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queers-gambit · 10 months

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Mother Knows No Bounds

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

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

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

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

"I've asked you why."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were all of the above and then some!

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

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

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

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

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

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're almost done - "

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

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

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

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

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

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

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

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

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

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

"He was?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-It was a girl?"

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

"But my body - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How was I to know - "

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

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

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

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

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just lay with me," you requested.

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

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

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

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

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

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

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

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

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

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

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

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

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

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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

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indigo-flightly-falls · 10 months

Text

My friend wanted a list of middle school era books I've read that either have explicit queer characters or characters that could be read as queer if you try so I'm making this

Ok getting a couple of obvious ones out of the way:

Wings of Fire by Tui T Sutherland It's a middle grade series focused around dragons. You can't skip any books but the second and third arcs have so many queer characters. We've got a nb human, an on page lesbian relationship including a major protagonist, a trio that most like to headcanon as poly with one of the characters being hinted at being bi, a background lesbian relationship as two characters being the moms of a protagonist, and other assorted characters! It's also a rather fun read that dives into some deeper topics then you might expect. Heavy trigger warning for the following topics: Arc 1: war, death, genocide, starvation, rather unsanitary eating habits, mild child abuse, using a child as a weapon, rather graphic deaths/wounds, a pov character being blinded at the end of a book, and probably a few things I missed. OH YEAH WAIT sorry the murder of unborn babies by smashing their eggs specifically for the second book Arc 2: referenced gore (specifically making someone gut themselves, it's all in the past), mentions of a massacre, unhealthy relationships, child abuse, child neglect, again using a child as a weapon but this time it's the aftermath, really bad trust issues, manipulation, war again, illnesses, improper use of magic that kills lots of dragons, graphic deaths/wounds, genocide, and probably a few other things Arc 3: war, war and more war, child abuse, attempted genocide of an entire species, a rather dystopian world, mass murder, execution, what could be called slavery, kidnapping, possession via a plant, abandoning those in need to die, uh there's some spooky cult stuff going on as well. Honestly this arc is pretty dark

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard by Rick Rodian While I know mythology isn't for everybody, this aint the worse series. It's based on the norse gods, and it basically a comedy! It's a trilogy told by a sixteen year old ghost who's the son of a norse god. It's very chaotic but has it's serious moments as well. The protag is implied to be pan, there's a very prominent genderfluid character (although she's not the best representation, it's still representation and I mean, that's pretty good). Also the single most queer coded characters I have ever seen (Blitz and Hearth, you meet them early) Trigger warning for the following topics: Death, the afterlife and conflicting beliefs, homelessness, mentioned transphobia, severe child abuse, ableism towards a deaf character, mentions of intestines being used as ropes, murder, as well as general norse mythology things

Now some less obvious ones!

The Magisterium Series (I can never spell it so I call it the Iron Trial series) While not having any queer main characters, there are at least two canon gay relationships between background characters. At the very least it's an interesting look at a world of magic and how it interacts with humans Trigger warning for the following topics: Death, murder, mass murder, attempted murder of a baby, child endangerment, honestly I don't even know how to warn for this. It's dark, be warned. There are very few punches pulled.

The Skyborn Series by Jessica Houry Sadly no canon characters, but like. There are two that give off such strong qpr vibes in the 3rd book. It's a good series to read anyways, does a good job at subverting some expectations on how things will end! (also, I like to headcanon the characters are queer. Gussie gives off aro lesbian vibes) Trigger warning for the following topics: Corrupt king who screws over people, a rather corrupt system in general, slight gore, death of a pov character, mild world is ending talk, the hunting down of a child (several times), kinda implied child abuse? at least neglect, death of a parental figure, kinda implied genocide? basically the king wants to kill every last phoenix and it is stated that another villain wants to kill everyone so-

Warrior Cats Alright this may shock you, but while we don't have canon queer characters, there are two very popular gay couples and a very common headcanon of a trans character. I do not recommend reading the whole series! The first four arcs are all you need if you're really interested, but if you just want the queer characters here you go: Tallstar's Revenge: one of the almost canon gay couples is shown. It's never called that but it's easy to see Tallstar and Jake's relationship through those lens Ravenpaw's Path/Ravenpaw's Farewell: a manga and a novella respectively that showcases Ravenpaw and Barley's relationship! They're both decent reads if you want something quick! There's nothing specific for the trans character, uh Rowanfur I believe. He's not even close to a main character sadly. That being said, there are a lot of people (myself included) who have headcanons for other characters or ocs who are queer! I am not listing all the trigger warnings for Warrior Cats. but for the few books I suggested: Child abuse, child neglect, death, near death, really bad injuries, lasting effects of childhood trauma, unhealthy coping meconizums, not great parent/child relationships, and some other related things

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I'm so tired I'm posting this and calling it a night. I'm so tired I'll rb and add more if I think of them

@10piecechickenmcnugget here ya go sage :D

#I should note that I don't read a lot of things outside a specific bubble so this is so skewed lol #Also please tell me if any of these recomendations should be removed due to the author; I don't fact check things I just read em

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j0kers-light · 8 months

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His Lighthouse: Like I Want You (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Like I Want You

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Joker feared nothing in life except you. No matter if you said your warning in a fit of hysterics they hold meaning. Will you hold him accountable or will Joker have a chance to start over and finally learn more about his Light?

author's note:

Hello darkness my old friend!! I promise I’m not dead! I’m back with a long chapter to make up for the long wait! Fun fact it was even longer… hehe don’t you just love editing? The chapter was dragging on and it didn’t flow properly so I had to cut it. It’ll be included in the next chapter I promise kinda like a 'pick up where we left off' type deal.

Once again thank you all so much for waiting 😫😭😭 I don't deserve this much love and support!! Also please listen to Like I Want You by Givēon to enjoy this chapter to its fullest! I hope you enjoy!

A TRIGGER WARNING IS INCLUDED IN THIS CHAPTER REGARDING Y/N'S PAST WITH **** PLEASE SKIP IF THIS AFFECTS YOU!

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

Sarai was the first one to react after your mini episode.

You were still not yourself and the meds she administered weren't helping things, however; your warning was heard loud and clear.

'You hurt my friends.. and I'll never.. forgive you.'

It was a bold statement, one that the dark clown wasn't handling very well.

Sarai glanced over at Joker who had yet to say anything. He was watching you sleep while you were completely unaware to the fact that you just flipped his world upside down. It was unnerving to see him at a loss for words.

Sarai cleared her throat and tapped your IV drip hanging from the bedpost. "This'll be empty in two hours. Call me when it does."

Joker remained unresponsive so she sighed and focused her attention on your friend in the room. If Sarai remembered correctly, her name was Morgana but just in case she heard it wrong, she didn't call it out directly.

"It's my day off 'n the Fashion District is just round the way. You come with me." She zipped her bag close and waved for Morgana to follow her.

It didn't take a cryogenist to know that Joker needed some time alone with you. His thoughts were plentiful and they weighed on him heavily. However Morgana didn't read the room. She eyed the doctor sideways and stood her ground.

She promised your mother she would watch over you. "I'm not going anywhere. Y/n needs me!"

Sarai was already at the door but turned on her heel to address Morgana.

"She's sedated and I doubt she'll need anything for a few hours. Now, grab ya shoes and ya purse, we're dropping a band. Is my payment ready? Joker?"

Sarai called his name two more times yet he didn't respond.

He was still frozen like a statue, still trying to process your words. It was only after Sarai walked up to him that he blinked out of his fog and glared at her. His body language was defensive and ready to maim. He was back to normal after all.

"My payment?" Sarai dragged out.

Joker waved Sarai off like a pest. "The usual."

She faced Morgana with a wide grin, "We rich! If you need me, send for me!" Sarai shouted over her shoulder at Joker.

She pulled Morgana out of the bedroom and eventually the apartment despite the florist pitching a fit the entire way. Then, Joker was finally alone with you.

So much had transpired during the week apart he felt like he was back to square one with you.

The weekend he spent with you in Martha's Vineyard felt like a dream and so far from reality. He could never forget your beautiful smile or your soft, hesitant touch making him feel like a man reborn. He'd seen the light and experienced its power and now that same light had been snuffed out.

It was disheartening and Joker would not let it stand.

Joker believed you were somewhere buried underneath the pain and trauma of your past.

His Light, an educated bookworm who stuttered under pressure yet quick to raise her voice if someone was in the wrong. That had to be your Blüdhaven upbringing at play. You were a little spitfire in hiding.

He longed for that Y/n, the one that was slowly coming out of her introverted shell. The version of you whom he had inevitably grown to love. Suddenly, a weight lifted from his chest.

Joker could say it now. Love. He loves you.

The very meaning of the word made him feel as if he was underwater fighting against a current.Saying the word up until now made him choke up.

For so long Joker wondered, how could a person blindly love another? To willingly sacrifice everything, their very life, all to please their beloved? It didn't make any sense to him. Then Joker met you and it was sooo easy to risk it all, he questioned how he didn't believe sooner.

He thought people were stupid when they said, 'I found my person.'

He'd been around the world and seen the worst of humanity, but when he looked at you, he was humbled beyond words. If Joker was evil incarnate, then you were a goddess walking on Earth.

And woe, to whoever caused you this pain.

Your Dark Prince would burn cities in your honor. You need not worry about the misdeeds that Joker committed in order to keep you happy. All you needed to do was enjoy the spoils of war.

If keeping you in the dark kept you by his side, then so be it. It didn't soothe his conscience though. Joker thought his shady actions were just but you and your naïve view of the world, would not see things his way.

He would always be the villain in your story even if he paraded around in the sheep's clothing.

Joker could lie till the sun turned blue, but in this moment while you slept blissfully unaware, he would show his hand. Only then would he have the strength to deceive you and remain by your side. But first he needed proof that you were sound asleep.

Joker leaned forward to run his fingers down your cheek. You didn't move a muscle.

Color was coming back to your complexion in the short amount of time that Sarai administered fluids. Your body was struggling to keep up with your emotional outbursts and Joker knew that this was only the beginning to a long process of healing.

He knew you had your demons but you were so secretive about them.

Anytime your past was brought up in conversation, you found a way to dodge the subject. It was frustrating but it piqued his interest.

He deserved to know every aspect of you since he was fully invested now.

Joker felt like he should be the only one mentally unstable in this relationship. He accepted that his mind was ruined a loooong time ago but you? You didn't deserve this. You were a beacon of light, a motivation to so many, (Joker included) and without that natural source of light, he felt off kilter.

Slowly but surely, you and your inner light was changing Joker for the better and he was feeling the side effects now that you were temporarily out of commission. He didn't want to go back to the life he led before meeting you. Life had no meaning, no spark. He was just an empty shell of destruction searching for something worthwhile.

Joker couldn't go back to that. He needed his Light back.

Sarai stated it would take two hours for your IV bag to empty. That gave Joker plenty of time to confess.

He grabbed one of the accent chairs from the fireplace area and brought it over to the side of the bed. He settled into it with a sigh while his eyes roamed over your slumbing form. Morgana had tucked you back under the covers before Sarai all but dragged her out of the apartment.

Joker made a mental note to wire the doctor more funds.

The woman was a nuisance but she proved herself useful time and time again. Joker was glad to have someone like her on his payroll. She acknowledged that he needed time alone with you and got Morgana to leave the premises without drawing attention to his dilemma.

Speaking of which...

Joker cleared his throat. He had so much to say and not a lot of time left to say it in.

"I've done so much that I'll never uhh, atone for but your words Bunny.. They haunt me. I think I already broke my promise to ya, doll." He looked at your closed eyelids.

You looked so peaceful fast asleep; he felt like a coward for speaking on deaf ears. Yet his conscience would be clear if he got this off his chest.

"I-I didn't mean to but.. Florence she's.." Joker swallowed thickly.

You were asleep but in a way, he felt ashamed for what he'd done. Deep down Joker knew you would never forgive him. This would be a confession he'd take to the grave.

"I did it because I had to, Y/n. I'll do any-thing to keep you safe. To keep us safe. That's all I want. Us. T-Together. But I fear if—" Joker stopped and snorted to himself.

"No. My bunny is smart. There's no if. I fear when you find out about all the horrors I've done and uh, will do– you'll leave me. And I... I can't have thaT. Not when I just got ya."

Joker looked down at his hands and grimaced at the invisible blood staining them.

How could you stand them?

You swore up and down that you loved Joker's hands and more importantly, his touch, but the level of trust you willingly gave away troubled him. Everything Joker touched, he destroyed. How were you any different? He left nothing but pain in his wake and he didn't want to hurt you again.

You were a delicate creature in his eyes, a goddess gracing him with just your mere presence. He had no right to touch something so pure.

His hands were forever dirty. Joker's palms were calloused and he had flecks of red and white makeup near his fingers. Joker noticed his nails were getting a bit long and smirked.

If you were awake and in better spirits, you would attack them with nail clippers, making them pretty and worthy to hold, but even then, Joker still didn't see what you saw every time you reached out to hold them.

What made him worthy of your affection?

You would hold his hands as if they were precious gems and kiss each finger with the faintest brush of your lips, that it stole Joker's breath every time.

He didn't deserve such reverence on such tools of mass destruction and especially not from someone like you.

The feeling of your delicate hands slotting into his much rougher ones should be illegal but you would simply scoff at J's tsundere ways and hold them whenever you had the chance. In your eyes, you were the one unworthy to touch him.

You were the only person that touched him without a shred of malicious intent.

A literal angel came down from above with the sole purpose to torture his wicked soul with love and kindness. Joker could never fathom a way to repay you but he could guarantee that he would break your heart.

It was the kind of person he was. History always repeats itself.

He could only hope you would look past his many, many flaws and remain by his side for he would do the same for you.

So what if he was being selfish? Joker knew you were way out of his league but that wouldn't stop him from wanting you all for himself. He would do anything to change fate's design to keep the girl and live happily ever after.

As if such a thing were possible for a corrupted man like him. Did he even deserve a happy ending with the life he lived? No harm in finding out.

Joker reached out and held your hand with one of his own.

He dropped his unique speech pattern and spoke straight from the heart. He leaned down so his words could fall straight into your ear.

"Florence threatened to expose us both and they would have taken you from me. I couldn't bear being separated from you so I..." Joker squeezed your hand tighter.

It was right on the tip of his tongue yet he could say it aloud. Perhaps speaking it into existence made it real and he wasn't ready for you to know the truth just yet. J dropped his head with a bitter smile.

"You may think me a monster and that's okay. I am. But know this. No matter how much you hate me, no matter how hard you try to leave— in the end, this monster will always be by your side because.. I-I have nowhere else to go. You own me my Light. You've won."

Joker scanned your face for a flicker of alertness, but you stayed asleep. His smile was bittersweet before he kissed you softly. A monster kissing his sleeping beauty.

And oh how the mighty have fallen.

Your IV bag was half empty but Joker would wait until you opened your eyes to talk to you then. There was no other place he'd rather be so he settled in and took vigil, protecting his Light.

Joker heard you whimper just shy of the two hour mark. He set down his journal and waited for you to stir awake but much to his disappointment, nothing happened so he returned to his work.

He was underlining a great idea for a heist when you whimpered again. Joker looked over and saw that a heavy weight had settled on your brow that wasn't there before.

He watched you shift under the covers and thought maybe you were waking up but instead you mumbled something inaudible and flinched away from an unknown entity. It took him a minute but Joker knew all too well what was happening. You were having a nightmare and watching it unfold tore him apart.

He tossed his work down and reached over to shake you awake.

"Y/n. Hey, hey... bunny." His efforts proved to be counterproductive since you openly sobbed and curled into a fetal position.

As a result, your IV line stretched too far and pulled taunt on your forearm. Joker was worried that the needle would come out so he tried to help you lie back down but you had other plans. Whatever nightmare you were experiencing was traumatic and you reacted accordingly.

It came out of nowhere. One minute you were curled up like a ball, the next, you were fighting him with all your might.

Joker had to admit– you had hands, but you were causing more harm to yourself than him and somehow you were still asleep during the scuffle. He had to put an end to this.

"Wake up Y/n!" Joker shouted as he dodged your fists.

He grunted when your knee collided with his groin. Joker's pain tolerance was high but he was still a man. He grimaced through the pain and missed your eyes flying open in a state of panic.

Your head was still foggy from the pain meds but you quickly acknowledged that a male was pinning you down.

You couldn't tell what was real and what was just your nightmare; the only thing you could do was react the same way you did well over a year ago.

"G-Get off of me, Ty! Stop it!"

Joker froze the moment you yelled another man's name.

He quickly flipped the two of you over so you were the one in control but he didn't let you go.

He couldn't let you fight this alone. Although he didn't know what to do, he decided that talking you through it was somewhat of a good idea.

"Shhh shhh doll. Hey, uh.. do ya remember when I took you to the uh beach? You wanted to err— 'hear the dark ocean waves crashing onto the shore and feel the stillness of the night embrace you.' Buh-lieve me, it sounded wayy better comin' from you. I thoughT you were crazy for wanting to go at nighT but you madeit sound so.. normal. I wanted to experience something normal with you."

Joker noticed that you stopped fighting him so he kept going.

"You were uh, happy just dancing in the moonlight, so carefree and beautiful. I never took my eyes off ya and how could I? You're perfect, my light in the darkness, my.. everything. I'd do anything for you, don't ya know that doll? Say the woo~oord and it's yours, remember?"

Joker cradled the back of your head and you could hear his heartbeat while lying on his chest. He was just as nervous as you were. You clung to Joker's shirt tighter and whimpered.

Joker saw that he was winning you over and took things a step further.

"I'm gonna rub your back in uhh, circular motions mkay? Tell me to stop and I will."

You were afraid that Joker would make fun of your fragile situation but instead he took the time to alert you of his intentions. That had to count for something yet the doubt still lingered.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to clear them away. This was Joker, he wouldn't hurt you.. right? There were so many unknowns floating inside your head but Joker called out your name in that unique tone of his dragged you out of the fray.

His hands gently landed on your back, making you tense on reflex. "This okay?" He asked.

A man who never asked for permission a day in his life, offered you that courtesy. With a shaky nod, you allowed it.

"Yeah? All-rightY then. I'll go slow buT... ya gotta talk to me. What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, bun?"

He left a kiss on the crown of your head and rubbed your back in soothing figure eights. The rhythm made your eyes fall half mast but Joker stopped before you could fall under.

He drummed his fingers against your spine and it startled you awake. "Use your words, pretty girl. Tell me."

"Please, don't make me relive that." You begged.

The finger drumming stopped and you risked a peek at Joker. His shriveled up heart tore into two seeing a river of diamonds running down your bronze cheeks.

Someone hurt his Light and they would pay but first he would do his best to dry your tears. He can't bear it whenever you cry. Your tears would be his undoing.

"Relive what, Y/n? I never know what's going on with you. Who's this Ty person, hmm? I can kill him for you.."

You froze. You couldn't believe that you uttered that name for J to hear. Maybe if you backtracked Joker would forget and move on.

"N-No one. Just forge—"

"Stop. Dodging. The. Question! Morgana told me what happ-ened last night and now you're reacting like this?! You can't hide from me anymore. I neeeeeeeeed to know what happened.."

Joker shifted a bit so he could catch one of your tears with his index finger. There was genuine concern etched on his face that left you speechless. You never wanted Joker to know but he wasn't going to let this go. He was just as stubborn as you are.

He started to list off your drawbacks.

"You fear a man's touch. You have anxiety and social triggers. You run away from anything stressful, and d__n it Y/n! Just tell me what happened. I won't jud—"

"NO!"

Joker arched an eyebrow at your sudden outcry. He'd only known you a few months but you weren't a person to raise your voice at others.

"Nooo no no... no, you'll h-hate me if I told you!" You choked out a sob and Joker was quick to pull you back into a hug. His warm embrace was the perfect remedy despite the circumstances at hand.

"I could never hate you! What makes you think that Y/n?" He vowed while squeezing you tighter.

Joker had his suspicions on what happened to you but he kept it to himself. Morgana offered to spill the beans but he felt he should hear the truth directly from you. For so long Joker questioned your odd tics and mannerisms and today they finally held meaning.

You created some space from him with a sigh and Joker knew whatever you were about to say would change everything. You couldn't look him in the eye anymore.

With tears dotting your lashes, you finally broke down and told Joker about your past.

"Because why would you want someone's leftovers?"

"Uh leftovers?" J echoed. You sat up in Joker's lap and sniffled.

You never told anyone what truly happened that fateful night– not even when your parents begged you to make a police report, but the moment you started talking, you just couldn't stop. The truth was finally coming out and you felt indifferent to it all.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and began.

"His birthday was coming up and I didn't want him to be more upset with me. He was already mad because I didn't get him anything so we decided last minute on a movie. Some trashy romance flick that I couldn't tell you the title of to save my life. In hindsight, I realize that he practically threatened me to go. He knew what he wanted from me."

"The movie was fine until he got handsy halfway through. I said no. I said no all night... He slapped me, called me a f__king cocktease when I refused to suck him off– so I left. It should've been simple.. Give Ty a day or two to cool off but he always apologizes. He had a temper but he never meant to take it out on me. He always apologized because he... loved me. Or so I thought." You shivered.

"That night was different though. He was so angry that I made a scene walking out and we had already fought the day before about me moving to Gotham to kick off my writing career. He wanted me to be a stay at home wife. Heh, marriage was never brought up in a conversation he just... assumed that I would be with him forever. If only I had known just how controlling he really was. By the time he showed me his true colors—"

You chuckled while blinking back your tears. Joker wanted to reach out and wipe them away, do anything really to comfort you, but your next sentence stopped him in his tracks.

[ Do NOT read further if sexual assault/rape affects you. The end of this section is marked if you wish to skip it.]

*** TRIGGER WARNING STARTS NOW ***

"He followed me out into the alley behind the theater. I made it to the sidewalk, but he grabbed my hair and dragged me back into the darkness. He s-slammed my head so hard into the brick wall, I lost consciousness. I came to and scratched at his face so he broke my arm. And the b-broken jaw was because I-I was too loud. If I had kept my mouth shut like a good girlfriend, he wouldn't have to be so rough, he said. It still aches when it rains, which is all the time, but it's whatever I guess."

Joker's gaze fell to your jaw as if he could find evidence to your assault well over a year later. He did notice on heavy rainy days that you would rub your jaw in pain.

He thought nothing of it until now.

It also explained why you were so quiet during sex. You were punished for being too loud then and feared making a sound now.

The puzzle pieces were slowly snapping into place and Joker felt sick to his stomach for being so blind.

"W-When you love someone, you trust them not to h-hurt you." You didn't see Joker's guilt torn face as you said that. You carried on unawares. "He broke that trust so I made the decision to escape from the pain he was inflicting."

"You dissociated while he..." Joker whispered.

How long had you bottled this up? Months? Years? Joker didn't want to know the answer.

He inflicted pain on others simply because it was amusing; nothing bothered him, but hearing the accounts of a traumatic assault from an innocent creature like you, it truly broke his heart.

Now he understood why you always ran when things got too dicey. It was your coping mechanism. Running kept you safe and you couldn't break old habits.

Joker regretted asking you about the past. Some things were best left in the dark.

"I'll never get his voice out of my head. He praised me for being so tight. I was choking on my own blood and b-bleeding internally from each agonizing thrust, and he.. thanked.. me for being... He knew I loved praise and used it against me! I lost a piece of myself that I'll never get back all because he thanked me. C-Can you even call it rape if you cum? How could my own body betray me and enjoy something so barbaric?"

You fought back tears and furiously wiped away any that emerged. When you felt strong enough, you continued.

"It took months to physically mend myself back together but my mental wounds will never heal. I tried to move on and start dating again but..... he was always there. Every date, every hookup, every attempt at sex, was ruined with the thought of him and his touch. Eventually I stopped trying. I accepted the fact I was broken and focused on my work and nothing else. I lost friends but I didn't care. I moved to Gotham City to start anew and haven't looked back. I was existing but not living– that is until you came along."

*** TRIGGER WARNING HAS ENDED ***

Joker looked up in shock. He had been quiet for the most part but hearing his name during your story was a shock. "M-Me?" He pointed to himself.

You exhaled sharply and grabbed Joker's hand.

He watched as you played with his calloused fingers and frowned when you noticed the length of his nails. You picked at a jagged edge as you replied.

"Yeah.. you. You aren't normal and after what I've been through, I craved your um.. brand of different I guess? You don't care that I'm someone else's leftovers— a girl who's afraid of being touched. When I'm with you.. I-I can be the Y/n I was before I was r-r.. um assaulted."

You intertwined your fingers with Joker's and glanced up at him. He immediately returned your stare. "Please tell me you won't leave m-me. N-Now that you know."

Now Joker knew where your separation anxiety originated from.

So many fools before him left you high and dry while you were trying to heal and they unknowingly scarred you further. Joker saw the sheer desperation in your e/c eyes and vowed to be different.

He would not make the same mistake they did.

Joker didn't say a word as he leaned forward to grab a hold of your face.

You jumped at the unexpected contact but his eyes are what scared you the most. They weren't filled with pity or disgust; Joker's vivid green eyes glowed with nothing but acceptance.

Joker's clown makeup took away from the sight but his genuine smile was still a sight for sore eyes. It made yours widen in shock.

"Where else would I go, hmm?" Then he heard his favorite sound in the world. Your laugh.

It wasn't the light and airy bell like tone he was used to, but it'll do given the circumstances. You leaned into Joker's calloused hand that cradled your face with a half smile.

"There she issssss, there's my Light! You thought that would scare me off? Nah, that's nothing. Pfft. I've done far worse sweetheart." Joker thought the joke came out well but he felt the moment you tensed up.

He wanted to kick himself when you leaned away. "What?"

Joker's brain was working in overdrive on how to retract that statement.

In your fragile state, the last thing you needed was to discover just how much of a monster Joker truly was. Thankfully the sound of your stomach growling saved the day. He sighed in relief when you became flustered and covered your belly.

The last thing you ate was a plate of sweets and now your body was craving real food. You filed Joker's eerie words away for later to focus on your body's needs.

"I doubt Dick left any food but it won't hurt to check." You flung the covers away to stand but you were literally yanked back by your IV line.

You glared at it in shock. It was then you noticed that you were tied to the bedpost.

You prayed that you were just reading too much into things. There was no way that Joker would deliberately tie you to the bed. He had no reason to yet your heart started to race when he remained silent.

'I've done far worse sweetheart.' Was this Joker's way of showing you his true colors?

"J, what the..."

He smacked his lips and began the tedious task of untying your line from the headboard.

He tried to ignore your bugged out eyes watching his every move. You had just finished explaining that your rapist ex was controlling only to find out your current lover tied you to the bed.

He'd kill Sarai for her dumb idea. Who ties a medical IV bag to a bedpost anyways?!

It didn't matter who was truly at fault, in your eyes, Joker was to blame. He was making mistake after mistake and really setting himself up for a trip to the doggie house or worse. You just might kick him out of your life for good.

Once the line was loose, he focused on removing the IV needle. Sarai advised him to call her but Joker wanted as much privacy with you as possible. He just hoped he was removing it correctly. At least it didn't bleed as much when he took out the needle. You grimaced more from his touch than the removal process.

He wondered how long it would take for you to trust him again. He missed touching you so freely already.

Joker slapped a band-aid that matched your skin tone on the entry point and stood up.

"You're uh wel-come to join me in the errr kitchen. Do ya need help gettin' there?" Joker ideally wanted to carry you to the kitchen or at least spot you along the way but you were still wary of him.

He would be stuck asking for your permission and doing frequent check-ins for the unforeseeable future.

Not that he minded but it would become repetitious after a while. Just because you and Joker were on the same page again didn't mean he was out of the neck of the woods. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries and risk starting things over from the beginning.

It took too long for Joker to craft the trust he formed with you and he would not let your ex ruin his hard work.

Maybe some food would do you some good. The fluids and pain meds could only do so much to get you back healthy. Although Joker now knew that your mental health was an issue there was no way he could help you there.

"N-No. I think I'll be fine. Um, can you fix me a plate while I'm in the bathroom?" You weren't quite sure why you turned down Joker's assistance but watching his shoulders deflate made you feel ten times more guilty.

Joker was trying to help in the only way he knew how.

You didn't move from the bed and Joker got the message. You wanted some privacy and so with a mute nod, he made himself scarce.

You waited until Joker left the bedroom to breathe a sigh of relief. You quite literally got something off your chest. You'd been bottling your trauma for a year now and parading around like everything was fine was not good for your mental health.

Joker was the only soul who knew the severity of your assault and he didn't leave like so many partners did before him.

He was okay with you being a mess and that alone made you crack a smile that quickly faded away. Being a mess was not something to celebrate. You were tired of pretending. Maybe it was high time to stop joking about it and actually schedule a therapy appointment.

Your mother was probably giving Him all the Glory if she knew you were serious about seeking professional help this time.

If you remembered correctly, Mom gave you a list of psychologists from Blüdhaven and another list that practiced here in Gotham City after you moved. You nodded to yourself and set about getting up so you could go to your room to search for it. Then you could make a quick stop in the bathroom on the trip back.

The covers were still flung back so you swung your legs over the bed and stood up, only to stagger back onto the bed when your balance failed you.

Perhaps you should've taken Joker's offer to help. You'd been bed ridden all day and your equilibrium was completely out of whack but you suffered through worse.

You toughened through it and walked down the hallway to your bedroom, quickly closing the door behind you.

Joker heard the door echo in the apartment and sighed. It was a distinct sound that rattled his nerves. You were in your room and there was no telling if you would emerge.

For now, all he could do was prepare a plate of food and hope you joined him in the kitchen.

In the meantime, he called Mac and Frost and took care of some business. You walked into the kitchen right as he was finishing up a phone call with Mac.

"I don'T care. Follow her so we don't have another repeat occurrence. Uhh she's with Sarai, find her on your own."

Joker spotted you hesitating in the archway and hurried Mac off the phone. "Yeah yeah just do your job and have fun."

Joker hung up and grabbed a small pot off the stove. He pointed at the island counter and you obeyed the silent request.

Your kitchen remained the same as you remembered it but now Joker was buzzing around it and doing a great job of fixing you a plate. He found your causal china from the cupboard and loaded a plate up with a generous helping of baked beans, a generous slice of Dad's BBQ meat, and he was currently raking some warmed up greens onto the plate. You doubted you'd eat all of it but the gesture was there.

Joker was concerned about you.

He set the pot back on the stove before pushing the plate across the island counter towards you. "Eat." He spun around to yank the silverware drawer open. "Uh hold on.."

A fork was presented to you along with a napkin or two.

You arched an eyebrow at Joker being so at ease in your kitchen but dug into your food with gusto. The flavors had time to set overnight and it was a literal party in your mouth. You felt the energy recharging your body and you did a small happy dance in your seat.

You looked up when you heard Joker snort.

He was leaning back on the sink with his arms crossed, staring at you. There was a softness in his eyes that you never seen before. He looked like a lovesick puppy and sported a dopey smile on his lips.

It sent butterflies stirring in your stomach but you pushed down the feeling and slowly ate under his watch. You were blowing on a forkful of food when he suddenly spoke.

"We should go out."

The beans on your fork dripped back onto your plate. Surely he was kidding. You downplayed the obvious. "Out? Like o-outside on the balcony?"

Joker fixed you with a deadpan glare. He grabbed a fork of his own and stole a bite of your greens. You looked on in disbelief at the amount he took and definitely not at the juices running down his chin provocatively.

He was making a show of chewing them, "Mmm that's good but uhh.. no. Out as in... I take ya out on a date." He smirked at your jaw dropping open. He felt cheeky so he scooped up some beans and fed them to you.

You jumped back last minute and had no other choice but to chew them as Joker spoke.

"Lemme spoil my Light rotten so you can see what I see. A beautiful goddess walkin' amongst us. Whaddya say pretty girl? Wanna go on a date with me?" Joker flashed you a smile.

"I.. but you.." You stuttered. Joker played along with your lack of excuses.

He twirled his hands in a circle, "But whaT, Bunny?"

"You seem to forget you're a wanted criminal with the entire city on the hunt for you! We can't just go out! I mean... what if you get caught or um.." You stared at the concrete poured countertops as if they held the answers you needed.

Joker laughed and propped his elbow up on the surface. He was glad to know your only reservations were about his safety and not about being in a foul mood to go out.

He drummed his fingers on the counter and shrugged his shoulders.

"So? I wanna take my girl out. That's a uhh, risk, I'm willin to take. If you don't wanna go just say so. Orrrr is it something else holding you back? Don't wanna be seen with me? Is that it?"

You were quick to deny, "NO! That's not it! I-I.. it's the other way round! I'm not worth all the fuss, Joker."

