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lincolndjarin · 2 months

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Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 5

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : happy last chapter of oh honey!!!! took a while to get out bc i was briefly on hiatus and then was in a slump (whoops) but here it is. this is another case of me writing an ending before the story so this has been the intended ending since i started and i hope you all like it as much as i do

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 6.4k

summary : a look into the past and present of life in honey, west virginia

warnings, etc. : language, allusions to sex, angst & fluff, complicated relationships and people who are trying to handle them, an obscene amount of flashbacks, reader has hair and is carried by Joel, several timelines in no particular order.

“C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine.

“Mmm, what’s on the agenda for today?” You hum, pushing back against him a bit, the camper’s freezing in the winter, your heater broke a week ago and the parts Joel ordered to fix it won’t be in for a week. So you’re stuck with a little space heater you’d bought at the hardware store.

“I was thinkin’ we’d just do this for a while.” His arms tighten around your waist and stomach with a sigh. “We could just stay in today, order food, watch a movie on your laptop.” He yawns before nestling close against you.

“It’s too cold to stay here, it’s supposed to snow all weekend, it’s only gonna get worse. Maria even closed the home early yesterday” You groan, rolling over in his arms to press your face into his neck. The tips of your nose and ears are freezing, the two of you are under all the blankets you own, bundled up, when you peer out the window you can see the snow falling and settling on the trees.

Joel mumbles into your hair, deeply inhaling. “Why don’t you pack a bag and we can head back to the house then. You can stay until Monday and can fix the heat while you’re at work.”

“I hate staying at your place, all of my shit is here.” You spend most weekends at Joel’s, it’s easiest that way, but packing up all of your things and bringing them back and forth is getting tiring.

“Just bring it with you.”

“I think you underestimate how much stuff I need for four days.” You’re already giving yourself a headache trying to make a mental list of everything you’ll need.

“Why don’t you just move in.” He mumbles with another yawn. “It would make it easier for both of us if all your stuff was there.” It isn’t until he realizes that you’re frozen in place that he opens his eyes. “Or not, just a thought.”

You stammer an excuse, hoping to alleviate the tension that’s suddenly lingering between you. “I just- I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you, just thought I’d offer.” He shrugs before pulling you close again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into his chest.

“Don’t be. You’re right, it’s too soon for that.”

You’ve been together for a year now, you almost never sleep apart, if anything you should have moved in six months ago.

What’s stopping you?

You’ve been distancing yourself from any concrete commitments for sometime now and even if he never says it you know it bothers him. When do you stop punishing him for something you claim you’ve forgiven him for? He doesn’t hurt people as often anymore, at least he’s trying harder not to. But it’s getting hard for the both of you to keep up this system of locking yourselves in his room for a week every month.

Sometimes your cycle syncs with Maria and Sarah has to drive in from out of town to watch Ellie, it’s just generally become harder to manage.

But you can’t leave him when he’s like that.

On the rare occasion that you’re too exhausted to stay awake and entertain him he’ll end up in the woods and a massacred corpse ends up on your table when you return to work.

Everytime you think you’ve found forgiveness and acceptance you’re reminded of the fact that you love a monster. A selfish choice that you make every day. And everytime you tell him you can’t live with the guilt he gives you the same option.

Kill him.

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to make it sound so grim, each of you have complicated relationships with death. You just don’t think you’ll be able to live without him, and it’s not like he expects you to kill him yourself, he always tells you he’ll handle it with Tommy but you always shoot the idea down and you’re back to square one.

“I just need a little more time, I promise this isn’t forever.” You mumble as you sit up.

“I’d do anything for you, anything at all. Just tell me what to do.”

You don’t doubt that. But he still doesn’t give you what you actually want, all you ask of him is options that don’t involve him, or any more innocent people, on your cadaver cart.

The bed is empty when you wake up.

You knew it would be when you went to bed alone last night but a part of you, after all this time, still feels incomplete when the sheets beside you are cold. The creaking under the floorboards is the only noise in the house.

Your alarm clock reads 6:58 a.m. and you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you need to be up so you throw the blankets aside, stretch your arms above your head, and stand. Right on cue you hear the familiar stomping down the hall before your door swings open, Ellie rubs her eyes before scurrying over to you. Her hair’s in disarray, having fallen out of the braid you put it in last night, you scoop her up into your arms, trying to smooth the mess down.

“Good morning, little monster.” You mumble, kissing her cheek before carrying her down the hall and into the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll be small enough to hold like this. She’s already almost too heavy for you to lift for this long, and the living room and kitchen are still decorated with banners and deflating balloons from her sixth birthday party yesterday.

Kids birthdays, elementary school, home owning?

Even after a couple years it’s still a little dizzying that this is your life now. You set her down at the table, retrieving the generic sugary cereal you’ve grown fond of from the cabinet along with bowls, spoons, and milk, setting them down on the table in front of her.

“Can I feed the sheep before we go?” She says before reaching for her spoon, you nod.

“If you brush your teeth without giving me a hard time.” You fill your bowls, you have to remind her to slow down a few times as she shovels cereal into her mouth, eager to go out to the barn. You’re only halfway through your bowl when she runs off in the direction of her room.

You hear the telltale sounds of her pushing her step stool across the tile of the bathroom as she rummages through the cabinet. As you finish up your own food and tidy up you make a mental list of everything you need to do today.

Get Ellie ready for school.

Tend to the sheep.

Drive Ellie to school.

You take your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, 7:16, and text Maria to make sure they’re still good to take her this weekend. Ellie hums as she brushes her teeth when you peer into the bathroom before making your way into your own room, changing quickly, you’ve got about an hour before you need to leave.

Drive Ellie to daycare.

Grocery shopping.

Oil change.

Making lists helps. You like knowing what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, you’ve had enough surprises in your life, you don’t like when the routine changes. Without your routine you’d lose yourself entirely. Ellie helps, she likes structure as much as you do, you stand behind her in the bathroom now watching her finish up and making sure she did a good job. The sparkling stone on the counter catches your eye, a reminder that you’re constantly forgetting your ring. It’s a bit much for your taste but it’s a family heirloom and Joel insisted. Sliding it onto your finger as Ellie hands it to you.

Check on Ellie.

Clean the house.

Make dinner.

Before she can run back to her room you gently pull her back by the collar of her shirt, grabbing a hair tie off the counter you tie her hair in a ponytail before letting her go get dressed. By the time she’s ready you’ve got your jacket on, holding Ellie’s coat out for her to stick her arms through the sleeves. She already has a toothy grin plastered on her face as you both step out of the sliding doors leading to the backyard. You take her hand, knowing she’ll run ahead if given the chance, you know better than to let her out of her sight.

Dangerous things live in the woods of Honey.

She’s pulling you along through the short path between the trees leading to the barn with a fence surrounding it. Once you’re in the clearing you let her run ahead, once you’re able to see everything around you. The air is icy and damp as you follow after her, opening the gate as she slips under the fence. The sun is just starting to break through the trees, it’s still too cold for the sheep to be out, there isn’t much exposed grass for them to eat anyway. You’ve been keeping them in the barn most days unless it warms up, today isn’t one of those days. With a high pitched giggle Ellie rushes inside, you hear the familiar sounds of bleating as she greets all of them by name.

You watch in momentary silence as you make your own way into the barn, enjoying her little smile that warms up the freezing barn.

“Did you turn in your project yesterday?” You sit on a hay bale, watching her run amongst the sheep before turning to you, nose red from the chill. You hadn’t gotten to ask her about it since you’d been so busy with her party, it wasn’t really a “project.” Just a little assignment for the kids in her class, to draw something important to them.

