face twisting just a little as if only in response to new information, he repeated exactly what he had said before albeit with a new weight hiding behind the realization. “He just cares about you.”

“Why does caring about what happened mean he’s still angry with you?”

Shifting the hand on your hip, Jon cupped the back of your head. Pulling your front more into his chest as he swiftly adjusted positions to still look like you both fit in. Rasping low in your ear, Jon knew at least this way you couldn’t see his troubled expression. “He cares about you, I hurt you and he doesn’t want to see that happen again. He’s just holding me accountable-” Being cut off you looked up enough to mutter that you’d talk to him but Jon just soothed you right back into his front. “Let me handle Robb, right now, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

A small huff left you which mimicked a laugh, as your head turned up without pulling away, trying to nuzzle a bit more into his front.”I always enjoy myself when I’m with you.” Heart filling in his chest, Jon sighed deeply as he let his lips press a kiss to the side of your head. His eyes catching only for a moment, Sam. A look in his eye trying to convey what almost appeared to be pride, only for him to shake his head nearly indeterminable to Sam, before drifting his gaze away to you once more.

In truth Jon was starting to wonder if bringing you here was a scheme by Sam, just as an opportunity to watch Jon in a relationship he’s actually happy in. Sam more then once when this first started, told him he couldn’t be happier for him, and since he hadn’t actually seen you and Jon, only before when you were still just friends. Jons obvious affection for you that so blatantly breached the appropriate bounds of friendship, and the painful number of times he had to hold that back from someone else seeing it.

But now, nothing was keeping him back and considering how Sam both invited him to this but also seemed to be going out of his way to keep himself and Gilly from interrupting you both, he started to suspect that this was all just a long con to watch Jon with the girl he’s pined over all his life.

The music clearing up a bit, Jon wasn’t even sure how long you both had been there. Having you warm in his arms was more then he could’ve ever asked for, the way you nuzzled into his front as if hiding from the rest of the wedding to live in the small bubble only consisting of you both.

Turning to look as chatter begun to buzz about, Jon didn’t move you from his hold even as Sam and Gilly both approached. You tried to stand up properly, but Jon ran his hand down your hair a bit firmer as if to keep you right where you were, your hands slinking up more towards his shoulders to hold against him better as he did so.

If there was one thing from the event Jon knew Gilly would remember, it was what came next. Someone, what Jon could only assume was a friend or cousin of Dickon begun riling up everyone and Jon instantly knew what was coming next. Glancing at Sam with a knowing, you watched as well but with a bit more of a modest interest whereas Gilly begun looking rather confused, and soon almost a mixture of horrified and baffled.

Many of the women ferrying Dickon off, clothes slowly coming with it as laughter was shared, and even more of a sight, did many of the men pick up the poor bride, doing the exact same but with the amusement, laughter and music far more lively as they were ferried off, before Gilly muttered, “What was that?”

You were the one to answer, a more knowing tone as if a dread of yours in the future, as if Jon would ever allow that. “The bedding ceremony. Men take the bride and women bring the groom as they, you know,”

“Bed each other?”

An amused look in your eyes, you nodded but it did nothing to help alleviate the feeling. Jon taking over, failing to keep a grin off his face at the whole ordeal. “It’s tradition. Centuries ago, the only way to know if the bride and groom consummated their marriage was-”

Gilly’s voice raised almost comically horrified. “To watch?”

Sam tried to assure her, but it was no less helpful when he was as amused as Jon was. “I’m sure to you, it seems rather strange but every bride goes through it.” Again her voice emphasized the word every, and Jon couldn’t stop the grin at how unhelpful any of this was to make it make sense to someone like her. “It’s less important now, mostly it was also to ensure that the bride was a virgin on her wedding night, but since that’s not really important anymore,” Jons face twisted downward into a warning as Sam all but nodded at Jon and yourself to make a silent point. “It’s mostly just for fun.”

Each word with it’s own pause after it to make her point, “That does not sound fun.”

You could only mutter flatly leaning still into Jons front that you agreed. He didn’t mean to say it, let alone in front of Sam and Gilly as well, but it came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Don’t worry, I’d prefer not to break a mans jaw when it’s our turn.”

You took it as flustered but playful as you normally did, not really responding verbally but a wide eyed smile smothered onto your face as you hissed his name, but Jon couldn’t help but grin right back as he let his hand at your hip pinch you just the slightest. Pushing you into him with a disapproving glare that held as much meaning as none towards him.

He ignored the way Sam and Gilly were looking at you both, and too he ignored the way that truly, Jon wasn’t actually joking. Being at a wedding with you, now of all times felt dangerous. Especially considering the unspoken intent behind the tradition they just watched. It wasn’t just consummating a marriage that was the concern, it too was to ensure, at least many centuries ago, that any child born to the woman was legitimate to the new husband.

That was the absolute last thing Jon needed to focus on at that moment, more thoughts of you and anything close to you being pregnant. He swore internally, he was going to throttle Tormund the next time he saw him for putting this in his head.

It was far later into the night then Jon intended to keep you out, but once the four of you had sat down to share a drink, it ended up being a few more. Jon could handle it fine, Sam wasn’t looking great, and certainly Gilly wasn’t either. How much she ever drank he’d be shocked by the answer if it was more then barley any.

You though, Jon knew better. You seemed fine, keeping up with how cognizant Jon was of everything but all it took was a look deeper into your eyes and he could see the slight glaze of a buzz. His hand gripped the mug in his hand so tight that were it made of glass, it would have smashed to bits. He barley had anything influencing him, but just on the verge of enough that he remembered the last time you both drank together.

And what happened in the car on the drive home. His grey eyes grew darker as he suddenly struggled to keep his eyes off of you. His thoughts consumed with what he wanted to do, and just like last time, having to fight passed a dress was so much easier then pants. He could sink inside you without a second thought.

It was growing, the burning impatience in him. The last time too he took you in his car, Jon knew what came the morning after, or what should’ve. He was going to wake you up with his mouth that morning, taste you until you woke up coming for him before fucking you into the bed. But he got called in before he could even taste you once, and then everything else spiralled after that.

Not this time, tomorrow was free of any need and Jon was not going to waste any time when he woke up. Part of him wondered if it would be easier to have you sleep bare for him, or if truly, you wearing clothes was going to even be an issue in the first place. Judging by how hot his blood ran, he doubted you’d be wearing anything within a few seconds of locking the door to your hotel.

At the rate Jon was feeling, he was truly beginning to doubt whether or not he would survive the drive back to the hotel. There weren’t many secluded roads between here and there as far as he knew, but his blood boiled thinking about sinking you down on his length in his front seat while you were dressed like this.

More then once as the night drew into a close did Sam ask if Jon was alright to drive, and more then once Jon assured him he was. It had been enough time since his last drink that most of the alcohol had made it’s swift path out of his system, and as Jon gestured to Gilly who was leaning so much against Sam she was practically asleep, Jon jested “Is she going to be alright?”