Joker growled and smacked his hands down, causing the plate and other items on the counter to rattle briefly. You flinched when he rounded the counter to tip your chin back.

Joker knew you were still skittish with physical touch but he couldn't help himself. He brushed his lips against yours so you could feel the honesty dripping from his lips.

"An author I know once penned. 'Let it be known all across Greece, that I, a lowly human, cherish and bow before the feet of a goddess. Should she smite me here and now, I will undoubtedly perish as a satisfied man.'"

Hearing Joker quote your books was like a shot of tequila without a lime.

It spoke to how much he valued you as a person and as an author while still paying homage to his burning desire for you.

His shaky sigh fanned over your face and you closed your eyes from the intimate contact. Your instincts were screaming at you to run run run, however you were a woman and a very attractive man was declaring his devotion to you. You stayed rooted in place.

Your heart skipped and you licked your lips, unknowingly swiping Joker's.

"Happy." Joker was confused until you finished your sentence by correcting the book quote. "Sebastian said he'd perish a happy man, not satisfied."

You panted in the space between Joker's mouth and yours. He was so close it hurt.

"Same thing." Joker shortened the distance and captured your lips with a groan. How long had he starved himself of this pleasure? A week too long.

You tasted so sweet and felt so soft– a literal treat for a man touch starved. He couldn't stop himself from grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up on the counter. Joker didn't part for air and you clung to him tighter.

Your legs naturally parted to allow Joker room to step in between them and you wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

Where everyone else was closed off, somehow it felt right to let Joker in. Despite your fears and unresolved trauma, you could trust Joker with your body.

You could tell he was holding back (you swooned at his self-restraint) and a part of you was grateful when he pulled back. It was too much too soon.

He leveled his breathing and rested his forehead against yours, "Y/n, you're worth everything. Let me do this, hm?"

You gazed into Joker's eyes. This meant a lot to him although your current level of confidence couldn't grasp why. You just had to blindly trust that Joker had your best interests at heart.

"Okay."

"Okay... what?" He pressed. He never broke eye contact with you which didn't help you think straight. You could drown in his sea of moss green.

"Um, y-yes I wanna go on a d-date with.. with you."

Joker looked like a kid in a candy store. He couldn't stop smiling and almost kissed you again but backed away at the last minute. He saw you breathe a sigh of relief and knew he made the right decision.

"Ya won't regret it. Now! Let's spoil my Bunny rotten shall we?" Joker bopped you on the nose.

Just what did you sign up for?

It was impossible for someone with your skin color to truly blush but you could feel your skin boiling with all the attention Joker bestowed you.

He encouraged you to wash up and change into something that was easy to get in and out of before ushering you out of the apartment. You ended up in a pair of beat up sweats and one of his shirts. You were giving bum city realness and felt like it too.

Joker also changed to blend in better– if being disguised as a sexy mafia boss was his definition of 'blending in.'

Every female in a fifty mile radius eyed Joker like the piece of meat he was. The sad part, he knew he looked fine and fed off the energy.

He wore another delicious all black suit with gold cufflinks and a matching watch on his arm. He walked with a purpose and kept you safely tucked in the crook of his arm.

Male and females glared at you in envy as this mysterious male guided you into Gotham City's elite boutique. You were embarrassed to say the least.

You only been in here once to browse around for your American GreatRead's award dress before Cindy hooked you up with a custom designer.

Only celebrities and the upper echelon of Gotham City dared to step foot into Tashio and Joker dragged you in here in your beat up house clothes.

You and Joker hadn't made it a foot into the store when a woman with beautiful ebony skin strutted over. "May I help you two?"

Joker took off his shades to inspect her more closely. He was forced to keep his mask on lest everyone see his scars but his presence still commanded respect. You were amazed at how he slicked his hair back so the green streaks didn't show. It was slowly fading and he didn't bother dying it back since he knew you loved his natural hair color.

Just another way he was changing himself for you.

"Yes. My girl and I are going out tonight. Black tie. There's no limit and don't listen to her suggestions, she's errr modest." He nudged you forward so the saleswoman could take a look at you.

You almost snapped your neck to glare at Joker.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You gritted.

The woman got straight to business. "Understood. Any preference of designers sir and will the two of you be matching? Oh, and what's your size?" She spoke to you directly at the end but Joker replied on your behalf. "No, yessss, and she's a...."

Joker paused to look you over. You bashfully looked away as his eyes roamed over your curves.

If anyone else stared at you in such a way you'd be disgusted, but Joker's lustful gaze made you feel desired and a touch confident. He locked eyes with you as he spoke.

"She's a (insert dress size)." You knew he was smiling underneath his face mask. The cocky clown was right..

"Will you be staying for the fitting? Sir?" The saleswoman cleared her throat to get his attention. "Excuse me sir?"

J's gaze was still on you when he replied, "Mhm." He didn't catch the saleswoman's smile.

"Very well.. Please, come with me." She waved the two of you further into the store and asked for your name. You complimented her bantu knots and her striking blue eyeliner and she in turn admired your work in literature.

And of course that launched a discussion about your novels. You could talk for hours about your work.

By the time the three of you reached the actual showroom, you were perfectly at ease. Joker noted how your demeanor mellowed out around women and decided to fall back to give you some space.

You hardly noticed his absence. You still had no clue where Joker was taking you tonight except that it was a black tie event.

Kendra, your styling consultant, sat you down and asked you questions while her assistant ran around to stock a private room with the choices that you unknowingly made so far.

You ruled out anything short and in your least favorite color and Kendra listened attentively while making mental notes of your preferences based on your answers.

You were surprised by how seamless the whole process was especially when Kendra informed you she already had some ensembles picked out for you to try on. You passed by a gorgeous pair of shoes on the way to the fitting room and she assured you that she would also assist in picking out any accessories and shoes to go with your final selection.

Joker was making due on his promise to spoil you.

Speaking of the clown, you finally acknowledged that he wasn't with you. He must've disappeared while you weren't looking. Hopefully he stayed out of trouble while you shopped around.

Kendra was explaining the store's wide collection of designers when a commotion on the floor gained her attention.

"Sir! Can you please return that to its original display?!"

Both you and Kendra turned to spot a redhead running behind Joker, who was carrying an entire mannequin over his shoulder like it was a normal occurrence.

You facepalmed as Kendra chuckled at the sight. She waved her co-worker off. The redhead was miffed but stormed off with a grumble under her breath. This is why she liked when men left the store.

Joker set the mannequin down once he reached your side. "I li-ke this one." He said.

Kendra didn't have the heart to tell the man this design was a display only. Her fingers were crossed that they had your size still in stock.

"Good choice sir, she'll look amazing in Valentino. Would you like to try it on, Y/n?"

You glared at Joker for his lack of manners and studied the gown. You were worried about your chest behaving, or rather, not in the off the shoulder gown.

"Uh it's beautiful but.."

Joker hummed and tugged the material down. You gasped the same time Kendra fixed her mouth to scold him.

"It has a built-in bra Bunny. The uh.. girls won't go anywhere you don't want em' to." He let go of the gown and shooed you towards your private room. "Go try it on."

Your ears were redder than the dress and Kendra did her best to stifle her laugh while following you back to the fitting room. She excused herself to go check inventory (thank the gods they had your size left!) and returned to help you in it.

Just like Joker said, your cleavage wasn't a problem. You stared at your reflection in the mirror and twirled absentmindedly.

"Your boyfriend has good taste."

You stopped twirling to stare at Kendra. She was smiling and didn't know the weight of her words.

"Not many partners stay for the fittings let alone make good selections. He's a keeper." She fixed the seam around your arm as you stared off in thought.

Is that what you and Joker looked like to outsiders? Like a couple? You bit your lip to stop your smile.

"He's not my boyfriend." You denied. Kendra scoffed.

"With the way he looks at you? The devil is a lie and denial is a river in Africa. You may be delulu, but that man is down bad for you. You look good girl. Do you want to show him this one?"

You were most definitely in denial. There was no way that Joker would commit to anyone let alone you— especially now since he knew about your past, but you begrudgingly nodded at Kendra.

However a knock on the door interrupted you. The same redhead from before poked her head through the door.

"Sorry Kendra but your client asked me to send these two in. Said something about his goddess needed to try them on. He's not feeling the red anymore." She rolled her eyes before handing your consultant two more gowns for you to try.

It's like Joker read your mind; you were a bit indecisive and needed more options.

Kendra thanked her colleague and unzipped the dress bag open to reveal a high collar teal gown. It was a pencil silhouette and looked very chic on the hanger.

You were hesitant but stepped into the dress only to turn your nose up as the fabric accented your curves a little too much.

You saw Joker's vision here but you weren't feeling confident in it. Kendra noticed your displeasure and didn't bother fastening the buttons near the neck. "Let's try the next one shall we?" She politely deflected.

She knew you too well for someone you just met. You let out a heavy sigh and stripped to your bra and panties again.

Joker meant well but what if you didn't find anything to wear to his surprise date? You probably tried on a dozen gowns, each one more gorgeous than the last, but none of them felt right.

Kendra carefully held a deep indigo number for you to step into. The second it glided over your skin, you broke out in goosebumps. The rich color looked divine on your darker skin and once Kendra zipped it up and you saw the dramatic ruffles, you knew.

She had a feeling this was the one too and smiled as she smoothed and tucked the gown a certain way to earn your approval.

You had yet to stop smiling at your reflection in the mirror. It was dramatic and elegant and you felt glamorous while wearing it. It would stand up perfectly with Joker's dark suit tonight.

"I-I wanna show him this one." You murmured. Kendra agreed and gave you a pair of sample heels to walk in.

The door opened and you walked down the short hallway and turned the corner to find Joker sitting on a couch, fiddling with his watch. He was blowing a raspberry but felt a presence in the room. His jade eyes immediately locked on you and then his heart stopped.

He was utterly speechless. You played with your fingers before clearing your throat.

"D-Do you like it, J?" Nervous was an understatement as Joker stood up without a word.

He came to a stop in front you and pulled his mask down far enough to kiss you right there on the showroom floor.

You jumped at the initial contact but let his lips dance across yours. Joker's lips were like satin to the touch despite his scars and you firmly believed he kissed you differently every time you lips met his.

You forgot you were in public when he licked the root of your mouth with his tongue.

You shoved him away none too gently. "J, stop!" You hid your shaking hands behind your back and glanced around.

Kendra had her back turned– pretending to straighten a display dress on its hanger better and no one else was in the nearby vicinity. Joker pulled you right back in his embrace. He felt you trembling but pursued his goal.

"So? Let them.." He kissed your cheek, "Mmm, let them see.. just how much.. you're wanted." He said in between pecking your face.

It was light and innocent, nothing heavy to rattle your nerves but you still grimaced each time Joker's lips came in contact with your skin. You hated how quickly your mood changed.

Joker was always mindful of your body language and pulled away to fix his mask back over his mouth.

You didn't shy away from Joker as a person per se, but rather at the fact he was wasting his passion on damaged goods. You still felt lesser than. That would change by the end of the night.

Joker sighed to himself before waving Kendra and her assistant over. If they saw anything, their poker faces were stone cold.

Joker shoved his fists into his pockets and nodded over at you.

"Get my Light some uh proper heels to wear and drown her in jewels. Gold she uhh, looks the best in gold.."

Joker watched you rub the back of your neck. "I want her hair and makeup done too. Uh, I'll be back."

Once Joker issued his requests, he stepped away, leaving you with a smug Kendra and a clueless assistant calling the inhouse hair and makeup crew so they could expect your arrival.

Kendra offered you a napkin to wipe your face. Did the man have to slobber all over it? At least he wasn't wearing his clown makeup.

"I thought he wasn't your boyfriend Y/n?" Kendra snickered.

You snatched the napkin out of her hands. "Oh shut up." The both of you shared a laugh.

Joker stepped outside to make some calls to ensure his plans for the night went off without a hitch.

It was a bit of a risk to be out in public– especially where he was taking you, yet one he was willing to take if it helped boost your confidence. Your self esteem was at an all time low and you were having thoughts that weren't befitting the new nickname he wanted to test out.

He wasn't lying when he said you were a goddess meant to be cherished and worshipped.

Tonight would be a mere glimpse of what he would do for the rest of your life— if you'll have him.

He lit up a few cigs in between calls and before he knew it, time had gotten away from him. Joker stepped back inside to check on you.

A lady on the showroom floor said you were finishing up with makeup so he took care of the bill while he waited. You wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he didn't actually pay.

He was eyeing a display case of designer handbags when an employee cleared her throat to get his attention. Joker sent her a sharp glare over his shoulder.

Something about those abnormally green eyes frightened her. "Ahh uh.. she's.. your date is ready s-sir."

He loved scaring people, that would never change no matter how closely he embraced the light.

Joker followed the associate to a waiting room although he didn't have to wait for long, you were already walking in like the ethereal deity you are.

The dress by itself was stunning but in his absence you donned a pair of drop earrings, your wrist was adorned with gold, and the hair team did a phenomenal job in taming your curls. Your hair was beautiful on a normal day but they combed out any knots and let it cascade down in its natural curl pattern. It was elegantly styled but pinned back to allow your jewelry and natural beauty to be the main focus.

If you wore makeup they did an outstanding job highlighting your natural features.

If you preferred a more natural approach, Joker smirked at the subtle lip gloss on your plump lips. He wanted to kiss it off but all in good time. The next time he claimed your lips he wanted you to be a willing participant.

You declined a handbag since you left the penthouse with only your keys and phone in hand and Joker was currently carrying both for you. Imagine your surprise when you discovered your evening gown had pockets. It was a blessing from above that it was the one for you.

All in all, you looked breathtaking and you had an ounce of confidence to yourself.

You walked over, smiling faintly at Joker. He was ever the gentleman, bowing at the waist and kissing the back of your hand before offering you his arm.

The employees who were gathered looked on in awe. It was something out of a fairy tale, the two of you looked so perfect together! If only they knew it was the infamous Joker who was spoiling you and not some average guy.

As if you wanted a normal man after being with Joker.

You giggled to yourself as J escorted you out of Tashio's and towards a car waiting on the curb.

A driver held the door open and you slid inside with Joker following behind you. "Are ya hungry, Bunny?" He asked as you got settled.

You urged him to put his seatbelt on and he did so with a dramatic roll of his eyes. The things he did for you.. First he legally pays for a service, the next he wears a seatbelt. Would you somehow convince him to file his taxes next?

If you asked, he'd consider it.

A few hours had passed since leaving the apartment and it was nearing dinner time. You had worked up an appetite after shopping and then sitting in a hair stylist chair for so long.

"Yeah dinner sounds good."

Joker played with your chain bracelet as the car drove off to his plans for the night. His special surprise burned inside of his pocket but he would wait until a better time arose to present it to you. He didn't like your prolonged silence though.

He hoped you weren't thinking negatively and digging yourself into a funk. "Hey," Joker called your name.

You tore your eyes from the traffic outside the window and met endless pools of green "Hm?"

"You ok?" He asked.

You grabbed Joker's hand, intertwining it with your own and admired the color contrast. Joker didn't care that his tan skin clashed with your darker brown, he was too busy celebrating this mini victory.

You initiated physical contact with him. He was overjoyed when he kissed your hand and you didn't flinch.

"I will be." 'Now that I have you.' You thought the last bit to yourself.

His gaze never left your face until the driver announced the two of you had arrived. You were curious and excited to see why Joker had you all dressed up. He stepped out of the car first and turned around to help you out.

Your heels clicked as they settled on the sideway in front of a tall stone building alit from within.

Then it all made sense why you were dressed to the nines.

You heard about the place but never knew where it was located. Another Michelin star restaurant hidden in the heart of The Bowery district with a ridiculously long wait list and allegedly, a menu well worth the wait.

You had no doubt that Joker threatened someone, (or worse) to get a table on such short notice.

Joker watched your eyes sparkle in awe as he guided you inside the restaurant. He stopped at the hostess booth to whisper something in their ear but you were distracted by the ambiance.

You were quick to notice that the space used to be an old ballroom but was converted over time into a restaurant.

The ceiling still had its picturesque artwork and elaborate crown molding but the pièces de résistance was the live tree growing in the middle of the room. Its branches provided a much needed element of greenery amidst all the glamor and acted as a natural privacy divider for the surrounding tables.

It defied all logic by thriving amongst marble and stone and a massive two story chandelier hung above it, casting an ethereal glow on the healthy leaves and the people seated below it. The place was filled with magic.

You turned your head when a male appeared and addressed you and Joker.

"Ahem, your table is waiting."

He patiently waited for you and J to follow him. On the far side of the room, a giant spiral staircase winded up so close to the chandelier, you could reach out and touch the glass beads. Joker grabbed your wrist before you could.

He didn't want you reaching too far over the railing and risk hurting yourself. You were way too clumsy for your own good.

The second story of the ballroom overlooked the restaurant below and you were stunned by the more intimate seating available up here.

Unlike downstairs, each table was spread further out from the others by vine dividers, giving a guest the feeling of a space all to themselves. Joker made sure his table was well off from the others so he could remove his mask in peace.

Not like anyone could see him with the soft candlelight casting shadows everywhere but he wasn't about to take any chances.

The waiter presented the private area with a flourish of his arms. The tablecloth was stark white and fine china sat overtop along with candles, fresh flora, and silverware– ready to enjoy. There was a perfect blend of elegance and greenery that matched the restaurant's overall aesthetic.

Joker glared at the waiter who tried to hold a chair out for you. Joker waited until he was gone before removing his mask. Then you finally got to see his scarred lips tugging up in a smile.

You sat down and let Joker push you towards the table however; you jumped when he left a kiss on the back of your neck. Joker mumbled out a sorry right as another water approached the table with a pitcher of water.

He poured you a glass and handed you and Joker menus, "Welcome to Eden. I will be your only server tonight."

He nodded at Joker and you surmised that J paid him off.

Not many people could stomach seeing Joker and his scars or turn a blind eye to a known fugitive being out in public. The NDA check must be huge.

You opened the menu and scanned it over. Everything sounded delicious but you couldn't decide what to get even after the waiter walked off to give you some time.

You glanced over the top of your menu at Joker. He had yet to look at tonight's selection. He couldn't take his eyes off of you and sent a lazy smile your way when you caught him staring.

Your ears were burning with how much he made you flustered. You fiddled with your earrings and focused back on the menu until Joker spoke up.

"Get whatever ya want, Bunny. If you don't li-ke it.. I'll uhh, give it to your security." You tilted your head in confusion so he elaborated. "You can't see them but four men are guarding us right now sooooo order whatever you wanT."

You shifted in your seat and coyly glanced around the room.

No one looked out of place in the posh atmosphere but you knew Joker wouldn't lie about something so serious. You hadn't forgotten about that mysterious envelope from the beach house.

Someone had Joker spooked and he wasn't about to mess around with your safety. It meant everything to him. Unfortunately it was another thing to worry about. As if you needed more stress on your plate.

You shook your head and read a promising entree but your attention was distracted by Joker's fingers playfully walking around the white tablecloth getting closer and closer to you.

You bit back a smile and glanced at J who was having a grand time playing around. The candlelight cast a glow on his tanned skin that made him more handsome than usual. You rested your hand on the table and he wasted no time brushing his pinky finger against yours.

Joker's jade eyes darted up to your e/c eyes. "Whatcha gettin?"

"Huh?" You were expecting him to ask you something else, not that. "Oh.. uh I don't know yet."

In seconds, Joker snatched your hand up into his hold and fixed you with a heated stare. "Need some help, doll?"

How was his hand so warm or maybe why were yours so cold? You barely nodded but you saw Joker grin. Nothing got past his perceptive eye.

He leaned over and pointed out some good choices and really sold you on what to order.

For all you knew, Joker was the head chef with how he explained each entree and he painted a clear picture of what you'd get if you ordered it. You decided on an appetizer while your main course cooked and Joker ordered something you couldn't even pronounce with a glass of dark liquor.

You didn't know Joker drank but he polished off the glass– not once letting go of your hand.

He never let go, even when the first course arrived. Joker surprised you yet again by dragging your chair closer to his.

"This okay?" He asked after seeing you tense up in your seat.

You were fine being across from Joker but now you sat side by side. Your bare leg brushed up against his suit and it made goosebumps break out over your skin. This was Joker, not your ex. You had to trust J and give him a chance. He didn't deserve to be iced out for someone else's mistakes.

That was the mantra you told yourself as the waiter returned to refill the glasses with water.

You and Joker shared the appetizer over light banter and he caught you up on what he did for the last few days. He was leading up to his trip to the jewelers and what he purchased, when the main entree arrived at the table.

You missed Joker's irritated growl but the night was still young. He had plenty of time to show off the gift he bought you.

You were about to start eating but Joker took your utensils and cut up your main entree for you. It was an odd gesture but Joker wasn't deterred by your confusion. He just patiently waited until you opened your mouth to feed you.

"How does it taste?" He asked in between bites with that raspy tone you knew all too well.

It stirred up butterflies in your stomach and made you feel wanted but it was neither the time nor the place for such emotions.

The food lived up to its coveted reviews. No wonder people waited months to a year for a reservation. Each morsel melted in your mouth and had you craving for more.

You didn't know how Joker fed you and still had the time to eat himself but he was not playing around with his whole, spoil you rotten agenda.

Who knew being fed could be so hot? If anyone else tried such a thing, you would be insulted but because Joker was the one doing it, it was sensual and thrilling. He watched your lips each time you accepted a bite and the little hums you made were driving him insane.

And when he (purposefully) missed and got a bit of sauce on your face, he groaned watching your tongue dart out to lick it clean.

He wanted to do that but he didn't know if he was allowed to.

You let him hold your hand all night but there was still a wary gleam lingering in your eye. He kissed you back at your apartment with no issues but when he kissed the back of your neck at the dinner table, you jumped. Your mood changed like the wind. Joker honestly didn't know how to approach you after discovering the truth.

He didn't want to scare you but he wanted you so bad. How could he seduce you when you were hardly in the mood?

"J? D-Did you hear me? I asked if I could order dessert." you called his name again to get his attention.

He must've lost track of time while thinking. You were gazing up into his candlelit emeralds waiting for an answer. All the plates were clear of food and Joker wondered how he failed to notice such a crucial detail..

You said his name again and squeezed his hand. J was quick to reply. "Uh yeah. Do ya know–"

You cut him off, "I want the Gotham City style cheesecake with a raspberry compote and um c-can you get the tiramisu? I wanna try it and.. the macaroons." If only you were this decisive when it came to picking dinner.

He chuckled to himself but flagged down the waiter to put in the order. "Say the woo~ord and it's yours, Goddess."

The new nickname punched you straight in the gut.

Joker was distracted but you still stared at him in disbelief. He didn't use a nickname that he didn't think was befitting of you and that fact made you tear up. Even after knowing the truth, he still held you in such high regard.

Joker was finishing up ordering your trio of desserts when he heard the one sound that could bring him to his knees. The sound of you crying.

The candlelight highlighted a tear rolling down your cheek and he quickly wiped it away to preserve your beauty. He was about to ask what was bothering you when you spoke up.

"D-Don't say it if you don't m-mean it.." You shook your head. "I can't take it if you don't mean it."

So you heard his new nickname for you. Joker felt now was the right time as any.

Joker kept silent as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. It was wrapped in your favorite color with a big white bow on top.

"What... is this for me?"

Joker nodded mutely and pushed it closer to you.

He wasn't giving you anything to go on so you were left to grab the box and tear it open. An official Jacob and Co. box was inside and you popped open the lid only to gasp seeing the custom jewelry inside.

"J..." You marveled at the tiny gold lighthouse with a real diamond serving as the beam of light cushioned on black velvet. You were going to read out the inscription along the base but Joker beat you to it.

"My Light in a sea of darkness.' You can doubt all you want but there's no mistaking what you are to me. You're my Light, my goddess. What more could I ever need?"

You were at a loss for words, staring into Joker's sincere gaze. He didn't stumble or stress any syllables; his words were raw and meant to soothe your soul with their honesty.

His smile was faint when he stood up to fasten your new necklace on. It was cold at first but it settled perfectly on the swallow of your collarbone. He nodded to himself seeing it on you and his fond grin caused more tears to form.

You probably looked ridiculous crying in the middle of a ritzy restaurant but it was all you could do after such a declaration.

Right as you were parting your lips to speak, an orchestra on the main floor let a few test notes float through the air. The last thing you were expecting was live music and Joker smirked at your bewildered face.

"Would ya like to dance?" Joker asked, changing the subject.

It took you a few seconds to recover. "I-I... I didn't see a dance floor."

The orchestra began playing a sultry instrumental and you noticed a few couples making their way down to the main floor to dance. You were cross on if you wanted to go although Joker was already reaching for his mask to cover back up.

"Sweetheart, we're in a ballroom you can dance anywhere buuut my question is.... Do you want to?" He stood up and straightened his suit. Who was this dapper man? It couldn't be the same Joker that terrorized Gotham City daily.

Joker really transformed into a different person when he was with you. You were the only soul who would see him this way. He put so much trust in you; it was high time you returned the favor.

Your dessert was soon forgotten as you placed your hand in Joker's.

He guided you down the stairs towards the main floor where a designated area was cleared away. The musicians were mid song when Joker led you into the crowd.

You stumbled in your heels as Joker swept you up into his embrace. You were nearly eye level with the madman with the added height and Joker loved the newfound connection more than anything. However there was a mischievous gleam in his eye that gave you pause.

A new song began, one you quickly recognized. Your head shot up to stare at the musicians playing. There was a mixture of ethnicities so it was plausible they were current with various genres and artists but still..

It wouldn't be hard for Joker to put in a request when you weren't looking.

Joker paid you no mind as he swayed you gently in between the other couples. You were speechless when Joker began to hum the lyrics with confidence.

You didn't know that Joker could sing. He didn't look the type yet he constantly surprised you. His voice reminded you of the old crooners that your uncle used to play on his record when you used to visit.

"They don't make music like this no mo Y/n/n!" Uncle Cedrick obviously never heard Givēon before. New artists were making classic tunes sound more and more popular these days.

Somewhere in between the intro and the first verse, Joker decided to sing along and let the lyrics take hold. He looked so sure of himself yet he stumbled on a line when he noticed that you were staring.

He spun you further away from the crowd so you could hear him serenade you better. His voice floated into your ear like honey.

But I can't make a scene, but I can't make it seem

Like I want you...

Even if it's true...

Even if it's true.

You panicked when Joker let out a shaky sigh and dropped his head in the crook of your neck. There was no way you were mistaken here. "Joker?"

"Shhh. Just..." He moved your hand to rest above his heart. More tears blurred your vision when you felt Joker's heartbeat.

It was beating like a drum.

Sometimes he wished you knew but he could disguise the truth for as long as it takes. Were you really so blind to Joker's feelings? And you called yourself a romance writer. Your radar was supposed to be impeccable on picking up love!

The chandelier overhead twinkled down on the two of you like diamonds and it felt as if no one else was in the room except you and Joker.

You were broken, damaged goods and Joker originally believed he was incapable of love, yet he found the will when it came to you. He waited so long for something good to come his way and finally– he had it.

You might think otherwise but Joker knew you were absolute perfection in his eyes. You were worth the wait. In time you would open up and love him unconditionally. He knew that now.

It was selfish and wrong of him to pressure you into anything. If he did then he'd be no better than your ex. The last thing you needed was history to repeat itself. What you needed was time and space to heal.

Joker nodded to himself and regrettably let you go. You were confused when he stopped dancing and looked away.

"Mm, your dessert is probably at the uh table. Let's head back."

He was shutting you out and that would not do. You put your foot down and tugged on Joker's wrist. He looked at you with an arched brow.

You didn't care that you were in the middle of the ballroom.

You were tired of Joker changing the subject at the drop of a hat! You were tired of being sheltered from your pain. It was time you accepted it and finally moved on– moved onto someone better. You were not going to let Joker walk away.

It was time you threw caution to the wind. The song was ending and your heart echoed the lyrics Givēon sang.

But if you really love me, say it now.

You shortened the distance and cupped Joker's face. He hated that he shied away from your touch. He didn't want to get his hopes up if you were just reacting to mend his hurt feelings. He wanted you to be sincere with your affection.

"T-Take me home, tell me in the space we created– but. Please don't give up on me when I need you more than ever. I-I.. I need you, J. I do."

You clung onto the back of his neck and urged him to bend down. You couldn't rest your forehead against his until he leaned down to your height. He did and you locked eyes with him right there on the ballroom floor.

Your eyes pleaded with Joker. They spoke a thousand words you were so afraid to speak aloud. He searched your colored eyes for a glimmer of hope and found so much more.

It was then you had the pleasure of seeing a man like Joker break.

His eyes fluttered closed and it took everything in his power not to fall to his knees in front of all these people. All in due time, but first he had to get you home.

He made an odd motion with his hands and in seconds, he was whisking you towards the exit. You squeaked in shock and you barely kept up with Joker's long strides.

"J, w-what about the bill?! M-My dessert!"

He growled and pushed the restaurant doors open. The temperature had dropped the past hour or two that you and Joker were indoors and your bare arms shivered once exposed to the elements.

Joker shrugged off his suit jacket and gave it to you. He had a crazed look in his eyes as he waited on the curb.

"Don't care. I'm takin' ya home." He shot you a heated glare, "You'll get your dessert, Princess."

You couldn't recall the last time he used that nickname but it made a smile break out over your face and a liquid fire seep into your core.

It had been too long since you felt a burning desire spread all over. You couldn't lie. You were a little scared but this was Joker. He wouldn't do anything you didn't want. And you wanted him.

A black unmarked car screeched to a halt near the curb. It was hardly in park when Joker yanked the door open for you. "Get in, Bunny."

You knew once you got inside there would be no turning back. You could do this and so with a deep breath, you embraced the unknown.

There was enough sexual tension brewing in the elevator to fuel a bomb.

Surprisingly, Joker behaved himself during the ride back to your apartment yet he practically chased you to the main elevator the second the car arrived at the lobby drop off.

You could only run so fast in heels yet you beat Joker inside.

You broke out into a smile as the elevator doors began to trap you inside with the clown. He tossed a lecherous grin your way and was seconds away from jumping your bones, when the doors slid back open and one of your neighbors walked in.

She did a double take at Joker but quickly recovered to smile at you. Her eyes widened even more after taking in your elegant ball gown.

"Oh wow Y/n! That dress looked stunning on you! I hope you enjoyed your night."

She mashed the button for the ninth floor and brought attention to the time glowing on the panel. It was nearing eleven pm. You hardly noticed that it was so late.

The elevator lights glinted against your jewelry and caught her eye. "Aww that's so cute! It's a little lighthouse. Do you like the beach or something?" She gestured to your necklace.

You laughed awkwardly, "Oh I've only been once but I loved it."

Joker chuckled under his breath and gained your neighbor's attention.

She eyed him up and down but kept her thots to herself. She'd never seen you around with a partner before but sheesh, you knew how to pick em. The man was so fine, he should be illegal.

She dragged her eyes away from Joker and back over to you. "Really? Just once? What was your favorite part? I love sunbathing myself."

Of all the neighbors in the building, why did miss blabbermouth known for her lengthy mindless chats have to board the elevator tonight?

You knew Joker was probably thinking a million and one ways to kill the poor lady. Hopefully he could steady his hands for a few more levels.

You thought back to her question and frowned. You couldn't remember anything remarkable about the beach. You loved it for different reasons.

Mainly the way Joker took you so passionately in the sand or how the light from the rotating coastal structure illuminated his raw beauty for only you to see. You couldn't tell her you didn't visit the beach during the day like a normal person.

Your visit to the beach was memorable because of your carnal escapade with Joker under the stars.

Joker declared you as his Light, the same namesake that now proudly hung from your neck. You couldn't tell her any of that so you made something up on the spot.

"I um, I liked the heat? It was... hot. Sweltering."

Joker failed to stifle his laughter and your neighbor glared at the both of you sideways. Such an odd answer..

Thankfully the lift arrived at the ninth floor and she ended the idle chat. "Alright then, well enjoy the rest of your night, Y/n. Oh and don't forget! We have the next tenant meeting coming up this week! Bring your friend."

She winked at Joker but he could care less. His eyes were glued on you.

The elevator doors closed and resumed its ascent to your private floor. It was so quiet in the metal box, you could hear your uneven breathing.

You glanced at Joker out of the corner of your eye but he was frozen like a statue. You honestly expected him to jump you the second your neighbor was gone but since when was Joker predictable?

Your focus was on the floor indicator as it displayed the tenth floor. Almost there..

Joker waited until you least expected it to make his move.

It was concerning yet electrifying to know you were alone with Joker, completely at his mercy. The lift was passing the maintenance floor when Joker stepped behind you to inhale your unique scent.

His nose faintly brushed the sensitive skin along the nape of your neck and you shivered. Then his hot exhale disturbed the hairs on your neck. He was doing all of this on purpose.