Of course Ellie had wanted to draw her father, something you were happy to help with until she held the crayon in her fist and began to draw the sharp angles and pointed claws that you realized she couldn’t show it off to her class. You let her finish the drawing. It’s remarkable really, how someone so small and vulnerable can portray such a frightening creature without fear.

She loves him, that’s why.

You love him too but that doesn’t mean he didn’t terrify you. No amount of strange magical connection was going to change the fact that he scared you. The difference of course is that Ellie doesn’t know what he’s done. You had encouraged her to draw a background, concealing the mass of flesh and teeth in darkness and trees until only the two of you knew what hid behind the blue and green. Together you decided that it was a drawing of her favorite place. The national forest on the edge of town.

“Good, Riley guessed what it was though.” She says as she pats one of the lambs gently on the back.

“She guessed it was the Manangahela National Forest?” You give her a skeptical smile as she fills a bucket with feed before emptying it into the trough.

“Monongahela.” She corrects you proudly.

After all this time, you still never get it right.

“Smart ass.” You grumble under your breath as she carefully lifts the hose, filling the water buckets.

“Ass.” She says with a grin.

“Don’t say that.” You point at her sternly, stifling a laugh.

With a small huff she turns the hose off and rushes over to sit beside you and watch them.

“She said the forest was my favorite so it was easy.” She mumbles, briefly captivated by the sheep.

“She’s a good friend for knowing that.” You like Riley, you’ve watched the two girls play together several times before, she’s a good influence on Ellie as far as you can tell.

“Mhmm.” She hums, the silence returning between the two of you as you both watch the sheep.

You don’t tell her that you’re going to butcher one of them tonight.

You know that she can handle it. At this point in her life she can handle much more than any other six year old you’ve ever met but you just aren’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You haven’t been a parent long enough to know the proper way to go about that sort of thing.

“Time for school, kiddo.” You stand up abruptly and take her hand again, watching as she yells back to the sheep, saying goodbye to each and everyone of them.

The truck sits idly in the driveway but you ignore it, opening the door of your own car, Ellie throws her backpack in before climbing in herself. It was the first thing you’d bought with Darlene’s money. (The second thing you did was help Sarah with her student loans and put aside some for Ellie.) You hated driving the truck, it was too big and too loud, this just felt safer for driving Ellie around. Once she’s buckled into her seat you make your way over to the driver's side. The radio plays some rock song that immediately has her squealing in the backseat, with a grin you turn it up as you pull out of the driveway.

“Is she my mom now?”

You had been walking past Ellie’s room after your shower, wearing one of Joel’s flannels with the towel wrapped around your hair when her voice froze you in place, her bedroom door cracked open.

“That’s not exactly how that works, kiddo.” His voice has a nervous lilt to it you don’t often hear from him.

“Then why is she always here?” She sits up a bit and you hold your breath as Joel’s brow furrows.

“Is that a problem?” God you hope not.

“No, I like her.” The tension in his face relaxes with your own.

“I’m glad you do. I like her too.”

“So when will she become my mom?” Her persistence on the issue makes you feel as awkward as he currently looks.

“She’ll become your mom if she wants that. But that probably won’t happen until we’re married, and I don’t know if she wants that yet either.” There’s a beat of silence, you’re heart skipping a beat at the earnestness of the conversation. The silence is quickly interrupted by the little one screaming your name as you rush back to the bathroom, opening and shutting the door to try and make it seem like you hadn’t been listening.

“Yes, little monster?” You make a real show of stepping loudly down the hall as you push the door open. You’re greeted by the sight of Ellie trying to wriggle out of a rather flustered Joel’s arms, face red and flushed as he tries to shove her under her blankets.

“She’s just messin’ around.” He grumbles before throwing a pillow at the giggling mess.

Her voice calling your name from the backseat snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” You turn the music down as you glance at her in the rearview mirror.

“Can Riley come over today after school if her mom says it’s okay?”

“You’re going to Uncle Tommy’s tonight, love. I’ll text her mom and see if she’s okay with picking her up from there if he gets you guys after school. Does that sound okay?” She nods happily when you look in the mirror before going back to singing along with the radio. When you pull up to the parent drop off you get out of the car to unbuckle her, kneeling down in front of her as she pulls her backpack straps over shoulders.

“Can we have a birthday party with Dad when he gets back?” She tilts her head to the side as she asks, you lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before pulling her into a hug.

“Absolutely we can.” You give her a soft smile before her attention is diverted towards a group of her friends. “Be good today, I love you.”

“Love you, bye!” She leans in to give you a kiss on your own cheek before rushing off, you watch her go, waiting until she’s in the building before getting back in the car. You send a quick text to Riley’s mom and Maria, scheduling plans for the girls before putting the car in drive as you head off towards a neighboring town. Honey has a grocery store but on days like this where you have so much free time you like to go to the nicer ones out of town.

You turn the radio off now that it’s just you, cranking the heat to keep warm as you drive in silence.

“We should get married.” You had brought the idea up, much to his surprise. About a year ago, as you were setting up for Ellie’s fifth birthday party, a year after you’d finally moved in.

“Are you serious?” He had been laying on his back, under the camper, working on the more technical aspects of the project. In his shock he’d rolled himself back out to stare at you.

Why wouldn’t you be? Sure, it took a lot of effort on his part but you finally feel like you’ve stopped holding everything against him. You had hoped that he knew that by now.

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we are, everyone at Ellie’s school calls her my daughter, Tommy’s been teasing me about it for ages-” He pulls himself to his feet, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Bunny, slow down.” He’s getting flustered, you swear his drawl is thicker when he gets like this.

“You’re the one who always says I take things too slow.” You frown, turning back to the flowers you’d been planting in the boxes under the window but he turns you back around to face him.

“You mean it?” His voice is a whisper and you quickly realize how much this means to him.

“Of course, I mean, we’re going to spend our lives together anyway, why wait.” You give him a reassuring smile as you tilt your head to kiss his cheek, briefly letting yourself indulge in the taste of his skin before pulling back. “As much as I’d love to talk about this more, we should get back to work if we want to finish this before she’s home.”

He doesn’t say anything else about it as he goes back to running the electrical under the camper and you can’t help but wonder if you crossed a line. Thankfully you’re on a time crunch to finish this and your mind is kept busy.

The two of you work in silence, almost synchronized as you move from task to task. He brings the cinder blocks out and lines the camper, creating a semi-permanent foundation as you string fairy lights along the outside and finish up planting flowers around the entire thing. Joel attaches the small porch he and Tommy made a few weeks ago that you had painted as you step inside. It’s unrecognizable after all the work the two of you put into it. The ceiling now painted a dark blue, glow in the dark paint dotted along the entire thing, when the sun goes down she’ll be able to see the stars from inside the camper. You painted the walls and changed out the curtains and sheets more to Ellie’s tastes. She’d always loved it here, when Joel was actually busy with work trips she’d stay with you in the camper. Even nowadays with you living with her and Joel she still often asks if she can play in the camper.

Just as you’re finishing up Joel steps inside as well, testing all of the faucets while wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

“Think she’ll like it?” You ask, your fingers nervously twitch as you roll the hem of your shirt between them, he laughs as he leans back against the counter.

“She’s gonna love it, s’better than any gift I’ve ever gotten her.” You can’t help but smile as he holds his arms out towards you, you quickly step into them, leaning against his chest and taking a deep breath.

You open your mouth to speak, wanting to address your proposition from earlier quickly so it doesn’t hang in the air for too long but you hear the familiar rumble of Tommy’s truck pulling into the driveway and the two of you quickly rush out of the camper and down the steps. You straighten the bow on the door and quickly lock it. You hear Ellie’s laughter as she runs around the side of the house, Tommy and Maria walking up behind her.