Looking over in his own amusement of her, Sam smiled. “We’re only going a short ride to the house, I’m sure she can survive by then.” Nodding over to where you were politely saying goodbye to Sams sister and mother, he added “She doesn’t even look drunk?”

Turning somewhat to catch your gaze, Jon only smiled with his own bemused glint in his eye, though what has hidden behind it still raged within his blood. Turning back, Jon swallowed that all down though, for as long as he could try. “She’s good at hiding it. Take care of of Gilly.” A half hug the two could share with the girl in question trying to drunkenly hug Jon back as well before Jon left them to their devices and made his way over to you.

Finally standing alone, Jon gently grasped your hips, leaning down so his curls brushed against your neck as he murmured in your ear. “Let me take you back to the hotel.” Somewhat trying to turn to look at him, Jon instead prevented you by leaning down further to press a kiss to the skin just under your ear. “I’m tired of sharing you.” Only muttering that you’ve barley left his side all night, Jon only rasped with a bit more of a grin. “Barley is still too much.”

You were much more composed then some of the others around as he led to the car. Mostly steady save for Jon having to guide you a bit more down the steps, he was trying to assess just how drunk you were, but even in your eyes you still could look at him clear as day. Driving out was easy, it was not a long way back to the hotel but each time Jon glanced at you did something further in his blood take over.

A pressing need to drag you onto his lap, but there was no real place to stop anywhere along the way. Even worse, you were quiet and none the wiser to the burning inside him. Looking out the window with a gentle ease from a night you didn’t expect to enjoy, but the dress on you still so tempting. It didn’t even show off anything really, not in that sense. Long sleeves, draping along the floor like a gown, it wasn’t tight and didn’t overly show off your plush curves, but somehow it made it more tempting for him.

As if underneath such a beautiful and innocent dress, was something only Jon was privy to. It was a body that was more beautiful then he could rationalize made any sense, you were as if designed just to tempt him and that only made his cock grow hard under his clothes. Hands tighter on the steering wheel, he risked another glance at a red light. Your eyes met his, and your voice soft and gentle only made the feeling grow more and more. “Thank you.” Muttering for what, your eyes were almost more tempting then anything else, with nothing but a feeling Jon knew was love deep in their depths. “For bringing me. I don’t normally like weddings, but being with you was more fun then I thought.”

Jons smile despite everything underneath it, was as soft as he looked back to the road as the light turned green. “Good, because you’re the only person from now on I’m bringing to any wedding.” Did that have a second intention behind it? Perhaps, but Jon knew you were too innocent to pick up on it, which only made it worse. Only made the need for you worse, how he could sit there and think of absolutely anything about you, and you’d never know.

It was a bit deplorable, that train of thought. How deeply Jon could fall into the depravity of something obscenely perverse and you’d be none the wiser that he was even capable of thinking such things. “You planning on going to a lot of weddings, Snow?”

Jon however, only smirked. “Just enough to see you dressed up like this more often.”

That time you didn’t even try to meet his flickering gaze. Something modest yet shy in his compliments and something much more obvious brewing. There was no doubt that you were beginning to put the dots together, at least some of them. How Jon had been the one to suggest the dress, encourage you to put it on, how much he wanted to buy it for you but held himself back.

How long the feelings between you had been so painfully close to boiling over, and Jon knew you still didn’t know the half of it.

Managing to make it to the hotel, Jon felt his insides almost burning too hot as he led you with a hand on your lower back into the building. The elevator doors closing before you both, Jons eyes tore down what he could see of your frame from beside you. How you were likely planning to get into the room, get out of your dress and have a shower to refresh yourself, not knowing what he had in mind.

The guilt was close in his heart as Jons eyes flickered up to where he knew the security cameras naturally were placed and his hand at his side tensed. Telling himself to just not do anything, eyes were clearly on you and he didn’t need to get you both into trouble before you even had one night here yet. How you were so utterly tempting, his hand on your lower back curling just enough to slightly catch the skirt of your dress between a few fingers as if tempted to yank it up and shove you against the wall here and now.

It was almost a painful wait. Each passing second until the doors opened, and then still Jon had to make it every step towards the door. You had even said something but his mind didn’t catch it, too distracted the moment your voice spoke out as to how he wanted that sound to be higher pitched, more needing, and begging his name like he knew he could make you.

Jaw clenched, his face twisted into something that to an outsider looked almost angry or frustrated but the moment you asked him gently to just prompt his attention to you, “Jon?” He only shook his head, nudging you forward the few remaining steps towards the door. First the key card, then moving you inside, it was as if Jon was ticking things off the list before he could get to what he wanted.

By the time he had finally locked the door, you already strayed too far from him. Sitting at the edge of the bed, you were carefully taking your shoes off. Swallowing, Jon roughly muttered your name. Head peeking up as you sat your shoes down carefully, Jon outstretched a hand taking a few steps inside the room further.

Pushing up to your feet, you gently grasped his and the tenderness which you did so and looked at him assumed Jon had better intentions then he truly did. Suddenly before you could say anything, did Jon tighten his grip on your hand as he first yanked you to him. Only a gasp had the time to leave you before Jon grabbed both your hips, turned you on the spot. More roughly then he intended too, Jons impatience took over as he suddenly pushed you against the wall. Crowding over you, Jon didn’t give you a chance to even gasp before he leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to yours.

Hands tight on your hips, he nearly pushed you into the wall further and further as if worried you’d tried to run from him, only to lose himself in a groan as you reached your hands up. Winding around the back of his neck before sinking into the thick curls loose around him. Whatever softness he should’ve begun with didn’t exist.

Deepening the kiss almost right away, Jon had your head at an angle where he was hovered over you enough that you had nowhere to go if not his lips. Again and again Jon kissed you, some trying to be loving, others letting his teeth bite and nibble down on your bottom lip with a growl forming in his chest. Dragging one hand up to grasp at your jaw, Jon barley could turn your head up before he let it slide behind your neck. Grasping at the hair he could find, Jon kept you pressed to his kiss as his own blood burned at the sudden pulling of your fingers at his curls.

Pushing you further into the wall, Jon had no relief. There were too many layers, but then he would have to part himself from your kiss, and he simply wasn’t ready. Each breath you gave, was taken without any mercy. You could barley get tiny sounds out of you, Jon stole all of them. Hand almost massaging through the soft strands of your hair, his lips were soft against yours but guided every movement.

A rougher bite to your bottom lip contrasted the softness, a gasp barley coming from you in such a perfect sounding pitch in his ear. Using that opportunity, Jon gently slid his tongue into your mouth. Brushing up against yours to such an addicting taste. Whatever you had during the dinner was gone, and just the remaining hint of a sweet wine graced his senses along with something so unique to you that he could only describe as a drug.