He wanted to torture you, it was the only explanation for the tumultuous tease that was Joker kissing you right where the clasp of your necklace met your skin. You swore his teeth tugged the chain a bit, when the doors dinged open.

The air was getting way too stuffy so you stumbled out as quickly as you could.

Joker's chuckle echoed in the short hallway to your front door. He took his time strolling behind you like a predator and patiently waited as you fumbled with the keys. He lost count how many times you dropped them or missed the keyhole entirely.

Eventually you unlocked the door, however you didn't venture inside. There was an unspoken command in the air not to. Joker was glad that you heeded the warning.

Joker's hand covered yours atop the doorknob. You were frozen in place as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"When you walk through that door.. you're mine. There's. No. Going. Back. Anything you want, I'll give it to ya but you have to ask for it. If it's uh, too much, say the woo~oord and I'll give you more. Tonight's about you, only you.. buT, I gotta warn ya. I will be selfish and take and take... and take."

You whimpered when Joker nipped the curve of your ear.

The sting was nothing compared to the heat pooling in your core. You surprised yourself with how aroused you were and Joker had yet to begin. It was as if he could tell just how antsy you were. His sudden burst of laughter was strained by his lust.

"Are ya ready for that Y/n? I won't hold back. I uh... well I don't think I can." He pressed you further into the door with his body and you felt his erection dig into your lower back.

"Do you want me?" He asked while kissing your shoulder.

You could do this. All you had to do was open the door.

No more pretending, no more running away when things got too intense. You had to fully participate this time and not drift off into a headspace. Tonight you would give all of yourself over to a man known for his maddening greed. It was scary; however, you were oddly enthusiastic.

You wanted him to have it all. To have you.

You turned the doorknob and walked into your foyer with a madman hot on your heels.

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #joker x y/n #black!fem!reader #reader insert #joker x reader #heath joker #romance #heath ledger #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #soft!joker #yandere joker #angst #long reads #trigger warnings #Spotify #dark knight joker #his lighthouse

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maybege · 3 years

Text

What Happens in Kansas ... - FBI Part 1

Summary: You are pretty sure your boss hates you until you get a new case. (Part 1 of the FBI Series)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k | Rating: M

Warnings: mentions of sexual violence, canonical violence, Reader is attacked, also unrequited feelings (but are they?), a little bit of fluff, soft!Hotch maybe?

This is my first Hotch piece and I am so nervous posting this. I have read quite a bit of fanfic but only watched the first 8 episodes so far, so I hope I got his voice right. This is also my contribution to @aerynwrites Follower Celebration! I chose the trope 26 “Wearing each other’s clothes” and it kind of got away from me. 😂 I do have an idea of maybe expanding this into a series, so please let me know what you think!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“Front sight, trigger press, follow through.”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that,” you whined, despair laced through your voice, “And it doesn’t help when you repeat it again and again either.”

The lanky man next to you let his shoulders fall, “It was easier when Hotch taught me how to do it.”

Immediate remorse filled you. You knew Reid only wanted to help you when he had suddenly appeared at your desk, repeating the six words as if they were somehow a secret code for all your problems.

Well, not all your problems.

Just the most pressing one.

With a groan, you let your forehead rest on the desk, unable to hide your frustration any longer. “Everyone is going to laugh at me when I fail,” you mumbled, already feeling your ears heat up in embarrassment.

“If you fail.”

You turned your head to the side, glancing up at your colleague, “What?”

“You said when I fail, however, statistically, there is still a chance that –“

He saw your raised eyebrows and stopped talking, “Never mind.”

“Where did you have that phrase from anyway?” you asked him, noticing too late that it would bring the topic back to –

“Hotch taught me,” he explained cheerfully, “Granted, it took a bit of time and a serial killer but I did end up getting my qualification.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, your mind racing a hundred miles a minute. You did not want to think about Hotch’s disappointed and exasperated face when he would confront you about your failed qualification. Again.

God knew how you had gotten into the BAU in the first place. Aaron Hotchner certainly did not and he let you know that every chance he got.

Ever since you had gotten here, you had failed. Again and again and again. It was a miracle they let you keep working in the BAU or that you had not been called into Strauss’ office. The last shred of dignity you had was used to keep the tears at bay whenever your dark-haired supervisor would snap at you for one thing or another.

You hadn’t been in the field for weeks now, ever since Hotchner had found out you had no qualifications to carry a weapon and although Rossi had mentioned how a profiler did not necessarily need a weapon, you also knew that SSA Aaron Hotchner did not see you as one.

And if you were neither a profiler nor could hold a gun properly, what were you doing on this team?

And so, you had spent the last few weeks in Penelope Garcia’s office, trying to help the team from across a screen. Even if it meant having to hear his voice almost constantly and having your heart clench so tightly in your chest when any of them were in danger.

As if the devil had conjured him up himself, your boss entered the room, bypassing the bullpen and you felt your heart skip a beat. Like always he was wearing one of his black suits that just fit so damn well and you wondered if he was even capable of wearing something so informal as a t-shirt.

Then again, who knew if you would survive the sight of Aaron Hotchner in just sweatpants and a shirt? No matter how much you dreamt of seeing him like that.

In an attempt to keep down any unprofessional feelings at a professional place, you straightened up in your seat, trying to pull the wrap dress you were wearing into a more or less better position so that the wrinkles could not be seen so easily. This was probably the last thing that somehow kept up the pretence that you knew what you were doing – you were properly dressed.

But of course, Hotch did not spare you even a glance, he never did, as he strutted through the office, looking way better than should be allowed.

“Everybody in the conference room, now,” he announced loudly, Rossi and Morgan already following him because everybody knew what that meant.

A new case.

You stood up, grabbing a notepad and pen and following Reid up the steps. Everybody was already there and the last remaining place was at the very end of the table next to Rossi. Quietly you shuffled into the empty seat and smiled at the older man who reciprocated it.

You had never gotten a chance to really talk with him but you knew he was basically a walking legend at this point. On more than one occasion had Spencer filled you in on the legendary cases that Rossi and Gideon had solved manifesting the BAU as the essential unit of the FBI. But most importantly he was nice. And with how Hotch was glaring at you from the end of the room, kindness was worth everything at the moment.

Pictures of various body parts were already thrown on the wall and you swallowed harshly as you saw the victim’s faces. You still struggled sometimes, reocgnizing them as uman beings with their own individual lives and stories and reconciling that with the horrible ways the had to die.

“The police department has requested our help,” Hotchner started, “Three weeks, four victims.”

“He seems to get quicker,” Reid noted, “He escalated from one victim a week to already having two this week and it is only Thursday. We could have another body by Saturday.”

“Most likely,” Hotch confirmed, “The crimes are sexually motivated. The unsub seems to keep them alive for a few hours before he kills them.”

“So, it is about control,” Morgan piped up, “He wants to control when and how they die.”

“And what happens to them before,” you added quietly, jotting it down quickly. When you looked up again, you only found Hotch staring at you, lips in a tight line and you sank back in your chair. His dark eyes were fixed on yours and you knew that the others were looking at you as well but for the life of you, you could not look away from him.

You did not know whether you wanted him to keep looking at you or not.

When he turned back to the presentation, you could breathe a little easier.

“When do they expect a profile?” Rossi asked.

“We have 12 hours,” Hotch revealed to the collective groan of the team, “Wheels up in 20. I want all of you on the jet.”

The pointed look he sent you, made your chest feel hot and cold at the same time. What did he mean – “all of you”?

Was this right? Had your ears betrayed you? Were you so desperate now that you imagined hearing things that would fit into your dream world?

The others filed out, probably on the way to get their go bags and you flinched when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Derek smiling encouragingly at you.

“That was a good addition, kid,” he nodded, “It is nice to have you contributing as well, you know? We can all learn from each other. Keep talking.”

You were not so sure about that but you were also too excited to really answer him.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I,” you nodded, standing up and pressing your notepad closer to your chest just so he could not spot the trembling of your hands, “Just one second.”

Walking to the office felt like a dream and you tried to focus on the way the hem of your dress fell against your calves. Something to ground yourself in.

You knocked on his door three times and following his muffled Come In opened it.

“Sir, I, uh – “

He did not look up from the file in front of him, “Hotch.”

“Yes, Si- Hotch, I mean. I just wanted to check if I understood you correctly?”

That made him look up and your heart skipped a beat as his cool gaze met yours. Shit, shit, shit, keep it together, your brain screamed at you and you shifted on your feet.

“That what was correct?”

“That I would come with you too – to Kansas City,” you hated how meek your voice sounded but when faced with the stoic gaze of Aaron Hotchner a man that your blood both freeze and boil at the same time, it was an accomplishment to get any words out at all.

“I do not make mistakes, Agent,” he snapped and there was something unreadable in his eyes, “Wheels up in 15, I suggest you hurry.”

Your heart fluttered with excitement. This was your chance! Your chance to prove yourself!

“Yes, Sir,” you nodded, still a little struck, “Of course, Sir.”

And with that, you closed the door behind you and hurried to Garcia’s office.

You hated yourself, truly, for feeling so soft towards a man who was so harsh. At least to you. You knew he could act differently, had seen him act differently with others. Sometimes Morgan would make a joke that would make him smile and it felt like it would light up the whole room. Once his eyes had met yours during one of his rare laughs and instead of closing up like he seemed to do around you, his eyes had remained soft and his laugh had turned into a small smile.

You had dreamt about it that night.

“So?” the woman in front of the screens swivelled in her chair, “Excited to be allowed on the field again?”

“I am not sure if I would call it excitement,” you muttered, “More like dread now that I think about it. What if he only did it to have me make mistakes again? To get a final reason to have me fired?”

“I still think you are misreading it all,” the quirky woman shrugged, putting her headset in front of her on the desk before throwing you a mischievous smile, “You’re the only one he lets him call Sir, after all.”

“That’s not exactly a testament to how much he cares for me, Penelope.” Rather the opposite.

“It is when you see the way he looks at you,” she replied, “Your bag is over there by the way.”

You followed her gesture to the dark corner in the room and picked up your black bag. It had been so long since you had packed it, you hoped it would be complete. There was no going back now.

“Wish me luck, Penelope,” you murmured, smiling slightly at her.

“You don’t need luck, honey,” she replied easily, “You only need to be more confident, hm?”

Penelope had been right.

But also, very very wrong.

Because as much as it had helped to be more confident, it also brought you right where you were. Underneath a screaming Unsub (Walter Jacobson, 27, serial rapist and murder) with no discernible weapon.

It had all started when you had overheard Reid talking to Hotch in the coffee kitchen back at the PD.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” you had heard the older man say, just as you were about to join them for a cup of tea. Captain Coulson had suggested that you be the bait for the unsub as you had fit the victim pool close enough to rouse his attention.

“What kind of assessment are you supposed to hold over her? Is she about to be transferred?”

That had made you freeze in your movements, remaining standing just short in front of the open door. Your heart felt like it had dropped into your metaphorical pants.

“She is not about to be transferred,” Hotch had replied calmly but you had heard him talk enough to know something was off about his voice. He had said your name then, your full name, and it had made you lick your lips with how unusually soft he had said it. “She is one of my agents and she will stay with the BAU. I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“I just –“

“That’s enough, Reid,” Hotch had cut him off and moments later Reid was stepping out of the kitchen, his eyes falling on you.

That was when you had turned on your heel, marched back to Captain Coulson and agreed to be the bait.

“Get off me!” you screamed, kicking and screaming as the man dragged you across the ground of the abandoned parking lot.

“That’s what they said,” the young man seethed and you heard somewhere the chirping of a car opening. Your eyes fell to a car. Dark Sedan just as the team had deduced.

You yanked yourself free, feeling the strap of your dress and rip and you flew backwards, your palms scraping over the asphalt as you tried to cushion your fall.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he hissed, raising his fist.

You swung your hand up, grunting when your hand made impact with his cheek. Where were they? You knew they must be here any second to arrest him. Was this not enough evidence already?

The blood that dripped down your eyebrow agreed with you.

Remembering one of your lessons, you raised your legs, knowing your legs had more strength in them than your arms, and kicked him in the groin. Something cluttered to the floor and you turned your head to see a gun. His gun.

For a moment you both seemed to freeze, Walter looking at you as you both realized what happened.

At the same time, you both lunged for the weapon. He was quite a bit taller than you and you screamed as his elbow rammed into your back, reminding you how your dress was almost falling off you. But by some sort of divine intervention, it was your hand that reached the gun first, your fingers that wrapped around the cool material.

Your temple made harsh contact with the street as the unsub tried to pry the gun from you but you resisted, gritting your teeth against the pain and instead of closing your eyes as he turned you on your back, you had them wide open.

A hand closed around your throat and you whimpered, fingers finding the trigger and you pulled it.

The shot was louder than anything you ever heard and you felt the fight leave the man on top of you. There were shouts from somewhere, you distantly heard Hotch call something. You knew it could not have been longer than a few moments but it felt like an eternity until the man was lifted off you.

There was something warm and wet on your middle and your stomach turned at the idea of the man’s blood on you.

Another hand was on you. No, two hands. Warm and soft as they framed your face.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked, almost shouting at you, “Look at me, are you okay?”

You tried to nod but the movement was accompanied by a wince. “Did we get him?” you asked, frowning as you saw the furrow between his brows. He looked incredibly displeased and your stomach dropped at the thought of having done something wrong. Had you let him escape? Had you fucked up?

You tried to turn your head to a commotion next to you but Hotch’s finger kept you looking straight at him. His lips tugged up and – was that a smile?

“We got him,” he confirmed softly, “You did a good job. Are you okay?”

He had already asked you that.

“I – I think,” you answered, slowly sitting up with his help.

“The shock,” he stated, calm and collected as ever, and you shivered, nodding along to his words.

You looked down, bile rising in your throat as you saw the dark patch on the middle of your dress. Your dress was tattered and ripped to pieces almost. Heat rose to your cheeks as you saw how the Unsub had ripped it in the middle and you tried your best to cover yourself.

“Here,” warm fabric glided over your shoulders and you shivered, instinctively pulling the jacket over your shoulders. You looked up, finding none other than Hotch – Aaron – next to you. Of course. He had been here before. But the soft look in his eyes made you feel all kind of things as the adrenaline washed away from you.

Your bottom lip quivered. You couldn’t break down now, you couldn’t break down in front of him.

“The paramedics will take a look at you,” he said under his breath and his hands were warm on your shoulders. You wished he would never stop touching you. It felt like the only thing that was keeping you together at this moment were his hands and the way he was looking at you.

He was not mad at you.

For once, he was not mad at you.

“Hotch?” Derek’s voice piped up from somewhere and you both looked up at him, “They need you over there.”

Hotch did not move. If anything, his fingers twitched on your shoulders and you tilted your head. Even in your muddled state, you knew this was not typical of him.

Derek seemed to notice it too and repeated the sentence before adding, “I will keep an eye on her.”

“She will need to see the paramedics.”

“I will make sure she will be seen to, boss.”

Only then did Hotch stand up and you followed him with your eyes until it hurt to crane your neck that far. Derek crouched down in front of you, worry in his eyes, “You think you can stand or should we get the paramedics to you?”

“If you will help me, I think I can walk over,” you smiled and with one hand on Derek’s arm and the other keeping Hotch’s jacket around your shoulders, you wobbled over to the blinking ambulance.

It was decided you would fly back that very same night.

JJ had organized a change of clothes for you and now you were dressed in one of your favourite wrap dresses that you had forgotten was in the go bag. After the paramedics had given a more than doubtful diagnosis, Derek had taken you to the ER to be checked over again and with a few band-aids and bandages, you were released to fly back to Quantico together with your team.

The car ride was quiet as you tried to work through what had happened.

Hotch’s jacket was still around your shoulders. At this point, it was not only something that kept you warm but it helped you to somehow feel less helpless, less crazy.

This was the first action you had seen in the field and it had been more scarring than anything you had experienced ever before. You focused on some of the breathing exercises you had read about online, trying to keep yourself calm and rational.

This was your job and it had worked. You had used the tools at your disposal to defend yourself and arrest an unsub.

You had shot a man.

He had tried to kill you.

Your head was pounding and so was your heart in your chest.

The clock on the dashboard showed 3:43 am when you arrived at the airport.

“I’ll give you a minute, okay?” Morgan said next to you and you nodded, pressing your palm in front of your mouth to keep the sobs at bay, “We are all here for you if you want to talk about it.”

He kept looking at you for a moment longer but you stoically looked at the compartment in front of you.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

The car shut behind Derek, leaving you completely alone in the car.

Something akin to a wail left you, there was no other way to describe it. All air had left your lungs and you buried your face in your hands, allowing you a few minutes of unrestrained crying as your body relived the panic and the fear all over again.

The car opened again, momentarily bringing in cool air and the thundering sound of the storm before it closed again.

You did not need to look up to know it was Hotch, the smell of his cologne had already betrayed him. But what was worse was that no matter how hard you tried, you could not stop your crying. You simply could not.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccupped, straightening your posture and wiping at your cheeks, “I will try to keep it together on the flight.”

The rain hammered against the windshield and you saw nothing but the blurred light from the jet. The overhead light turned off at the lack of movement and you were glad for the darkness, hoping it shielded you a little more from him.

“The first time I shot someone, I threw up right after.”

You looked at the man next to you. The lights from outside made him glow, the patterns of the rain throwing curious shadows over his face. He was not looking at you either, seemingly lost in a memory.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

He chuckled, a dimple appearing in his cheek and at this point, you were sure it was just the shock preventing you from crying.

“What I am trying to say is,” he gestured to the window, “Everybody on that plane knows what you are going through right now, more or less. And we are here for you.”

Are you here for me too?

“I know you heard the conversation between me and Reid,” he continued and you felt your bottom lip tremble again, “And I need you to know that if I ever made you feel like you needed to prove yourself, not to this team but to me specifically, I am sorry,” he looked at you, “It is my duty to keep this team safe and whether you have realized it yet or not, you are part of it as well.”

His words hung between you and you swallowed thickly.

Hotch was still looking at you, soft and honest and open, and your hands twitched on your thigh. His eyes fell to your lap and you saw him reach out before he stopped himself, his fingers instead drifting to the fabric draped over your shoulders.

“Uh,” you mumbled, feeling overwhelmed and warm, “Thank you. For the jacket, too, I mean but also for – for this.”

“You can keep it,” he replied, still this half-smile on his lips that made your cheeks heat up, “Suits you better anyway.”

His hand was still on your shoulder, heavy and warm and that was he was at that moment. Warm.

“Do you think you are ready to face the circus?” he asked and you smiled at the actual joke that he had just made.

You nodded, watching as he rushed out of the car, jogging around to your side and before you could look twice he had opened the door for you.

Maybe you had a concussion after all.

“Hotch,” you asked, courage and hope and maybe a little bit of recklessness flaring up in your chest, “Did you mean what you said to Reid? That I will stay with the BAU?”

It rained stronger now and you watched as it strands of dark hair against his forehead. His big hands moved into the pockets of his slacks as he looked at you. And there, standing in front of you with the jet behind him, he looked every bit the BAU chief that he acted.

“I don’t make mistakes,” he murmured softly, his lips quirking up, as he held out his hand for you to take, “Agent.”

#maybege writes #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aerynstropechallenge

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s-brant · 3 years

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Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #i'm gonna miss these dorks #🥺#I love how he tries to break up with her and she’s like ‘no❤️’#also totally do not put on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift during the childhood flashbacks unless u wanna cry #cause I did and my sensitive ass was crying #that song is about John B and JJ okay #it just is

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Nine

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, Language, Violence,

Word Count: 2.9K

A/n: Another chapter is finished!! I’ve got an idea but it’s SO DANGEROUS AND Y’ALL MIGHT HATE ME IF I DO IT BUT ITS SO TEMPTING AND I THINK I’M GONNA DO IT ahem anyway I hope you guys enjoy this!

A/n 2: I’m posting this before work so I’ll reply to asks and comments when I get home tonight! Also, I’ve got the next part of Gangsta written up if y’all want that.... hehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“How have you been adjusting to this new home?” Thor asks one morning, a smile on his face. You grin back at him, the weight of Acadia lifted off your shoulders as you take a sip of your tea.

“Quite well. Although Loki has been an interesting addition.” The raven-haired man looks up from his book momentarily and gives you a look, to which you only smile.

From the moment you entered the cottage you knew it would be good for you to stay here.

“Well, we are at your disposal. I will have to go back to Asgard within the weeks to come, but Loki and the Valkyrie shall remain here should you need or want them.” You nod gratefully, looking out the window and pursing your lips as you watch the women spar outside.

“What? What is it?” Thor asks, following your gaze.

“I want to learn to defend myself. To wield a sword and fight off an attacker.” Loki scoffs from where he sits, his nose still buried deep in his book.

“For what reason should a queen wish to learn to fight? You will always have men for that.” Your defence is up in an instant, and you clench your jaw before composing yourself enough to reply.

“I do think that considering both my upbringing and the way I have been treated in my new kingdom, I have every right to want to learn to defend myself. I have many reasons to want to defend myself, none of which concern you, however, if you had the slightest idea of all that I have endured in my short time as queen you would not question me wanting to learn to defend myself. I have been shunned from my palace because my husbands fear someone will kill me. My own husbands have brought me far more pain than I would like to admit. I have every right to wish to learn how to defend myself and I will not hear a word from you about the subject!”

His brows raise to nearly his hairline and he looks between you and his brother before burying his nose back in his book, which elicits a chuckle from the blond king.

“If the situation is so severe that I need be sent away for my own safety, I need to learn to defend myself.”

Thor nods, a strong hand patting your shoulder comfortingly.

“I knew there was a fire in you. I could see it in those eyes when you spoke of running from the Kings. I just needed to find it.” He rises to his feet and straightens his clothing. “Loki does have a special talent for pulling the fire from even the most docile creatures. But I will go speak with the valkyrie. They will be delighted to have a student to train.”

He leaves the cottage to interrupt the sparring outside, and you feel your heart skip a beat at the first piece of control that you will have over your life.

~*~

“If that will be all, You are dismissed,” King Steven says, his voice low and exhausted. The royal adviser bows then heads to the door, hesitating for a moment.

“Forgive me, Your Majesties, but I cannot help but notice the absence of the Queen. Where has she gone?” It’s not the first time they’ve gotten the question in the week that you've been gone, therefore they already have their excuse rehearsed and perfected.

“We simply have no use for her. If she cannot even bear our children then what use is she to us?” Comes Steve’s practiced response.

“We were instructed to find a queen who could produce strong heirs. Our wife cannot. So she is no longer of use to us,” James adds, his voice dripping in boredom as he looks over a document on his desk.

The royal advisor nods then excuses himself, bustling to his own office with newfound haste and purpose.

“It’s been a week and we are no closer to finding who it is than we were when she was here,” Steve murmurs after a long moment of silence, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their decision.

“I’m beginning to question whether it was a good decision to send her along with Thor. Especially after he threatened to make her a queen of his own. What if she were to agree?” James stands up and walks over to his husband, taking his shaking hands in his own and sighing.

“I would not blame her if she were to agree. We have treated her like a prisoner. I have... brutalized her and beaten her and I will never be able to repent. If she were to want him I would in no way blame her. He has provided her with a safe haven. She can confide in him and trust him in a way that she may not be able to again with us.” Steve sniffles and squeezes his eyes shut.

“We need to find who it is that has caused this and we need to make them pay.” James nods, smoothing his thumbs over the back of his husband’s hands.

“We will. But until we do, we must remain strong. The Doctor is recovering and when he is fully recovered we will ask him who it was that attacked him. We will find who is behind this, but we must be patient.”

~*~

“Again!” You raise your sword just in time to block a blow from one of the Valkyrie, grinding your teeth together as you push her back a step then swipe your own sword at her throat.

She hops backward, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You are learning, Your Majesty. But you still hold back. Why? You cannot be afraid to hurt us,” The Captain says, walking forward and looking at you closely.

“You must show no mercy. Not when you must choose between your own life and the life of someone who means to do you harm. You will fight and you will fight to the death.”

Your entire body is burning with the exertion but you hold your ground, raising your sword and ready to go again.

“That’s what I like to see! Now, we go again!” Brunnhild exclaims, a grin on her face as she takes her fighting stance.

It’s just over two weeks since you began your training and everyone is surprised at how quickly you’re picking up on what’s being taught, but none more than you.

You’re just stepping out of the bath, muscles aching with a new type of strength that the Valkyrie have been beating into you, when your eyes catch a glimpse of movement at the window to your bedroom. A figure clad in all black is moving swiftly away from the cottage and disappearing into the darkness of woods, the setting sun aiding in the camouflage of the person.

Thinking that it’s none other than Loki going to wreak havoc on some poor defenceless wanderers, you don’t question it. Instead, you get dressed into a soft Asgardian gown and start preparing yourself for bed.

You’re just about ready to settle down with a book when a flash of white catches your eye from the window. You hesitantly investigate, heart hammering in your chest as you see a letter tucked securely in the window.

You open it and snatch the envelope before it can be taken by the wind, then shut the window again.

The seal on the envelope is that of Acadia, and your heart is in your throat as you realize that this could very well be a letter from the Kings. You’ve no idea what it may say, and cannot decide if you are more nervous or excited as you open it.

The script is not one you recognize, but your eyes greedily devour every word, the smile fading from your face at what lies on the page in your hand.

Thor finds you sometime later seated on the floor, the letter gripped tightly in your hands and your eyes focused on a point on the wall.

“(Y/n?” He asks softly, knocking against the doorframe to try and get your attention. You make no indication that you’ve heard him.

He enters the room, brows furrowed as he sees what you’re holding. “What is that? What does it say? Is it from the Kings?”

It takes a very long moment, but eventually, you find the strength to speak. But even then your voice is a weak rasp.

“Did you know the truth? Did you hide it from me as well?” Thor is beyond confused as he approaches you, taking the page from you and reading through the contents quickly.

‘Your Majesty,

Do not ask who I am nor how I know where you are, just know that you need be more careful who it is you call your lovers. They have sent you away, not for your own protection but because you failed at the task they wanted you for. They have sent you away because you failed to bear their children, this I promise I have heard with my own ears. I know not what they have told you but it is what I have witnessed. They have said this directly and I have heard it with my very own ears. You would do well to stay away from them, for they are dangerous. But I am certain that you and your late child are more than aware of that.

Consider this a warning, your majesty, for I know you are unsafe. You must take care and be far more careful of who you allow in your court.’

“Loki!” The prince is in the room within the same moment, his eyes full of confusion.

“Have the Valkyrie secure the area and find me the man who sent this! Travel to Acadia and alert the Kings. The Queen is no longer safe here.”

You’re confused. If the kings have directly told someone this, why then is Thor responding in such a way?

Loki is on horseback heading towards Acadia only moments later, and Thor is leaving the room as soon as the Valkyrie enter.

Brunnhild crouches next to you, a frown on her face as she glances at the note on the floor, its words echoing in your ears.

“Do not allow this to scare you, Your majesty. Do not give them the satisfaction of that.” You scoff and shake your head at her, “it is far easier said than done. All my life I have been punished for ever speaking, much less standing my ground. I have perfected the art of cowering, for men wish to do nothing but hurt and maim all so they can gain power.”

She sits down and shakes her head, taking your hand in hers and squeezing it tightly.

“You forget that we are all brought into this world through blood and through pain, your Majesty. We are the daughters of savage women. We are their savage daughters and we will act like it. We will bite and scream and we will take up space. We will not conform to their ideas of what women should be.” Her words are whispered into the still air of the room as if she were hiding them from any listening ears.

“Do not lower your voice for any man. Do not cower beneath them. You are a powerful being. One that can create life and you can also take it away, never forget that.” She pulls a dagger off of her belt and hands it to you, curling your fingers around the hilt before she continues speaking.

“You have the blood of goddesses and witches flowing through your veins. You hold a power that men could never understand. With every step we take, every time we refuse to cower... we honour our mothers, our grandmothers, and the ones before them. The ones who stood and fought and were torn to pieces. We will not be silenced. You will not be silenced. You are more powerful than that. You must remember your strength and your power. Do not let the men convince you that you are anything less than what you are.”

Your eyes sting and your throat gets tight, but she only hugs your shoulders and continues speaking.

“Your power is what scares them. Why else would they try to assert their dominance in such a way? But you will not fall. You will not allow them to treat you like that because you are the daughter of a savage. You are yourself a savage woman and you will act like it. Royal title be damned.”

You sniffle once, twice, three times, then nod, wiping your eyes just as Thor re-enters the room.

The Valkyrie take their leave and the King sighs, crouching down next to you and gently stroking your cheek.

“I’m so very sorry, Petal. You are no longer safe here. If someone was able to bring you this letter then I fear you are in far more danger than we had thought. The conspiracy against the Kings runs far deeper than any of us could have anticipated, and if we are to keep you safe then we must act quickly.” He pulls you to your feet and bustles around quickly, covering your shoulders in a thick cloak and packing a bag of your belongings.

“Wait, where do you mean to take me? If I am not safe anywhere?”

He tosses your bag over his shoulder and grabs your hand, entwining your fingers and giving your hand a soft squeeze.

“The only place you will truly be safe.” You’re still quite confused.

“We make for Asgard.”

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midday0nightmares · 3 years

Photo

16 - changes (m).

previous chapter impending.

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, mental health.

⚠️ more trigger warnings inside the text, please skip the tagged part if you are not comfortable, the details mentioned are not important to the story ⚠️.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

After what seemed like a decade of waiting they return inside.

“Shall we start?” Haechan says as he rubs his hands, you panic not knowing what’s about to happen, your breathing quickens making you feel dizzy and faint, the adrenaline keeping you fully alert.

They exchange looks among themselves before looking at you, “Sera go to my room” jeno orders you. you march to his room, you close the door behind you, you try to steady your breathing, fear had became a tangible force vibrating through your bones, sweat dripped down your back as you try to sit still, uncontrollable amount of tears poured out of your eyes as you felt like the end is nearing you.

You teeth chattered as your body started rocket itself back and forth. adding to your agony, you can’t hear anything of what they were saying, you wince in pain as you feel like you’er about to explode and curl around yourself.

You think about your mother, her warm embrace, how her presence could mend everything, you longed to be held by her, to lay in the safety of her arms, if you were to die you wanted to die in her arms. you were regretting every time you raised your voice, every time she asked you to do something and you didn’t. you wanted to tell her how sorry you are and that you love her, and how much you’er lucky you were her daughter.

trigger warning

suicide and self harm *

An idea presents itself into your mind, it has all the right appeals as you come to realize that they will never let go, they have gone too far to let you walk away, they got bold on their hands, your blood. You will never see your family again, the satanic rollercoaster will continue and will only grow crazier.

You make up your mind, the tears stops and your breathing regulates again, you walk to the bathroom and lock the door, you open the cabinet and search for the razorblades. you pick the sharp object feeling a rush of excitement, it horrifies you but lean into the horror, you take a deep breath and wait for calmness and complete acceptances to take over, you take one last breath and press the sharp blade to your wrist. you gasp at the pain as you continue to slice through your flesh, hot blood gushing out, you feel all your pains and hurts being released through the freshly open wound, you watch the blood drip onto the floor as you wait.

A loud knock on the door startles you, “Sera? you in there?” You hear jeno’s voice from behind it. you panic and push the blade deeper into your arm, you whimper at the pain alarming jeno, who now tries to open the door but it’s locked, he bangs on it harder and harder, shouting your name “sera! Open the door” he tries to break it as you watch the pool of blood getting bigger under your feet, you feel light headed, the room is getting darker, your hands and feet are getting colder, your keens collapse and you fall to the ground, you’er almost there, almost free, jeno manages to break the door and you hear chaos around you, the last thing you remember is your name being called from a distance before it all went silent.

* trigger warning ends *

You open your eyes again, dazed and confused it takes you a minute before you realize what had happened, what you did, what a disappointment.

They haven’t noticed have woken up yet, you can only see jeno’s back, hunched over jaemin, who was leaning on the wall, his head was buried in his hands.

“She’ll be fine, the cuts are not that deep” jeno says but jaemin shakes his head, he speaks in a horse, tormented voice “I did this to her, I made her do it I should have listened to you” followed by a shake breath, his cheeks are covers with tears “what if she doesn’t wake up?! What am I going to do then?” he looks at jeno with his puffy tearful eyes, Jeno kept patting his shoulder to comfort him.

He finally notice your open eyes and jumps from his place, he takes a step closer but stops himself when you turn on your side away from him. He cries harder and mutters curses to himself before walking out of the room, jeno comes closer to you and dares to touch you, his hand hold your shoulder and squeeze it “how are you feeling now?”, you close your and sigh wanting to be left alone. He understood your unspoken wish, “I’ll be outside, call me if you need anything” He walks away and leaves the door open, jaemin’s crying echoing through the quiet apartment.