She’s excited to see both of you, a paper crown announcing her birthday adorns her head as she runs up to hug her father. The second she sees the camper though she darts right past him.

“Why’s this here?” She yells excitedly, she knows exactly why it’s here instead of sitting stagnant on the piece of property you sold just a few days ago. You smile at Joel, nodding towards her as he leans down to pick her up.

“She got you a little birthday present, since you’ve been so nice to her and let her come live with us.” He points at you as she immediately starts squirming out of his grasp, tossing her backpack aside as she runs up the little porch steps. She turns around to look at you with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious?” She screams. You can’t help it as a laugh slips out of you, thankfully Tommy can’t hold it together either as Joel immediately breaks into a lecture you nudge his shoulder as you hand her the key.

“It’s her birthday, she’s allowed to say it on her birthday.” You murmur through your continued laughter. She wraps her arms around your legs, hugging you tightly before turning around and unlocking the door. “Happy birthday, Ellie.”

She had loved her party, thankfully. And she loved her new playhouse much to your relief.

You and Joel laid on opposite sides of her as her little snores filled the camper, she had wanted a campout as a birthday treat and you were both more than willing to oblige. You’re staring up at the faintly glowing stars painted on the ceiling when he sets the box down next to you. You grab it, wanting to ask him more but not wanting to wake Ellie up you open it.

And you’re met with a ridiculously gorgeous ring.

Clearly an heirloom but he’s recently had it polished, one large diamond framed by two smaller ones on either side of it. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at it, shimmering in the moon light before sharply turning your head to the man with a dopey smile lying across from you.

“Been carrying that around for a while now, if I’d known you were ready I would’a asked sooner.” His voice is low as Ellie stirs a bit and you both freeze as she rolls over closer to her father.

Neither one of you speaks again, but the look on your face as you put the ring on was answer enough.

The beeping brings you back to reality as you scan every item in the self checkout lane.

You’re only feeding yourself while Ellie’s with Maria and Tommy, so you keep it simple. Another box of cereal, milk, an apple, a loaf of bread and deli meats. You’re pretty sure you have enough cheese and other essentials to get you through the rest of the weekend. On your way up to the checkout counter you grab a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a box of tampons.

You’re out of both.

You know you live in memories too often, especially without Joel to keep you in reality. You find him in the past when he isn’t beside you because something needs to fill the aching void that yearns for his smell, his taste, and his touch. And echoes of Joel are almost as good as the real thing. There’s a funny comfort you find in memories. Even unhappy ones. There’s no surprises in memories, you know what’s going to happen and you know you survived it.

Even the bad memories bring you comfort when he isn’t around to do it himself.

You pay quickly, loading everything into the cooler in the car as you head off in the direction of your mechanic. When you park you’re told it’ll take about fifteen minutes, nodding as you sit in the waiting room, where your mind inevitably wanders to one of the worst memories in the hours following your meeting in the Applebees that has since closed.

You didn’t pay attention to the road.

Instead you stared at your hands in your lap as he drove, not bothering with the radio, the two of you stewing in your silence as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had come around the truck and done that for you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you bridal style up the porch steps and into the house, only stopping to kick the door shut before bringing you to his room, clicking on the lamp he hadn’t bothered to remove, and setting you on the mattress.

He lays down beside you, taking your face in his hands but you immediately recoil, pushing him away.

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? To show you I’m sorry? Cause I don’t see a point to any of this if it’s never going to happen, it’ll be better for both of us if we know where we stand.” He’s right, unfortunately. Neither one of you deserves to waste the other's time if this is going to mean nothing.

If you can’t forgive him.

“Can you at least let me love you? Do you think you can manage that?” His voice is dangerously close to cracking and you have to pray that he doesn’t break. If he can’t hold it together you know you won’t be able to either. “Neither one of us wants to deal with this but we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, you really don’t know so why answer with anything else?

“I don’t even need a concrete answer, bunny. I just need to know if someday you’re going to be able to forgive me. I can’t live a life where you keep me at arms length.”

You hadn’t responded. Just slid closer to him.

And you let him hold you until you fell asleep, hoping that would be enough.

Your phone buzzing is what snaps you out of your empty thoughts this time. When you open the notification you’re met with a message from Maria, a photo of Tommy sleeping in the recliner, Ellie sitting in his lap, and Riley sitting on the arm of the chair, watching whatever movie they put on the T.V.

[ Made it back from school. Watching Treasure Planet. ]

[ love it ] [ thanks again for taking them ]

The mechanic returns shortly after, handing you your keys and telling you you’re good to go. The hour drive back isn’t terrible, you opt to listen to music on the way back. It’s quiet when you return home. Putting away the groceries and making yourself a sandwich as you look around the cluttering remnants of the party yesterday, the only sounds are your chewing and the soft creaking and scratching from under the floorboards.

Joel has so much pride for your home. He would hate it if he knew how dirty it was currently, the thought alone has you reaching for an empty trash bag once you’re finished eating.

You turn all the lights on as the sun starts to set, how much time did you spend daydreaming today? You try not to think too hard about it as you start cleaning up the plastic cups and paper plates that litter every surface of the living room, popping deflating balloons and sweeping up discarded streamers and confetti. There’s a feeling of solace that comes with cleaning the house, making it feel like home once more.

This isn’t just Joel’s house now, it’s yours as well, even if you thought this would never be the case.

“I know that you shot down the idea last time but I want to show you something.”

“Joel, I just don’t think…” Your voice trails off as you stare at the key ring he’s holding out towards you. If you can’t guarantee that he won’t hurt people you can’t share a home with him, it’s stupid and it makes you feel childish but you can’t come home to him knowing people are still dying, even if you can’t stay away from him.

“Just give me a chance to show you.” He puts the keys back into his pocket before taking your hand. Walking you down the hall towards his room, he stops briefly to check in on Ellie, still tucked into her own bed as you peer into her room before he closes her door quietly. “I don’t want you to think that a life with me is going to be only horrors, and I know that a part of you has already resigned yourself to such a thing but you don’t deserve that.” You’re about to interrupt him, tell him that’s not true despite the ache in your chest that tells you he’s right but he’s opening his own bedroom door and you’re too busy staring slack jawed inside.

It’s unrecognizable from the monster cage he’d created for himself.

Instead of resting bare and on the floor, the mattress has sheets and now rests on a low to the ground metal frame. The photos that were once taped to the wall are now in frames or pinned to a bulletin board he hung up.

He put a rug down that covers any claw marks on the floor and he’s done his best to hang up photos and paintings over the scratches on the walls. There’s even furniture now, a nightstand on either side of the bed with a matching dresser, lamps scattered around the room make the space feel warm and lived in.

“You- you did all this?”

“If you live with me I don’t want you to have to sleep in some sort of creepy homemade dungeon, you deserve an actual bedroom.” He whispers as you look at the paintings on the wall, all of them are Alice in Wonderland themed. “I borrowed those from Sarah’s room, we can change them out when- if you move in.” He quickly mumbles as you look up at a painting of Alice staring into a lake, her own image being reflected back up at her.

“It’s lovely, it’s perfect Joel.” You turn back to him as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

“This ain’t it, there's a few more surprises for you.” The shocked look remains on your face as he takes your hand once more, bringing you back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door.

You had run outside without shoes on and took down the banner hanging on the camper before rushing back in and tossing it in the trash bag. When you look at the clock it’s just a couple minutes from 7:00 p.m. You bring the bag out to the porch before washing your hands.