Your hands inadvertently tugged again, only to cause Jon to try and fail to ground into your hips. But his mind raged, he’d have to part, and he didn’t know if he could yet. Over and over with a gentleness did Jon taste inside of your mouth, his tongue heavy against yours making you powerless against him, your nails digging further into his locks as his grip on your hip begun already to leave hints of bruises in the shape of his hand.

Barley convincing himself to pull back, the saliva between you snapped as he opened his eyes to yours still sealed shut. Your lips more plush as they no doubt tingled like his from the force, and parted as if trying to catch your breath and yet bracing yourself for not knowing when Jon would take that away once more. It was right away, but much shorter. Urgent and pulled back with another hissing bite before he spared no second dragging his teeth down to your neck.

The hand on the back of your head, tilted you to the side as it then ran down your frame to join at your other hip. Jon hardly allowed himself time to press his lips or brush his tongue along the sensitive skin before he sunk his teeth down into it like a wolf subduing it’s prey. And it worked.

Gasping his name, you held more tightly against him as he bit until it left marks and the sucked the skin to leave a bruise that he barley offered you condolence with a kiss after for the roughness. Every single inch he did it to down to your shoulder, pressing a single kiss to what he could access before returning to your lips.

That time he was more soft and less demanding, but his hands had ulterior motives. Bunching up the skirt of your dress in his hands, Jon only pulled back from you enough to yank the dress up off your body. He didn’t care one bit what happened to it now, tossing it to the side before he ran his eyes down the length of your body.

Instead of the roughness the same though, Jon knelt down. His hands smoothing out against your hips before grasping each side of your underwear. His eyes seeking yours, bright and wide as if waiting for you to nod, as if you’d give any other answer by now. Slowly, Jon pulled them down your legs, patiently lifting one foot of the ground, then back down to the other. One hand ran up, palm smooth against your bare leg as the other didn’t even care if you saw.

Shoving the already damp fabric into his back pocket.

Lips finding your upper thighs, Jon gently prompted you to widen your stance, as a shaky breath from you hit his ears. Like a song in the air, the nerves in you as he did this when truly you should’ve been used to it by now. Closer and closer to the warmth between your legs he got before the thought hit him, looking up to you with a bright gaze, his voice rasped low in contrast. “Had anyone ever done this to you before?”

Your brows raised in surprise at the question, your voice a bit stammering as you tried to come off as more composed then your breathless tone spoke of. “I uhm, I mean you’ve done it many times now..”

Interrupting you, Jon smoothed his palms up and down your hips and thighs to his ease reach, his brows narrowed. Tone more curious and soft trying to convince you it was an innocent question. “I mean before me. You told me that you thought men didn’t like to, but did anyone ever even offer? Did you ever ask?”

Jons head fell forward, pressing against your mound as his eyes closed at how shyly you shook your head no. You were so much more innocent in mind compared to him. The moment Jon first learned about this, he had envisioned you. He was a teenage boy, you had been staying in his house even and still he couldn’t help himself. The older he got the worse the want got. He’d desperately look for videos and find none that were close. The women never looked enough like you to pretend, and if they did, the men never looked like him and it would shatter the illusion of being able to picture it as you both against his own bed.

His voice was a rough rasp as it came out, “So you assumed I was only offering to be nice, when you’d never even knew what it felt like?” Why the next question came out he wasn’t sure, but something deep within him needed to know. “Did you ever want me to?” Your eyes grew wide, and your lips parted in something stunned but you said nothing. He knew he had you. “Darling, before we were together, did you ever imagine me tasting you just like this?” The fact that you nodded was nothing short of a miracle, but it only pulled a growl as Jons forehead rested against you again.

Muttering in a rougher tone full of an emotion he would describe as angry. “Everything they made you do for them, to them, and they never even bothered teaching you what it felt like?” You tried to mutter his name, but Jon changed his mind. Suddenly rising up to his full height, his figure fully dressed felt so much broader and taller against you now completely bare. Leaning down to catch your eyes directly onto his, his curls creating a curtain around you both so there was little to distract you from him as he asked it. “Do you remember when I said I would get off thinking about you?”

Your hands held gentle at his waist, your eyes nervous but with a trusting that made his heart feel so heavy at being directed towards him as he continued.

“I need to know. What were you thinking about?” One hand changed to run smoothly down your hair by the side of your head, slightly stopping to tilt your gaze up to his. “When you called my name out in the apartment, what were you thinking about that made you feel that way?”

If Jon could place a bet on how hard your heart was beating at that moment, he was sure he’d win all the gold he could imagine on being right. Your hands twitched against his sides, but you didn’t move. Regardless, Jon could see by the heavier rise and fall of your chest that too were you breathing harder as you said it, an innocent little lie for your own embarrassments sake. “It just slipped out.” Tilting his head somewhat to indicate he didn’t believe you, you looked away as you found a more truthful little lie instead. “I was just trying to tune him out, and thinking about you in general was more comforting.”

That would’ve been heartbreakingly sweet if Jon believed that was the full truth. “Darling.”

Your eyes only closed for a moment, before sighing deeply. Looking back up at him, your fingers twitched and fidgeted more and more out of the pure nerves at telling him the truth, no matter how little he’d ever judge you for it. “I heard...I thought I heard something..from your room.” Head leaning down to try and catch your eye, you bit your lip before forcing it out. “Something like a groan..and it..it reminded me of what I thought you’d sound like when you..”

Freezing for a moment before the ice shattered and burned fire though him Jon felt his cock throb behind all his layers as he put it together. He had gotten off to the sound of your voice, and must have not been as quiet at one point as he thought. Groaning loud enough you heard through the walls. His voice distant as the grey in his eyes dimmer darker and darker. “And that made you cum?” Your eyes closed with something nervous inside you as you nodded your head, only for Jon to tilt your head back up to him indicating you needed to look at him properly. “My hand was around my cock listening to the voice notes you sent me, and my groan made you cum that easily?” You only nodded shyly, and once, but it had an immediate reaction.

Grasping you by the back of your head again, Jon pulled you to meet his lips. Deep and rough right away, refusing to let you part as he pulled you from the wall and turned you into the room. Only breaking apart as Jon all put pushed you to sit on the edge of the bed.

Instead of going to you, Jon stepped back. Your palms braced at your sides digging into the sheets as you watched, pressing your thighs together as if he didn’t desperately want to see how wet you were between them. But in a silence with black eyes did Jon start pulling everything off of him. Hardly looking away if he didn’t have too, your chest rising and falling quickly at the slowly uncovered skin of his body.

He barley even considered how it looked from the height you sat at. Pulling his final bottom layers off, only to expose how hard his cock had been. Heavy and thick your eyes were drawn right too it as Jon forced the groan in his chest down. “Don’t look at me like that.” Your eyes shooting up to his dark and needing but disapproving ones in question. “I want to taste you, don’t look at me like you want the opposite.”