It was noon, the sun golden rays look odd as it shines through the grime atmosphere, you throw the covers and get up, you feel lightheaded at first but you gather your strength, in nothing but one of jeno’s shirts you walk out catching their attention, you feel a sense of relief when you don’t see haechan, you take a seat facing jaemin how is looking at you like you were a miracle, “let me go” you demand, jaemin looks at jeno and back at you before he gets on his knees in front of you, he tries to hold your hands but you pull away form him, he starts sopping again, regret and guilt radiates off of him.

“Please don’t, I will do better I promise you” he begs, “no you won’t, you are a lair and a heartless monster!” You raise your voice that breaks too quickly, and your tears roll down your face now. He shakes his head and buries his face into your lap, you try to push him away but his arms circle around you and locks you into place, his hot tears staining your bare legs “please please” he begs you as his body was shaking, he’s devastated by what you have attempted to do, the idea of you leaving him seems to terrify him.

“please just give me one more chance and I will prove it to you” he looks up at you, his face too close to yours, his shakes breaths mixes with yours, his eyes are open and vulnerable, tears swimming in them still.

“please” he whispers, as his arms desperately tightness around you.

but do you actually have any other option? unless they let you go, you are not free.

You look at jeno who gives an apologetic look, your bandaged hand moves to wipe jaemin’s tears, you run your fingers through his hair “one chance”, he nods and leans forward to kiss your lips but you turn your head and his lips land on your cheek, it was the first time he kissed you.

“but things must change” you continue, “they will, haechan will never set a foot in this place again you don’t have to see him ever again” jaemin assures you. He promised you more freedom, more respect, and most importantly he promised to let you continue your education through an online school.

he sat on the floor in front of you, resting his head on your lap as he soaked in your presence as you stroke his hair.

#nct yandere #nct dream yandere #nct mafia #nct mafia au #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines

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foxssleeplessness · 3 years

Text

Hi! It's

Pride Month

So here are some known queer books recommendations:

- Red, White & Royal Blue

This one is about the son of the first female US president and the prince of Britain. It's an enemies to lovers with perfect female and POC representation. The book is 14+ and please read the trigger warnings. MLM

- Aristotle and Dante discover the secrets of the universe

Again, amazing POC representation. Strangers to friends to lovers This one is a story about understanding the world and ourselves and learning how to thrust. It's sweet and beautiful in every way imaginable. 1st person POV tho. MLM

- Bloom into you

This one is a serie of mangas, but it's still amazing. It's the story of these two girls who meet at a school club and who will learn from each other. This book is about confidence, courage and self-growth. When reading the first one, you might think "Whoa, this moved fast", well, no. It's not the end after the first kiss. It's not even the beginning! You can also watch it streaming. WLW

- Good omens

Good omens is a book open to interpretation. There is no romance depicted, but it's a love story between a demon and an angel. It follows them from the beginning of humanity until Armageddon. The story also follows side characters, like the Them, the 4 horseman and a witch. This one is about trust, family and the fact that not everything is black or white. Hell, angels are the bad guys too in this! Great female and asexual/aromantic representation. You can also watch the mini-serie on Prime Video. It's worth it.

- Bloom

A graphic summer novel. The illustrations and the story are masterpieces, the characters are well-developed and it's overall heartwarming. The story follows Ari, a teen who wants to leave for the city, Hector, another teen who loves to bake, and their friends and family. Ari wants to leave the family bakery, so he needs replacement. Instead, he gets a co-worker, Hector. They learn from each other the entire book, live the summer of a lifetime and talk about their dreams. This book also has good POC and female representation. You should read it, it's not long. MLM

- They both die at the end

Yes, they do. It's not a spoiler, don't worry. This one will leave you crying on your bedroom floor at 3 am for hours. It's destroying in its beauty. The story follows two deckers, people who will die today, as they try to live an entire life in 24 hours. They, too, learn from each other and grow into happiness rapidly. Like I said, heartbreaking, so please look up the TW. You should definitely read that one. Bisexuality rep and POC. MLM

- Felix ever after

You might think "Can we have trans rep book?". Well, here it is! Felix ever after is the story of a trans male who still isn't sure of his identity. He was a boy, he knew that, but sometimes, it doesn't feel right. He also seeks first love and ends up in a love triangle involving someone he never thought he would fall for. Sadly, the story happens because of a transphobic character. So this books talks about that. It includes subjects like racism, transphobia and homophobia, but it's also a story of self-discovery and first love. Totally worth it! Amazing trans and POC representation. Read the TW. MLM

- are you listening?

Not a love story, but the characters are queer. It's a graphic fantasy novel, pretty long, but the illustrations are worth it. It follows two lesbians who are running away and a magical cat. They encounter magical beings, some friendly, others dangerous. As they try to escape them and their past, the two girls get to know each other more profoundly and they unpack their trauma to one another. This story is about recovery and self-love. Totally worth it. Please read the TW.

- The House In The Cerulean Sea

This, this one^ It's THE one! Totally heartwarming book about difference, family and love. The story follows Linus Baker, a case worker, when he comes to Marysas Island to investigate an orphanage for magical youths. During his one month stay there, he learns what it's like to have a home and a family to go to. He also falls in love with the master of the orphanage, Arthur Parnassus. But Arthur has secrets too. The story of The House In The Cerulean Sea is an enchanting love story masterfully told. Really worth its critics. POC representation. MLM and side WLW

And finally

- The song of Achilles

Oh was that one an emotional rollercoaster. The book is historical fiction, it's the story of Achilles and Patroclus told in the Illiad. It will also leave you crying your eyes out at 3 am, on your bedroom floor. It's an amazingly told story of a romance while in time of war. The story is one of self-discovery, growth, love and trust. It is simply beautiful. We follow the characters from age ~10 to their death, which are young, but there are time skips to get to interesting parts. The heroes get seperated, reunited, seperated again, but their love for each other never ceases. Read the TW. MLM

And that's it for today! I thought I would put the JohnLock fanfiction novel in there, but I chose more straight up queer ones. Anyway, hope this list helps you find your next read!

Love y'all, guys ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

#red white and royal blue #reading rwrb #lgbtq #queer books #bookblr #book rec list #aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe #bloom into you #good omens #bloom #they both die at the end #felix ever after #are you listening?#the house in the cerulean sea #the song of achilles

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un2-verse · 3 years

Text

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (1)

》 News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right? 《

pairings: john kramer!taehyung x female reader

warnings: dark themes, angst, yandere, murder, torture, self harm, suicide, stalking etc.... (will add more when i know lol) although it is rather innocent in the first couple chapters(?) so idk it could be slow burn but i guess we’ll find out as i write it >< ,, it’s my version of saw if saw was a fucked up love story lol. Please don’t read if any of the topics mentioned trigger you!! 18+

this fic is exactly that, fiction!!!! the au does not represent the characters mentioned irl......

synopsis: you end up lost on the other side of town, where you cross paths with a handsome stranger, kim taehyung, only.... are you a stranger to him?

[a/n: daffodils represent; love me, sympathy, desire and affection returned...]

word count: 3k

series masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

Hiding behind a mask was something you were accustomed to. Your friend group and family were clueless to the torment you endured from simply existing. You were confident your masking had convinced the world you were happy with yourself. Unbeknown to you, one other person saw straight through your façade.

You wanted to end your life.

He needed you to cherish your life.

Nothing looked familiar. The café you frequented was nowhere to be found. Your usual hangout was most definitely not on the side of town you found yourself in. You felt anxiety slowly curl its way around your body, you were frigid. You tried and tried but couldn’t find it in yourself to run.

You lived in the more friendly part of town (so to speak) – where houses were colourful, gardens pristine, warm-hearted neighbours who would treat you like family and white picket fences are what surrounded you. That was your norm, sure, you weren’t exactly loaded but you weren’t exactly poor either. It was a healthy balance in the middle. That’s not to say you hadn’t lived or seen this side of town before.

Your Mother and Father had grown up on this side of the fence. Two young people brought up in the rougher, more unfortunate areas. Your Mother was tough; she looked like a naïve, weak girl, albeit that was not the case. She was strong willed, used to life on the streets and doing anything she could to get money to make sure there was at least some food on the table. While your Mum was the leader, your Dad was more of a sheep. He was easily influenced and was dragged into the wrong crowd (had his fair share with drugs and street racing). That was their life for a few years till they crossed paths and your Mum helped your Dad get back on the right track.

They didn’t tell you much about their childhood and adolescence but they told you enough to make you appreciate what you have and to always work hard for it. To stick with the right people, be wise and conscious of your decisions. Be kind to those around you.

Your family owned a garage; your Dad was the head mechanic. This was the sole reason you were here. You knew it wouldn’t be simple when you agreed to go to this side of town to get a few bits for your Father’s shop. However, you didn’t expect it to be this difficult. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you just ask Hoseok and Yoongi to come with you like your father told you to? Or at least tell them where you were… yet you decided today of all days to be stubborn and venture on yourself, knowing full well how unsafe the area was. There were rundown businesses on either side of the road, beggars at every doorstep; drug dealings happening in broad daylight, no one even trying to hide it.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you took it out and sighed a breath of relief once you’d read the texts.

14:37— From Papa: U ok munchkin ??? Did u get the stuff ?

14:39— From Papa: its ok if u didnt. Yoongs rang said hes got majority this morning lol so be safe n get home soon . Love u

14:40— To Papa: ohhh ok pops, i couldn’t find the shop anyway lol i’ll head back soon, love u too x

*LOW BATTERY*

“Fuck, trust me to forget to charge the bastard.” You rolled your eyes as you stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

Muffled shouting was heard around you. People ran across the street, bumping into you as they ran past. You gathered yourself and moved further down the path. “Great!” you exasperated, “honestly I’m so fucking stupid! Yoongi’s gonna kill me for this, I knew, I knew I should’ve told him I was coming over here but no,” your head was hung low as you dragged your feet across the pavement, “maybe I could tell Hobi, he wouldn’t be as angry right? I’m sure he’ll come,“ A sudden scream ripped you out of your chuntering. You whipped your head to the right, you could make out some figures bustling about in front of you, a group of men were quite clearly fighting… your anxiety struck you and you held your breath as you saw a man pull a knife from the waistband of his sweatpants. All thoughts and common sense seemed to leave all at once. Statue like, feet stuck to the ground. You watched on as the group rushed towards the brown haired man, you scanned his figure: tall, broad, confident… he exuded an intimidating aura even when you were this far away from him.

How could someone be so sure of themselves? It was one against five, surely the loner had no chance?

The glistening of the knife brought you back to your senses. Fucking hell. How do you always end up in these situations when you’re alone? Why me? Why? Good Lord, I need to run. Just as you were about to leave, the group who were arguing charged past you; one gripped his side as another supported his weight. Holy fuck, did he stab him? you stood frozen, yet again, your mind raced a mile a minute. Panic bubbled in your chest.

“You okay there Doll?” His voice was deep, velvet-like. It flowed so smoothly you doubted it was real, it was so soothing like it had wrapped itself around you, embracing your body. You heard his footsteps before he planted himself beside you. His shoulder reached the top of your head, his hand brushed yours. Swallowing your nerves you dared a glance up. He was fucking breath-taking, like a fallen angel. The stranger shot you a small smile that you would’ve easily missed had you not been staring at his features… a blush crept up your neck as you nodded. His smile slowly twisted into a smirk.

Cute, Taehyung thought to himself. Couldn’t help but adore the way you slightly trembled under his gaze, the way your hands gripped and twisted your sweater paws. Almost like a puppy. He cleared his throat and reached his hand to yours, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Taehyung.” you took his hand into yours, apprehensively you greeted him, “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. I haven’t seen you round here before, you new or something?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, his eyes seemed to stare right through you.

“Uhm, I don’t live here. I live over the other part of Town… I was just grabbing some stuff for my Dad but, my phones about to die. I have no idea where I am or how to get home, I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t see anything!” a deep chuckle cut you off, Taehyung smiled and beckoned you to follow him.

“Come on Y/N, you’re not suited for this side of Town, I’ll walk you back. A pretty little thing like you, you’re easy prey to these guys.” your feet fell into a cautious pace behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, “hurry up Buttercup, I don’t bite.” Taehyung flashed a boxy grin in your direction, which caused you to speed up ever so slightly.

You were unsure how you felt about letting a complete stranger walk you home, Yoongi would definitely kill you for this. Especially with the recent news of some serial killer named ‘Jigsaw’, Yoongi and Hoseok had been very stern and their usual, overprotective selves when the news had broken out. “It’s on every headline Y/Nie! No more leaving the house on yourself, you need to go anywhere you ring either of us. Got it? Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either. There’s some dodgy fucks about recently.” Although, you loved them dearly, sometimes their protectiveness was a...little overbearing. You already felt suffocated from your parents (you didn’t need it from your best friends as well). They were happy and believed you to be too; but that was exhausting, faking happiness. You had a constant façade, acted like a happy normal teenager with a happy family; when that was far from the truth.

Drowning. That’s how you’d explain the way you felt. Breathing was difficult and brought you more pain than it was worth. Growing up was tedious, you had grown differently to your peers which only brought ridicule and embarrassment for you. You had struggled with your speech (sometimes you still do), you often stuttered, mispronounced words, the list was endless. That was one of the first reasons you were a castaway. As you grew, the ridicule worsened. Verbal abuse turned physical from your classmates. They made you feel like you were a waste of space. The names they called you, you soon started to believe them. Ugly. Weird. Freak. Stupid. They took root in your brain, slowly they grew and grew till your head was overgrown with twisted, rotten weeds.

Eventually, you sought comfort in blood. You didn’t care that it hurt you; you were almost happy to feel pain. Like you deserved to.

By age 14, you had started to skip school. Only ever there for exams and a couple of art classes you had with Jeongguk. He was what you would’ve called a best friend, he supported you and was by your side till you left school. He went away to college and like always with school friends, you drifted apart. Nevertheless, he still texts you now and then to check in.

Although you were (once) close with Jeongguk. He never knew of your inner demons, the same with Yoongi and Hoseok. You didn’t want to feel like a burden and worry your friends when they had shit to worry about themselves.

Why devastate flowers that flourish beautifully with weeds that manage to twist their way around every crack?

You had walked for a few minutes now, having chatted absentmindedly about anything and everything. The roads still didn’t look familiar to you and you just wished they did, you didn’t want to be away from your home any longer, your feet were starting to ache, your phone was on 10% battery and it was fucking cold. You just wanted to be back in bed tucked up watching Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time. You felt safe and content when you indulged in your comfort films. Far away from the real world and wrapped up in the false reality. They easily distracted you and that's when you truly felt at peace. Your mind was always too busy thinking about how cute it was when Tramp calls Lady, Pidge or how in love Pongo and Perdy were.

Majority of the time you fantasised about having a love similar, but then again, why would you wanna make yourself vulnerable like that? Is the risk of being hurt (more than you are now) any good? Of course it’s not. Fuck that, life isn’t nothing like those shitty romance films or novels… It’s real and painful.

As you and Taehyung rounded the corner, a little cafe caught your eye, a dainty blue and pink building. Fairy Lights strung up around the windows, you could see a handful of people inside, busy sipping their drinks and chatting away to one another. ‘Aroma Mocha’ hung above the doors. It looked so cute and simple. Your previous thoughts left your mind as quick as they had come. You wanted to go inside, it had an enticing atmosphere.

Taehyung hadn’t realised you’d stopped walking until he couldn’t hear the soft thud of your footsteps behind him, he turned as he called out to you, your eyes still fixed on the cafe. He chuckled to himself, “Fucking adorable, like a kid at christmas,” he walked back over to you. “Hey Doll, you wanna go in?” He felt his heart quicken when you looked at him with those pretty eyes, “We’ve plenty of time to get you back before it’s dark angel.” You answered him with a nod as you turned your head from Taehyung to look back at the alluring little cafe.

Not a second had passed before Taehyung grabbed your hand and pulled you across the road to the entrance; you ignored the warmth of his hand as it intertwined with yours; you ignored the way your tummy erupted with butterflies. Taehyung had stopped to hold the door for you, you murmured a small, “thank you,” looking up at him, the heat that crept up your cheeks making your face resemble that of a doll’s he thought to himself. Once he ushered you fully inside, he placed his hand to rest on the curve of your waist as he guided you to the back corner of the room, where a quaint table for two was unoccupied, a little pot of Daffodils sat atop. How fitting...

Taehyung was quick to pull the chair out for you to take a seat, you pulled it in as you sat down and sent a shy smile his way, “I’m sorry, I know we just met Taehyung but this place is so fucking precious! I hope I’m not bothering you, if I am we can just carry on walking or, I could ring a Taxi? Is this weird? Oh god, I can’t believe--”, Taehyung threw his head back as he laughed, a sound that seemed to wrap its way around your soul, twisting around your heart in the nicest of ways, it was almost like a killer to the weeds taking over your body. A temporary release. You felt like you could really breathe in those short seconds of his laughter.

“Angel, if you were bothering me, I’d have kept on walking. That, or I would’ve called you a Taxi myself, it’s no problem honestly.” You ducked your head as he sent a wink your way, fuck sake Y/N get it together! Why are you acting like a fucking schoolgirl?

“Well I uh, appreciate it so, yeah thank you?” You don’t know what to do, you’re here with the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid your eyes on… yet you have no clue if what you saw was real, did Taehyung stab someone? Could someone have had the knife who wasn’t Taehyung? Was he even the person you saw in that altercation? Did you imagine everything that had gone off?

Before you had chance to overthink it, a light bubbly voice greeted your ears, “Hi! Welcome to Aroma Mocha, I’m Jimin and I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?” Jimin held his gaze on you as he flashed you a friendly smile, Taehyung turned around at the sound of his best friend, “Oh, Tae! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, what are you doing here? And who’s this pretty little lady?”

“This is Y/Nie, she was in the neighbourhood so we thought we’d nip in for something to drink before I take her back to hers.” you sent a warm smile to Jimin which he gladly returned, “I’ll have my usual and can you get Y/Nie a Strawberry Iced Tea? Thanks man.”

Once Jimin had disappeared to make your drinks, you shot your eyes to Taehyung, “Uhm, how’d you know I like Strawberry Iced Tea?” Taehyung didn’t even look in your direction as he scrolled through his phone, eyes glued to the screen. A minute passed by and he’d still not acknowledged your question so you let it slide, it wasn’t that big of a deal right? Your mind drifted. Your fingers rested atop of your lap, hidden from the sight of onlookers, picking around your nails as anxiety flooded your body. You felt like you were about to suffocate. You shouldn’t be talking to anyone, you shouldn’t let anyone close. You were only going to fuck everything up in a heartbeat. It’s only natural. Self deprecating thoughts devoured and made their way through your veins, poisoning yourself further; your whole body felt as though it was alight.

Jimin brought you your drinks, placed them carefully in front of the pair of you as you both said your thanks.

The click of Taehyung’s phone being locked and the clearing of his throat brought you back to your senses. “The drink I ordered for you is popular here so, I assumed you’d like to try it. You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” your eyes shot up to meet his, your head tilted a little to the left as your tongue wet your lip, so puppy like...

You stared incredulously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Taehyung.” You leant forward slightly as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a sip.

Taehyung saw the way you sucked your drink up through your straw, his eyes darkened. Thankful to have worn sweatpants that day, he shifted himself discreetly, “I’m not stupid Angel, I know what you’re doing under the table. I’m here, so talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you gotta say.”

You stuttered as you wracked your brain for something to say, “I-I only met you like forty minutes ago, I don’t even tell my friends what’s wrong. Not that there is, everything’s fine.”

You met me just short of an hour ago, he thought to himself, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/Nie…” he grabbed your hands that were laid near the cup of your Iced Tea. His thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. You looked small and fragile, like the Daffodils on the table; one little pluck and you’d be ruined. He wouldn’t admit it to you just yet but, Taehyung fucking loved how delicate you seemed as you sat across from him.

How easy it would be to take your life away. How easy it’d be to pull those weeds up that are poisoning you, torturing you every single day. He shook his head, as he cleared those thoughts. No, only Y/N can make that decision. I’m just going to help her choose.

Live or Die.

You visibly winced, “You don’t know me. Think whatever the fuck you want about me, it doesn’t matter.” your eyes flashed hurt as you went back to picking your skin. You knew it, this whole encounter was too good to be true. A complete stranger (well acquaintance technically) had just presumed shit about you, the fact he was right is what hurt more. You didn’t want anyone to know how you were feeling. Or how you were dealing with it.

You couldn’t exactly tell him to piss off, you still needed his help home and so you tried to distract yourself from the unsettling gaze that watched your every move. You let out a breath as Taehyung went back to his phone. Your eyes drifted as you picked up the local Newspaper, your eyes skimmed over the headline, ‘Jigsaw Traps Continue’. Taehyung noticed you staring at the front page, and chuckled, “you scared of Jigsaw Angel?”

You shook your head, why would you be scared of some nutjob who’s targeted criminals and drug dealers? You’re a nobody. “Of some psychopathic puppet?” if anyone did anything to you that would threaten your life, it would be you. Taehyung just laughed in return as you skipped the article and skim-read the other pointless stories.

You were fucking clueless as to who he was while he knew every little thing about you. He had watched you for months… His precious little Y/Nie… Oh how silly you were, taking your life for granted.

You hated yourself that much, you were willingly marking yourself up. Tainting your skin… oh your skin, how fucking beautiful and soft it looked, even with all the scars it still looked perfect… Taehyung wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and lock you inside with him. Forever. He didn’t want anyone touching what was his.

He knew you wore a mask when in public, too afraid to show your real self. Little did you know, he wore a mask himself...only he wore it to better other people.

He had a plan.

And you’d soon find out.

Let the games begin.

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

Text

Grey Balloons.

*Grey Leather*

*Grey Uniform*

*Grey Dress*

*Grey Vase*

*Grey Blanket*

*Grey Jeans*

*Grey Socks*

*Grey Boxes*

Big shout out to @beccabarba for being my Bishop Beta and one of my cheerleaders for this series.

Warnings: May have triggers for some, this one takes a different turn talking about loss of a baby without detail (not what your thinking) and talks about a hard dark past. Miguel’s mean side and a slap in the face. Smut and fluff.

WC: 2517.

Enjoy x

You stood between Rosa and Bishop waiting for the door to open and you couldn’t believe you were here again. Your fingers were intertwined with Bishop’s and he squeezed your hand, kissing your shoulder,

“As soon as you say the word, we leave” Bishop looked over at you.

“Ok” you sighed.

The door opened to a smiling Erin and she welcomed you all with big hugs and ushered you all to the outside area. You all walked outside to Christobel, sitting in a ball pit playing, after putting his present on the table and he reached his hands out to you for you to pick him up. You bent down taking him in your arms and you, Rosa and Bishop made a fuss of him making him giggle. Emily walked out of the house towards you guys and you looked over at her with a soft smile on her face,

“Thank you for coming” she kissed you all on the cheek “Christobel is so lucky to have you all here to celebrate”

“Where’s Miguel?” Bishop looked over at Emily, putting his hand on the small of your back.

“He shouldn’t be long” Emily gave him a tense tight smile “He had some business to handle this morning. You know how it is”

The day had lingered on with too much food. There was a tension in the air but it wasn’t the time to deal with it. Emily was playing nice, but you knew it was a front, a calm before the storm and you didn’t want to stick around for it to strike. You were all sitting around the pool chatting between the three of you when Miguel strutted out through the doors with his chest puffed out and cleanly shaven. You and Rosa instantly gave each other a look and he made his way over to you all greeting you with hugs, kisses and handshakes.

You and Rosa stood huddled together, Bishop holding onto your hand tightly as you watched on at Miguel holding Christobel in front of a balloon arch of white and grey balloons and an over-the-top decorated cake. You titled your head watching intently at how Emily tried to get close to Miguel and he would some how move away from her, trying not to make it obvious. You looked down shaking your head at how every time you came around these old friends it was nothing but drama and history repeating itself every time.

After singing happy birthday and the cake being cut, you excused yourself from Rosa and Bishop, giving him a kiss on the lips and making your way to the guest bathroom. You never should have come; you should have just posted the present and stayed home. There was so much of the past Bishop didn’t know, that you hadn’t told him yet, that you kept pushing away, you should have known that one day it was going to come out, you were stupid to think it wouldn’t. You washed your face drying it off with a towel and walked out closing the door behind you, when the door opposite opened to Miguel walking out freshly showered and a change of clothes. His eyes set on yours and you narrowed your eyes at him,

“Old habits die hard, traveling between worlds and thinking shaving makes a difference. Who is it this time?”

“Excuse you?” Miguel snapped back, taking a step closer to you.

“Late for your own son’s birthday. You couldn’t keep it zipped just for today” Miguel stepped toe to toe with you, his eyes intense on yours and his hand came to wrap around your arm, but not quite enough to hurt you, “See the nice guy happy to have me around again faded pretty fast. Screwing around does that to you”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” his breath was hot on your face.

“Don’t pull that cartel shit with me. Didn’t work then and won’t work now” you snarled back.

“You just wish this was you” Miguel muttered back and your eyes blew open in shock “All this could have been yours. But you didn’t want it. Didn’t want this life”

“Look what you did to me, I went through all that alone while you were off screwing around and then the first chance you get, you move in on my best friend”

“You had your chance when you got back, you had the ring. I wanted to move on with you”

“A ring I couldn’t wear in public out of respect for your family” you scoffed back.

“You still had your chance, but you were too much of a good girl to take it, but now look where you are, a leather wearing whore” Miguel snarled in your face.

You pulled your arm out of his grip, stepping back slapping him across the face,

“You threw us away for your Mami, I was never good enough for her little boy, even when she found out about us carrying on the Galindo name, she still looked down her nose at me. You remember who you’re talking too and what I know”

You stormed off from him, holding back the tears. You saw Erin in the kitchen and you walked over to her grabbing her wrist,

“You need to get her out of here” you raised your eye brows at her.

You didn’t give Erin a chance to answer before walking outside to find Rosa and Bishop. You found Rosa first, telling her that you needed to go and then you found Bishop telling him the same thing. You kissed Christobel on top of the head before making your way to the front door. Bishop and Rosa following. You had just about made it past the kitchen area when you felt a hand on your arm stopping you,

“Why is it, every time you come here you have to storm out?” Erin looked over at you “Seems to be a running theme” She raised an eye brow at you.

“That’s because every time I come here something has to go wrong or something is brought up”

“You can’t say what you said and not expect me to ask questions”

“You don’t need to ask question’s Erin; you know full well what’s going on” you shot back.

“What is going on? Baby, what happened?” Bishop put his hand on your shoulder and tears started to roll down your face.

“Not here” you muttered back walking through the door and out to the car.

The drive home was silent, other then your sobs and sniffs, Bishop’s hand on your thigh the whole time. He pulled up in the drive way and you all got out. Rosa went to walk to her place and you grabbed her hand stopping her,

“I need you to be with me for this” Rosa nodded and Bishop frowned at you, his stomach in knots.

You walked inside to the kitchen grabbing three beers from the fridge, opening them and sitting down at the table, Bishop and Rosa following. You took a sip of your beer and took a deep breath, Bishop reached over giving your hand a squeeze,

“Baby” he said softly “What is it?”

You took a deep breath again and squeezed his hand back, “Please listen to me, everything, before you say anything”

“Ok” he nodded back.

“Remember when we spoke about the past and you told me everything that had happened to you and I said I wasn’t ready to talk about everything yet” Bishop nodded “My past caught up with me today”

“I don’t- “ Bishop shock his head.

“I was engaged to Miguel. But no one knew because his Mami didn’t approve. I was his secret. He promised me the world. How things would be different, how he would go to college and once he graduated, we were going to stay in LA and start a new life, away from his family so we could be happy and didn’t have to hide” a tear ran down your cheek. Rosa grabbed your other hand and Bishop let go of your hand grabbing your knee under the table “I got pregnant one summer he was home, but-“ more tears rolled down your cheek “Rosa, she held me on the bathroom floor” your hand came up to your face to cover your eyes “He didn’t take it well and to deal with the loss, he shaved and started to screw around. He came home his graduating year just before I was going to leave for college, begged for forgiveness for what he did, but then told me he wouldn’t be staying in LA, he would be coming back here to take over the business. I handed the ring back then and next thing I knew, when we all came home after college, he and Emily-”

You picked up your beer taking a big gulp and looked over at Bishop who was staring at the table,

“This is the real reason you don’t want to be around them. Did she know?” Bishop whispered.

You shook your head back no,

“He asked me to keep it to ourselves, till he won his Mum over, he wasn’t happy when he found out I told Rosa.”

Bishop stood up off his chair leaning over to take your chin between his thumb and pointer finger tilting your head back. His lips met yours in a sweet kiss before he broke it, kissing your forehead and rubbing his thumb along your chin,

“I love you, so much”

“I love you too”

“Rosa, stay with her” he turned to walk out of the room.

“Where are you going?” panic filled you and you stood up grabbing onto Bishop’s arm to pull him back.

“For I ride”

The afternoon had worn on, Bishop messaged and said he was fine, that he loved you and would be home soon,

“This changes everything” you muttered.

“This changes nothing, Y/N, it would have come out eventually. He isn’t a kid, he gets it, everyone has a past. Go and have a shower I’ll make some hot chocolate” Rosa gave you a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you got up and walked into the bathroom.

You stayed in the shower till the hot water ran cold. You got out, dried and dressed in a sleep nighty walking out of the bathroom to an almost dark house. You looked towards the front door when you saw a soft glow coming from the lounge room,

“Rosa?” you shouted.

“In here baby” you heard Bishop’s voice.

You rounded into the room and you gasped in surprise, your heart skipping a beat and tears coming to your eyes. Bishop had moved the couch’s out of the way and laid down a blue picnic blanket with pillows scatted around it, a vase of red roses, a bottle of wine, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and a small lamp in the corner with a piece of material over it, to change the colour of the light. Bishop came up behind you wrapping his strong arms around you and walked you towards the blanket, your hands gripping onto his arms,

“Sit” Bishop kissed your clothed shoulder and pulled away from you, grabbing a hand and pulling you to sit down. You followed, sitting down next to him, one of his arms going around you and he kissed your cheek, his hand running up and down your leg “I can’t imagine how hard that was for you to tell me, what you have been through with all that and having to keep it a secret”

“I should have- “

“No baby” Bishop shock his head “I’ am glad you told me, but I’ am sorry you didn’t get to tell me in your own time. But I want you to know that I’ am here for you and you never need to be around those assholes again” Bishop’s hand came up to cup your cheek “I love you baby, and I will never do anything to hurt you, or leave you when you need me the most and most of all, you’re not a secret. You’re too amazing not to share with the world”

Bishop pulled away from you pulling up his black tank top to reveal his bare chest, when something new caught your eye and you gasped again. You reached over touching the new ink that was on Bishop’s chest above his heart, brushing your fingertips over it. Your name in beautiful script writing with a small crown sitting above the first letter of your name.

“Bishop” you looked up at him grabbing his face and pulling him towards you, yours lips meeting with his and you kissed him deeply instantly. You moaned into his mouth and he started to lay you back onto the pillows, straddling your lap, continuing to kiss you.

Bishop broke the kiss leaning back to look down at you,

“Thank you for making me a better man. Thank you for making me happy. I love you baby, so much”

Bishop moved back off you, sliding his hands up under your sleep nighty and pulling down your panties, throwing them out of the way. He then made quick work of undoing and pushing off his jeans and boxers before he was back on top of you. He lent down again kissing you deeply and rolling his hips into you. Your hands resting on his sides, running up and down them.

“I love you so much” you groaned as Bishop started to slide into you.

Bishop rested down on his elbows, next to your head, his cock driving into you slow, hard and deep, his eyes locked with yours. You moved your hands to his cheeks and rested them there, wrapping yours legs around his middle, lifting your hips up into him in time with his thrusts,

“Your mine baby, forever” Bishop bit his bottom lip feeling your walls flutter around him.

You let go of one cheek, bringing your hand down between you both and rubbing your needy pearl, the need to come almost as equal was your love for Bishop. Bishop’s hips started to get sloppy and you could feel your release at it’s edge. Bishop lent down one more time, his lips resting near yours, swallowing each other’s air,

“Come baby, come for me” Bishop groaned.

As if on que your whole body started to shake, you gasped Bishop’s names over and over, when he stilled, coming deep inside you with loud grunts. You staid like that for a moment, till Bishop moved off you and pulled you onto his chest, wrapping you in his arms. Your hand rested on his chest and you brushed your thumb over his warm slightly sweaty skin, over your name,

“My name looks nice on you” you kissed his chest.