You don’t bother taking a shower as you change into your pajamas, setting your ring on your nightstand, not wanting to risk damaging it as you pull up a pair of sweats you don’t care about being ruined and an old shirt you wore when you painted the bathroom a month ago. Grabbing the apple off the counter you shove it into your sweatpants pocket. Shooting Maria one last text and turning your phone on do not disturb, you tell her to say goodnight to Ellie for you before slipping your sneakers on and heading out the back door once more.

You don’t like going to the barn alone, and you should have put on a proper jacket, without the sun to warm you, your skin prickles with goosebumps. The dark doesn’t frighten you very much anymore, and it’s easy to follow the familiar path even in the dark. Your phone flashlight illuminates the ground in front of you as you walk, you’re trying to remember if there is a specific sheep Ellie isn’t attached to.

Most of the flock is sleeping save for a few stragglers, you decide not to overthink it, grabbing a lead and putting it over the head of the first sheep that’s brave enough to greet you. The unlucky winner is one of the older sheep, making its way over to you the second you open the gate. You reward her bravery with the apple in your pocket, the only sounds in the quiet night are those of chewing as you walk her back towards the house.

You swung your intertwined hands between the two of you as you walked through the trees behind his house. He must have worked startlingly fast to do that for you, no ones ever put in that sort of effort for you before.

The sun is just starting to set behind you as he takes a step back and covers your eyes.

“Hey-” You start to object with a giggle as he continues walking you forward.

“Oh hush, let this be a surprise.” He chuckles as he leads you further down the path before stopping abruptly and lifting his hands. “Surprise.” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Woah.” You exhale in shock as you stare at the barn in front of you. A white fence surrounding it.

It’s beautiful.

“Tommy and I grew up on a farm, we can raise whatever you want, pigs, sheep, chickens, anything you want.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek.

“I love that idea, but can I ask why?” You let out a nervous laugh as you turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a part of your last surprise.”

“Another?” Your voice pitches up, he built you a fucking barn, what else could he have done for you?

“I want you to know how serious I am about you moving in, I don’t want you to have any doubt.” He mumbles against your temple, inhaling deeply before pulling away and taking your hand one more time. “Come on.” He pulls you back towards the house as the sun sets for good, you walk in the darkness until he brings you to the basement entrance and pulls out the keys he’d offered you.

Several locks adorn the basement entrance, you sift through your key ring until you find each lock's respective key, letting them drop into the grass as you remove each one. When you swing the heavy metal doors open you’re met with the welcoming warmth that comes from below. Several lamps and space heaters create a warm glow that beckons you down the steps. Almost immediately the sheep pulls away, bleating fearfully. Animals are far more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, they know when something is wrong.

You pull her down with you then reach up and let the doors slam down, sealing the poor thing in its tomb with you.

You drop the lead once the doors are closed, there’s no point in leading the lamb any closer to the inevitable slaughter.

“I have loved you since I first saw you in that bar. I have loved you every moment since, you could be cruel and terrible and I’d love you still and I’d probably deserve it. But you aren’t. You’re smart, and you care about everything, and you love everyone even if they aren’t worthy of it.” His hands caress your face as he whispers into the night air. “And you feel so much guilt for the things I do even though you shouldn’t. You can forgive me for all that I’ve done but it won’t change the fact that I’m still doing terrible things. I’ve done terrible things for so long that I didn’t really consider any other options, but you deserve other options.”

He pulls open the basement doors once all the locks are undone, and offers his hand to you.

“I want to show you that I can change, that I would do anything you need me to do, be anything you need me to be.”

It’s your choice, take it or leave, he won’t hold it against you if you crack and can’t handle it anymore. But you need him to keep yourself together in the first place so you take his calloused hand in yours and let him lead you down into the darkness.

The smell of vanilla and pine is dense down here.

As you descend further down the steps you see the familiar set up, a few lamps and lanterns are scattered throughout the darkness as well as a couple space heaters that are only there for your benefit. A mattress you insist on putting sheets on is pushed against one of the scratched up walls, the blankets and pillows scattered about the space, you walk over to the mess, picking up the scattered quilts as you throw everything back down on the mattress. You can feel the movement behind you, the scratching against the cement as you lay down, even with the heaters it’s cold. Thankfully you know you’ll be warm enough soon.

The panicked baa’s of the sheep are swiftly silenced, replaced with the wet tearing sound that once would have filled you with dread. It’s a bit morbid how comforting you now find them, you roll over as you pull another blanket up over yourself, watching the iron chains drag across the floor as the unseen figure pulls them in different directions.

You can see movement dancing on the edges of the lamp light, the smell of blood is almost as prominent now as the suffocating sweetness. A smile begins to tease the corners of your mouth as you hear him moving closer, the familiar, gravely voice that calls out from the dark recesses of the basement fills your ears like warm honey.

“C’mere, bunny.”

a/n : that's a wrap on oh honey folks, once again im sorry i made yall wait so long, i hope it was worth it <3

i no longer have a tag list but for fic updates follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

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dresshistorynerd · 4 months

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Palestinian History Between Great Powers - Part 1

From Bronze Age to Ottoman Palestine

I started writing this article months ago but as it deserves proper research, it took me a long while, and at one point I started questioning is this helpful anymore. I thought it's obvious at this point to anyone not willfully ignorant that what we are seeing in real time is a genocide, and I'm not going to convince those who are willfully ignorant. I decided to finish it anyway since I do feel obligation to do something and maybe providing some accessible historical context is what I'm capable of doing. Even if I probably won't change any hearts and minds, I think the least we can do is not forget Palestinians and fall into apathy. And at the very least more understanding of the situation is always better even when we already oppose this genocide.

This is quite out of my area of focus, so I will be doing more of a general overview of the history and link in depth sources by more knowledgeable people than try to become an expert on this. My purpose is to offer an accessible starting point for the history of Palestine to help people put historical and current events into their proper context. I don't think the occupation and genocide in Palestine pose complex moral questions - it's pretty simple in my opinion that genocide, apartheid and colonialism are wrong and need to stop for peace to be possible - but the history is complex and it's understanding needs quite a lot of background. I will do my best to represent the complexity accurately and fairly while keeping this concise. Since there is a lot of history, even if this is very general overview, it's still very long, so I did need to cut this in two parts. First part will be covering everything to the beginning of WW1, second part the British Mandate period and Israel period.

Bibliography

I'm linking my sources and further reading here so it's easy to check some specific resources even if you don't want to/have time to read 5 000 years of history right now. Because there's so much misinformation and propaganda, I read as much as I could from academic sources, linked at the top here. They are really interesting and delve deeply into specific subjects so I do recommend checking out anything that peaks your interest (Sci-Hub is your friend against paywalled papers and in JSTOR you can make a free account to access most papers). Some of them I didn't really end up using, but I still linked them here since they provide some additional context that wouldn't fit in this overview. At the end there's some accessible resources (youtube videos, podcasts etc.) which are relevant and I think good.