Breathless but genuine, you made it so much worse. “I do though.”

Jaw clenched, Jons eyes closed as long as it took to force those thoughts back down, no matter how much you could see how worked up it made him. “Don’t.” Suddenly kneeling down before you, Jon pushed your knees apart. The brief sight of your hands digging into the sheets with something nervous, but his eyes pierced through yours with a roughness to match.

Ever so forward he shuffled, enough that one hand could leave your knees, skipping up to your side, only to gently cup your breast, his thumb right away brushing against the small bud as a gasp left you, muscles tensing a bit as he leaned up more to you, from his now lower position. Firmer he grasped and more pressure he ran this thumb over your nipple, but so much softer did you become in the touch, muscles tensing again before relaxing. Your eyes fluttering closed right as Jon ran his nose down the length of yours, nudging slightly as he rasped, his other hand pushing open your other leg by the inner thigh more. “Jon-”

Interrupting, Jon couldn’t take much more of this and cut you off before you could suggest anything else. “Lay back for me, right here.” Waiting until you nodded, Jon helped you lay back so your legs say over the edge and your hips were just a the right position to move you has he would wish. Only leaning up over the bed slightly, Jon cupped your cheek before bringing you to his lips. The kiss much more gentle but lingering, and even so he went back twice more when he himself was the one attempting to part ways.

Never picking up the pace, his lips sought a path down your neck. Reaching the valley of your breasts, Jon kissed down it as suddenly both hands roughly grasped at you, your back arching with a gasp released from your lips, but he didn’t linger. Not then. Staying with his hands groping you over and over as he felt your muscles tense already before the stretch became to inconvenient for him, back now kneeling on the ground before you.

Both hands pulled you more over the edge by your hips, his eyes catching your hands trying to grasp at the sheets and biting down against your lip. Down your stomach, Jon didn’t once let his lips leave your skin, a trail of saliva following his kiss no doubt cool in the open air, but he did not skip to where his feast awaited yet.

Instead, letting them trail down your hips and your thighs, pulling your leg wider to allow him to kiss his way half until gently pulling your leg up, resting it over his shoulder before swapping sides to do the same. Both thighs over his broad shoulders, he could feel the edges of your foot’s heel tracing along his back and looking up your hands dug deeper into the sheets.

Finally though, allowing his eyes to close, Jon had one need in mind and no longer the patience to draw it out. Hands tight on your hips to keep you pressed into the bed, Jon closed the gap keeping him from you.

He always tried to start slowly, gentle. His tongue making tiny, gentle swiping licks along your clit had you gasp right away, back arching if not for his hands pressing you down without much ability to move without his permission. Slowly he moved his tongue along the sensitive bundle, little patterns he knew got to you and with how quickly he felt your thighs around him tense, he knew you were more worked up already then you led on.

For everything any advice would try to give a man and make him an expert at such a task, Jon knew it was all useless. He didn’t need anything special or outrageous to work you up for him, simple, slow, simply not being predictable worked best with you. One pattern until you were drawing closer ever more to an orgasm, before Jon would change.

Each time he heard a little whine erupt from your chest, a beautiful little noise and never followed up with asking him or begging him for anything. You just lay there, and trusted Jons judgment. From small licks to much more sloppy work, Jon interrupted himself to suddenly suck at your clit, the cry then was perfect. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes to see how you looked, he couldn’t distract his focus.

Teeth barley scraping before returning to almost as if a kiss, soaking you as much as he knew that you were about to soak his mouth the moment he strayed downward to where you were truly offering the purest of tastes. But not yet, he needed to work you up to it. You came so painfully fast whenever he tasted you, and Jon needed to teach you to let him savour it. He knew how easily he could overstimulate you, but the taste was nothing you understood, he needed you to learn how to let him have you this way.

To ease you into handling more and more, to teach you how to keep up with Jons desperate, clawing appetite for everything your body could gift to him. Drawing you nearer and nearer, his focus on your clit was nearly stinging by then, but you couldn’t stop him. His strength compared to yours was something else entirely, and until you begged for him to stop, Jon would keep you here.

There was no one around, no one to interrupt. And nowhere to go in the morning that would needlessly take him from you. One would think Jon got as much pleasure running his tongue along your clit as you gained from it, but truly, he did. The small, breathless sounds trying to hide in your chest made Jons cock throb. He was so painfully hard, and yet currents of pleasure would run through his veins and attacking each nerve every time he felt you come close.

Making you feel goodoo was genuinely, without any exaggeration, something that Jon adored doing. It was something he could always give you, and it wasn’t the sort of gift that other people could so easily offer. And until Jon, no one else did offer it. No one cared about you enough, but the way your thighs tensed and your feet dug until the muscles of his back, Jon held back a grunt in his chest. If he was to be completely honest with himself, any man who didn’t enjoy being between a womans legs like this was pathetic.

Tighter his hands gripped you, and more he yanked you down the bed to hang over it’s edge so Jon could shift at what angle he teased you at. Once then twice he felt your end nearing, and both times just as you were about to part your lips and beg his name, did Jon leave you, letting his lips and teeth sink high into your thighs, the same bruising, indenting work he gave to your neck but where no one but Jon would see.

One orgasm denied one side, then another the other, part of Jon felt a wave flow through him of something burning at the image. He didn’t know how he’d ask you for that, if not wanting to accidentally kill you of embarrassment. Nor did he truly trust no one to see the photo if he did take it. But the image was there, bruising your inner thighs with his mouth, and the additional image of maybe pulling out of you just once to cover you with his seed, and take a picture of it.

Maybe he’d do it last, so that too would perhaps some still be inside you enough it was clear he had taken you time and time again more then one way. You’d feel terribly embarrassed letting him do that, but even if he didn’t have it in him to take a picture of the sight, he’d want to do it anyways. If, Jon thought, he was strong enough to be able to pull out of you in time.

Which was another issue all together, even telling himself he’d be willing to cum anywhere but deep inside you. Finally, as he sucked roughly at your clit to the point he felt your hand toy with raking through his curls, did Jon sink lower.

Shift your hips up more, Jon finally could sink down into your cunt. You were utterly soaked. His eyes opening just enough to see what you offered him, before smothering his growl against you. The vibrations making you cry out more and more, but Jon finally could run his tongue flat along your folds and seek the heavy taste of purely you.

Jon didn’t even register how freely and unbecoming of him did he groan against you, your taste better then any food or drink he’s had and you offered it up to him for free. He had to do nothing to convince you to spread your legs for him, and Jon was greedy to have it. His facial hair scratched raw against your new marks, your hand digging into his hair that time.

A rush of need coursing through him as you pulled at the strands. Jons eyes opened, nothing but black staring up at your frame, splayed out as he never stopped his mouth or tongue. Watching you with a darkness as he drank from your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of his head he closed them again and dragged his tongue along inside of you.