Bishop’s thumb and pointer finger came to grab your chin and tipped your head back,

“You believe what I said don’t you Y/N?”

“Yes, of course”

“You are my Queen baby, I love you”

Tags: @beccabarba @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @withmyteeth @alwaysachorusgirl @frattsparty

#bishop losa #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #maynas #mayans smut #mayansmc

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alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Text

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader VII

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter VII

Word Count: 6700

[Chapter VI] [Chapter VIII]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, drugs, needles, panic/anxiety attack(?)

Notes: A bit of a chill and slow chapter this time, thanks for your patience. Be sure to stay hydrated and to rest your eyes from the screen!

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

September, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Berlin

“We’ve got a job to do.”

It was like a switch.

The trigger phrase you never heard for the longest time still had its grasp on you. You felt consciousness leaving the realm of reality, purging into the memories and digging them up. The headache from earlier only seemed to worsen.

Soon enough, you awaken to the smell of burned clothes. Something heavy lied on top of you, which you came to recognize as a fresh corpse. Pushing them off, you unbuckle your strap and fall onto the metal flooring, causing the helicopter sink a bit closer to the ground.

Even if you've seen this scene repeatedly, it was unnaturally real. The smell, the sweat, and false pain you felt would be parallel to the real thing. But of course, it wasn't. Everything was fragmented, pulled together and assembled like a puzzle from war clips and verbal storytelling. You were never here.

And yet, Vietnam looked so beautiful.

"This will just be like last time, Bell. You woke up in the middle of a firefight."

Jumping down from the chopper, you landed on the ground, pain shooting up your legs. Sucking it up, you found yourself surrounded in a jungle like terrain, a paddy in front of you. Around you were a few American soldiers struggling to break through the defense of the Viet Cong soldiers. Nearby bushes and trees were on fire, and the smell of smoke filled your nostrils.

One of the troopers in front of you was caught off guard, getting stabbed by a bayonet. His companion kills the attacker, before tending to his colleague.

It was nothing new. You've seen it all, and could probably even risk closing your eyes and walking through the hell of it.

"The crash survivors were defending against a VC attack. You ran forward and picked up an M16."

You find the aforementioned M16 propped up against a rock, and you did as instructed. Aiming down the sights, you took down your enemies one by one. It felt like you were doing most of the work, watching them all fall. Once there was an open opportunity, you trekked forward.

Water filled your boots as you wadded through, loudly splashing around as you made it across. You could feel your feet sinking in the mud with each step as you practically dragged your feet. Your fellow combatants seemed to disappear when you weren't looking, their voices fading away. There were five, then three…

“The remaining VC retreated into the tree line. It was then you realized that you were the sole survivor. You set off to… Find the bunker.”

You made your way through a small path. The green leaves seem to encompass you, nearly covering the sky. Dew drops would come down from above, slipping off of the tree branches and creating wet spots on your uniform. Humidity made your uniform stick onto your skin, bringing an unwanted itch all over. The buzzing of mosquitoes and flies didn't help either.

A ruin revealed itself behind the shrubs. The stone was mossy and covered in vines, a couple of Buddah-like statues sitting on each side on pedestals. A lone torch was lit, lighting up a red metal door that stood at the ruin’s opening. It was beginning to rust a bit, the red paint peeling around the edges. There was a strong sense of longing and familiarity radiating off of it, and you approach it, locked in a trance.

"Forget the red door, we're changing it up."

The red bunker door was replaced with a dark wooden one, just as your fingers made contact with the handle. It was well kept, unfitting for its scenery around it. The knob was golden.

"You said Nikitin was trying to make you remember something important. What was it?"

You walked in.

The room you stood in had peach walls and a concrete floor. It wasn't the main meeting room, but rather a side office. Your office. Boxes were stockpiled and pushed to the side, a few filing cabinets aligning the corners. There was a large billboard on the right wall, featuring a map of the world along with various pinned papers, and meticulous red arrows.

A nice change compared to the lifeless grey and white walls from before. The color brought a sense of believability and welcoming. Stepping through it all graced you in intimacy, memories slowly trickling out from the tightly packed dam that held it all.

Maneuvering around, you placed yourself behind a well polished wooden desk that was covered in papers. There were sticky notes on top of it, scribbled in your own handwriting, with warnings of telling you to stop. Your mind refused to give into the pressure, your endurance training from years before kicking in.

You peeled them away.

You needed to understand.

A black and white photograph was placed on top of the small pile, featuring a rather threatening man, whose face was scrunched up in anger. They lacked any facial hair, and the piercing gaze seemed to bore holes into you. The bizarreness of it was that their left eye was practically colorless, with a visible scar running down where dark irises should match.

"Their heart rate is spiking."

"Hang in there Bell."

Looking up, you see Perseus waiting idly at the door. He was a bit younger, with less gray in his hair and a face reformed with less wrinkles. Along with his uniform, he had an armband with the group’s symbol on it.

He gestures towards the picture in front of you. “What do you think?”

"Depends on what he can bring to the table." Your body begins to move on its own, and you lift up the photo. "You said he used to work under Kravchenko?"

"He was in charge of the Nova Six production on Vozrozhdeniya. You heard what happened, I presume?"

"Operation Rebirth," you answer. Shoving a couple sheets aside, you open a nearby manila folder and bring out a couple of photos: One with a bald man with shades, and another with a thick goatee and eyepatch, labeled 'Jason Hudson' and 'Grigori Weaver' respectively.

"What the hell? That's the mission we did back in sixty-eight."

"So you know." Perseus paces over to the map, eyes darting around before pointing his finger at a certain spot. "He's being held in the gulag, here. I think he would be a good addition to our team. His knowledge of chemical weapons can be of great use to us."

You nod. "What do you need me to do?"

"I want you to—"

His voice began to drown out, slowing down and warping as each syllable was enunciated. You felt yourself getting pulled away, as if you were getting sucked into a vacuum. Everything seemed to pulse as the light started to drain away.

"No, fuck! FUCK! Bell, what did he say?... Goddammit. Lazar, we're doing another injection."

"But, I thought–"

"This is what Bell wants. They're onto something, and we're going to find out. This isn't going to waste."

You winced as you felt something poke and sink into your eye.

"We've got a job to do."

The crash site appeared before you again. It was dark, crickets singing from down below. There was the crackling of fire as nearby shrubs and leaves caught fire. Shadowy figures moved like ants at the paddy, on the lookout for any American survivors.

"Let's skip ahead."

They froze.

"You're in your office. Perseus is telling you about a man being held in prison. You ask him about his plans."

The peach colored office arose around you, replacing the night sky and semi-humid terrain. Noise levels were turned down to the whirring of a fan that stood to the corner of the room.

"What do you need me to do?" you repeated.

Perseus walks over to you, eyes glittering with passion and intent. His agenda and fixation is one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, and why you didn't hesitate to join in on the ranks once he asked you to join. With his strong resolve and leadership, you had no doubt then that Perseus would be the perfect fit to run the country. "I want you to lead a squad with me. Together, we'll break him out. And from there, we can work to rebuild the Union."

"Of course."

"Good. I trust that you'll keep this a secret between us. There's been talk of more moles, and we do not want the Americans interrupting this operation."

You look back down at the photo of the disgruntled man Perseus was keen on introducing to the group. "What's his name?"

"Vikhor Kuzmin, so I've heard. I hope you two will get along."

"Kuzmin…"

The scene begins to warp, colors beginning to blend together into one large mass. Perseus was frozen in place, blending into the peach colored walls. His green uniform mixed with it, spreading out and darkening the once vibrant room. The voices of him and Adler got farther and farther away, and you could only watch as the setting changed in front of your eyes.

"Bell?"

"What's happening? Stay with us, Bell."

"Shi—!"

There were brief flashes of the mission to the gulag. Breaching the doors open with a nice chunk of C4, a group of about four following your lead. Kuzmin was in one of the cells that was hidden away from the public, at the depths of the prison reserved for people like him. Radio chatter and shouts fill your ears. Underneath his torn orange uniform were muscular arms covered in ink, various tattoos embedded in his skin. He was true to the photo, not a detail amiss.

"I've been waiting," he says in a hoarse voice.

You couldn't respond.

The scene shifts. Thrown into a meeting, appeared in a confined room. Judging from the walls, you were underground in a hidden place, water dripping from the cracks on the ceiling and pooling on the cold floor below. There were two other people with you: Stitch, now out of his prison garments, and Perseus.

"Why'd you call me here, General?" you ask, closing the door behind.

“Stitch here is about to give an update to how our Nova Six arsenal is holding. I thought you would be interested.”

“Of course.”

You take a seat in one of the swivel chairs. Stitch eyed you with some interest, probably wondering why you were even called here. The guy practically covered himself from head to toe, so you couldn't read his expression. From experience, he wasn’t the talking type, the both of you barely giving each other a second glance if you just so happened to pass by in the hallway. But through the chance you did interact, it was always insults or arguing.

“We have a potential transport route for the cargo,” Stitch begins, resuming his attention to Perseus. “Jose Luis Menendez. I have a plan in mind that might interest him. By next year everything should be lined up if negotiations go well.”

Perseus nods. “Very good. Things have been running smoothly with production, I hope?”

“Yes.”

“We’re using a drug dealer to smuggle some gas?” you quote. It wasn’t a bad plan, but it was a risky move to trust someone not heavily involved within the organization.

“You have something better?” Stitch challenged, and you beam at him, flipping the pen around in your fingers.

“Nope. Sounds interesting. Are you sure you can handle it, tough guy?”

Stitch restrains himself from reaching over to choke you, and continues to describe his plan. “A friend of his is being held by the Americans. There’s been plans for his transport, January, nineteen-eighty four. Our bargaining chip.”

You give out an amused whistle, leaning back in your chair. “Not bad.”

"Kuzmin has also told me about a particular man that should be in our interest," Perseus adds, sensing the tension increasing between the two of you. "I had one of our agents pull up anything relating to them. And, I have to say, quite a mysterious man, I think you'll like him, [L/N]."

He personally hands you a blue file. Opening it, there wasn't much to behold. There was a picture of a middle aged man, with a scar that stretched across the left side of his face like vines. A nice set of aviators sat on his nose, hair neatly fashioned. The CIA symbol was stamped on the wall behind him.

Your eyes drifted off to another part of the page, and you found his name. Russell Adler.

You close the folder after reading what little information was provided. Perseus was right, you were intrigued. "What are your orders?"

"Our friend Stitch has personally volunteered to handle him, but I assured him that you would be best fit for the job," Perseus admits, much to your colleague's dismay.

Glancing at Kuzmin, his already disturbed scowl was further darkened, a vein protruding from his temples. You gave him a scornful grin. "So, that's where your eye went. This American took it."

"You ought to watch your mouth, mutt."

"Is that how you talk to your superior?"

"[L/N]," Perseus warns, and you settle back down. "Please. You'll be working together from now on."

"If he isn't a nuisance."

You see Kuzmin’s hand twitch, unbeknownst to Perseus, who gives a nod. "Continuing where we left off, I want you to deal with the man in the file. Russell Adler. If we let him loose for too long, we may have to deviate from our objective."

"I'll get my team—"

"No need. We already have a plan in mind."

You raise a brow in interest, waiting for him to continue.

"One man shouldn't be of much trouble to you, no? He may be America's monster, but we have a few of our own." He nods at you. "Pose as a CIA agent. We'll have someone from inside set up a meeting with you soon, they'll get you in. Once we get a hold of the bomb, you'll clean up the rest."

"Do you have any preferred methods in mind?"

"I'll leave it up to you, [Y/N]."

"When do I start?"

"After the weapons get to Duga. Ensure that Arash doesn't stray from the plan, yes? Come back here when everything is settled."

You nod in acknowledgement. "I won't fail."

Satisfied, Perseus gets up from his spot and walks over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder, his grip a bit more tighter than it should. "I know you won't."

It felt more like a threat.

With years of planning already under the name, there were no excuses for screw ups or mistakes.

“He may seem like a good person when working with him, but remember— Do not trust Adler.”

“He'll lie to you.”

You woke up gasping for air.

It felt like you couldn't breathe. Attempting to inhale proved more difficult than it should have, your throat turning against you and constricting itself.

The sensation you felt when you were drowning came back, and your hands tried to go for your neck, just trying to breathe, only for the straps to hold you restrain you.

Where were you again?

Your left eye felt like it was on fire, a burning sensation settling in, and you could hear your own heartbeat echoing within your ears. Your heart hammered against your chest, just trying to escape it's prison. His final words bounced around your head.

"Bell?"

Everything felt distorted, becoming more rounded as if you were looking through a magnifying glass.

"Let… Let me out." you gasped. Every limb felt heavy. Your attention directs to your left and next to the window, you were met with an unpleasant sight. A sense of dread overtakes you.

Perseus was standing still. There was a look of severe disappointment written on his face, the corners of his lips slipping into a frown. It was the worst feeling— failure to meet someone's expectations and vision. His lips part, forming words, but nothing was enunciated.

You failed him.

"Genera—"

"Bell," someone's voice cuts you off. A rough hand settles on one of your cheeks and delicately redirects your view back to your right side. Adler enters your peripherals, a cigarette hanging from his lips, nearly finished. "It's me."

There was his soothing voice again. It wasn't forced or demanding, instead taking on a calming and mellow manner, as if he were talking to a fragile thing. He wasn't panicking. It felt almost endearing.

"It's just me and you here. I'm going to take off the cuffs, got it?"

You managed a nod. Adler reaches over, unbinding both ends. Without hesitation you shot upward and doubled over, just trying to catch your breath, but it just came out in short pants. Somehow you brought yourself to a sitting position, but it felt like the atmosphere thickened as a result. You coughed, just trying to clear out the lump that resided in your throat, but nothing regurgitated. Adler catches you as you stumble over your feet.

Turning your head again, Perseus's figure was gone, yet you could still feel his lingering presence within you.

"I can't…"

"Deep breaths Bell. Just copy me."

You watched Adler's torso expand as he took in air, his muscles tensing up underneath that black turtleneck sweater of his. Mimicking his action, you pull your stomach in as well before exhaling.

Why was he so good at this?

Adler's strange understanding on how to deal with your messy life and panic attacks was one of the few things that kept you sane. The Walkman, his presence…

Why?

He tried to kill you.

And you were supposed to kill him.

"You're okay, [L/N]."

And yet he could pull shit like this, and it works. Every. Single. Time. It didn't help that Adler started to call you by your last name more frequently as well.

“How… How long was I out?” you croak, diverting your attention away from him. Your heaving finally evened out, and the lump within your throat dissolved, leaving behind a slight aching in your chest.

“About two hours. You went into a submersion period, and we lost you right after you mentioned Stitch.” He gives you a cup of cold water. "How do you feel?"

The condensation of the water made you shiver. “I'm… getting better.”

The setting finally meshed itself back to normal, the walls no longer slugging. Looking around the room, Lazar was gone.

"Ready to talk?”

You took a sip, before fully downing it in one gulp. Wiping away the excess water with the back of your hand, you catch a hint of a rash at your wrists before trailing back to Adler. “First, tell me how you know Kuzmin.”

He takes a seat on the table. "He’s one of the people we captured from Rebirth Island. Also goes by the alias ‘Stitch’. I was in charge of his interrogation but the bastard never broke."

“You're the one who stabbed his eye out,” you recall.

"I was just returning a favor for someone I know," he comments, watching your reactions. The color was slowly making its way back to your face, but you still had your left eye closed. "And you? You were reiterating how you broke the guy out of the Petropavlovsk prison. Elaborate."

You hum to yourself, sorting out everything you just remembered. "I led a strike team. Perseus would cover our squad as we went in. Really murky place, smelled like shit. Stitch was located on the deeper levels of the gulag, so we had our work cut out for us." You massage your wrists, trying to lessen the pressure that lingered. "The general was right though. His Nova Six project was something we were looking for."

"What's the plan for it?"

"I don't know. Last thing I remember was Kuzmin mentioning the Menendez trade routes to direct their supply to parts of the U.S.. There was something about a prison transport happening in January— He was hoping to use that as leverage to establish business with the drug lord." Your voice trails off to a whisper as you avoid Adler’s fierce gaze. "Not only that but…"

"Spit it out."

"We... were planning to make a set up of where I was a KGB defector who wanted to work for the CIA. I was supposed to gain your trust and keep them updated. Once we got a hold of Greenlight, I… needed to finish the job.”

"As in… kill me?"

"...That's one way of putting it."

You couldn't look at Adler when you informed him of the past ploy. How could you, now that you remembered that you were ordered to slice his throat open? You felt like a fool for becoming infatuated with him. Was the admiration you felt your own, or was it something you subconsciously convince yourself to feel in order to get closer to him?

Dry laughing at your own idiocy, you gave out a disappointed sigh. "Arash must have caught onto our scheme. I bet Perseus didn't expect you to throw me into your MKUltra project. And now look how I ended up."

Out of all things, why did you have to remember that? You couldn't see Adler in the same light now, and you were positive he felt the same about you. It felt like the relationship you managed to build up between the both of you was about to come crashing down. "Nikitin was right."

"He may be right, but I'm still alive," Adler interposes. "You're one of us now, [Y/N]. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by ages ago, regardless if you remembered or not."

Your heart jumped at the mention of your name, but it quickly retracted, the feeling of guilt taking over again.

He hands you your Walkman.

"Come on. We got our work cut out for us." Adler states. His voice or facial expression didn’t even give a hint to his internal monologue, despite what you just told him. While it’s a reaction that you expected, it was one that didn’t make you feel any more better about yourself. "Sims took a crack at the disk for you, but he already got stumped."

"Anything on the news about the bar?"

"No. I had an associate cover our asses." He places a hand on the door and turns to you with a small smirk, some teasing affection behind it. "Good thing you have me."

"...Sure," you mumble dejectedly. Someone was a bit optimistic for someone who just found out someone close was supposed to gut him open.

"Team!" Adler yells as he opens the door, and the activity around ceases. You caught Hudson near the evidence board (when did he get here?). "New objective. We need to find the whereabouts of Vikhor Kuzmin. Gather any evidence relating to him, and pull up past files relating to Operation Rebirth, the Menendez family, and their associates. Get Mason and Woods on it too, cross reference everything we have to what Bell knows."

And with that, you were bestowed the highest honor of stress and workload. Everyone spent the rest of the night pulling out old dusty boxes from inventory and sorting out the sicking yellow manila folders. They dated all the way until Vietnam days to the most recent findings, and you had to split up the work.

With the assistance of Sims, you manage to extract the information from the floppy disk within an hour. It was filled with KGB daily reports, as well as some encrypted emails that you had the luxury of breaking apart. The contents further backed up your testimony, containing some documents about the Menendez cartel and their affiliation with Perseus. This type of treasure trove is what the CIA yearned for. While it didn't go into the specifics, it had the data of a few encrypted messages and layouts of what Perseus and his underlings were planning. There were mentions of a NATO base as well as the prison transport. No specific dates, unfortunately, so the team had to act accordingly.

Your eyes were bloodshot as you worked nearly for two days straight, just trying to put everything together. At the same time, Nikitin's words echoed from the depths of your mind, along with his abhorrent mocking smile plastered across his aged face. A weird flavor would spread across your tongue just thinking about it.

The phial Nikitin had in his pocket that had been sent off to the analysis team and returned via paper results, confirming that it was one of the drugs the cartel was smuggling into the U.S. You never forgot the taste of it, and refused to even get near almonds now.

Now you just had to write down everything and present your discoveries. You made yourself comfortable in the inventory space, watching the arcade machine flash brightly with the title and demo of whatever game input it was set to. The music helped you focus, but, after sitting for hours staring at the same rotten pictures and text, you broke.

A fresh breeze nipped at your skin as you walked outside, and you took a deep breath of the crisp air. It was night out, and a few bugs were dancing around the old yellow light. The buildings in the short distance were irregularly lit, the color of the exposed walls hard to determine under the dark sky. The gravel crunched underneath your shoes as you went around the corner. Finding the rusted ladder, you made your way up to the roof.

You situated yourself around the middle and lied down, looking at the sea of black above. You turned the music low, finding a good balance between silence and the rhythmic beats. Leaving your work at the table, there was now nothing to bother you at this very moment, leaving you to stray into your thoughts.

Multiple times you had told yourself going through the scenarios again with Adler’s help would provide answers for everything you’ve been missing, but in the end it only conjured up more questions. Your sense of self was leaving your grasp, and you could only live in the past. There was an invisible tingling sensation around your wrists. You were never able to forget the scene of sitting in the lab, bound to the chair while Park and Adler tried to make you submit.

Breaking a subject’s will and erasing their mind is a difficult and painful process.

That’s a small price to pay.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You needed to stop thinking about it, but having to work around the people who brought the issue upon you served as a daily reminder of what you have been through. Adler was the worst of them all, and it didn’t help that you were developing feelings for the man.

The effort of sorting out truth and falsification was mentally draining as well. You had to get used to the resurfaced memories and live by them now. Despite gaining more info about your past, you felt a bit lost on what the next step would be.

“Mind if I join you?”

Speak of the devil.

Opening your eyes, you see Adler’s head just protruding out behind the raised edge of the rooftop. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. You’ve been intentionally avoiding him the past couple days after finding out the truth, and with him here, you couldn’t exactly deny his company with nowhere else to go.

You gave a small nod of permission, and he vaulted himself over. He brusquely walks over and takes a seat next to you. There was the usual smell of nicotine that followed him, but judging from the strength of it, Adler hasn’t touched a cigarette for a while.

“Nice view,” he compliments, gazing up at the sky. “A bit chilly, too.”

You sit up. “How’d you know I was up here?”

“Sims told me a while back that you used to come up here when things bother you.”

"Damn it."

He observes you for a moment. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you—”

“Then why are you up here?”

You look at him as if his asked a stupid question. “How can you still talk to me, knowing that I was supposed to kill you?”

“C'mon Bell. As if we all never tried to kill each other at some point holed up at this joint.” He shrugs. "And honestly, I could say the same about you. I shot you in the damn heart, yet here you are still willing to talk to me."

“Mikhail did say that the bullet was two centimeters away from piercing the heart tissue.”

“You mentioning that only further adds insult to injury,” he retorts lightly. As soon as he did though, he realized that you weren’t in a joking mood. That brooding appearance of yours wasn’t pleasant to onlookers like him, and it only brought upon further worry. "Talk to me, [L/N]."

"How do you handle it?" you blurt. Nothing about Adler gave away his internal struggles and torment. For someone with his age and experience, there was bound to be shit locked up in there. "Stress, the PTSD… Everything. I just want to take a break for once without shit plaguing my mind."

He shifts position. "Well, for one, having someone to lean on is a good idea."

"Who would that be?"

"For me, it used to be my ex-wife. As of now, it varies. I would get a shrink like Sims, but I rarely make it to the meetings." Adler pauses, before adding: "Mason has periodic evaluations. Why do you ask?"

“I’m just… trying to sort everything out. Like, I thought I was finally coming to terms about myself, but then it turns out even I don’t know. It feels… fake, you know? Who am I, really? Lieutenant Colonel [L/N] of Perseus or Bell of the CIA?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, huh? That's a high ranking for someone at your age."

"I'm serious, Adler."

Underneath everything, you could feel your old cold-hearted self resurface whenever you held a gun. It kept you on edge, like a snake just waiting patiently for its time to strike. Nowadays you only kill when it's necessary, but Nikitin's provocation brought out that nature Adler and Park had tried to suppress. Adler's power and hold on you was faltering as you both now saw eye to eye, he could only do so much to keep your deviant behavior in check, and you were afraid of losing yourself.

His leniency only added onto the anxiety— letting your guard down was the last thing you would do if you were in his stead. "After Cuba, when you put me under interrogation… I heard Perseus. He was saying to not trust you. It didn't occur to me until now but… How would he know about you? I thought it was just my subconscious telling me about the truth, but it was more than that."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"It's anything but nothing!" you yell. "How can you say that?! I spent so long telling myself to trust no one but myself, but even now I can’t do that now. How the hell am I supposed to keep moving forward if there's a chance—"

“Take a look around, Bell," Adler cuts you off. "You're here in West Berlin, surrounded by the best CIA operatives. Woods, Mason, Lazar, Sims, Hudson. If something were to happen, we got you covered. Hudson and I didn't go through the effort of having you back on this team for nothing."

“Even so—”

"Even so, if you're so concerned, and you shouldn't be, I already lived long enough to make a few enemies, Stitch being one of them. Having a target on your back isn’t fun, but it’s what makes the job a bit more thrilling in its own twisted way.

“I’ve worked with you long enough. You have your struggles, but you snap back at every opportunity you get, and you sure as hell won’t go down without a fight. If I were you, doubting myself is the last thing I would do. That’s basically letting Perseus get in your head, and I wouldn’t want to give him that sad excuse of a victory.”

You weren’t just a machine made to follow orders, Adler knew. Comparing the person who you were today, to the one he knew back in 1981, it was like flipping a coin. On one side was the once reserved and obedient agent he invented, the person he tried to distance himself from getting too attached; the other was the you of today. The temperamental, smart-mouthed individual who was struggling to set free from the chains that tied you back, trying their hardest to search for yourself. Yet, you managed to put everything else first before yourself, and he needed you to recognize that you were important too.

“What I said that morning still stands, and always will.”

There was the fuzzy feel again.

You were always quick to judge how people might react. It was always better that way, to prepare yourself for the worse when it actually occurred, but it brought more harm than needed.

Fighting off lingering predispositions, you yielded to his persuasion, bobbing your head once. Bringing your legs up to your chest, you hugged them as the breeze began to pick up. It was unusual: you just needed someone to reassure you, and with it, it felt like everything would be fine. Even if it was temporary. "...Okay."

You feel something drape over your shoulders shortly after, with the familiar smell of cologne and ash.

"Don't want to get sick again," Adler states. Without his jacket, the black dress shirt he wore underneath hugged his form tightly. Memories from September's mission flashed within the back of your mind, the image of you tugging at his shirt to dress his wound as he laid unconscious. For someone his age, he was well built.

You avert your eyes, pull the edges of the jacket closer. Those types of details about people never fascinated you before until now. "...You mentioned your ex-wife a couple times before. Was she beautiful?"

"Mhm. Of course she was." He leans back onto his hands, gazing up at the sky as he reminisced about his past woman. "But, she's an ex for a reason, so let's not tread there."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have you now."

Your heart practically jumped out. This charismatic asshole. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

"You can't."

Why were you so scared? Just the thought of someone loving you felt almost unearthly. The emotional baggage you carried was already enough, so to hear that someone was willing to take the time to help guide you through it, and lend a listening ear was too good to be true.

You could feel his blue irises piercing you underneath those shades. "Why not?"

"You can find better."

"I did. And they're sitting right here."

Adler wouldn't let you go. And it hurt. God must have had a fun time writing out your life story, making two people who, at one point, were at each other's throats now fall for one another.

Stop fighting it.

It was something you kept denying, but with each passing day working alongside Adler, it became harder and harder to bury underneath. That man just strives to succeed in his goal, no matter what the cost, and if the goal this time was to get close to you, and break every wall you had put up in his direction, then he had succeeded.

"You must think you're real slick, huh?" you mumble under your breath.

Caving in, you rest your head in his lap, staring up at his faintly glowing face lit up by the outside lights of the safehouse. Adler stiffens at the gesture, caught by your sudden affection, before easing up. He places a hand on your cheek, and you lean into it, giving out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth spread. You couldn't avoid it anymore, small tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

K̴̦͍͑̀̚i̵̡̺̝͋̔͠l̴̝͎͕͒͋̕l̸͇͇̽͘͝.

Kiss him.

It was something new. The intimacy and the casualty of it. Something like this wasn't comparable to the parental love you had when you were younger— It was a new experience, something of its own existence, and you couldn't help but adore it.

A stillness found itself between the both of you. The awkwardness that would have followed never came. Adler pondered to himself for a moment. You could see his Adam's apple move underneath the stubble as he wondered what to say next.

"If it makes you feel better… Here."

He adjusts his weight slightly, shoving a hand into the collar of his shirt and pulling out something metal from underneath. Adler dangles his dog tags above you, waiting for you to hold your hand out. When you do, he lowers it gently.

You didn't even know he wore them. The tags were a bit rusted, dirt and dark spots situating itself into the little imprints of lettering and edges. Your thumb brushes over the protruding words, reading them. His name, blood type…

Did he want you to keep this?

Adler notices your complex expression as you gazed up at him. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"No…" You grip the tags in your hands, afraid to let them go. Adler was out of his mind— for giving you a sentimental object like this, and for believing in you. But… If that's what he wanted, then you will respect his wishes. "Just thinking how I haven't seen you smoke for a while."

“Just trying to kick the habit,” he discloses.

You roll your eyes. “Knowing you, it goes way deeper than that.”

He smirks slightly to himself. There really was no use hiding things from you. “Just thought it would be rude to do it around you, seeing how you reacted that morning.”

"Am I supposed to thank you for that?"

"Hey, I'm just helping you live longer."

"I don't die that easily."

He returns a small grin. "I know."

Whenever it was just the two of you, it felt like you were on cloud nine. With the walls gone, you found yourself falling heads over heels once again. It was such a complicated thing, and yet you felt more relaxed and stable, knowing that you didn't have to spend any more energy just being apprehensive.

"What're you listening to now?" Adler asks softly, and you take an earbud out, holding it out to him.

To be able to spend a moment like this with him was something you never imagined doing in your lifetime. Much or less, falling in love with a person like him. You had spent endless days counting bodies and shooting guns since you were young, to a point it had hardened you emotionally. Climbing up the ranking ladder was a challenge on its own, as not everyone was keen on having a younger soldier commandeering their lives. There was no time to maintain deep relationships then; you were too busy for that.

But after meeting Adler, you felt more… Humanized. He was like your bridge to stability. One look at him and a wave of calmness would wash over you.

Was this what Mason meant about Hudson and Woods keeping him grounded to reality?

Now it was just you two sitting on a roof in private, with one earbud in your ear, the other in his, just listening to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. Adler was humming to the lyrics.

"Russell?" you call.

"Hm?" He tilts his head downward, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. His striking blue eyes meet yours. He notices the corners of your mouth were upturned slightly into a small smile. The look in your eyes was something he wouldn't forget— filled with a new light, mixed with an unyielding devotion.

“Do you really trust me?”

There wasn't a trickle of doubt in his mind.

“With my life.”

#the next chapter there's going to be a fat timeskip #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #call of duty x reader #bo:cw #text #fanfic #bell #russell adler #abcd briefing #call of duty imagine #these chapters are getting shorter and shorter again OTL #ahh i gotta stop lingering on chapters for too long or else they start to get cringey to read

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

📝: Thank you guys so much for being patient, I really didn't expect an update till after I had finished moving but your excitement and comments from this preview alone inspired me and I found moments here and there it got me on a roll so thank youu!!

⚠️: anxiety attack, kidnapping and nightmare sequence featuring the following; strangulation, kidnapping, possible claustrophobia triggers(??)/imprisonment [skip markers for all, one for anxiety the second for kidnapping and dream sequence] and finally, not a warning but I feel like I need to make this not so depressing but SO MUCH GAY FLUFF YALL 🌈🌈🌈

||𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and a sudden bright light filled the bathroom.

After leaving Heather's house, the three of us had decided to crash at Max's. Neither of us really wanted to be alone after everything happened today, so one quick call to my mom and a note at the cabin and here we are.

I stood before the bathroom mirror with slightly sunken eyes and the tap running on cold as I brushed my teeth mindlessly. The clothes Max had found that would fit me felt snug and warm, just out of the dryer and they smelled like her. It was a welcome change to my drenched clothes now in the wash.

The thunder was mostly muted from inside but not altogether, and I could hear the muffled voices of Max and El from down the hall as I brush my teeth. I try to focus on the gentle pitter-patter of rain on Max's roof and the calm lull it brought to the atmosphere but it was of little help. I could still hear Billy's voice clear as day,

"What a pleasure it is to meet you El. And of course, who could possibly forget..."

《•••》

I watched as Billy slowly wrenched his head towards mine, his hollow gaze falling over me.

•••

I step out onto the porch, slipping the hood back over my head when I feel it again.

•••

She winced as she whipped around to face him, his sunken, darkened eyes widening as they pierced her own.

•••

The sound of my name on his tongue made my skin crawl, his voice all the way in the back of his throat.

《•••》

You

[■■■■■■■■Anxiety Trigger■■■■■■■■]

Another clap of thunder explodes in the distance and I drop my toothbrush, gripping the edge of the counter. Swallowing deep gulps of air, I try to remember the breathing technique Joyce told me about.

Breath in for four.

I draw in a slow deep breaths, letting my eyes flutter closed.

Hold for seven.

As I count the seconds, I follow her instructions and try to focus on my other senses to ground me. I first notice the water running in the sink and the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. The smell of coconut from the hand soap. And even the warm feel of the clothes from the dryer.