Pre-Ottoman Era

On The Problem of Reconstructing Pre-Hellenistic Israelite (Palestinian) History - Critique of Biblical historical narratives

Canaanites and Philistines

Archaeological Sources for the History of Palestine: Between Large Forces: Palestine in the Hellenistic Period - Everyday life in Hellenistic Palestine

Ottoman Era

Rediscovering Ottoman Palestine: Writing Palestinians into History - Critique of politics of Ottoman Palestine historiography

The Peasantry of Late Ottoman Palestine

Consequences of the Ottoman Land Law: Agrarian and Privatization Processes in Palestine, 1858–1918

The route from informal peasant landownership to formal tenancy and eviction in Palestine, 1800s–1947

The Ottoman Empire, Zionism, and the Question of Palestine (1880–1908)

Origins of Zionism

Christian Zionism and Victorian Culture

Zionism and Imperialism: The Historical Origins

The Non-Jewish Origin of Zionism

Zionism and Its Jewish "Assimilationist" Critics (1897-1948)

The Jewish-Ottoman Land Company: Herzl's Blueprint for the Colonization of Palestine

Books

Boundaries and Baraka - Chapter II of Muslims and Others in Sacred Space - Local syncretic religious beliefs of Muslim and Christian Arabs in Palestine

Further "reading"

Israelis Are Not 'Indigenous' (and other ridiculous pro-Israel arguments) - Properly cited youtube video on settler colonialism of Zionism (Indigenous is defined here in postcolonialist way, in contrast with the colonialist, the video doesn't argue that diaspora Jews didn't originate from the Palestine area)

Gaza: A Clear Case of Genocide - Detailed Legal Analysis - Youtube video detailing current evidence on the ongoing genocide and assessing them through international law

What the Netanyahu Family Did To Palestine: Part 1 , Part 2 - Two part podcast episode of Behind the Bastards about Israel's history and Netanyahu Family's involvement in it with an expert quest

History of Israeli/Palestinian conflict since 1799 - Timeline of Palestinian history by Al Jazeera with documentaries produced by Al Jazeera for most of the entries in the timeline

Ancient Era (33th-4th century BCE)

Palestine's location in the fertile crescent, the connecting land between Africa and Asia and the strip of land between Mediterranean and Red Sea means since the earliest emergence of civilizations it has been in the middle of great powers. Thorough it's history it has been conquered many, many times for it's strategic value. Despite the changing rulers and migrating groups there has been a continuous history history of a people, which has changed, split and evolved, but not fully disappeared or replaced at any point, which is quite rare of a history spanning thousands of years.

Speakers of Semitic languages are the first recorded inhabitants of Palestine. At least from Bronze Age (c. 3300-1200 BCE) onward they inhabited Levant, Arabian peninsula and Ethiopian highlands. Semitic languages belong in the Afroasiatic language group, which includes three other branches; ancient Egypt, Amazigh languages and Cushitic languages of African Horn. Most prominent theories of the origins of proto-Afroasiatic is in Levant, African side of Red Sea or Ethiopia. In the Bronze Age the Levant's Semitic speakers were called Canaanites and there was already urban settlements in Early Bronze Age. Egypt had been extending it's control over Canaan for a while and in Late Bronze Age, 1457 BCE, it took over Canaan. Gaza, which had had habitation for thousand years already, became the Egypt's administrative capital in Canaan. Canaan stayed as Egypt's province until the Late Bronze Age collapse c. 1200-1150 BCE, when Egypt started losing it's hold on Levant. Egypt eventually retreated from Canaan around 1100 BCE. The causes of Late Bronze Age collapse are unknown, but theories suggest some kind of environmental changes that caused destruction of cities and wide-spread mass migration all around the East Mediterranean Bronze Age civilizations.

Canaanites was not what most of the people called themselves, but rather what the surrounding empires, especially Egypt and Hittites in the north, called them. Philistines appear in Egyptian sources around the Late Bronze Age collapse as raiders against Egypt, who were likely populating southern parts of Canaan, the Palestine area. Several groups with mutually intelligble languages emerged after Egypt left the area: in Palestine area Philistines, Israelites, in Jordan are Ammonites, Moabites and Edomites, and in Lebanon area Canaanites, who were called by Phoenicians by Greeks. Israelites have been theorized to split from Philistines, possibly after Aegonean migrants during the Late Bronze Age collapse influenced the culture of the costal Philistine city states, and/or through Israelites development of monotheistic faith. During Iron Age these different groups descendant from Caananites had their own kingdoms. In the area of Palestine there was two Israelite kindgoms, Kingdom of Judah is the highlands of Judah, were Israelites likely originated, and Kindom of Israel or Samaria north to it, as well as Philistine city states in the coast around the area of current Gaza strip.

Earliest historical evidence of Israel is from mid 9th century BCE and of Judah from 7th century BCE, though Israelites as a group were mentioned earlier. It's entirely possible the kingdoms predate these mentions, but the archaeological evidence suggests likely not by much. Israel was conquered by the Neo-Assyrian empire in 722 BC, so it's entirely possible kingdom of Judah was created by retreating Israelites of the earlier kingdom. The remaining Israelites under Assyrian rule came to be known as Samaritans, marking also the split of Jewish faith into Judaism and Samaritanism. Neo-Assyrian lingua franca was Aramaic, a Semitic language from southwest Syria, which became the major spoken language in Samaria. Judah became a vassal state of Assyrians and later Babylonians. After a rebellion Babylonians fully conquered Judah in 586-587 BCE and exiled the rebels, though more recent historical study suggests it targeted the rebelling population and was not a mass exile. In 539 BCE Babylon and by extension Judah was conquered by Persian Achaemenid empire, which allowed the exiles to return and rule Judah as their vassals. Persia also conquered Samaria and Philistines. Aramaic was also the official language of the both Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid empires and replaces Old Hebrew as spoken language in Judah too, though Old Hebrew continued to be written language of religious scripture and is known today as Biblical Hebrew. Otherwise in the Palestine area there were Edomites, who migrated to the southern parts of former Judah kingdom, and Qedarites, a nomadic Arabic tribal federation, in southern desert parts.

Biblical narratives tell this early history very differently, and for a long while, those were used as historical texts, but more recent historical study has cast a doubt on their usefulness in historical inquiry. Even more recent archaeological DNA studies (like this and this) have supported the historical narratives constructed from primary historical texts.

Antique Era (4th century BCE - 7th century CE)

Under Persian rule the people in the Palestine area had a relative amount of autonomy, which lasted about 200 years. In the 330s BCE Macedonians conquered Levant along with a lot of other places. The Macedonian empire broke down quickly after the death of Alexander the Great, and Levant was left under the control of the Seleucid empire, which included most of the Asian parts of the Macedonian empire. During this time the whole Palestine area was heavily Hellenized. In the 170s BCE the Seleucian emperor started a repression campaign against the Jewish religion, which led to a Maccabean Revolt in Judea, lasting from 167-160 BCE until the Seleucids were able to defeat the rebels. It started with guerilla violence in the countryside but evolved into a small civil war. Defeat of the rebelling Maccabees didn't curb the discontent and by 134 BCE Maccabees managed to take Judea and establish the Hasmonean dynasty. The dynasty ruled semi-autonomously under the Seleucian empire until it started disintegrating around 110 BCE, and Judea gained more independence and began to conquer the neighbouring areas. At most they controlled Samaria, Galilee, areas around Galilean Sea, Dead Sea and Jordan River between them, Idumea (formerly Kingdom of Edom) and Philistine city states. During the Hasmonean dynasty Judaism spread to some of the other Semitic peoples under their rule. It didn’t take long for the rising power of the Roman Republic to make Judea into their client state in 63 BCE. Next three decades the Roman Republic and Parthian Empire would fight over control of Judea, which ended by Rome gaining control and disposing of the Hasmonean dynasty from power. It was a client state until 6 CE Rome incorporated Judea proper, Samaria, Idumea and Philistine city states into the province of Judea.