Soaking everything up, and even there he could feel you clenching around him so close. Sliding one hand along your hip, did Jon roughly grasp the meat of your ass, almost pushing you to his mouth more, his tongue running along you with nothing but a need to get as much taste as possible. Not even focused on bringing you to an orgasm, Jon growled and groaned more each time he sunk deep and was graced with more of your taste.

He could almost not hear your beautiful high pitched begs, the senses not tethered to his taste and touch alone almost were muffled as if underwater. “Jon, please..”

Barley willing to detach from your cunt, Jon just barley managed to hiss out in what was likely barley a comforting tone. “I’ve got you, darling.” His eyes fluttered open enough without ever leaving his tasting of you to see you nod, head nearly thrown back as it fell back to the bed, your hand no longer tight in his hair but holding on to him for all you had.

His mouth soaked you as much as you soaked him, drinking every bit of wetness you offered to him, and Jon leaving only the traces of his saliva to echo the greed to held in it’s place. The bruising around your thighs still making your feet dig deeper into his back instinctively as his coarse facial hair scratched at the raw skin, a sick blend of pain and pleasure that he loved keeping you on the edge of.

But Jon was tied, you were so close. He could sense you were so close and if you came, you’d gift him something perfect to drink of you, but then he’d have to let you finish. And Jon wasn’t sure he wanted to let you do that just yet. Maybe later, maybe not tonight.

So he bided his time, dragging you along that edge into the darkness but never letting you fall, just the tease that the fall existed without giving it to you. His tongue flat along your folds ran back to your clit just to tease before returning back to the source.

Inching you closer and closer and just as your head threw itself back with a cry of his name, did Jon take it all from you. So cruel and sudden too. All but throwing your thighs from his shoulders as he tore himself from your cunt. The moment your eyes opened trying to call his name in a painful confusion of being taken from, Jon leaned over the bed back to you.

One hand pressing into the sheets, the other Jon cupped your cheek, turning you to look at him. Your lips parted like his, but bitten at as opposed to his shining with the remains of your taste. Your hand grasped at his wrist as the other held at his side but Jon lowered to your lips. Roughly capturing you in a kiss, he didn’t spare time to use his advantage to slip his tongue into your mouth. Running it along your own, sharing the pure taste you never gave another man but him in the same way he ran his tongue inside of you.

A muffled cry moaned into his mouth and Jon wrapped his other arm around your back, pressing you high to his chest as he shared your taste, never giving you air to breathe with his tongue selfishly deep in your mouth as he pleased.

A desperate whine left you, and only then did Jon part from your lips. Hooded, black eyes staring down at yours still not even yet fluttering open as you tried to kiss him again. Only briefly did Jon oblige, instead choosing to part ways before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Resting his to yours, he tried best he could to slip the hand at your cheek behind your head, somewhat running down the length of your hair as he waited until he knew the sudden sting would’ve eased.

Pulling back, Jon climbed up onto the bed, motioning you at the hips to help let him push you to lay back against them fully. “Come on.” Your hair splayed out against the pillows, Jon pulled each of your legs to hitch up against his hips, spread again wide for him as his cock brushed between your legs, a stuttered cry leaving you, only to be gently simmered by a chaste kiss as he leaned down.

Not moving, his cock teased resting heavy and hard against you, only to refuse to part from your kiss either. Softer then before, your arms wrapped around him. So close pressed to his chest Jon could swear he could feel your heart pounding.

Letting one hand slip down, Jon barley needed to even move before he was at the perfect angle. Before you even could grasp how close he was to doing so, Jon murmured your name as he ran his nose along yours before pressing his lips back to you. At the same instance, Jons cock sunk deep inside of you. Tight and soaking warm around his length, but you held such little resistance. You fit his cock perfectly, and Jon knew.

He didn’t need to ask to know, that no man who had felt this before him had it this perfect. You were made to fit his thick cock, not anyone elses. It was a wonder any man had ever made you cum before him, certainly not with this act alone. It was impossible. You were born to be filled by Jon. And he knew, you were born for him alone. No one else could slide this deep, hear you gasp their name so innocently despite how well you were taking his cock. No one else truly knew what it was like to feel the grasping of your hands in his hair begging his name with a desperate ask you didn’t even understand.

But he did. And it was a slow answer. Gentle he was sliding out, leaving almost nothing left before his kiss almost acted as something soothing. A promise not to worry, and obliging greatly as he slid back as deep as you could take him. Dragging along such a sensitive wall as you already clenched around him, Jon knew he had to be careful.

You’d cum so easily at this point, and he had to control himself. He needed to keep you from it, and he knew you’d try to listen if he told you so. Barley pulling from your lips, again Jons length slid almost completely from your warmth before filling you again, and a painfully slow pace he did it without ever thinking he’d pick it up. Rasping against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, keeping you there with a hand cupping the hair at the back of your head, his other holding your thigh high against his hip to keep you wide open for him. “Need you to do something for me,”

Barley having managed to mutter his own words out, your hands grasped at his shoulders and into his curls as you couldn’t even get that much out. Moving as much as you could along with him, you nodded as words failed to leave you that were anything but cries of need.

Jon felt the weak desire overcome him, capturing you in another short but roughly urgent kiss before rasping against them with a command that was as strained as it was serious. “If you’re close, I need you to tell me and I need you to hold back, alright?” Jon couldn’t keep his mind straight at how you didn’t ask why, didn’t protest, just begged out in a whisper that you promised him and he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Leaving your hair, Jon reached the same hand up. Grasping roughly at the headboard above you, as his other hand all yanked your thigh up higher, letting him sink even deeper. It wasn’t any faster, but Jon found the strength in him to use the leverage, pulling slowly almost out of you before much more roughly did he pound back deeply. The sounds obscene, but yet here he could find it in himself not to care.

One after the other, did his hips slap against yours, the sound echoing in the room as the not so sturdy bed compared to his at home, freely banged against the wall sat behind it. Slam after slam, only it too was accompanied by growls and guttural grunts leaving Jon as each time made his blood boil. You were so tight around him, but so utterly soaked that were you not keeping his cock in a vice, he might have slipped out. But you clenched around him as if afraid of him leaving you.

Forehead pressed against yours before keeping that composure was too much. Falling just so slightly into your neck, Jon found no care in tearing right into the marks he had made earlier, gasps leaving you as your nails scratched into his scalp and a growl responded. His teeth marking you up more as he kept the slow but pounding pace that you could only make beautiful tiny sounds over and over compared to the more unhinged sounds leaving him as if a predator.