Breath out for eight.

I release the built-up air in my lungs in a steady puff but I don't feel my grip on the counter loosen any. The chill is still in my bones, and I can still feel his eyes on me.

Breath in.

The cold, hollowness in his eyes.

Hold.

The blood all over this very bathroom, and El's frightened cries on the floors of the locker room.

I double over the counter, releasing the air tightening my lungs before I can even get to five. I sigh, steadying my breathing and regaining any I had lost as I stare nose-first into the running water disappearing down the drain. I feel hot tears stinging my eyes as the panic builds and I curse under my breath.

I haven't had an attack in so long.

[■■■■■■■■Over■■■■■■■■]

Sighing again, I cup my palms under the water and splash it over my face, fighting a wince when the hot water burns my face.

I wipe away the beads of water dripping over my cheeks and brow, feeling as the air turns it instantly to cool and that's when I frown.

Wait.

Quickly, I swipe the excess water off my eyes and look down at the tap.

It was all the way on cold, as it was when I first turned it on.

I look back at my hands, noting their usual s/c shade. No hint of light or heat in sight. I look back in the mirror, searching my eyes and lips for hints of my usual strain but I find nothing.

My eyes drop back to the running tap, my face written with confusion and head cocked as I watch steam pour out from the stream of running water. I test the metal spout pouring out water and sure enough, the metal is already warming confirming my suspicions.

A sudden familiar voice spoke out from the other side of the closed door, but it wasn't enough to pry my frown away from the running water.

"Y/n?"

It was Max.

"You alright in there?"

My heart was still beating sporadically and my skin was flushing familiarly but I tried to remind myself where I was. That I was safe. And clearly, the Mayfields needed to have their plumbing checked since their heating was flipped.

The thought was enough to expel a sharp breath of relief, and I seemed to snap back to reality. Mostly.

I switched off the water, the cold water tap squeaking as I did so. Quiet returned to the room, and I shook out my hands in the sink and cleared my throat.

"Yeah, I'll be right out," I say, wincing at the waver in my voice.

I picked up the dropped toothbrush and shook out the droplets, finally deciding to tuck it away on the counter where I could deal with it later. Thankfully, it hadn't actually been mine but a spare they had among a pack of unopened toothbrushes.

I look back at my reflection, drying the remaining water off my face with a towel, and sigh.

Clearly, it had been a stressful night and things were starting to get to me. That's all. I don't know what's up with Billy, but something's definitely wrong. I know I'm not wrong either if El can feel it too.

Breath in.

I double-check the counter, checking I have everything. The image pushes itself into my head again, and I wince but I don't stop my breathing exercise.

Hold.

"And of course, who could forget..."

Y/n counted each painful second as she held the air captive in her lungs, trying with everything in her to focus on her breathing over the hollow voice of Billy Hargrove echoing in her mind. As she did so, she turned and made her way for the bathroom door, unknowingly leaving behind the still undrained ice bath that was now beginning to boil.

"You."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Which one?" Max asks with an adorable grin.

"I don't know," El mumbled weakly with a shrug. She peered up at me as I returned to my spot in between them on the floor. "What do you think?"

I settle myself under Max's comforter and into her rainbow sheets on our makeshift nest on the floor. As I readjusted myself on the pillow, I shrugged half-heartedly, not really trying my best to act totally present.

Max sits up, growing serious, and grabs both our gazes.

"Hey," she says, her voice soft. "there's nothing to worry about anymore, okay?"

The fake smile fell off my face and my eyes fell to my hands. They were wringing together in my lap. El's eyes flickered to me, her face dropping a little as if she recognized my state and spoke up.

"It doesn't make sense,"

"What doesn't make sense?" Max asks.

"What does?" I say under my breath, wringing my hands tighter.

"Heather," El continued. "The blood. The ice."

"Heather had a fever, so she took a cold bath, but she's better now. That has to be it," Max says, sounding almost as if she's trying to convince herself as well. "I don't know where that blood came from, but... we saw her."

She looks between me and El, trying to look as reassuring as possible.

"We all saw her. She's totally fine."

El didn't seem to buy it any more than I did.

"What about Billy?"

"What about him?"

"He seemed... wrong." She says and I nod.

Max gave a weak chuckle. "Wrong is kind of like his default. But it's nice to know he's not a murder, because that would've totally sucked."

I finally break my silence with an involuntary scoff. My next words come tumbling out without me thinking.

"Yeah, especially on top of everything else,"

Max replicates my scoff and I look at her almost desperately.

"Okay, but you get what I'm saying, right? I've met him and he does not act like that Max," my voice lowers a bit from its almost defensive pitch. "I don't think I need to remind you what he did to Lucas, or you, or how he treats me. I may not know him like you, but he's never that polite, even to people he likes, and I know you know it too,"

Max just stares for half a moment, not saying or doing anything but biting her lip. Finally, she sighs at her lap, pensively.

"I get what you're saying," she says, looking between El and me again. "Both of you. He was being totally weird, I'll give you that. I just really think we need to be careful about this." She shrugs. "For all we know, he was probably trying to impress the Holloways."

She makes suggestive eyes with a disgusted, uncomfortable laugh as she elbowed me. "Maybe he really wants to get closer to Heather,"

I laugh, making a face.

"Oh, barf,"

A small smile finds its way onto El's lips and she reluctantly joins into our laughter with a frown. "What?"

"You don't want to know," I chuckle, burying myself further under the sheets.

El seemed satisfied enough with my answer and followed my lead. She shivered a little on my right, as Max got settled back in on my left. I looked over at El when I felt her shifting around. She was snuggling closer, and her arms wrapped around my left like a koala bear, her eyes threatening to close. I watched her with a small flutter in my stomach as she nuzzled her head into my shoulder and gave a content sigh. "Warm," I heard her mumble.

I didn't dare move, other than grinning down at her and tucking my head on hers as we both looked over at Max and the pile of comics she had.

Not letting go of my arm, El sat her head up a little and pointed to the only cover with Wonder Woman on it with a curious look in her eye.

"Who... is that?"

Max and I both perk up as she grabs the comic.

"See, this is why you can't just hang out with Mike all the time." She explains. "This is Wonder Woman. A.K.A. Princess Diana,"

The three of us simultaneously lean back against our propped-up pillows on the wall, snuggling into one another. I take hold of the comic for Max, turning to page one as Max and I begin pointing out different pictures on the page.

"She's from Paradise Island, which is, like, this hidden island there are only women Amazon warriors."

El smiles and I point to her lasso of truth.

"Yeah, and she's devoted to bringing good to the world, like most superheroes. She even has this lasso - which is kind of a long rope tied in a circle - that helps her fight crime, and it can even make people tell the truth..."

"It's super cool," Max jumps in.

That flutter grows as I watch El point out different things on the page with a smile that only grew the more she learned. Or the more Max would light up with another Wonder Woman fact. And minute by minute, as the night crept on just like this, the more I forgot about the horrifying questions of today and more on my best friends beside me.

I was safe.

For now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■]

When Tom Holloway awoke, he immediately knew something was wrong.

His hands were bound behind his back, some sort of cloth was wrapped around his head and stuffed in his mouth as a gag and he felt nauseous. Never mind the fact his head was throbbing and bleeding, and he was somewhere dark, cold, and unknown.

That's when he remembered.

Heather.

The girls in his living room had just left, his wife Janet was acting strange and... she was drugged. And it had been his Heather. His little baby Heather and that boy.

He had to get out, he had to find them. He had to get to his family.

He fights with a grunt against the restraints around his wrists. He winces as the rope stings his burns his skin and as he squirms he gets a better feel for what he's tied to. It's some sort of pipe.

And yet he's so focused on his escape and finding his family, he doesn't realize his wife is by his side.

Her muffled, horrified shrieks as she comes to.

"Tom!"

He lets out a sob when he sees her, in his voice a jumbled mixture of relief and sorrow. She looked no better than he felt, and steady tears streaked down her cheeks with mascara.

A pair of footsteps grab their attention to two figures approaching from the shadows. The very same people to have brought them here.

Heather and Billy.

Tom lets out another involuntary whimper as his daughter approaches him, a blank faraway look in her eyes.

"Hi, Daddy,"

He watches tearfully as she kneels down to his height, and removes the bounds from his mouth.

"Heather..." he gasps, swallowing fearful tears and the lump in his throat. He throws one cautious glare over her shoulder at the young man before softening again at his daughter. "Sweetie... whatever this is, whatever he's got you into, you don't have to do this. You can stop this."

"There is no stopping it, Daddy," she says in an unusually cold voice. "You'll see."

With the ghost of a smile, she cups his tear-stained cheek and he cries again.

"No," he silently begs.

But she's already on her feet, returning to Billy's side as he approaches Janet as Heather had Tom.

Her whimpers grow more frantic as he reaches for her, and before she knows it she's wriggling free from the cloth gag he removes from her mouth. She wastes no time in crying out to her baby girl.

"Heather, please! Heather!"

The words died out into a fearful whisper when Billy's finger pushes against her lips, silencing her. She feels her whole body tremoring as he leans in close, his voice that same gravely tone he let slip earlier that night.

"Try not to move."

They fear the worst only to watch confused as he rises to his feet and retreats up the steps with their daughter.

"No," Janet mumbles tearfully after them. "No!"

"Heather!" Tom cries, fighting hard against the restraints no matter how hard they hurt. "Heather!"

Something in the dark abyss of shadows stole their attention. Something Tom almost misses at first It was a most unusual sound. Something low and otherworldly... almost like a growl reverberating off of tin.

They watched with widened, bloodshot eyes as they try to make out the great beast emerging from the shadows.

"Jesus Christ,"

It's all Tom can bring himself to say, his voice in a trembling whisper.

What marched out from the shadows on its six, wobbling legs was something else entirely. A monster, he was not sure he was seeing. A demon he was not ready to face. A horror, he could not possibly fathom.

The Mind Flayer.

He had evolved past his shadowy form, yet he always lurked in darkness. He was darkness. His features remained spider-like, six long legs as tall as the ceiling it was now scraping, branching out into smaller tendrils like one grotesque, haunched tree.

But the worst part of all - the sickening detail that revealed itself as it grew closer.

The Mind Flayer was made entirely out of flesh and bone.

Tom's cries for help were stolen right out of his mouth when he felt the first touch of the monster.

Tom couldn't register much through all the fear. He felt the cold, slimy grasp swallow up his face just as surely as beard his wife's horrified shrieks. He tried to scream, tried to breathe but any and every effort in doing so brought with it more icy sludge entering his system from the source. It was like swallowing sand as he drowned, gasping in large gulps of seawater that slowly filled his lungs.

Only worse. Tom was alive to feel it. To live through it, to breath through it.

All Tom Holloway could do was peer up at the snarling monster from his one uncovered eye as he feels the icy darkness envelop him completely.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"What on earth are you doing here?" He asks. "Is something wrong?"

"We just... wanted to make sure everything was okay," Max stammered, just as confused as her friends.

A look of concern flashed over Billy's face as he inched closer. "Okay? Why wouldn't it be okay?"

"You know damn well why," I grumble, my gut lurching at my sudden bravery but Billy doesn't seem to notice.

In fact, no one did. I look at Max and El, but they haven't even flinched, neither have the man or the woman sitting in the dining room.

I looked to my left at El expectantly, as if I know she's going to speak. As if I've lived this moment before.

I'm relieved to see she doesn't seem to buy into Billy's act either.

"Where is she?" El all but growls.

I shifted on my feet, barely noticing the familiar tug of those words in the back of my head. But what would Billy say?

His eyes snap to El, and she could have sworn she almost saw that mask break.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Where is who?"

"Well, they're a little burnt, I'm sorry,"

All eyes turn to the chipper young girl striding in with a tray of cookies in her hands and a lingering smile on her face.

"Heather," I gasp, feeling a wave of relief and fear all at once.

The only troubling thing about her was the crisp cinnamon cookies in her hands. She had trailed off upon noticing the three young visitors.

"Heather!" Billy smiles, welcoming her as if she was an old friend.

I just felt like I'm seeing a ghost.

"This is my sister, Maxine," Billy chirps, turning back to the three confused girls. "And I'm sorry," he says to El, with an almost edge to his voice. "I did not quite catch your name."

I inch closer to her, my shoulder wedging over hers in a protective stance but that felt useless.

With a determined look in her eyes, she matches his steely gaze.

"El."

I grimace as Billy forces a smile. It was chilling. Truly haunting. But he was still angry, I could tell.

In fact, he was livid. Why was he so livid? What had El done?

"El." He hums. "What a pleasure it is to meet you El. And of course, who could possibly forget..."

His eyes lurched to mine and I felt my stomach drop, maybe as fast as the temperature in the whole house. Like I was plunged into ice.

I wanted to move, I tried to run but I couldn't. My legs were rooted to the spot like they were when it really happened.

And then...

His voice was a growl that grew in the back of his throat, his lips curling back in a snarl as he bared his teeth.

"You."

His hand was around my throat and my feet left the ground. I tried crying for help but my voice was gone, leaving me no choice but to claw at Billy's arms as I fought for breath. My legs were finally moving again, kicking and squirming as I tried to reach him or even the ground but they never did, no matter how close.

I had to fight to look at El and Max but they were gone, as were the Holloways. Fading away like smoke.

"Let me go!" I somehow cry. "Let me go, now!"

He blinks at me, his face a clean slate. Nothing in his features, he's almost like a projection.

My feet return to the floor and tears flood my cheeks. But I'm not free, not any more than he had listened.

He started off down the hall, where we first came from, my throat still in his grip. I was dragging along the floor, my feet kicking and shoes grabbing the wood linoleum for traction but the hall just kept getting longer.

I was crying heavily, pleading with him to let me go. I tried and tried with all my might to hurt him, but no matter what I threw at him he just kept dragging me down the hall.

He took a left and I watched behind us, still fighting as the walls gradually changed from olive-green to grey.

I sent another long, hot burst of air up at him but he didn't flinch.

The grey paint turned to white.

I clawed and scraped and melted his skin, or at least I tried to but his grip never loosened.

The white painted walls turned to a white brick.

I got more frantic, kicking and even harder and screaming at the top of my lungs, embracing the hurt. The walls shook and cracked but Billy kept walking, dragging me along.

The white brick turned to white tile as we made another turn.

"No! No! NO!"

Billy looked down at me for the first time since he grabbed me. There was a haunted, almost painted-on smile on his face as he peered down. The large fluorescent lights above our heads tinged a sickly green, hurting my eyes almost as bad as the pad of my feet trying to grip the linoleum floors.

"But you belong here."

"NO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

I continue to wail and kick and scream, even as we come to a slow. He yanks me to my feet, and I hear a dreadful click of a lock that makes me shudder.

"No," I sob. "I can't. I don't... I don't want to be here,"

Billy looks deep into my eyes, feeling like a whole other person entirely. A third person, more specifically.

Not only that, he sounds horrifically familiar.

He pushes something over my shoulder and I hear the creak of a door. And before I can protest, my body is thrown into an all brick white room as the voice continues I believe to be Billy but I realize is an all too familiar doctor.

"You don't mean that, my dearest Nine," I hear his withering voice echoing all around me as I catch my breath on all fours where I had fallen. "I know you don't want to upset your Papa,"

Tears fall from my cheeks, my rage and fear building as I prepare to throw everything I have at him. No matter what it costs.

With heaving breaths I push myself off the cold tile floors and turn to the door I was just thrown through. But all I'm met with is the same white walls. There's no door, no way out. And no one else around.

I'm all alone.

It's then I remember, I've been here before. I'm brought here often. Somewhere in the back of my head I finally register this is a nightmare but I'm too deep inside to pull myself out. Instead, in a plight of anger, I throw my fists in the wall repeatedly as I cry out in anguish until I have no breath left.

My eyes snap to my arm when I feel an excruciating pain concentrated onto my left inner wrist. I choke on another sob as I stare at the three black numbers tattooed into my skin.

𝟶𝟶𝟿

Growing more frantic, I pace the walls as my tears return, running my hands along the wall for any sort of false door or hatch until my nerve ending in my hands are shot and numb.

I collapse into the corner, hugging my chest and the white, spotted lab gown over my body.

Everything's building in me, heat sizzling off my shoulders and melting the wall and for a moment I think I found my way out. I can melt the walls, break them down but I try and try and-

[■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■]

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Y/N!"

The girl shot awake, kicking off the sheets that clung to her sweating skin, and gulped down desperate breaths of air. Max and El jumped when she did, but it Y/n moments to realize they were sitting opposite her. Farther away.

Realizing what had happened, she doubled over and threw her face in her hands with an exasperated sigh.

"Shit..." she mumbles, rubbing at the sleepiness in her eyes. "Guys, I'm sorry. I should have warned you. I've been having really bad nightmares lately and... guys?"

Y/n had to really look to see them, more specifically the looks on their faces. Hardly any light was streaming in through the windows, the sky a light and bright cobalt. But it was enough to barely accentuate the worried frown on El's face and the painful wince Max wore as she clutched her forearm and the thin layer of sweat coating their skin.

"What-? What happened?" She croaked, looking to Max. "Are you okay?"

Max shot you a quick, forced smile as she still clutched her arm.

"I'm fine, but... are you?"

Her stomach dropped and turned all at once, her mouth falling into a gasp as she brought her hands in towards herself and away from her friends.

"Did I... did I do that to you?"

She shook her head quickly, trying to examine her arm in the dark and that's when Y/n barely makes it out: a spot on her paled skin was almost the size of a coaster; dark and festering.

"Oh, my god, I didn't mean- I am so sorry, I-" Y/n's mouth remained open but the words kept getting stuck in her throat.

Finally, she jumped to her feet and kicked off the sheets still sticking to her legs, and made her way to the door.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god,"

El and Max watched as she began speedwalking out into the hall and heading for the linen closet, her voice trailing off with her in a familiar Henderson fashion. They knew they would be unable to stop her, especially in this condition.

Instead, they looked to one another, silently sharing their worry at what had just transpired.

El had stirred from the sudden and intense heat that took over Max's room, her plastic water bottle now nearly half empty and filled with condensation. And Max had awoken not from the heat but the sudden, subtle tremors shaking the house and the small glow that was peaking through her eyelids.

When she had cracked her eyes open, she had seen Y/n on the neighboring pillow, a pained look on her tinted face. Hints of her veins were cropping up on the edge of her lips and she had then felt the light kicks of her friend. She had pulled herself up, rubbing at her eyes and that's when she noticed how much she had been sweating.

The room was still in a steady rumble and El was already awake.

"What's going on?" El had whispered from across their friend.

"I don't know, I think..." Max peered down at Y/n with a pitiful look. "I think she's having a nightmare. I think she's mentioned those lately."

"What do we do?"

Max shrugged, jumping slightly when the rumble had grown loud enough for concern.

"Well, we gotta wake her," Max had said, anxiously.

Y/n's kicking had returned and soft whimpers were escaping her lips and Max felt something tug on her heart.

She reached forward, only for a hand to grab around her forearm.

Max looked down at El's hand then at El with a confused frown.

"What?"

El shoots an unsure look between her and Y/n, her face written with unease.

"Try another way," she whispers.

"I'm not sure what else to do," Max says with a shrug. "Do you?"

El frowned again, finally shaking her head in defeat. Whimpering cries grew louder and they looked to Y/n who was freely crying. And looking less than compliant, and against her better judgment, El let's go.

Max wasn't naive. She knew the likely dangers of waking her friend but she didn't want her to suffer. So instead, she bunched up the blankets over her hand and began to softly shake her.

"Y/n..."

No response. She just continued to cry, and Max had continued to shake the more she grew worried. Before she knew it, Y/n had thrown herself on her back, her hands grabbing for Max's.

Y/n kept tossing, speaking in a clear voice. "Let me go."

Max felt the intense flare of heat in her arm and she yanked it back, scrambling backward as she hissed an impressive string of curses. El had jumped, looking desperately to Max as they both felt the air grow increasingly hotter.

She watched wide-eyed as she clutched her arm, and it hadn't been until El intervened they finally got her awake.

El returned her eyes to the lesion on Max's arm and her face grows soft.

"Really okay?"

Max nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

On cue, Y/n had returned from the hall with a wet washcloth, aloe vera, and a thin bandage.

"Again, Max, I am so so sorry,"

"It's fine, really. I know you didn't do it on purpose," she winced again when it stings. "Can't say it feels great, though,"

"Here,"

Y/n flipped on the light on Max's bedside and returned to her friends' side with the supplies.

"I hadn't realized how bad it's been getting lately," Y/n explains as she begins tending to Max. "My dreams I mean, and all this,"

She looks between El and Max with a weak wince before giving Max a warning look. The redhead nods and Y/n places the washcloth onto the wound and Max hisses. It was barely colder than room temperature but that helped.

"Sorry, sorry, I know," Y/n says. Thinking twice, she hands it off to Max with a guilty smile. "Probably better you hold onto that,"

Max nodded and took the washcloth in hand as Y/n prepared the aloe vera.

"What happened?" El asked suddenly.

Y/n looked curiously at El before she realized she was asking about her dream. Her stomach dropped again, and she fought the urge to touch her throat.

"Just some freaky, memories and... well, not memories I guess. It's hard to explain."

"You can tell us," El said, touching her arm as she remembered the words Y/n had spoken to her so long ago that she had always cherished. "If you need anything... at all... we're here."

A grateful smile broke out on her face as she looked at her best friends. "Thank you."

Returning to the twist cap, she pours out a quarter-size drop of the green sludge and Max peels back the washcloth, reluctantly.

"Don't worry, I'm all cooled down," Y/n laughed. Max nodded and handed out her arm and Y/n got to work as she talked. "It really is hard to explain," she sighs. "It was last night, with Billy... but it wasn't. He was after me, and he... he hurt me. And the next thing I knew I was being dragged back."

"Back where?" The two girls both ask.

Y/n pours another drop on her fingers and continues to spread rub gentle circles into Max's skin as she looks between her friends. She bites her lip, almost afraid to bring it up in front of El.

"...at the lab." El subtly stiffens. "Which I know is impossible cause I've never been there. But it felt so real. To be honest, I've been having dreams like these - of there - a lot lately."

"That's awful,"

"I'm sorry,"

Y/n shrugs, grabbing for the ace bandage and thin square of gauze. She delicately places it over the wound and she grimaces when she gets a better long-term what she had done. It was dark red and puffy, and Y/n hoped her makeshift treatment would work.

"Not really much I can do," she says, Max holding one end of the strip as Y/n began to wrap. "I just try to remind myself I made it out."

Securing the bandage, she instinctually places a hand over the cloth, securing her work, and smiles. She turns to El, a new seriousness in her eyes and Y/n takes El's hand in her own, giving it a quick squeeze.

"We both did,"

El's smile returns and she feels a warmth spread through her and into her chest. A comforting one, much unlike the heat still lingering in the room.

At the thought, El looks at Max curiously.

"Do your windows open?"

"Yeah," she frowns. "Why?"

El flicks her head and a soft click goes off behind them, followed by the suction of air leaving the room suddenly. Y/n and Max yank their gaze to the window to see it peeled open, letting in a cool breeze through the half-shut blinds.

She swipes at her nose, and the room falls silent as the three meet eyes and a grin breaks out on all three as they begin to laugh.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

First Nations: "Invest in Native Communities"

A Aide Variety of Links and Info on Multiple Native Owned Businesses to Support

Navajo Water Project

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

The Tower: Happily Ever After - 2

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1849

Warnings: Pregnancy and minor language on chapter.

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children. Yet things aren’t perfect. Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 2: Anger Issues

When Marya returned home from school that day we were all ready to meet her. Marya was sixteen years old, a little taller than I was, with dark hair and light brown eyes - just like Bruce. Those weren’t the only things she’d inherited from her biological father. She was extremely intelligent and had been skipped ahead a grade in school. There had been talk about skipping her ahead more than that, but it wasn’t something encouraged in schools due to the strain it has on children’s emotional and social development. So instead she was finishing up high school with her peer group while taking college courses as electives.

She also had her own little green problem.

Her powers worked differently from Bruce’s. She could turn into a hulk, and that transformation could be triggered by extreme negative emotions - not just anger, but when she was really sad or anxious too. Unlike Bruce though, she never had to worry about sharing her body with another person. When she changed she was always herself and generally she had such precision control over the transformation that she could do it on command, much as Bruce could after the bonding ceremony all those years ago.

She looked around suspiciously at us as we called her over to the couches by the large window, typically the place where we had family meetings. It was usually where we spoke to the kids if they had done something they probably shouldn’t have. We took an approach with our parenting where they didn’t usually get in trouble for misbehaving. Rather we tried to think of a real-world consequence for what they’d done. For example, if they were fighting they had to sit down and listen to each other’s grievances and then work out a way to both come to an understanding about how the other feels and try to make each other feel better. It didn’t always work, but we figured it was better than arbitrarily making them go sit in the corner. So it made sense that she’d think she was in trouble for something.

“What’d I do?” She asked, dropping her backpack on the ground while she stood looking at her gathered parents.

“Why don’t you tell us?” Sam teased. “And we’ll tell you if that’s it.”

“I’m not falling for that,” Marya snarked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Honey, sit down,” Steve said, gently. “You’re not in trouble. We just need to tell you something.”

Marya sat down carefully, looking at everyone with deep suspicion. “Is someone else pregnant? Are you trying to populate Earth with just our family?”

“No,” Clint laughed. “What the hell?”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, honey, I sometimes think the same thing,” I said. “But that’s not what this is.”

“Your Aunt Angela came to visit today,” Steve explained. “She’s giving up the throne of Asgard.”

“Does that mean Riley’s going to be queen?” Marya asked, looking over at Thor. “I can’t believe my sister’s going to be the queen of a whole other planet.”

Thor shook his head. “Riley is still too young to rule by Asgardian standards. My people - our people - would consider that the equivalent of having Zak as their king. I have to step up and take the lead.”

“Which means, we are moving to Asgard,” Steve finished. “I know that...”

“What?” Marya yelped, interrupting Steve as she blinked at us. “When?”

“Within the month,” Steve said.

“But I have school!” Marya shouted. Her fists clenched and she started to turn green at the edges. “And what about my friends? You can’t just take me away from everyone I ever knew!”

“Mar,” Bruce said, gently. “Deep breath. Get that under control.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel!” Marya shouted, slamming her hands on the coffee table and sending a large crack through the heavy wood. I jumped a little, startled at her violent reaction, and the green started to creep into her arms starting at her hands, making her muscles swell and double in size.

Sam moved forward and crouched in front of his daughter, taking both her hands in his and looking into her eyes. “Marya,” Sam said with a gentle yet commanding tone. “I know you’re upset, but you need to talk about this rationally. If you can’t talk about it, you’re gonna have to go to your room to cool off first.”

She started crying and pulled her hands out of his. “It’s not fair!” She cried. “I don’t even get a say about whether or not you take me away from my friends. My whole goddamn planet?”

“Honey,” Steve said, wrapping his arm around Marya’s shoulders. “I know this is tough. I really do. But we’re partially doing it for you.”

“I don’t see how taking me from my friends is somehow supposed to be good for me,” she grumbled.

“Alright, kid,” Natasha said. “I’m going to give you some harsh truths here. You’re going to lose them anyway. Maybe not all of them anytime soon, but the ones you would have kept in your life you’d have had to watch age and die. Just like we all have done and are with our friends and family. We want to save you what’s happening with Rose. We don’t want you to have to fall in love and then watch them fade out while you’re stuck looking like you can’t buy a beer.”

Marya started crying harder and fell into Steve’s side and Wanda glared at Natasha. “You didn’t have to be so harsh,” Wanda snapped.

“Well babying her wasn’t doing it either,” Natasha argued. “She needs to hear it. She might not like it, but going to Asgard is what’s best for her.”

“Can’t I even finish school?” Marya begged. “I could stay with Eddie - or Rose. Or one of my friends. And then… then I’ll come.”

“There will be school for you on Asgard,” Thor said. “And it will teach you things that far outreach anything any of you have learned on Midgard. Riley and Pietro both attend and they learn of the world tree, and alien languages, advanced mathematics, and magic. You are already holding yourself back to fit in, daughter. You would never have to hide any part of you in Asgard. Not your intelligence, and not this -” he tapped her arm where it was still tinged with green.

“And I’ll make it so you can talk to your friends here. We’ll set up a line of communication,” Tony added. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my kids don’t go without Tumblr and Instagram. Imagine how many followers you’ll get posting selfies in Asgard.”

“I already have a tonne of followers, dad,” Marya sniffed. “I’m a Skjodbærer.”

“Yes, you are,” Tony said. “And don’t you forget it. The whole universe is yours.”

“We’ll make sure we come back to visit,” I said. “We all still have friends here, and places we like to spend our time.”

“Yeah, who’s going to annoy Katie-Kate if I’m not around?” Clint joked.

Marya let out a small laugh that was still more tears than actual laughter. “I’m sure she’d hate not being annoyed by you.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Clint said and patted Marya on the thigh.

“We aren’t doing this to punish you, Mar,” Sam soothed. “I promise. We’ve all been talking about this for a long time, and we were going to wait, but your dad can’t anymore. He has to go and rule his kingdom. And sometimes we have to give up what we want to do for what we need to.”

Marya let out a long slow breath and nodded. “I know. I know, dad. They’re still my friends though and I’m still sad about it.”

“I know,” Wanda said. “Being sad is normal.”

“Can I have a goodbye party?” Marya asked.

“Look who you’re talking to,” Tony teased. “The biggest.”

She sat silently for a moment and nodded again. “If I really hate it, can I come back again?”

“You need to give it a proper chance,” Steve said.

“I will,” she assured him. “I just… I don’t…”

“If you really hate it, you can come back,” I said, cutting Steve off before he had a chance to reply. “We won’t like it, but our kids being happy and healthy is the thing we want most. We just think… in the long run, this is the best option for that.”

“I know,” Marya said. She looked around at anyone and kicked at her bag. “Can I go now?”

“One thing first,” Steve said, tapping the table where she cracked it. “What are we going to do about this?”

Marya sighed and looked at it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“And…?” Steve pressed.

“And… I’ll go see if I can find someone who can repair it. If I can’t, I’ll shop for a suitable replacement. And… and I’ll volunteer at the soup kitchen for the Sundays before we leave as a stand-in for the fact I don’t need to earn money to pay for these things.”

“Good girl,” Steve said. “Dinner will be at 6.30.”

Marya stood up and grabbed her back. “Okay.”

“Marya,” I said. “We love you.”

She smiled a little and nodded. “I love you all too.”

We watched her disappear up the stairs and Bruce sat back and ran his palms over his scalp. “I really need to help her deal with her anger.”

Bucky patted his arm. “It’s usual teen stuff. We’ve seen it before -” he gestured to me “- we’ll see it again.”

“Yeah, but when any of the others got upset we didn’t have to worry about them breaking the building,” Bruce said.

“Umm… do I need to remind you about that tantrum Riley had that meant we had to remodel her room,” I said.

Bruce chuckled and nodded. “Right. I guess.”

“It won’t hurt to work with her more,” Sam said. “But don’t think that her having a temper is on you. She’s hyper-intelligent and smart kids often deal with anxiety because they’re always thinking ten steps ahead about all the potential terrible outcomes.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony snarked.

“Yes, Tony, you’re a genius, we all know,” Bucky teased.

“I do not like that I am the reason for her distress,” Thor said. “We could always go back to how it was before Angela took the throne.”

“And barely get to see you?” Clint said. “I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

“That’s not going to happen, Thor,” Steve said. “We’ve been talking about this for a while. It’s time. Sometimes kids have to move because their parents are. It’s not fun for them. But she will adapt and it is better it happens sooner than for her to fall into this society's expectations for when she should be doing things.”

Thor nodded, though he didn’t look completely convinced.

“Alright,” Clint said, clapping his hands. “Enough about moody teenagers. We have a lot to work out.”

“It’s going to be a big change,” I said. “But we’ve gotten really good at those, and in my experience, they always worked out for the best.”

// NEXT

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Two

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 2 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this chapter: brief reference/hint to past sexual assault.

Word Count: 7,500+

A/N: Thank you so much for your excitement about this series! I always smile when I read your comments. Sorry for such a long chapter, but it’s only ten parts and I gotta fit all somewhere lol

Unknown Location, 2015, 10:46pm

The tightness of the rope wrapped around your wrists was excruciating, each movement causing it to rub against the already damaged skin, leaving more angry, red marks. You whipped your head back and forth, anger and fear coursing through your veins as you stared your father down. You watched as he carefully maneuvered his way around the room, every back straightening as he walked past them, every gun cocked and pointed right at you. Your nose twitched up as he walked closer, inspecting the ropes tying your feet to the chair and so on. You accumulated all the spit you could and aimed it for his face, pride washing over you as it hit him perfectly. But as quickly as that pride built, it shattered, a stinging sensation on your cheek now overpowering any other sense.