The Jewish population was very much discontent under Roman rule and revolted frequently through the first century or so. It led to waves of Jewish migration around the Mediterranean area, which would eventually lead to the formation of European and North-African Jewish groups. The Roman emperor’s decision to build a Roman colony into Jerusalem, which they destroyed along with Second Temple while squashing the previous revolt, provoked a large-scale armed uprising from 132-136 among Judean Jews, which Rome suppressed brutally. Jerusalem was destroyed again, Jews and Christians were banned from there, and a lot of Judean Jews were killed, displaced and enslaved. Rome also suffered high losses. Jews and Christians hadn’t yet fully separated into different faiths yet, but this strained their relations as Christians hadn’t supported the uprising. Galilee and Judea was joined into one province, Syria Palaestina. Galilean Jews hadn’t participated in the revolt and had therefore survived it unscathed, so Galilee became the Jewish heartland. During the Constantine dynasty, in the first half of the 4th century, when Christianity was the Roman state religion, Jerusalem was rebuilt as very Christianized. After the Constantine dynasty the Jewish relations with Rome were briefly improved by a sympathetic emperor, until Justinian came into power in 527 and began authoritarian religious oppression of all non-Christians, casting the whole area into chaos. Samaritans rebelled repeatedly and were almost fully wiped out, while Jews joined forces with several foreign powers in an attempt to destabilize Byzantium rule. By 636 the first Muslim Caliphate emerged as victors over the control of Palestine.

Muslim Period and Crusades (636-1516)

For more than 300 years under the rule of Muslim Caliphate, Palestine saw a much more peaceful period, with relative freedom and economic prosperity. Christianity continued to be the majority religion and Christians, Jews and usually Samaritans were considered People of the Book, who were guaranteed religious freedom. Non-muslims though had to pay taxes and depending on the caliph had more or less restrictions posed upon them. The position of Samaritans as People of the Book was unstable and at points they were persecuted. For the position of Jews it was a marked improvement, and after the expulsion of Jews from Jerusalem by Rome in the 2nd century, they were finally allowed to return. Jerusalem became a religious center for the Muslims too, as it was considered the third most holy place of Islam. Cities, especially Jerusalem, saw Arab immigration. The rural agricultural population was mostly Aramaic speaking, though even while Palestinian Arabs had mostly been bedouins in the southern deserts, there were few Arabic villages from the Roman era. People of the Book were protected from forced conversions, but over time conversions among the Christian population slowly increased, until Islam became the majority religion. Cities became Arabicized and slowly Arabic (also Semitic language) replaced Aramaic as the majority language. Towards the end of the first millennium persecution of Christianity increased with the threat of Byzantium.

In 970 a competing dynasty, Fatimids, conquered Palestine beginning a new era of continuous warfare and conquest by foreign powers. In the beginning of the new millennium Palestine was conquered by the Turco-Persian Seljuk empire for a couple of decades, recaptured by Fatimids for only a year, until the Crusaders took Palestine in 1099. During the next two centuries Palestine exchanged hands several times between the Crusaders and the Egyptian Ayyubid Sultanate. After internal struggle the Ayyubid dynasty was overthrown by the mamluk military caste and them in lead, the Sultanate secured Palestine. First they repelled the invading Mongol empire in 1260 and by 1291 they had defeated the remnants of the Cusaders and their Kingdom of Jerusalem. The period was devastating to the Palestinian populations, cities and economic life. The Crusaders especially committed numerous massacres against non-Christians and under Muslim rule Christians were persecuted and forcibly converted. The next two centuries under the Mamluk Sultanate were peaceful and Christian and Jewish communities were afforded some self-governance and relatively high religious freedom for being recognised as People of the Book again. The state had a more contentious relationship with Christians as the wars with the Crusaders were still looming between Christians and Muslims, and at some points Christians faced persecution and forced conversions.

Ottoman Period (1516-1917)

The Ottoman Empire gained dominance in western Asia over the Mamluk Sultanate during the late 15th century and conquered Palestine in 1516. It became a great imperial power in Asia and Europe for two centuries and in the 18th century started a slow decline, eventually becoming the "Sick man of Europe". The Ottoman Empire was very decentralized and under it Palestine was at first ruled by three Palestinian families semi-autonomously. The Ottoman state didn’t pay much attention to economic development, as they considered it contrary to their chivalric culture, so they instead attracted foreign businesses with the capitulation system. Capitulations were treaties between Ottomans and a foreign power by which the citizens of that foreign power were under their jurisdiction inside Ottoman borders. This guaranteed safety and religious freedom for non-Muslim merchants and exempted them from any additional taxes applying to foreigners and non-Muslims, which encouraged them to build businesses in the Ottoman Empire. Ottomans also intentionally attracted European Jews, who faced persecution and pogroms, and had built effective international trade networks through the tight knit diaspora communities. Jews and Christians had quite well secured position in the empire as People of the Book, but Samaritans were persecuted after they had sided with the Mamluk Sultanate against Ottomans and later for being considered "pagans". City elites adopted Turkish culture, while in rural areas peasant villages and Bedouin clans remained Arabic. The rural areas were very much self-governing as both villages and Bedouin clans were fairly self-reliant with their own political structures. Villages consisted of clan-like family groups, hamulas, and the village lands were distributed between their collective ownership.

In the 19th century the Ottoman Empire was leaving behind European imperial powers in economic and military development. With the rise of the international capitalist markets, capitulation approach, which had worked well for the empire in previous centuries, was extended to markets as a very laissez faire economic policy. This did not lead to hoped economic growth however, but rather deindustrialization. The Ottoman Empire opened itself to markets it couldn’t compete in and its resources were then easy to exploit by stronger economies. The other powers, such as the European powers, avoided this by first cultivating strong national industries with protectionist policies, and then opened to international markets. The capitulation system also became a political liability the way it interacted with the protégé system. The Ottoman Empire had agreed to allow some European powers to give their protection over certain minority religious groups (mostly Christian groups) in the Empire, allowing members of those groups to claim citizenship of their protectorate nation. This had allowed those Ottoman citizens to claim the benefits of the capitulation system and cultivated trade and business for the Empire. In the 19th century the European powers, notably France, British Empire, Germany and Russia, turned their interests towards Levant which was important for their access to their colonial interests in Asia and Africa. They had a vested interest in the continuing power of the weakening Ottoman Empire, which they believed they could control through economic dominance and the protégé system. It became a competition on who could gain the most influence in the Ottoman Empire. In Palestine this led to a change in class dynamics. Christian protégés of European imperial powers were given tax exemptions from the increasing taxes, which were implemented to balance the national deposit, and better opportunities to gain wealth from international trade, turning the urban Christian Arabs into elite.

In 1832 Egypt invaded Palestine, marking a point of more rapid decline of Ottoman rule. Egypt attempted to “modernize” Palestine, which was considered backward, but Egypt's policies, especially conscription, were considered intrusive. The local self-ruling clans and families were resistant to outside powers and with their sway over the population, they rose to a popular uprising after two years of Egyptian rule. The suppression of the uprising devastated many villages and Egypt still failed to enforce order and halt violence. In 1840 Britain intervened, returning its control back to the Ottomans. They didn’t yet have capitulations with the Ottomans and were concerned over the other European powers gaining influence over the aging empire, so in return for their military assistance, they gained capitulations and named Jews and Protestants as their protégés in Levant. Palestine rapidly opened to the international markets with the increase in capitulations combined with the laissez faire fiscal policies of the empire, allowing European powers to turn Palestinian cities, especially in the coast, to centers of trade. In 1858 the Ottoman Empire also attempted to privatize land ownership to increase agricultural production and profitability in order to help with their financial troubles. Most Palestinian land was public land, but in practice owned informally by the villagers cultivating it. As long as they paid taxes, they couldn’t be evicted, which rarely happened in those cases either, and their rights to the land were hereditary. The land reform codified and formalized land ownership and removed barriers to non-villagers gaining ownership of peasant land, laying groundwork for commodifying land. The Ottoman Empire also allowed foreigners to purchase private land. This didn’t immediately lead to large-scale transfer of land ownership, but increasing taxes impoverishing the peasantry and indebting them transferred land from its cultivators to urban absentee landlords. Peasants started to turn into landless tenants and a new type of large estates were established.