The faintest of voices left you, “I can’t, Jon please..I-”

He could read you begging to say you were sorry, only for Jon to ease up. Trusting you to keep your legs high and wide for him, Jon let his hand around your thigh go to cup your cheek. Pulling you to meet his lips as he slowed back down to nothing more then a grinding with no roughness to be found. His curls growing damp as your hair too was, sweat forming between you both from how warm and close he kept you, but Jon craved it all more. Muttering again them so you felt his every word against your lips still, Jon would interrupt himself to kiss you before continuing multiple times. “Just for tonight, darling. I know it’s a lot.”

Nodding, your arms wrapped desperately around him. Another kiss both deep yet needing, Jon pulled you to hide in his neck. Never picking back up, but the strain in the muscles of the arm against the headboard meant that it was so much easier to give such shallow thrusts so deep inside of you. He knew you could barley even move against him this slow, but it wasn’t about that. Jon didn’t need you to do as much work as him here, he didn’t want you too.

As long as you let him inside you, that was all he needed, he’d do everything else. Including breathe through gritted teeth in your ear, biting down against it as well trying to keep the thoughts at bay but he couldn’t stop. The wedding was one thing, the texts were another, his plans for the next day acted either as the best or worst encouragement of those thoughts. And it was rougher thrusts his cock slid so deep that he struggled to not say it.

He wanted to, he shouldn’t, and he couldn’t. Not here and now but the want to say it was painful to hold back. But he was going slow with you, he wanted to be careful with you. He never wanted to hurt you again, and yet this might make you think he was attempting to trap you with him. In a sense, maybe it was that. Maybe he did want to trap you with him, but out of fear. A fear that he’d lose the best thing in his life, the one thing he could love who loved him back.

Pulling back, Jon guided your lips to his once again as he let his thrusts pick up once more. The thought hit him and it was inevitable. You were clenching so tightly around him, he couldn’t hold back, but as long as he kept your kiss, he wouldn’t say it.

Biting down on your bottom lip, the moment you parted your lips for him did Jon glide his tongue along yours. Picking up the pace suddenly, Jon felt himself nearly snarling into the kiss as you clenched around him, whined into his mouth but never disobeyed, never let yourself finish despite knowing Jon was determined to find his end inside of you. The headboard again banged against the wall, your skin slapped loudly against his too as he could hear how soaking wet you were each time his cock pounded so deeply, each time he went faster.

Tearing from your lips, Jon hid his face in your hair, a deep groan finding him as he begged himself not to say it. You clenched so tightly around him for a moment Jon thought you couldn’t hold on any longer, but you somehow obeyed and it was that which ended his resolve one way or another. A rasping husk of a voice growling your name into your ear did Jons muscles tense, the hand on the headboard flying back down to grasp at your leg and keep you wide open for him.

Each rough thrust was followed by thick spurts of his seed spilling inside of you, deep as he could manage and your nails clawed into his shoulders and back to not let the feeling bring you along with him. Instead, Jons seed poured and poured, thick and warm never leaving you.

Jon didn’t bother pulling out of you, instead, grasping you carefully did Jon move you up with him as he sat back on this knees, keeping you perched close in his lap. Your hands grasped at his shoulders with a cry leaving you, but he ran his hand down your sweat filled hair murmuring your name with a strain. Your eyes were bright as if needing to shed tears at the feeling of having to hold back, but Jon knew you’d never disobey him. He had you and you trusted that.

Cupping the back of your head Jon moved you to meet his kiss once more. Slowly his other hand moved you up and down. Your brows furrowed now trying to keep up, but Jon left your hair and pulled back. Lips parted and swollen like yours, he looked at what little of you he could see keeping you pressed so painfully close.

Both hands at your hips, and he didn’t keep the slow pace again. If the sound of skin smacking against each other was obvious before it was even moreso now. Bouncing you roughly, and none to kind of a speed up and down his cock. You let him fill you so deeply this way, hands grasping from your hips to both capture your ass tightly as he managed the same leverage only now you moved with him. Hiding in his neck again your lips were sweet and kind against his neck just needing to feel him more in some way as he did you.

Maybe Robb was right, maybe Jon was treading down a dangerous path but he couldn’t conceive a reason to think it was to be done out of malice. It was love, a love he’s always felt for you and now knew you long since felt it back and he wasn’t going to waste it. He was determined to keep it, and Jon just had to be careful not to allow such thoughts like the darkness in his chest give any including his brother a reason to think Jon would hurt you, in one way or another.

Twice more Jon spilled inside of you, both times never once letting you leave his cock as he bounced you roughly the entire time. And one more when he tipped you back down against the bed, and the last was found in a slow grind as his lips refused to leave yours. And never once did you falter in his orders to not cum yourself. He’d make up for it, but right now, he needed that control.

If he controlled this, maybe Jon wouldn’t lose it, and control in the one way he was still trying to keep out of his mind. It didn’t help when you fell asleep in his arms, his cock still deep and half hard inside of you with your front tucked into his chest.

You didn’t have to worry, Jon wouldn’t do that to you. But it didn’t stop him from desperately wanting too, and it seemed, Robb knew and distrusted that want in Jon no matter how little you sensed it

Hardly any time was spent between getting your stuff all into the house, and Jon leaving again. Kissing your hair as he passed you by muttering he would be back in an hour, you didn’t have a clue where he went, but being gone for nearly three days you assumed he had things pile up to handle, and didn’t think much more of it. Instead, you carefully begun putting everything away.

Sam had spent the second day showing yourself, Jon, and Gilly around Horn Hill. It was a nice break, truly. The Reach was warmer then the North even on it’s warmest days up here, and it was with a nice breeze as rivers ran throughout the town as it did many in that area in general. Part of you had worried you’d make things awkward at first. You’d spent time with the three of them before, but never as someone who was dating Jon, and in some manner you convinced yourself much like you did a few nights ago at the Stark house, that meant you now were only intruding on his time.

Instead it was fun, a time to forget everything that happened up here and just feel a bit like a person again. Being able to have lunch out on a patio of whatever bistro it was Gilly picked out, enjoying the sun and no pressure of anything on your mind. Today had mostly been driving back, but that was fine with you. It still was time with Jon you treasured, but now you faced everything once again.

Still you did not know what the issue was, what was between the brothers and suddenly you felt a sweeping around you of guilt that you were indeed at the centre of it. Robb appeared at the door, not being noticed as your back was facing him putting the remainder first of Jons things away. If he did greet you, you assumed it would be warm and welcoming back as usual, yet it wasn’t at all.

Nor did the question make sense to you. “Did anything happen?”

Turning with half a startle, your brow raised in question and your tone stretched the words in a slight pedantic manner. “We watched two people get married?” Not grasping why his own face twisted downward, Robb pushed up off the frame he leaned against of the door and walked in a bit more casually. Trying to drop a tone you now both knew was there, leaving you to close Jons drawers to put his bag away in the closet as you spoke. “I didn’t get extremely drunk if that’s what you were alluding too.”