“You cost me ten million.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to let it slip as you did not want another beating. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same!”

“Don’t tell me what I would have done!”

You flinched inwardly, your face still blushing with growing madness. If only you could loosen these bonds…

“You will know to not mess up again.”

And as your father left the room, the men lined up against the wall finally let their shoulders fall forward, their once blank faces now donning sadistic smiles.

The Compound, 2018, 2:07am

You sat up from your mound of pillows, kicking them to the side as well as the heavy blanket. Your ears rang impossibly loud, and it wasn’t until your feet touched your bedroom floor that you could hear yourself screaming. Your body was drenched in sweat, sliding easily on your wood floor as you kicked to escape the blanket.

Sharp knocks against your door startled you, sudden ‘please, don’t!’’s escaping your mouth. Hyperventilating was always tiring, you thought, and the air was now super cold as you sucked it into your lungs.

“Doll, please? I’m coming in.”

The light from the hallway blinded you so you lifted your arm up as a temporary shield.

“No, no! I’m good… I didn’t lose it. Please, trust me!”

“Y/N…”

You lowered your arm and stared at your nighttime intruder, instincts kicking in upon settling your teary eyes on him and causing you to groan in displeasure.

“Don’t look at me.”

“Y/N.”

“I said don’t look at me.”

Steve sighed in defeat and walked back to your door. You thought he was going to simply leave you be, letting you ride out this panic attack alone like all the others. But he shut the door and made his way over to your couch on the other side of the room, plopping himself down and leaning his sleepy head in his right hand. It had been six months since the world literally fell apart, an unknown feeling of terror that simply sat at the pit of stomachs eating away at whatever sanity its host still had, plaguing the world. Tiredness was second nature, never actually reducing its power no matter how much sleep one got. But leaving you here to suffer each individual thread being pulled from your remaining sanity, alone, wasn’t an option.

“Why are you staying?”

“I have nightmares, too. You aren’t that special.”

You rolled your eyes, hands now massaging your aching chest. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Y/N, you were screaming for help.”

“I scream for a lot of things.”

You figured Steve would succumb to his growing annoyance, but he stayed patient.

“Was it about…?”

You sighed and pulled yourself up to your feet, knees wobbly and thighs alerting you of the droplets of sweat that beaded down your legs. “No. I don’t dream about the snap.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You let out a rather angry sigh. You were now rubbing your eyes, cleaning them of the accumulation of hard mucus. “I seriously don’t want to talk about this particular incident.”

Steve huffed through his nose and you were ready to pounce on him to tear that beard from his face, but stopped when you saw his small smile and genuine empathy in his eyes. “Okay, I won’t push you.”

You just stared at him, eyes wide and confused. But you nodded slowly, eyes now diverting to the blanket below you.

“I’m just so fucking happy the snap took my father.”

Steve’s lifted his head quickly by your abrupt confession, eyebrows furrowed and lips frozen, as if wrapped around a lost word he couldn’t verbally address. He understood, but it shocked him nonetheless.

He ignored it, or at least chose to avoid an immediate discussion about it, and stood from your couch.

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wanted to throw him out. Him being across the room and near the wall was starting to trigger more flashbacks.

It’s Steve. It’s just Steve.

“Can you stay?”

Steve stumbled slightly in his step, clearly uncomfortable with your request. But he was a good man and when one of his teammates needed help, he would do whatever he could. And you were one of the only teammates he had left.

“Okay,” he said. But as he made his way back to the couch and away from you, sudden racks of itchiness stretched from your wrists to the middle of your chest. You stumbled from the bed, arms extended outward as if you were still shielding yourself from some incoming attack.

“No, no! Just…”

Steve watched your movements carefully, trying to discern between fear or awkwardness. He sighed and let you see his hands, turning them over in the air.

“It’s me. Tell me where you want me.”

You were in control. Just tell him where you want him.

“I’ll lay here,” you started, getting back into the right side of the bed and pulling the covers up to your hips. “You there, but upside down.”

Steve chuckled and followed your commands. You watched him walk, feeling the dip of your mattress as his heavy body lay down. You were grateful when his sock-covered feet touched your left side pillow, his chuckles gaining volume as he tried to get comfortable.

“Do I at least get a blanket?”

“Oh!” you leapt from the bed and to the closet. He listened to your soft pitter-patter as you shuffled across the cold floor, shutting his eyes to relish in the childish melody. You passed Steve two heavy blankets, mindful of the cold weather outside. Then you climbed back into bed, passing Steve a few pillows, and snuggling back into your own.

A few shifts of the blankets made you open your eyes again. Steve was not as stiff as you expected him to be - almost like he wanted to help you - and you mentally slapped yourself remembering that he would do this for Bucky.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You took solace in the fact that he couldn’t see the tiny grin on your face. “Thank you.”

Steve smiled up at the ceiling, thankful that he could still help others even when he himself was falling apart. “You’re welcome.”

Present Day, 2025, 9:45am

If anyone were to truly study Steve, they would see he was starting to act his age. He enjoyed fluffy socks, tea instead of coffee, sketching in the secluded garden of the new compound - anything a man pushing a hundred would truly enjoy. And he found himself shaving less, watching every new movie released regardless of genre, and eating much more oatmeal than usual. He remembers how whenever Bucky had saved up just enough for them to splurge on items they never usually indulged in, oatmeal would always be his go to. It was still a common ‘peasant’ meal for the two young bachelors, but Bucky would heat it up with fresh milk he had bought that morning, added the fresh strawberries and dates that were in season, and sprinkled brown sugar - damn, Steve loved brown sugar - on top. Bucky would place the bowl in front of Steve, ignoring Steve’s constant blabbering about ‘Buck, we can’t afford this’, or ‘you don’t need to spend your hard-earned money on me, you jerk’. But he would quickly shut up once Bucky’s perfected oatmeal recipe landed on his eager tongue and filled his happy stomach. Regardless of those past memories of young roommates searching for loose change in their couch and more recent ones of two reunited best friends sharing looks of awe whenever they saw how much milk and brown sugar now costs, Steve was certain the old man in him was just barely emerging.

He definitely didn’t skip the irritated attitude phase every old man seemed to develop as the years passed, his resting facial expressions and movements starting to match those of his best friend. Grumpy, tired all the time regardless of the serum, and asking each other instead of the modern people around them how to work their phones. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, or go on a jog, or watch a movie - anything - rather than having to give a briefing about something he hadn’t had to think about for seven years. And although he had the chance to use the stones before and didn’t, Steve couldn’t quite help wishing that he was transported back to his and Bucky’s old and crumbling apartment, fighting over that one knitted blanket Bucky had bought for the both of them with his last dime.

You seemed happier with your whole family situation after the snap, but he never wanted to ask. Whether you were putting on a brave face for him, he was rid of it momentarily only to be pushed into the chaos all over again. But this time was different because you were finally going to end it all. Finish what you had started all those years ago - then maybe Steve could take that afternoon nap he wanted.

“Talk to me. How are we doing this?”

Fury pulled up a screen with all the photos and biographies, essentially a powerpoint prepared by both you and Steve.

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, sir. But I know my family and their schemes better than anyone,” you said. Fury knew this was true and the plan would ultimately be mapped out by you. His input was always welcome, but you knew the small details - their personalities, their weaknesses, their strengths, even the way they took their coffee. You even knew which of them sampled their product before sending it off on a cross-country road trip.

Steve stood beside the monitor, using this finger to change the screen. “So, we’re looking for our physical proof. A paper trail detailing land and their product, contacts, storage units, aliases - the works.”

You nodded at Fury and your teammates. “Exactly. The hardest things to obtain will most definitely be evidence about my father’s involvement. Proof he gave the orders and profited from them.”

“Your word isn’t enough?” Sam asked.

“No, not unless I throw myself under the bus as well. It’s his word against mine unless I can prove these things were all his doing,” you responded, taking a sip from your water.

The only other people in the briefing room besides Steve and Fury were Sam, Bucky and Scott. Everyone else would get a brief overview later on this week, but these three were specifically chosen by Fury to help aid you in the actual physical fight.

“The wedding is the perfect distraction,” Scott spoke. “Almost like this was made for a heist.”

Steve released a heavy sigh, his patience already wearing thin. “Not a heist.”

“Close enough,” Scott shrugged, gaining a grin from you across the table. He smiled at your reaction and sent you a wink.

“Agent, we have to go over the basics and any new information you can provide,” Fury encouraged.

You motioned toward Steve to bring up the photos on the monitor, “Let’s start with the basics.”

Steve took over for the first portion of your presentation. You didn’t mind - in fact, the more control he had in this would certainly help ease his mind and you definitely did not want a stressed out Steve Rogers accompanying you on a twelve hour road trip.

“Ernesto Vega, father of Y/N Y/L/N, born 1950 in Guadalajara, Mexico, but because of the snap, the 80 year old is still only 75.”

“Damn, your father is old!”

You laughed at Sam’s outburst, “Yup, and I got like ten half-siblings.”

Sam sat up straighter, “No way?”

“Way.”

“Daniel Seda,” Steve continued, his voice louder. “Vega’s second in command, born 1970, currently 55 years old. Took over as top commander after the snap, and according to Y/N he didn’t take it well when everyone was brought back.”

“Hmm, threatened to put another bullet in me,” you teased, pointing at your stomach where the scar underneath your shirt had already long healed. You could have sworn you heard Steve’s breath hitch, but even if it did, he had quickly covered it by swiping the monitor.

“But her father saw this as proof of loyalty. Because no matter how much he knows Y/N hates him, she still brought him back.”

You lifted your shoulders, arms in the air as if imitating the nonverbal form of ‘oh, well!’, and your thin smile caused your cheeks to pop out comically.

“So, Seda hates you?” Bucky asked, chuckles still vibrating in his chest from your previous childish movements.

You brushed your hand through the air, “Not the first man to hate me and not the last.”

Steve snickered. You could say that again.

“The wedding will be held at Vega’s personal and private ten-acre ranch in Northern California-”

“A lovely fall wedding!”

Steve bit his tongue, eyes never leaving the monitor. “Sure… and it’s perfect. He’s wanted and he’s going to be on U.S soil.”

You stood from your chair and grabbed the electronic marker from the desk. You circled the main points of entry plus the directions of secret exits hoping to emphasize the ‘private’ part of Steve’s statement. “And since it’s his most private getaway and no one would suspect he would hide important shit on said U.S soil, I’m about ninety-eight percent sure our proof is there.”

You pulled up the blueprints and marked a giant ‘X’ on the farthest corner room in the west end. It was your father’s office.

“Ninety-eight?” Sam asked, reviewing the printed blueprints himself.

You twirled the marker between your fingers, “My dad is clever. My other two percent is telling me there’s no evidence at all.”

Scott clutched his chest in relief, “Okay, at least one outweighs the other.”

You shared another laugh with the ‘regular-sized man’.

Steve continued listing the basics, all while Fury sat toward the edge of the long table reviewing the screen. “The other two big names in the drug game are Omar Ramirez and Marcus White. Ramirez runs most things from Mexico City to San Antonio, Texas and he’s probably the least evil of them all. White runs Europe, specifically Germany and England.”

You interjected, “Ramirez focuses on the product. He orders his men to focus on the business instead of the outside world - meaning, no unnecessary kills, no violence toward women and children, no killing cops or citizens. Just producing and transporting.”

Almost forgetting he was there, Fury’s voice somewhat startled you. “Vega has lost men to Ramirez, men who wanted a change in scenery.”

You nodded in confirmation, “They aren’t necessarily enemies but they’re no besties either.”

Sam rolled the blueprints back up and handed them to Bucky. “So, we’re taking them all down?”

“The big three. Plus Seda,” Steve declared, finally taking his first sip of water in what felt like forever. If he didn’t want anyone to know he was nervous about this mission, he was for sure failing.

You hummed, “Vega and Seda are also the only ones who know of Steve’s involvement.”

“How’d that happen?” Bucky asked.

“Because Steve only ‘transports’ my father’s product. Not the others. Steve’s role is essentially to green light the passages and is my main pull,” you clarified.

It was true - Steve didn’t do or touch anything. And you thought this best considering he was America’s golden boy - you couldn’t possibly bear real involvement from him. This wasn’t his world and never should have been but it was yours.

You dealt with people directly. You took out the snitches. You handled the product during inspections. You did it all - and not because you thought Steve was some fragile soul who couldn’t achieve the same results - but because you brought him into that mess during a time in his life when he definitely didn’t need it.

“But how did it happen?”

You shrugged, hoping your answer would suffice for the rest of the group as it never does for Steve. “When I first started out as a field agent, my father didn’t trust I was doing it for him. The more I promoted, the more suspicious he got. It wasn’t until we exposed SHIELD as half-HYDRA that he was done with me.”

Fury interjected once again, “So, Y/L/N here had to pull rank out of her ass.”

You snorted, “Thanks, Fury. That sounded nice.”

“I told them that I had the literal symbol of America by my side. That defeating HYDRA was only to get his friend back, not to save the world. Plus, I told them that HYDRA was targeting all of them. And once I could get proof - a forged recording made by Fury before he went into hiding - well, it was like the greatest example of submission.”

“Why didn’t you say Tony?”

That certainly was a question Steve always had and wanted answered. God, he really hoped you had said Tony.

“Because I got the literal symbol of America as a partner-in-crime. My father almost told me he loved me... almost.”

You sat back down in your chair, a tiny puff of air escaping your lips. “And that made Seda furious. I may hate my father, but Seda is the main threat to blowing this whole operation.”

If anything, you wanted your father deader than dirt, silenced by the one child he always regretted bringing into the world. He had tortured you in more ways than you thought possible.

“Now, I thought my dad was bad.”

You fell back onto the couch before retrieving your cup of coffee you had placed on the table. Nebula gave you a tiny chuckle in return.

“Yes, mine has eradicated half the universe. I win ‘worst father’.”

You sipped your coffee, trying and failing to block out the banter between Rocket and Tony as they discussed the location of the space stone. “You know, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”

Nebula chewed her dinner slowly, listening to you ramble on about anything that popped into your mind. She knew this was your coping mechanism - to just keep talking until someone shut you up. But she enjoyed it, really, because you spoke of topics that she didn’t quite understand or know about. She learned something new everyday simply by listening to you.

“I should have thanked Thanos for dusting his ass, though.”

Nebula stopped mid-chew, blank expression but the hint of a twitch in her lip visible.

“I’m joking.”

You had asked her once why Thanos had spared her and Tony when he snapped his fingers. But Nebula had no rational answer, only responding that he must have spared her out of last minute pity and Tony to live through the consequences. And the tiny voice inside your head knocked again, reminding you that ‘maybe this snap was overall a good thing - your father can’t hurt you anymore!’, but you shut it up as quickly as it came.

“So, how many planets are there in the universe, really?”

Fury began piling files in one folder, making sure to hand out the sheet with names and contact numbers of agents stationed close to the venue and your chosen hotel.

“We’ll get into mission specifics at a later date once Rogers and Y/L/N are settled and scope out the place. For now, study up on your targets and perfect your acting skills.”

You assumed you would only need one big suitcase for the trip, only packing essentials and extra shirts just in case. You rolled your clothes tightly, securing your signature perfume and some jewelry inside some sweaters. You hid identifiable items in the small compartments - your passport, journal, old SHIELD tag, driver’s license, etc. It was the paranoid side of you taking over, the possibility of having your cover blown likely and frightening. The amount of times you had ventured into the general vicinity of your father and his crew always proved safer than you expected. But there could always be that day he simply didn’t want you around anymore.

So, you prepared in the smallest and even cringiest ways possible - resorting to drafting letters for those you wanted to remember you after you had been taken out. You paused your packing to grab your spare journal. You spent a good hour writing. A letter to Wanda, to Bucky, to Peter, to Rhodey, to Sam. Some were shorter than others - others extending to over two pages. But your mind was racing with things you hoped they would never have to read, scattered thoughts and only hints of identifiable wit penned on paper.

You tucked the letters behind the fabric you had recently ripped open. You planned on duct-taping the rip, your eyes drifting back over to your journal. You tapped your foot rapidly for a few seconds, fingers twisting in anticipation, mind still clear enough to draft one more. You quickly picked the pen right back up, sitting on the edge of your bed and starting the letter you might regret later. But at that moment, with the horrible prospect of dying on this mission, you wrote.

‘Steve,

Believe when I say that I was so sure I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…’

You wrote and wrote until your handwriting grew sloppy at the edge of the paper, and signed it. You tucked the final letter into the hole and taped it shut. You really hoped you would be able to survive and burn those written words later.

A soft knock sounded from across the room and your bedroom door opened to reveal Steve, light blue dress shirt tucked into his jeans like the old man he truly was. You couldn’t help but grin at that, cursing your involuntary actions for this man.

“Hey.”

“You doing okay?” you asked, continuing to fold clothing into your suitcase. He leaned against your door, hesitant. Steve often wondered why and how he could go days, weeks - one time even a whole month - without speaking to or seeing you. He was an expert at one word answers by now, opting to always have someone else around whenever he seriously had to carry a conversation with you. But what struck him the most was that you didn’t seem to care anymore. He witnessed the change - hell, he was the one that caused it - but it was a change that he both wanted and didn’t. How was it so easy for you?

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he responded and walked over to your couch to sit.

You cleared your throat, hoping to make this conversation the least awkward you could. “Because this was literally sprung on both of us after almost ten years of waiting.”

“I’m okay.”

You accepted his answer. He looked comfortable enough, shoulders relaxed and genuinely interested. There was a part of you that wanted to rush over and shake him, yell at him for being so clueless and fake at the same time. There was no possible way he was fully okay with everything - he hadn’t been himself since the snap, and when Natasha and Tony died, he was someone else entirely. You had brought it up with Bucky several times, but he assured you that Steve was just dealing with things his own way. That he was still a man out of time, they both were, and battle after battle could take its toll. And Bucky would hype their therapist up, that they were the reason he and Steve are able to walk in public without that constant voice warning of danger in the back of their heads, and that you should schedule a visit sometime. You always declined, asking him to call you if he truly needed another person to talk to. He would smile, taking you up on your offer whenever a day was particularly triggering.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was sixteen. Ten years really just flew by… considering.”

Steve nodded, “Is there anything I should know?”

You hummed, “If you mean things about my family, then I’ll just tell you on the way there or at the hotel.”

He chuckled and stood to lean against your bedpost. “No, I mean like, what should I pack just in case?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed at such an innocent question, “Um, comfy socks. It’s pretty cold in California in the winter. Gas money, it’s pretty fucking expensive, too.”

He smiled, “Good to know.”

The two of you packed in silence for several minutes. Steve helped you roll your clothes and gather your toiletries, even asking you if you wanted to bring your current toothbrush or the new one in your bottom drawer.

You knew you shouldn’t have spoken about the topic burning in your throat, but you felt like you had to say something. If you mentioned it during the mission, you risked a larger argument than the one you would get now. So you formulated your next sentence carefully, already bracing for impact as it slipped.

“Look, the elephant in the room should be addressed. Once my father’s dealt with, I have no reason to stay here.”

Steve clipped the belt over the top of your clothes, securing the items tightly. He seemed disoriented, your sudden proclamation startling him. “What do you mean? You did the work, you trained, you helped us literally save the world.”

You shrugged and kept your voice light, “Yeah, but I started this gig when I was sixteen. I didn’t join the Avengers until I was freshly in my twenties. I’ve literally known nothing else but fighting.”

Steve sat at the edge of your bed, furrowed eyebrows and all as he chose his next words. He felt both angry and sad, a mixture of feelings that he never quite grew accustomed to whenever he was around you. They ate away at him slowly, creeping into his brain to wrap around his common sense, his sense of self, the man he was before the snap.

“Are you saying you just need a break?”

“I think,” you shrugged, zipping the suitcase and tugging its weight off your bed and onto the floor.

“What about Wanda and Bucky?”

You scrunched your face in amused confusion, a playful smile resting on your lips, “I’m not falling off the face of the Earth, Steve. I’ll visit or something.”

“Or something.”

He stood and walked back to your couch, restless and even more stressed than he was before he entered your room.

“Steve, we lost so much. It’s been two years since we brought everyone back, but… it took its toll.”

He snapped his head up, “You don’t need to tell me about shit taking its toll.”

You felt like you stared at him for several minutes, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach and traveling up your throat. That familiar lump constricting your airway as you forced yourself to swallow it and the forming tears. And once again, your mouth spoke before your mind could approve.

“Why didn’t you use the stones for yourself?”

Steve sat, shocked into silence temporarily. “What?”

“When you and Carol put the stones back - why didn’t you stay somewhere you really wanted to be?”

You remember watching him step onto the platform holding the briefcase of infinity stones and holding Mjollnir, - because of fucking course he could wield Mjollnir, he was a good man even if you were on his bad side - simply minding his own business and waiting for Carol to join him. You remember thinking he would return with a different story, only after he got some of that life Tony had always encouraged him to find, that he would go back to Peggy and live the life he always wanted. But as quickly as they disappeared into thousands of timelines did they reappear, Carol joyful and content while Steve trailed behind her. Your heart had pounded erratically, Bucky looking at you with wide eyes because yes, I thought he would do exactly what you were thinking, too.

“None of your business.”

“I’m not trying to pry-” you reasoned, but Steve stepped toward you with flushed cheeks and a cracked voice.

“But all you do is pry, pry, pry. God, do you ever just shut up?”

All you could hear behind the ringing of your ears were Steve’s quick breaths, slowing as each second passed and he realized what he had said. A moment of weakness, in his opinion, but still uncalled for.

“Pack some snacks for the road and get out of my room.”

Steve straightened his back, eyes practically yelling for you to look at him again, pleading for you to see the remorse swimming in them. But you just tugged your suitcase to the corner of your room, ignoring him completely. “Gladly.”

You and Steve were mature enough to keep your arguments at least a hundred miles away from any mission you were conducting or when around your friends. A quick quarrel in the morning was basically nonexistent a few hours later when the whole group suggested a board game or movie night. Although this impromptu road trip would be the slightest bit awkward, you two were smart enough to not compromise the mission.

And you had to drive as flying and airport security was too risky, especially with the amount of weapons attached to your body and in the trunk of that rented car.

“Call us when you hit the first checkpoint. After that, we’ll be monitoring your hotel check-in and any new ones, police reports filed throughout that week, anything that directly involves your stay,” Bucky said, handing you a burner phone.

You stepped forward to hug him. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He gave you a tight squeeze, releasing you slightly to whisper in your ear. “Try not to kill him for the next twelve hours, will ya?”

You pulled away and gave him your best grin, bumping your bracelet with his. “You know I can’t promise that, Bucky.”

He rolled his eyes, “You kill him, I kill you.”

“Ugh, don’t tease me.” Bucky almost burst out laughing from the fake, pornographic moan you let out because of his threat.

“No, but seriously - just… lay low, trust each other, and we’ll be there in the next few days.”

You slid the burner into your sweater pocket and patted it, checking if it was secure. You waved goodbye to Bucky and pulled the passenger door open. You blew him a kiss, red lipstick now on your fingers. “Can’t wait to see you!”

Bucky stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, an embarrassed but happy smile on his face. He caught the floating kiss mid-air. “Already miss you!”

“Stop, I’m blushing!” you teased, your left hand resting palm up on your forehead in an exaggerated manner.

“Go!”

You obliged, falling into the passenger seat and clicking your seatbelt.

Twenty minutes into the drive and Steve finally decided to speak.

“So, you and Bucky?”

You giggled, thumbs currently flying over your phone screen as you tried to beat your high score in some awful video game you discovered last week. “Yup, I got him wrapped around my finger.”

Steve’s hand fidgeted on the steering wheel, “Seriously?”

You closed out your video game, “No, Steve. It’s mindless flirting. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Ahh…” he nodded in understanding, a lazy smile resting on his face. He focused on both the road and you, your head leaning against the foggy window. “About earlier-”

“Don’t mention it,” you interrupted. The second you peaked through your heavy eyelids did you lock eyes with Steve, regret visible in them.

He continued, “I blew up at you and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Cool, you’re forgiven.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned quietly, but you weren’t getting angry. You were just tired from the day already and having to sit for twelve hours straight wasn’t going to help. So, you took the high road. “Look, it’s a twelve hour drive until our first stop. Let’s forget about it or else I promise you, I will jump out of this car when you push eighty.”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled in his chest due to your absurd promise, but he accepted your answer.

“...Okay.”

By hour two, there was a restlessness between the both of you. No matter how much you extended your leg, the cramping wouldn’t go away. No matter how many times Steve would twist his neck to the side to get it to crack, it would just tighten again. So, against protocol but still on your best behavior, you and Steve made a couple stops along the way.

The first was a burger joint in the middle of buttfuck Ohio, you had commented, earning a choking sound from Steve as he tried to contain his laughter. It was a hole in the wall type of place, perfect for lying low and out of sight, and you had enjoyed your meal in the car. You listened to Steve’s playlist on low volume, stealing each other’s fries to simply piss the other off, and hit the road after your meal.

The second stop was around hour eight, and the sun was already starting to set. You desperately needed to use the bathroom and once you saw a tiny town that ‘looks so much like the town in Gilmore Girls!’, Steve pulled over and parked in a diner parking lot. Donning caps and ordering a coffee and a tea to go to seem less suspicious, you hurried from the diner and back to your car. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyeing a gazebo with a black miniature fence around it. You begged Steve to snap a photo, promising that this would be the only favor you ask of him for the next few hours, and went to hitch one leg over the metal fence. You settled yourself on top, hands gripping the railing and trying not to fall. You started to laugh uncontrollably as the fence started hurting your bottom, begging Steve to snap the photo quicker.

‘Take the damn picture, you big oaf!’

‘Well, then hold still!’

‘It’s hurting my ass!’

‘Smile!’

The third stop was the final one, somewhere in Iowa and deep in the forest. You complained about how Fury warned you of motels, that you would have to seek shelter elsewhere to avoid being recognized. You could easily blend in, but the mountain of muscle beside you would blow your cover. And you wanted to arrive in California undetected by the media.

Steve drove the car into a dark and secluded part of the forest, ground that seemed used by campers often and had an emergency phone and landline nearby. It was secret enough, so you parked the car and retrieved the blankets from the trunk.

“You taking the back?” Steve asked, jumping back into the car and rubbing his hands together because of the chilly weather. His face was flushed from just a few seconds out in the cool breeze, nose frozen and the tip red. He looked younger, you thought, somewhat resembling those renditions of Greeks in renaissance art.

“You’ve been driving all day. You should stretch your legs,” you answered, already wrapping the blanket up to your shoulders and securing it around your neck.

“You sure? We can alternate.”

You smiled, already feeling the effects of the warmth on your tired body, “I’m sure, Steve. Get some rest and I’ll drive in the morning.”

Steve exited the car after turning it off - sucks that you had to save the gas - and hopped into the backseat. He kicked off his shoes and lay across the connected seat, facing you. He could see the outline of your nose as you tilted your head slightly to the side, the blanket wrapped around your neck and hiding the real length of your hair. It resembled a bob cut by how half of it was hidden, and Steve thought that hairstyle would suit you.

Your personal phone rang, cutting through the comfortable silence and startling the both of you. You fumbled it in your hand and looked back at Steve, face falling as you showed him the name.

Seda.

“Answer it on the third ring.”

You did as Steve told you, answering the phone on the third ring and preparing your voice. He scrambled for the tape recorder, pressing ‘play’ as soon as he could.

“You rarely call me. To what do I owe the pleasure?” you answered.

His voice sounded hoarse over the phone, almost like he had just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes. “Are you attending?”

“My dear sister is getting married, Seda. Of course I’m going to embarrass her.”

He paused for a few moments, sounding like he was directing the people around him to finish something. But he responded to your answer in a serious tone. “I hope you’re being your usual sarcastic self and aren’t serious.”

You rolled your eyes and pointed at the phone, and Steve’s lips spread into a smile. “You’ve known me long enough to know, I hope.”

“Sadly.”

“I’m hurt,” you joked, voice still light and cheerful. Seda paused on the line again, the sound of papers rustling letting you know the line was still active.

“I need to know if the Captain is attending too.”

“He was invited,” you responded, laughing a little at the fact that Seda hadn’t known this information you were sure the rest of your family knew.

He chuckled, a slight whistle sound letting you know he was smoking another cigarette. “Mm, guess your family is finally meeting your lover, huh?”

The air in your mouth didn’t make it down to your lungs and you looked at Steve with equally wide eyes. But you didn’t stay fazed for long, responding to such an accusation with ease. “My lover, yes. I’m so damn giddy about that.”

Seda hummed in satisfaction, “Your father always told you to not get involved with the product. Scrambles your brains from thinking straight. But he applauds you on this one.”

You put a finger in your mouth and mimicked gagging, causing Steve to cover his mouth to muffle his laugh. “I’ve never mentioned the Captain as my lover before. Why is my father always right?”

You knew exactly what to say. The more backhanded praise you gave your father only fed into the truth and lies everyone knew - truth being you hated your father because of his power and the lie being that you were just as power hungry as him. As long everyone assumed you wanted this power, the more you had to act like you hated your father’s.

“He knows more than he lets on. You know that.”

“I know a lot of things.”

Seda continued, “No friends allowed, anyway. So, if the Captain isn’t your lover then… we may have problems. Is there a problem?”

You kept your voice at a steady volume, “I said I was with him, didn’t I? Have you seen the man?”

“Seen him, heard him speak. So righteous and dull. Not really your type.” Seda was growing impatient with the conversation, clearly angry that he hadn’t caught a slip or lie from you.

You scrunched your face in disgust, “Ew, don’t think you know my type.”

“Buck, ‘my type’ is back home with a warm chicken noodle soup in my lap and a couple of loose papers at my disposal,” Steve whined, trying to keep the same pace as his overly enthusiastic friend as he hurried down the sidewalk.

“She’s such a knockout, Steve! I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Steve couldn’t help but blush at Bucky’s kind words, the hype always repairing some parts of Steve’s broken self-esteem and reminding him of his worth. But it was his third date this month and rejection was starting to seem like his favorite sport. No matter what he did - offering a girl some peanuts, accidentally stepping on her (once!) feet while dancing, or simply not living up to Bucky’s gracious advertising - women just weren’t interested.

“You know that’s not true, Buck. Can’t we just have a quiet night in?”

Bucky stopped and guided them into the nearby alley, both to knock some sense into his friend and to give Steve a break from the tiny jog.

“Listen here, Steve. Any girl would be lucky to be with you-”

“Buck, we’ve been through this-”

“Let me finish,” Bucky shushed him, hands on Steve’s shoulders to steady both him and himself. “Any girl would be lucky to be with you. If this one doesn’t see you how I see you, then she’s just insane.”

Steve smirked, “Don’t insult the girl before I’ve even met her, jerk.”

Bucky smiled, his high cheeks pushing up to create crinkles by his eyes. “Trust me, pal. You just need to find a woman with as big of a mouth as you.”

Steve swatted his friend across his chest, laughs rumbling in both their chests and down the once quiet alleyway.

“What hotel are you staying at?” Seda quickly asked, ignoring your quip. You were done with this conversation as it was leading nowhere.

“Staying at one where no one can hear the Captain scramble my brains. Goodbye,” you replied, an annoyance in your tone that even Seda would believe as natural.

“See you soon.”

You let Seda end the call, a little power play you allowed him to have. God, it was gonna feel good to take him down.

Steve shifted in his seat, stopping the recorder in time for his question. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Why did your dad assume we were a couple?”

You gave him a tiny chuckle, pulling the blanket back over your shoulders and settling back into your seat. “I don’t know why that man says anything anymore. I guess they just expected it.”

“Why?”

No matter how many years passed, both awake or frozen, Steve never did quite understand the sexual appeal that lingered around his name. No matter how many times Bucky joked about it, no matter the amount of social media posts, no matter anything - he just didn’t seem to understand why people thought he was a ladies man.

You snuggled deeper into your blanket, scanning the outside woods one last time just in case. “You wouldn’t risk your reputation and status for me unless you were fucking me, I guess.”

“Crude.”

You turned your head to him and sighed, “They think I’m the whore of the family. It’s just too funny sometimes.”

Steve’s face fell, “I’m sorry about that.”

You shuffled in your blanket to pull your arm out and wave it in the air. “Used to it.”

Steve didn’t press further, deciding to lay back finally to find a cozier position. It was quiet for a few minutes, just breathing and slight motion disturbing the silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the moonlight hitting the steering wheel. By the sound of Steve’s breathing, you knew he wasn’t fully asleep yet. So you allowed yourself the smallest confession, a crack in the door Steve was figuratively standing outside of.