Birth of Zionism

The British pushed for more control over Levant, since they wanted to secure their access to India and their colonial ventures in Africa. They didn’t have much interest in colonizing Levant themselves, which is why they were interested in backing the Ottoman Empire and gaining stronger control over it via European Jewish immigrants. European Jews had been immigrating to Palestine in small numbers for a while for religious reasons, to escape persecution and to take advantage of the economic opportunities offered by the Ottoman Empire. The British though also had religious interests in supporting Jewish migration to Palestine. Since the early 19th century, there had been a growing religious movement of Christian Zionism, who sought to restore Jews into Palestine and then convert them to Christianity to cause the second coming of Jesus and the end times. As you do. They were considered fanatics, even lunatics, for their literal interpretations of prophecy, but they were enthusiastic imperialists and when they expressed the idea of restoration of Jewish Palestine in imperial terms, it gained popular acceptance in Britain. Some of the common talking points originating from Christian Zionism were Jews had the right to Palestinian land for Biblical reasons, the only way to not let the “underdeveloped” agrarian land go to waste was colonialism, and Jews would be a civilizing force in Palestine. While the end goal of Christian Zionists was conversion of Jews, they had Orientalist reverence for Jews, but among the wider imperialist support for these ideas there was in addition an explicitly antisemitic aspect. The imperialists' idea was that Britain, and Europe more broadly, could this way also get rid of the Jews.

The trouble was that at the time there was no wide interest at all among Jews to colonize Palestine. The Jews who were migrating there during the first half of the 19th century did so with all intentions of integrating to the Palestinian society. European Jews had since Enlightenment and the French Revolution gained unprecedented levels of social acceptance and equality (which still wasn’t very much), and liberal assimilationism had become the dominant ideology especially among Jewish elites. Assimilationist Jews considered Judaism a religious identity, not an ethnic one, and they rather identified with their nationality. In the latter half of 19th century Jewish socialism was contesting the liberal Jewish idea that antisemitism could be overcome with individualist approach and instead demanded structural change. During the century it became increasingly clear that the assimilationist approach couldn’t fix antisemitism as racial ideology and exclusionist ethnonationalism were gaining traction and fueling antisemitism, which culminated in the 1880s pogroms in Russia and 1894 Dreyfus Affair in France. These events certainly promoted socialist approach among many Jews, but the Jewish elite were certainly not interested in socialist solutions, where they would lose their elite status, even if for white Christians they were all second class citizens. So instead, like many elites facing the threat of socialism, they turned to nationalism. To the question of how to build a nation from a diverse diaspora, they found the answer from Christian Zionism. Jewish Zionism was distinctly secular, so while they did adopt many religious and biblical narratives and goals of Christian Zionism, they put them in nationalist terms. Their end goal was of course different from that of the millennialist Christians so Jewish Zionism was presented as a practical and rational alternative to utopian fanaticism, but they were still natural allies. Zionism was opposed in the European Jewish communities by both assimilationists and socialists, who both viewed it as countering the efforts of opposing antisemitism, which Zionists saw as an inherently impossible endeavor, and also by Orthodox Jews from a religious standpoint. Orthodox Jews denounced the secularization of the Promised Land, which according to them could only be bestowed by God and couldn’t be a state with secular power.

Before Zionism was fully formalized as a movement, there were proto-Zionist movements in Eastern-Europe as a direct response to the pogroms, with the goal of settling Eastern Jewish refugees to Palestine from 1881 forward. This is considered to be the start of the First Aliyah, the explicitly Zionist mass migrations to Palestine. The funding was secured from the European Jews, and with it the Zionists bought land from the absentee urban landlords with large estates and evicted the tenants in order to form Zionist colonies. This raised concern among Ottoman officials, who had become vary of the European exploitation of their capitulation system, which increased European influence with the immigration of European Jews. They were also concerned about the rising Arab nationalism in Palestine provoked by the European economic exploitation and even more pressingly the peasant displacement. The Ottoman Empire was already facing massive difficulties with nationalist movements in different parts of the empire, like in Armenia. They attempted to restrict Zionist land purchases with legal restrictions and failed.

The 1880s settling to Palestine was still unorganized and leaderless until Theodor Herzl, who is considered to be the founder of Zionism, joined Zionist ranks in mid-1890s and began formulating a colonialist venture in earnest. The British were supportive of the Zionist project, but as long as the Ottoman Empire was in charge of Palestine and the British could extend control over it, they weren’t interested in establishing such a state themselves. So the Zionist movement with Herzl in the lead turned to the Ottoman Empire in 1901. He envisioned the Zionist colonial project as a land company, modeled after the British and Dutch East Indian Companies, which would under imperial blessing operate fairly independently and govern over colonized land. The end goal was to build an ethnonationalist Jewish state and expel the native population. There were even dreams of Jewish empire that would colonize neighbouring countries, “civilize” them and bring them “prosperity”. To persuade the Sultan, Herz proposed to pay for the Ottoman Empire’s depts with European Jewish investments in exchange for allowing the Zionists to settle and govern Palestine. The Ottoman government was well aware of Zionist movement’s end goals and their alliances with European Imperialism, rejecting their proposals.

The Zionists evaded Ottoman restrictions anyway and continued to settle Palestine with British backing. European powers then pressured Ottomans to abolish those restrictions allowing a new wave of Zionist colonialism. The violence and pogroms in Russia had convinced some of the Eastern European Jewish socialists that fighting antisemitism was impossible, so they created Labor Zionism and used the “untouched land” to experiment with utopian socialist communes. In the process they displaced indigenous peasant hamulas, which had often for centuries farmed the land in communal ownership. Mass migration and eviction quickly provoked a predictable opposition in the Palestinian population and spread of Arab nationalist thought. This second wave of Aliyah ended at the First World War, which was also the end of the Ottoman Empire.

#history #palestine #palestinian genocide #palestinian history #colonization #colonial history #zionism #islamophobia #ottoman empire

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buckybarnesisdaddy · 6 months

Text

All is Well Part 2

Summary- Daisy and the men are still getting used to their newest houseguest.

Pairings- Steve Rogers(Nomad) x Daisy!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Daisy!Reader, Jefferson x Daisy!Reader (implied), Ransom x Daisy!Reader (implied).

Rating- Explicit, 18+

Warnings- polyamorous relationships, sex (PiV), Oral (f receiving), Double penetration, slight choking, cream pie, teased MxM but doesn’t actually happen, I’m sure I forgot something. 18+ only!!

Word count- 6.2k

Authors notes- This ties into It’s Cold, by @rainydayandmondays so please read that wonderful chapter! I haven’t posted my writing on Tumblr so here goes nothing, hopefully you all like it!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warmth. A soft, gentle warmth washes over him. “Mmhmm,” he hums as he opens his eyes. Looking down at you as your head is buried against his chest and dreaming away, a soft smile breaks over his face.

Cold. Bone-chilling cold grips his chest as he shoots awake. He is looking around and gasping for air, looking for you, his Daisy. You’re asleep in the arms of the other while one leg is entangled with his own and your hand clasped with his, Grounding him.