Now hauling your own bag up onto the bed, you begun unpacking your stuff as Robb was now the one who was confused, or more accurately, he now shared your confusion. “That’s not- you’re allowed to get drunk at a wedding.” Muttering to yourself a bit childishly you only mentioned that you didn’t know what else he was expecting to happen. And not to your knowledge, but Robb stood a bit hesitant now to bring it up when you didn’t even guess what he had meant, or that you were supposed to be paying attention to something to mean in the first place.

“We have a fun time, Robb. Nothing to worry about.”

Trying to placate him, but not noting his narrowed eyes before covering them up as he walked beside you, grabbing at some of your things and putting them where he seemed to guess correctly their new spot would be in Jons room. Tone even, but a bit stilted as if holding back the frustration he walked in with. “Jon didn’t do anything?” It was a pure jest, the quick manner you joked in asking if he what, ran away with you to elope, but when you met his gaze Robb only tilted his head asking you to be serious.

Glancing away with a bit of nerves, you stammered in trying to maintain an air of normalcy that felt like it didn’t exist half the time with Robb anymore. “I don’t know what you’re worried happened, or even why, but nothing happened. We went to a wedding, we spent the day with friends, we drove home.” Meeting his gaze again with something bright yet soft hoping to get that through his curly haired head, “There’s nothing to worry about. Or to even think you would need to be worried. I didn’t get too drunk or anything.”

Head jolting back a little, Robb gave you a questioning look. “Why do you keep-”

You didn’t mean to raise your voice, it came out that way on an instant as you dropped the clothes in your hand to look at him. “Because you’ve been mad at him, or me or both of us ever since you picked me up from the bar that night.” Trying to run a gentle hand comfortingly down your hair as he insisted he wasn’t mad at you, you flinched away with something stinging behind your unpleasantly warming face. “If you’re not mad at me, you’re mad at Jon because of me. I’m sorry I got so drunk you had to pick me up, and I’m sorry you had to put up with me when everything with Daenerys was happening, but I don’t want you taking it out on Jon. He didn’t do anything wrong, and whatever you think he did he made up for it.”

It slipped out, you could tell it slipped out when his eyes closed with an exhaustive look on his face the moment the words were out there. “By what? Just fucking you more now, then you were afraid he was fucking her?”

Silence sat between you in the room. That warmth turned something unpleasant now felt even worse and the sting in your eyes felt as if you were about to let tears form. Instead your face steeled in it’s expression, snatching what was in Robbs hands and turning away from him as he called your name. “You can leave.” Once again, you felt the genuinity in his voice trying to apologize for what he clearly said in an unnecessary malice, but that didn’t make you feel any better. There was little chance Robb didn’t sense the waver in your voice as if trying to smother back any tears. “I don’t need you making me feel guilty for-”

It was too awkward for you to say, but you both knew what you meant. You didn’t need Robb of all people, someone who both deeply cared about you but you deeply cared for, making you feel ashamed for having a healthy sex life with your own boyfriend. You didn’t want to make this problem between them any worse then you already were. A hand ran over your back and you hated that Robb was so good at being instantly comforting as he said your name.

But you shrugged it off, now both of you fully aware you were trying not to cry. “I don’t understand what I did to cause all these problems, but if me being here is making it worse-” Robb tried getting you to face him, but you pulled from his touch, roughly jumping back into your point. “Just tell me if it would be better if I moved out.”

Robb didn’t say a word, nor did you see his heartbroken expression that you had taken his ire towards Jon so much more personally then he ever imagined you would. Maybe it was easy for you to blame yourself for what happened with Jon if you so quickly jumped to the conclusion that you were the issue between him and his brother. But none of that registered in your mind.

Though, he chose the better route, changing his mind as he tried to speak before cutting himself off. “I don’t want you to move out, love. Jon and I are dealing with something and I’m so sorry you feel like I’ve been taking it out on you.” Your eyes flickered to the side, not one to say things he didn’t mean in such a warm tone, you nodded. “I don’t want you to be upset, I went all the way to White Harbour to get fresh seafood so I could add them to dinner. Since you were coming home today.”

A small smile left you, and a little shrug at your shoulder with a far less enthusiastic but still meaning tone in a playfulness. “You went all the way out there?” Robb nodded, as if you could see if, but still you sensed it. “Why?”

That time you didn’t flinch when he ran a hand along your upper back. “You’ve made dinner nearly every night the past few weeks, I wanted to do something nice for you back.” Muttering a quiet thank you, Robb knew at least when to let a situation simmer out. “I’ll leave you be. Do you know when Jons back?” Guessing in about an hour, you finally looked at him, but your not so well hidden rattled expression was met by a more apologetic one from Robb as your face asked why. “So I can time it, I’m not trying to leave him out of things.”

He tried to reassure you, you’d give him that, but of what you still didn’t really know. You could only guess but you nodded as he left you be. Barley home for less then an hour and already you caused a problem.

Trying to go back to putting your things away, it was as if your hands were stuck as they finally went to handle the dress. Looking it over, your mind was caught on a memory. The way Jons face looked as you paid for it at the counter, how much even then you knew he looked as if he were desperate to let him buy it for you despite the fancy price tag. He had more money then you, he and his family always did, but you didn’t want to feel as if you were trying to get more from him then you already had at that point.

But it was something held back that now you knew was something much more soft and affectionate in him wanting to do something for you out of those feelings, but not wanting to step on your toes or be obvious about it. It felt similar as you looked to the now half closed door Robb left from. Like he was holding something back from you, but this time, you couldn’t grasp what that could be, or why you had caused him to take it out on Jon of all people.

By the time you were finished, did Ghost come trotting into the room nearly knocking you over to greet you. Which was just who you needed, picking up quickly that you seemed upset, you sat up on the bed as Ghost joined. Laying his head in your lap as you scratched along his ears before slowly letting your eyes droop.

You fell asleep without even realizing it, only to awake to a warm hand running through your hair and a gentle rasp to lull you awake in the most peaceful sounding manner your dreamless mind could’ve come up with, Ghost still cuddled into you as he chose to nap along with you. “Robb has dinner ready.” Before you had the chance to push up on your palms, Jon ran his hand more smoothly along the side of your head with a firmer touch as it prompting you not to rush. “Do you want me to bring you a plate here?”

Peeking up at him, part of your mind recalled the way Robb tried assuring you that everything was fine, in a manner of speaking and that it wasn’t your fault, but nor did you want to test that. If it wasn't your fault, their rift wouldn’t have started with a night you were the problem. And Jon bringing you food Robb went out of his way to make for you, while staying in the quiet and calm of Jons room sounded more comforting while you were still upset, you didn’t think it would help.