“My sister is his prized possession, though.”

Steve didn’t respond, but from the sound of the blanket moving you could tell he had turned to face you.

“Never knew why.”

Steve pondered your words for a long time, long after your breathing became slower and tiny snores left your mouth. He didn’t exactly know what to say or what to do. It wasn’t like you dropped top secret information on him or anything, but it made him wonder just why in the world your father hated you so much.

You had done everything asked of you. You were controlled, tortured mentally everyday, having to endure and make decisions that Steve knew you didn’t want any part of. Your father should be thanking you for keeping his business afloat, for expanding it, for roping Steve’s own name into that life. As he contemplated any rational reason for such hate, he heard your soft snore turn into an innocent purr, and he felt himself leaning more into a mutual understanding. It frightened him, gripping his reality by the throat, because Steve actually knew why. That innocence he saw with you, no doubt had presented itself to your father involuntarily and your father knew.

He knew you were good at heart.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise

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unprofessional-bard · 3 years

Text

Chapter 12 - The Development, Pt. I

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: TW for homophobia, homophobic guy gets kicked in the balls. mostly angst: tense situations, back story reveal (hints to disturbing cult activities/religious trauma??). smut: vulnerable/desperate sex, reader and joel being in love and soft w each other.

Summary: The reader and Joel unintentionally get more tangled up with Kiki and Ward –going on patrols, doing town duties with them etc.– which leaves the reader frustrated.

Word Count: 7.060

Author's Note: I feel like I proofread this 500 times but my apologies if it still sucks 😭

Enjoy!

"I think we earned a small break, don't you think so, Captain?" Kurt extended a beer bottle to you.

"I guess so, colonel," You offered a vague smile and reluctantly took the bottle from him.

"Oh, c'mon, cheer up (Y/N)!" Kurt put an arm around you and chuckled ironically. "It's the 4th of July..."

"Sure," You patted his back but appreciated his enthusiasm nevertheless. "It just doesn't sit right with me that all these other people in the QZ don't have the- the luxury we have."

"Oh, I know," Kurt let his arm go and nodded bitterly. "It ain't just, but there's not much we can do."

You nodded as well: "Well, be back in 5, gotta go piss."

Kurt laughed heartily and waved his hand at you as you walked away from the open area to wash your face, hoping to wash away the guilt as well. It was your first time in a different QZ– Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to be more specific and you weren't exactly having a good time. A big part of your company was wiped out, which had ultimately triggered your survivor's guilt. The situation was out of your control when hunters, bandits and a surprise horde of infected got involved; everyone acknowledged how there wasn't anything you could do, except for yourself. It had been 5 years into this apocalyptic mess, yet you still had trouble adjusting to it... but then again, no one ever really did.

When you reached the shared toilet areas, there were only three cabins. One was occupied, one was completely empty without the toilet itself and the other was simply too dirty.

You heard heavy breathing from the occupied cabin, and instinctively decided to knock on the door to make sure the person inside was alright: "Hey, is everything..."

The moment you knocked the second time on the door, it opened just a smidge to reveal two men kissing, which made you gasp loudly and step back while alerting them.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry–"

"Oh shit–!"

You went to close the door, but immediately decided to turn around in panic, thinking: Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I'm really sorry! I just wanted to use the toilet since the others are, well– Uh–"

"Fuck, what are we going to–" You heard one of them speak, panicked.

"Relax, it'll be fine," The other one reassured.

"Look, it's uh–" You tried again, slowly turning to walk out of there. "I wasn't here, we never saw each other, okay?"

"No, wait!" You felt a ghostly hand on your arm, but he didn't grab it, just tapped once to get your attention. "Please, you can't tell anyone!"

You raised your hands up mid air to do a stop gesture, trying to get him and his partner to calm down: "No, of course I won't!"

"Wait," The other man with blue eyes stepped out of the cabin. "You won't? You don't mind... us?"

"Mind you? It's none of my business to begin with," You assured both of them. "What happened here stays between us– hell, I wasn't even here as we speak."

"Thank you," He smiled and saw the way he clung onto his partner's –whom you noticed had hazel fleeing to green eyes– hand with his fingers. "Most people around here don't... appreciate us."

You nodded bitterly, a small, sad smile on your face: "I'm so sorry, I wish I could do something for the both of you–"

"What's going on here then?" A deep voice called from behind you, when you noticed a little too late how the man with green eyes' expression shifted to one of fear.

You turned around to meet a face you weren't familiar with: "Why do you wish to know?"

"Why do I wish t–" The guy gave you an incredulous look, interrupted himself and asked. "Identify yourselves."

"Corporal Robin Lazewski," Said the man with the blue eyes.

"Sergeant Cole Doxon." Green eyes followed.

"And you, missy?" The man stood before you at arms length with a sneer.

"Captain," You corrected him. "(Y/N) (L/N). Who might you be?"

The man's sneer disappeared when he realised your ranks were the same, but he still looked displeased: "Captain Phillip Moore. Now, I'll ask you again. What are you doing here?"

The question was more directed at Robin and Cole rather than you, and you knew why, so you stepped in: "Nothing that should worry you, Captain."

"Oh, but I know what's been going on. Had my eye on you two for awhile now enough to know exactly what type of people you are."

"These men are from my company, Captain," You intervened again, lying through your teeth without thinking about the consequences. "If you have a complaint, we can gladly take this up to Colonel Kurt Greenwood, as he is our superior."

The name made Phillip take a step back, clearly making him nervous: "Tsk, no thanks. Don't need to get more involved with your kind."

"If you wanna say something, mister, go right ahead," You growled and took a step forward, risking the possibility of a few days of detention without hesitation. The tension thickened, and thickened, and thickened then finally...

————

"Woah, wait, you just lied out of your ass to him?" Ellie suddenly interrupted you.

"Yeah," You sighed. "If he knew that they were actually from Pittsburgh I would've been... fucked."

"Shit," Ellie sighed. "Guy didn't even know his own soldiers... and then?"

"He said a few unkind words about them, and, well, I kicked him in the balls."

"Are you serious?" Ellie's eyes grew wider, beginnings of a laugh bubbling up in her chest.

"Hell yeah," You offered her your first smile the whole time you'd been lying in your bed together. She came to visit you for the evening, which was no doubt Joel's idea but it was nice of him of course, and ultimately decided to stay the night like you both did from time to time. Your husband, on the other hand, went to stay over at Tommy's to give you both some space.

"Dolly, you were both awesome and out of your mind! What if he caught you? Did they find out?" She asked, squirming where she laid.

"I got away with kicking him at that moment, got the boys out of there and went straight to Kurt." You put an arm under your pillow: "Told him we had to make a transfer, explained the reason. He got mad at me, sure, but he had some connections in the QZ. Later on the guy made a complaint about all of us, but all Kurt said was: Maybe you should worry more about the people suffering in the QZ rather than two people kissing. Maybe then, you can control these uprisings."

"Man," She giggled. "I wish I met Kurt– all of your team. You all were so fucking cool."

You gave her a crooked smile, the pains of your old wounds hurting as if they were new: "He was right, too." She gave you a curious look. "There are more important things people should worry themselves with rather than town gossip, like survival and keeping Jackson running."

Ellie averted her eyes at your words: "Yeah..."

"Look, I may not have the same fierceness I did when I was 25, but that's never going to stop me from kicking someone's balls if they disrespect you." She huffed a brief laugh at your words: "Jokes aside... You know, you can tell Joel, right?"

"Ugh, I don't wanna think about it," She groaned and turned to the right, face directed at the ceiling.

"Take your time. I'm not saying you should tell him, just letting you know that you can, if you want to."

"Sure, thanks..." She stared at the wall for awhile, the moonlight shining directly onto her beautiful features. After a while, she said: "I don't feel like he's being too honest with me, actually."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words: "How do you mean?"

She took her time with her reply: "He ever talked to you about what happened? Before we got here?"

"Not much."

"What about my... immunity?" Her eyes shifted to yours.

You felt like a piece of shit lying to her, making the burden on your shoulder get heavier. The bed felt like it could swallow you when you spoke nonchalantly: "Again, not much. Told me there were a dozen or so more immune people, that they ran some tests and–"

"Yeah, he took me out of there. Unconscious." She sighed and you felt like your uneasiness was showing, but actually you kept your composure. "Do you really believe that?"

This time you took a bit long to answer, walking over the minefield with careful steps: "I'm... I don't know, I'm not really buying it." She gave you a worried look: "But it isn't my business to interfere, either. I really don't know what to tell you."

Ellie just nodded and continued staring at the ceiling afterwards: "I just wish..."

"Yeah?"

"Nevermind."

You nodded, glad the conversation didn't go where you thought it would, relaxing into the mattress: "I heard Tommy brought you one of the comics you were dying to read."

"Yeah," She quietly took a deep breath.

"And? D'you like it?"

"I did actually," She seemed more enthusiastic than a moment ago, which made you relax even more. "But there was another cliffhanger! It wasn't the final volume!"

The next morning Joel stopped by briefly to get his stuff for patrol, kissed you goodbye while you were having breakfast with Ellie, then left. That's when she spoke up: "So? What are we doing today?"

"We?" You raised a brow.

"I got a day off, and you look miserable," She commented. "Not about to let that go to waste, so..."

"I was just planning on lying down for a bit."

"You've been lying down for ever, it's time you did something else!"

"Ellie I really don't have the energy for– for anything, right now." You sighed and helped her with the dishes.

"So... you also don't have the energy for the new game Jesse brought?" She side eyed you, offering a mischievous smile.

You hated feeling like this, not being able to do things with people you cared about because you simply couldn't. Everyone was understanding, of course, but you hated how this feeling had become a part of you overtime; way before you had reached Jackson, and before the death of your family. You even found comfort in it to a certain level, but if you could, you'd gladly get rid of it with a single snap of your fingers.

"I'd like nothing more honestly," You wiped your hands on a small towel on the counter and looked at her: "But we'll see, you know how I get."

If there was someone who helped you get back on your feet as quickly as Ellie and Joel, it was Maria – and Tommy.

But sometimes you really doubted if Maria truly was a maker of right decisions.

It was your first patrol with Ellie where you two went outside, very much like the patrols you took on, but it was still a bit new for her. She wanted to get involved with the patrols sooner than Joel liked: She's too young, it's too early for her, he'd say, but even though it's no age for her to be even seeing the stuff she saw, going through everything she went through, you were on Ellie's side on the matter. She was capable of handling patrols with you, or Joel and others; she was also more skilled than all the kids her age, but a part of you also wanted to keep her safe behind the walls of Jackson.

After a lot of reasoning with Joel, you had managed to convince him and were on your way to start the ski lodge route with Ellie. Maria had told you you'd be meeting with a couple of other people to do a sweep afterwards, but she was hesitant to tell you who. You knew something was afoot, for Maria never was a person to mince her words; it initially gave you an idea about who might be waiting for you, but at least you had Ellie to help calm your nerves. You hitched your horses at the entrance, then walked through the doors. Your jaw clenched and your posture visibly tensed when your theories were proven right and you saw who was inside.

Kiki and Ward.

You internally cringed when you made eye contact with Ward, who was... talking with Joel?

What the fuck is going on?

"'bout time!" Tommy appeared out of nowhere, startling you. "You're half an hour late, we were startin' to get worried."

"What's going on?" Ellie spoke instead of you.

"Well, we'll be heading back," He patted Ellie on the shoulder. "While the others'll do a sweep."

"But we just got here?" Ellie protested. "I thought Dolly and I–"

"Yeah, Tommy, what the fuck?" You whispered and stepped closer to him.

He huffed, it was his signature I'm just gonna put it out here so listen carefully stance: "Maria asked that you solve the issue between you and Ward."

"She didn't ask me shit, Tommy, just told me to get my ass over here. Without a heads up." You sighed and he gave you an apologetic shrug: "She's right, but is patrol really the right time for this?"

"Just shake hands and try to get along, you're partnered up with him."

Your eyes widened: "Tommy–"

"It'll be fine, (Y/N), don't worry." He said reassuringly. "Walt and Bruce went over to the back, you can fetch them and start. C'mon Ellie."

She squeezed your hand in an encouraging manner and followed Tommy out. You rubbed your face and ran a hand through your hair, then finally turned and walked over to the three: "Alright, I'll go get Walt and Bruce, then we can go."

"Sure," Joel offered a small smile and got up from where he was sitting with Kiki, but Ward remained seated with his arms crossed. You took it as an indication to wait for the others to leave so you two could finally talk.

"Well..." You said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry for punching you," He said, straight out, without dwelling on anything. "I get ahead of myself sometimes. I can't really control it when I get angry, I– I never knew how to. It was my only way to survive... and protect Kiki."

You blinked several times at how genuine he was, even his hard expression was softened to some point: "It's, uh– it's okay. Thank you, and sorry, for your nose I mean. It was a reflex."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," He nodded and got up, towering over you, then extended a hand over to you. "We're good?"

"Sure, 'course," You nodded and shook his hand. He pursed his lips and walked out, leaving you a little stunned. You immediately sighed in relief and made your way to the back room, where your memories of fucking with Joel resurfaced and made you smile a little.

"Alright, c'mon you guys, let's go–" You walked into the room and right then, you heard panicked shuffling with a gasp. When you understood what was going on, you immediately stepped back outside: "Oh, woah–."

Were they making out?

If you were honest, you saw it coming, but it still came as a shock. You debated on whether you should leave or stay, but when you heard the panicked voices from inside, you stood there, waiting to apologise as soon as they walked out. It was Walt who opened the door first.

"Dolly– Listen," He was calmer than he sounded back inside. "You... I mean..."

"Look, let me just say this: It's none of my business, and I won't tell anyone, so... It's okay. We can pretend this never happened."

He blinked, a bit dumbfounded: "You don't mind?"

"Walt, of course not. As I said, it's none of my business."

It was then, when Bruce walked out shyly: "You seriously won't go tell anyone?"

At that, you chuckled and looked away, your eyes watering at the memory of Robin and Cole you had told Ellie: "You guys are safe with me– in Jackson. I know some people aren't very open minded here, but just know that you have my support."

Walt suddenly hugged you tightly. You took a second, but immediately returned it with a gentler one: "It's okay."

"Thank you (Y/N)," Bruce smiled sincerely.

"It's the least anyone can do – show basic human decency," You said and smiled back after Walt pulled back. "Come on now, we're already late."

The three of you acted as if nothing happened, but the couple couldn't help the smiles spread on their faces.

"Alright, Doll," Joel began explaining once you stepped to his side to get on your horse. Tommy and Ellie were long gone: "Maria asked us to show 'em how we do our patrols..."

"But?" You already didn't like how Maria picked you two for them, so you scrunched your face up lightly.

"You'll be going with Ward, I'll be going with–"

"Kiki." The name left your mouth with clear discomfort. Joel huffed at your worrisome expression and rubbed your arm soothingly.

"I rightly don't know why we're even assigned with them," Joel kissed your temple gently. "But it'll be fine, sweetheart. C'mon, we have places to cover."

You gave his hand a light squeeze and tried not to look as troubled as you felt inside when you both rode up to the couples, then went separate ways. You were quite surprised Ward actually let Kiki go with someone else– with Joel, but you kept it to yourself.

"So, I presume Tommy or Maria, or someone must've filled you in on how patrol works?" You began once your horses had slowed down the long path.

"Sort of, yeah. Joel and Tommy explained how logbooks work."

"Well, I'll start of with three things you must stick to, then– always. One: Stealth is key to everything. Keep quiet and don't draw any attention to yourself. Two: Your partner is technically your life support. You don't leave them behind, but back them up when they get into trouble and plan routes or approach tactics together. Three: If you come across anything you can't handle– anything at all, you bring your ass back to town."

"Yes ma'am," It was the first time you saw him offer the smallest smile, which softened his hardened features.

For awhile, you rode quietly, until he asked: "Say... Where you from?"

You raised a brow at his question: "Well, would you believe me if I said I don't remember?"

"How is that possible?" He tsked.

"I– I don't know," You chuckled with a hint of bitterness. "I only remember moving to San Francisco with my parents when I was... Around two?"

"Oh so you're a Californian..."

"Well, I suppose. What–" You saw the weird expression on his face: "Where are you from?"

"Idaho."

"Oh, and you're a potato farmer!"

You both shared a chuckle when he continued: "I wish that was the case. Would've traded everything to have been a potato farmer my whole life than..."

"Than what?"

"The shit I went through ever since the world fell apart."

You shrugged: "Don't we all?"

"I don't know about you, but none of those people in there –except for Kiki– would've preferred living as farmers..."

"What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, broke eye contact and his whole stance changed. It took him a few silent moments, but he spoke eventually: "When the infection took over, a small church in our town offered food and protection to everyone there. They barricaded the whole town in a short time, a lot of people died in the process, but we actually made a safe environment– not as strong and well protected like here, though. The infected weren't occupying that part of the city too much, either, so we just made decent living... But in time, the priest of the church started controlling the community. In months everyone was on their knees praying– beggin' for forgiveness for their sins so that they survive this shit..."

"Oh..." You flinched, feeling sorry for him, your heartbeat picking up in worry. You were also unintentionally expecting him to get this story somewhere, pull out a gun and shoot you, or stab you with his knife– you were expecting an Axel case. They might have come all this way just to avenge a loved one who you might have killed, and even though your mind screamed that the scenario had no way of making sense, you still kept your hand on your pistol which was strapped to the side of your thigh that he couldn't see.

"It was fucked up, and I was young, I had no choice but to follow my parents... They died years later and that was when I met Kiki. She was so pretty, and– and kind to me. I really liked her, we were around... 18 and 20 at the time, I think. She helped me mourn my parents, we made really good company. Soon I realised I was falling in love with her."

Hearing these words from him freaked you out a little, if you were honest, because they didn't look very in love; but you were also curious about what the hell had happened to them.

"A year or so later we, uh– Understand this, we had to keep it a secret. If the priest didn't see a couple fit, they'd get punished, but if he did, he'd force them to... Have children, to– y'know."

You couldn't hide the disgust on your face, but he was too focused on somewhere else to notice it, the sorrow and trauma on his face making you feel bad for him.

"We didn't know if we were more scared of the punishment, or Kiki getting pregnant– neither of us wanted a child, we were so young..."

For a moment he looked guilty for saying that, but when you reassured him that you understood, he still looked guilty and regretful: "Naturally."

"Not too long later people started picking up on what type of relationship we had. One time one of the priest's..." A suden wave of rage washed over him– He spat out the next word: "Whores, caught us hugging each other, then we were brought before the priest. He didn't see us fit because we didn't take anyone's permission to get together."

Your brows also drew closer in anger as you listened: "I'm really sorry you two had to go through that."

"It doesn't matter, it was long ago; we escaped, and now we're here," Ward suddenly fixed his posture, looking thoughtful and upset at the same time. The conversation had come to an end.

"Listen, if you ever wanna talk to someone," You spoke hesitantly. "Our head doc Katherine holds weekly, uh, conversations," You couldn't bring yourself to say therapy, even though he'd find out sooner or later.

"I don't– I don't wanna talk about it," He huffed angrily and side eyed you where he sat.

"You seem like you need to, is all I'm saying," You ran a hand through your hair, wiping some sweat off your forehead in the meanwhile. "It's okay to do that, y'know."

"I don't need it!" He growled and turned his head towards you in a harsh motion. "I don't need your– stupid conversations–"

"Hey," You pulled on the reins in your hand, hard, and came to a stop. He mirrored your movements when you growled back: "Those stupid conversations actually help people. They saved god knows how many townsfolk, and participating in them doesn't make you less of a man."

"That's not what this is about."

Sure you wanted to counter, the look of offense in his face telling you everything you had to know, but kept your tongue: "I just suggested you could go, nobody's forcing you to! Keep it in the corner of your mind if you want, I don't care what you do."

With that you started riding again, missing the look of regret and worry on his face. When he reached your side a few moments later, he spoke quietly, softer: "You're right, I'm sorry."

You nodded: "Try not to take things personally, we're not your enemies. We're just trying to help."

The rest of the ride was quiet, but the good outcome of both you and Joel's pairing with the couple unfortunately had a bad outcome for you. Maria asked you and Joel to be patient and stick to them for a month or so– at least until they start to really fit in. You had to accept, thinking of how when you first came here Walt had switched his partner's because he was the first person one to get along with you.

The problem was, you weren't exactly getting along with them, or Kiki more precisely.

You didn't know if it was because of your pride or your reluctance to make a scene about it, but you kept quiet about your suspicions about how Kiki undeniably took a liking to Joel. When you subtly asked a question about how Kiki behaved on patrol, he nonchalantly explained how she picked up pretty quickly and appeared to be a much more normal person; but you left out the bit that whenever you or her husband appeared, she'd hiss like a cat.

Maybe you were simply jealous that a pretty woman like Kiki was hitting on Joel, even though you never doubted his intentions for a second. He seemed very oblivious to her and your hints at what you wanted to say, and that was pretty much your only way of finding comfort.

Ward, on the other hand, always looked at the brink of a breakdown when it got too quiet between you two. Joel also asked about how he was whenever you discussed the pair, and when you mentioned their background and how troubled he looked ever since, he raised a brow. He also mentioned how Kiki started wearing t-shirts throughout the week –sleeveless clothing– and he thought it had to do with some sort of survival condition related trauma, while you had other theories.

Theories that you, once more, kept to yourself.

Because there were always two ends on situations like this: Your theories were correct – she was right all along! or, you thought too much of it – you're so dramatic!

It was a little frustrating, not being able to tell these to any memebers of your family, except for Ellie, who came to understand– probably better than Joel or the others would.

"Yikes, I'm sorry, Dolly," She looked troubled at your worrisome expression when you finally broke and told her about your suspicions.

"Morton's fucking fork," You sighed and ran a hand through your hair nervously. "I honestly don't know what to do, it's too early to say anything but at the same time I feel like it'll be too late if I keep it to myself."

"Well, no matter what happens," She rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. "I'll be by your side. Always."

The words caught you off guard, the frustration of bottled up feelings and the subconscious weight of keeping the truth about what happened with the Fireflies from Ellie finally shattering and setting a few drops of tears free.

"Thank you– Oh, Ellie," She hugged you where she stood while you remained seated on your chair in the kitchen. "What would I do without you?"

"I know, I'm the light of your life," She joked, which made you chuckle briefly.

"Look, I also want you to know that–" You pulled back and took her hands in yours, then looked her straight in the eyes: "That I'd do anything for you. Whatever happens, I'll be on your side too, even if I can't intervene."

An emotional scene between a girl who found her mother figure, and a broken soldier longing for a deeper sense of tranquility eventually finding it in a girl– something she thought she'd never find.

"Christ, Joel," You immediately got up from where you were sitting in the living room and ran up to your husband as soon as you saw his dirty, tired state. It was god knows what in the morning but you couldn't sleep, thoughts of Kiki and Joel keeping you up for the second time ever since your mutual patrols started three and a half weeks ago.

"What're you still doin' up?" You carefully looked him up and down with worried eyes and ignored his exhausted sigh. You quickly but carefully hugged him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

"Are you hurt?" You asked quietly after he immediately put his arm around your waist.

"Nope, just sore," He closed his eyes. "And a little dirty. Why aren't you asleep?"

You pulled back slowly and looked into his eyes, shrugging: "Couldn't sleep. And good thing I didn't."

"Dolly..."

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." You tugged on his large hand and led him up to your bathroom. After you arranged the tub to fill, you helped undress him, his pale face and tired eyes made you put extra effort to be as delicate as possible.

"You wanna talk about it?" You said after dropping his t-shirt into the laundry basket, while he took off his pants beside the door.

"There ain't much to talk about. We just..." You could feel your heart beat in your ears as you took his pants from him and repeated your motion, but froze in your place when he spoke again: "She saved me."

Your brows shot up quickly and the ache of keeping them crossed in a worried expression for so long immediately made its presence known: "My flashlight gave out, was tryin' to shake it back to life when a stalker grabbed me."

Joel scratched the back of his neck and lowered his head while you just stared and moved towards him slowly, his voice quiet: "I felt its– Its teeth on my neck right before Kiki jumped on it."

"Joel..." You sighed the moment you stopped walking, whispered, gulped and realised how bad your throat ached. He raised his head and gave you an utterly wrecking look, which immediately triggered you to walk over to him and hug him. His arms quickly shot up and wrapped themselves around your back. He buried his face into your neck this time and your hands ran through his hair, caressing the back of his neck soothingly. The way his arms embraced you was tight, but not enough to crush you– just enough to remind you where you belonged.

Home. That's what you felt like.

For the first time in many, many years, you finally found home again.

That exact feeling that made your eyes blurry with tears had struck first after fifteen years into the apocalypse, and it was the night after a particularly tough mission to handle some hunters around the area. The team had almost lost Kurt and Robin, the fear had been very overwhelming. The intensity of it all was nerve-wracking for everyone, so when Robin was back with Cole, they broke down crying in each other's arms. You couldn't bare to see them like that, so you joined with quiet whimpers and hugged them where they sat on the ground. Slowly, the rest of the group had joined, and when finally Kurt put his arms around you and them, everyone calmed down. That was home.

Family.

You inhaled his scent with tears in your eyes and a barbed wire around your throat, then hugged him tighter; the realisation of what might have happened had Kiki not been there washing over you like a tidal wave. All these months of doubting her– maybe you misunderstood her? Were you too cruel to Kiki in your mind? You sure as hell owed her now, you were more than grateful for what she did.

A sharp intake of breath from Joel and the warm wetness you felt on your neck confirmed that he was crying, so you turned your head a little to kiss his neck softly. It was rare that Joel cried, let alone open up like this, so you let him cry on your shoulder for as log as he needed. He didn't make a sound other than his occasional sniffs and sighs.

"I need you (Y/N)," He murmured after calming down a few minutes later, slowly shifting his arms downwards and kissing you deeply, pulling you flush against him. You kissed back, sighing into his mouth and slithering your hands down his back to the waistband of his underwear. You devoured each other at the doorway while the tub was still filling, the chilly yet still warm July night creating a thin layer of sweat between your bodies. He softly pushed you up against the doorframe, and his movements became more rushed the more your tongues danced against each other.

"Joel, baby wait," You pulled back and he stopped immediately. "The bath..."

You kissed a tear that was hanging on the edge of his cheek and reluctantly slipped away from his hold to turn the faucet off, and before you could turn back around, you felt his hands slowly sneak their way under your shirt and smiled softly at the feel. You turned completely, while he carefully walked you over to the counter and pushed you against the edge between the two sinks. He started peppering urgent kisses on your neck, making you sigh a quiet moan as your eyes closed, his hands roaming your body and eventually taking off the sleeveless undershirt off of you.

"What about the– the bath?" You barely managed to ask when he softly bit and kissed on the skin of your breasts, then moved down to tug your shorts down your legs.

"Later," He groaned when he saw the sight before him and immediately went to suck a few marks around your breasts, gently biting your nipples the way you liked it. You moaned and wrapped a leg around his waist so you could have his erection pressing directly against your pussy.

He lifted you up slightly and sat you on the cold counter, making you sigh as he settled between your legs, pulling his underwear off only for his erection to spring against your inner thigh. He was getting harder by the second, but before he lined himself up, he made sure you were taken care of to begin with. While massaging your inner thighs, he carefully bit and sucked on your neck, rubbing the tip of his cock between your slick folds in the meantime. You moaned quietly at his ministrations, his hands feeling wonderful around your legs.

After a while, you reached for his length and lined him up, allowing him to push in. You let out a soft moan by his ear and he did the same when he dived into your depths, then wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. He growled, grabbed at your hips and thighs and started off with a slow but somehow rushed pace.

What you liked about a slower pace, first and foremost, was how you could feel everything Joel had to offer and how much more relaxed and focused he was. You liked it when he took his time, making sure you felt every inch and vein of his length– You also liked the tension building up more this way. With the patrols and chores taking up most of your constantly changing schedules, sex had started to become a bit of luxury again, too.

Your eyes opened slowly when he called your name desperately– moaned it. You slowly pulled back from your hug and looked him in the eyes, then kissed him deeply, his rhythm stable but the snap of his hips started to become harsher. His grip on your hips were equally desperate and bruising, but you liked it; it was also your own way of assuring yourself that Joel was still here, with you.

His pace picked up the more your tongues swayed together, then his hand went to the hair on your scalp and massaged the skin there, making you throw your head back and clench down on him with a mewl. Groaning, he kissed and bit all over your neck again, the skin slapping against skin making both of you near the edge.

He suddenly pulled out and away, gently helped you off the counter and turned you around. In one motion, he buried himself deep inside you again and moaned. You arched your back and he pulled your hair into a ponytail, then placed solid, sloppy kisses on your shoulders as he fucked you from behind.

"Shit– Joel," You gasped when he grabbed at your breasts, arms crossed and slammed into you particularly hard. He was getting closer with each passing minute.

"(Y/N)..." He groaned and pressed you down against the counter, trapping you between the cold surface and his hairy, broad chest while sneaking a hand down to your clit. He slammed into you three more times, which made you moan brief but loud ahs and ohs each time; your hands clawing against his hips and arms, leaving your own marks, throwing him over the edge when he thought about the pleasure he felt when your nails digged into his skin.

You both came with loud moans and held onto each other tightly, Joel pulling out the last second even though he really, really wanted to come inside you at that moment: He would never do it without your permission and talking about it first, but the topic was never brought up by either of you.

Panting while coming down your high, you were as disappointed as Joel was when he didn't fill you up with his thick cock– you were also as cautious as your husband about this, and maybe it was finally time to discuss it.

After recollecting yourselves, you both moved into the lukewarm water in comfortable silence, Joel laying against you between your legs and holding onto your hands which you had wrapped around his chest in a hug, resting his head against your own.

Some time later, when you felt yourself dozing off, Joel hummed quietly: "If you're gonna sleep let's move to bed."

"How did you..."

"Your heartbeat got real slow, figured you were dozin' off," He slowly got up with a phantom smile on his lips and looked into your sleepy eyes. This small gesture made you smile back, and after he took your hand in his and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles, you got cleaned and out of the bath. There was much to be said, but sleep overcame you both as soon as you laid on the soft, inviting mattress.

The next morning, Joel had some business in town with Tommy while it was your day off, so you both had the opportunity to talk during breakfast. After some discussion and honesty about how you felt towards Kiki, Joel figured there'd be nothing a good dinner wouldn't fix. You had to agree because of your self-doubt, maybe this dinner would help you understand Kiki's intentions better, and it would also be your way of thanking her for saving Joel.

"I have to tell you somethin', but promise me–" Joel chewed on his scrambled eggs after your reluctant agreement to the dinner. "–You won't get mad?"

You rolled your eyes and offered a small smirk after finishing your bite: "When do I ever get mad at you?"

"Oh?" He raised a brow. "Well, I was startin' to think you were jealous of Kiki, is all."

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp: "I am no such thing! Joel Miller–"

"Oh boy," He took a sip off his coffee, having made his point.

You took a deep breath, rolled your eyes while they were closed and grabbed your own cup: "Look, I'm not jealous, I just..."

"Just what?"

You chewed on your lower lip while staring two holes into the cup in your hands, took your time to think: "I'm just worried."

"What's got you worried, sweetpea?" His expression immediately softened as he leaned forward, the pet name easing the tension in your heart a little.

"They're– really odd, okay?" You spoke quietly, occasionally meeting his eyes. "Doesn't it bother you just how different they act when they're not around each other?"

"Where're you gettin' with this?"

"I just don't want another Axel case." The room fell to a deafening silence when you said his name, but you continued when he didn't say anything: "Look, I simply can't help but think they're trying to get close to us on purpose."

"Oh darlin'," His eyes widened slightly as he got off his chair and stood beside you in a quick motion, putting his warm hands on your bare shoulders. "I understand what's got you all worried, but I'm sure this is all because of Maria puttin' us together for patrol. Don't worry your pretty little head with all o' that." He pressed you against his body in a hug, gently massaging your shoulders as he did: "Now, I gotta get goin', but when I come back I'll do somethin' to ease all that stress built up in these strong muscles of yours, huh?" He softly digged his fingers into your shoulder blades, making you sigh as you realised they were indeed very stiff. He offered a soft smile: "Agreed?"

"Agreed." You forced a smile in return, trying not to worry like he said. It was Joel, after all; if he said you had nothing to worry about, then you probably didn't...

... But that didn't mean you were going to shut out your gut feelings altogether. It was your instincts that always saved your ass when you were unsure about situations like this, or when you got in trouble with people in general. You could always beat yourself up for overthinking too much and being so doubtful of them, but for now, you were going to keep your guard up at all times and keep them at arm's length.

————

tags: @spideysimpossiblegirl @joelsgeetar @sherry-212 @peachymelon69

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