Instead you shook your head as Ghost too perked up to jump off the bed with you. “If you let me stay here, I’ll just fall right back asleep.” Grabbing both your hands to help you up, before letting go to guide you by your waist down onto both feet, Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead that lingered, muttering that coming home to you and Ghost napping together almost made him feel bad enough he didn’t want to wake you in the first place. Your smile was soft as he pulled you into his side, supporting you until you shook off the sleep the way Ghost could in seconds as he shook his head and fur out before darting out the door. “Did you get whatever you needed done?”

Jon nodded, a warm hand still running up and down your arm as he led you out, firmly enough you felt his touch even through the thicker sweater you wore. His voice rasped low in your ear as if still easing you out of sleep. “Had to drop something off is all, I’m still yours for the evening.”

It came out in tone as a joke, but it was said with a smile softer speaking then just that. “Hopefully for more then just the evening I hope. Or did seeing people get married make you think twice about us?”

Jon slid his hand down from your arm to your waist, a light pinch pulling a louder laughing protest from you, and a handsome but lovingly mischievous smile from you. At least you knew Jon well enough to know that was a firm no in his language.

Though the laugh in you didn’t last that long when as you expected, Robbs eyes met yours when you walked in, glanced to Jon, and got just the slightest bit less warm again. And once more, did you recall the bubble of peace you felt the past three days were nothing but a distraction from the truth that Jon and now Robb too were lying to you about.

The problem between them was you, without a shadow of a doubt.

Looking up to sky, Jon sighed deeply. The stars were bright that night, few clouds if any were there to block the view of the night as he sat there. Hand running over Ghost who sat by him as his head lay on Jons lap. Glancing next to the house, only some windows had any lights on and two of which were his room and that halls side of the bathroom where you no doubt were still showering.

His eyes darted in the darkness but found no one to interrupt, and no one to watch. Another sigh left before Jon shifted. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through one picture then the next in what he screenshotted before hovering over the screen with his thumb. Tempted to delete the evidence, it was the only logical course. He had been secretive about it from minute one, and he had left as soon as he got you back just to hide it where it wouldn’t be found anywhere near the house.

Sam had mentioned that when they were in Horn Hill, there was an old jeweller he wanted to visit. A gift for Gilly he had in mind, a necklace with her favourite animal on it since she never owned anything like that before. Jon had looked it up and his eyes had been drawn to one section of their website, and before he knew it, he was making notes on his phone to screenshot and keep for later.

That day after the wedding, Sam had gotten you to distract Gilly with something so he and Jon had an excuse to head over without fuss so he could buy it. But as Jon stood there, Sam discussing something with one of the workers, Jons eyes kept getting drawn to one section. Arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the more sturdy edge of the glass case, his brows narrowed trying not to think about it.

But, then he pulled his phone out to send you a message on how much longer he and Sam would be. He didn’t even look at the screenshots, just saw the icon of his gallery on top of his home screen. Like his lock screen was he and you, his home screen was you and Ghost. It was all he needed. His phone put back in his pocket, Jon managed to stand there for another ten minutes before he broke.

Muttering to Sam he’d be right back, Jon swiftly made his way to the other side of the store. A completely different attendant behind the counter, whom seemed quite ready to make a display of his wares. A section of far, far more expensive things was over on that side but Jon gave the man pretty much no time to make any pitch. He had the screenshot, he knew what he was looking for and he saw it right away.

Interrupting his greeting with a low, discreet rasp Jon just pointed down into the glass display to a very specific item. Only muttering that he needed that one in a specific size, and by the time his head raised to meet his expression the poor attendant was clearly taken aback by Jons blunt and curt demeanour. But, he did so swiftly. The right size acquired, before he could even ask if Jon wanted it properly displayed in one of their custom jewellers boxes, Jon shook his head. Saying he’d take it directly before paying what was far more money then most would for that sort of thing.

The attendant was grateful, no doubt working on commission and the amount of gold Jon handed over meant he would get a hefty sum of it. But seemed somewhat off put by him, and none too happy Jon stuck it in his pocket with nothing to protect it. Jon didn’t care about the fanciness of it all, he needed one thing and that was it.

By the time he made it back to Sam, Jon didn’t judge him for agreeing to that very sort of packaging for the necklace. Gilly had come from very little growing up and wasn’t used to this sort of luxury, and Jon didn’t blame Sam for wanting to spoil her. Noticing a smaller necklace that matched he gestured to it with something bright and knowing, “Whats that one?”

Sam looked abashed, but Jon much like Sam had felt for his situation, couldn’t be happier about it. “It’s for little Sam. I thought if his mother was getting something, he might feel left out.”

Jon managed a genuine laugh, trying to ignore how suddenly something that didn’t even weigh half of an ounce, suddenly was so noticeable in his pocket it felt like it was full of chunks of steel. “Careful with that.” Sam looking to him in question as Jon tilted his head in am amused expression. “I have five brothers and sisters, Sam. You start feeling like you need to always get one of them something extra then everyone else wants something extra too.”

He picked well, and Jon assured him Gilly would love it before the two headed out into the street to find you both, and settle on a place to eat.

Now though, in the settled cool night air did Jon sit in a clearing in the area before the wolfswood beyond him with Ghost. Looking through those very screenshots he took before sighing deeply, deleting one then the other and any note or tab associated with it. He had it, it was his, he didn’t need the evidence on his phone to linger.

Jon had drove all the way to his station at the Wall, the top drawer where some of his most precious reminders for his rougher days were kept, including two of his favourite pictures of he and you, and he kept it there. Locking it before leaving once more just to be sure no one would find it as it sat right atop a photo where you sat. Some of the others questioned what that was about, but no one saw really.

And you never asked him when he got back what he did. And he never hinted at it. Jon had not a single clue when he would do anything about it, but at least now it was there. Ready when he was, or, Jon knew he was ready. More it was ready when he hoped you were. Jon could drag you out there with him right now and be more then ready, but he needed you to be at that point and not a moment before.

Maybe too he could focus on that. If he kept it at his work desk, he would focus on that and not the other thoughts. He could keep them at bay until he sorted things out, made sure you were ready for any of that, found some miracle to fix things with Robb before he’d do any of that. Just now with a physical motivation to push him to figure all of that out.

But then it would itch at his mind. Jon sighed deeply again, letting a hand run down his face with a frustration at how much he couldn’t make it go away. The guilt didn’t mean it didn’t run through the worst parts of Jons head. That the worries Robb had about what Jon would do weren’t entirely unfounded, since he was thinking of them. He’d never act on it, but it all kept compounding making his thoughts about you more and more intense, more obsessive over the matter.

Jon was fully aware how much his thoughts were rushing into this, but as much as he could prevent himself from acting on it, he could not stop thinking about it. But that was why he bought it. Obsess over one to avoid wanting to do something about the other. As long as Jon kept the engagement ring a secret, just maybe that could take his obsession away from the thoughts clawing at his mind.

About how much Jon truly and desperately couldn’t stop thinking about getting you pregnant.

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