Love. Unmatched and all-consuming, as you sleep between your two men. You hum as you start to stir, feeling eyes on you, and then the bed shakes as one sits up, started awake.

“Buck- hey Bucky, you’re safe.” Steve’s voice is what pulls you from your sleep. Bucky’s gasping for air scares you as you wipe the sleep out of your eyes.

“Bucky? Baby, what is it?” You sit up, still holding his metal hand in yours and moving closer to him as he moves to the edge of the bed. Kissing his shoulders and rubbing his back, you try to bring him out of his dream.

“I’m- I’m okay- I…” you look at Steve, who is already sitting up and switching on the lamp. Glancing at the clock, it reads 2 am. “I’m sorry- I’ll try to go back to sleep- I just.” still trying to catch his breath, he stumbles over his words. Bucky hasn’t had nightmares in about nine months, not since you got into a routine. Nine months ago, He moved into the room you shared with Steve. He sleeps on your right, and Steve sleeps on your left. Every other morning, he gets up and runs; the mornings he doesn’t, Steve does. They never want to leave you alone. And the mornings neither get up; well, those mornings usually end up with a late start for all three of you as soft kisses turn into hands roaming each other’s bodies, which leads to you spread out above or below one of them. Bucky makes breakfast for everyone in the house and eats with you either on his lap or admiring you sitting in Steve’s. It’s a solid routine that has worked for the past nine months and one day… no nightmares for nine months and one day until tonight. Feeling the tightness in his chest finally subside, he allows you to move him back on the bed and lean back against the headboard. You settle between him and Steve, laying your head on his shoulder and taking Steve’s hand to your left.

“Talk to me, Baby.” You rub Bucky’s leg, coaxing him to open up, “What’s going on?”

Bucky lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re gonna laugh at me.” You shake your head no, and Steve voices what you’re thinking.

“Whatever it is, it’s big enough to cause your nightmares to return. Just talk to us, Buck.” Steve reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. Bucky sighs again.

“That little prick coming in and messing up our lives,” Bucky grumbles. “We all had a great system! Sleep together, workout, I cook, Stevie cleans, Daisy sits there and looks pretty-“Bucky crosses his arms. “Now I’m having to share my women-” Steve clears his throat, “Our women, Sorry Stevie.” He reaches over and ruffles Steve’s bedhead. “There is never any hot water cause he is always taking damn baths, I have to cook more food, so it’s taking even longer, and I’m not even getting to eat with you two anymore because I always serve you first-” Bucky looks down at you, and you are smiling a little. “See! I knew you’d laugh!” You smile and look at Steve, who nods. You move to straddle Bucky’s lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m not laughing, Bucky. I think you’re a little jealous of our new housemate-”

“I’m not jealous- I just hate change! You know me, I don’t do change well!” You rub down his chest.

“James Buchanan Barnes, don’t raise your voice at me.” You say in the sweetest, softest voice that all Bucky can do is smile at your request. He grumbles an apology. You giggle and kiss his nose as you say a thank you back. “Fine, you’re not jealous, but I sense you feel left out.” He nods, and you rub his chest again. “A bit… underappreciated.” He nods again, and you reach down to the hem of your shirt and lift it off in one motion. Bucky stares at your breast and licks his lips. You tilt his chin up to look at you, and you smile. “I’m sorry you have felt unseen these past few days… he can be-”

“An ass,” Steve says.

“A prick,” Bucky grumbles

“A handful,” you correct both of them. “Ransom is new; remember what it was like when we brought the last new guy in?” Bucky sighs and nods. The last new guy was a man named Frank. He had no last name, and he had a bad smoking habit. You took care of that pretty quickly. He was sweet but took some training; learning to share can be challenging for little kids, let alone grown men. He finally settled in, and the boys really like him now. He gets along with Jefferson well and keeps to himself except when asked to join everyone. He took some getting used to. Now, he comes and goes as he pleases.

“That first week, he was needy, and you both HATED him for it. Turns out he was just in need of a family, of somewhere to belong. We gave that to him. Ransom has some similar needs. His family was… well, a shit show, and he was never disciplined. Ever. Precious, Dutchess and I must correct that, and there will be some natural pushback. Trust me, it won’t be like this forever.” You lean forward and press your chest against Bucky’s. “And if anyone can show him how to behave, it’s my two Super Soldiers.” You lean in and kiss Steve and then turn to kiss Bucky. Bucky smiles and seems to relax a little. You meet Steve’s gaze, and he nods, clearing his throat and furrowing his brow; he brings up a topic that he knows could be touchy.

“Buck, this actually comes at a perfect time. Bucky looks at Steve and then at you. “The routine you-” Steve gestures to all three of you, “we- have is great, but I think we could ease up on it a bit.” Bucky goes stiff and looks at you. “We are only suggesting this because,” Steve shifts around, “well,” Still feeling like he might be walking into a dangerous conversation, “we’ve noticed how the changes have slowly been affecting you. We think it would help if you weren’t so tied to a routine that you can’t deviate from. Life is full of changes, and we have to be able to adapt to them. This is proof that maybe- just maybe your coping skills aren’t the best solution.” You lean forward and hug him tight, looking up at him with your sweet, puppy eyes, as Steve and Bucky like to call them. “You haven’t had your exact routine for eight days now, and you’ve gotten grumpy, and now you’re having nightmares,” Steve continues. “And don’t get us wrong, we LOVE grumpy you,” you giggle and kiss his chest, and Steve ruffles his hair. “But the nightmares… you’ve come so far, Buck, we don’t want you to lose all your progress.” Bucky looks at Steve and then down at you. He nods and kisses your head.

“Okay, well then, what do you two suggest? Bucky asks, actually curious how two people with no experience in PTSD therapy or counseling are going to help him overcome this.

“Well, for starters,” you smile as you sit up, drawing squiggles down his chest with your fingers. “A good night’s rest will help. And I know you’re not tired now, but,” you look at Steve and smirk. “I can change that,” Steve smirks back and pulls you into a kiss.

“I’m still pretty tired from earlier,” he winks at you as you blush, “but you two go ahead.”

That night, you tire Bucky out, and you pass out next to Steve. All three of you blissed out and incredibly happier than you were an hour ago. You and Steve make it a point to change Bucky’s schedule gradually. If he wakes up late, you encourage him to skip the run and do it at another time that day. If he cooks breakfast, he does it all at once, and it’s not made to order like he used to do. That way, if Ransom wants to be an hour late for breakfast, Bucky isn’t thrown off by that. Ransom gets cold eggs and bacon, and Bucky doesn’t miss his morning snuggles with you. Little by little, Bucky lets go of the reigns and allows the little bumps in his schedule to test his flexibility. And pretty soon, the nightmares stop, too; it’s a strange thing the mind. When every second of Bucky’s day wasn’t taken up with some task or job, it would wander to the horrors of his past life. The things he did, the people he killed, that’s why he wanted to be constantly busy. It took one prick waltzing into his home to show him that he needed to let go so he could heal and move on. He doesn’t care for Ransom, but he can’t say he hates him anymore.

***5 months later- November***

Bucky is making French toast when he hears someone come walking into the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder, “morning,” he offers, and Jake smiles and pats his shoulder as he walks by. Fixing his coffee and sitting down at the table, Bucky can tell Jake isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Ransom?” Bucky asks, and Jake nods.

“With precious now, and that’s why I’m here with you.” Bucky laughs and nods. “So tell me, how does one make French toast?” Jake asks, and Bucky kindly obliges him, going over each step in detail and offering to let him make a few. Bucky likes Jake; he is a little eccentric, but Bucky doesn’t mind that; it makes for good story times at the dinner table. The only thing Bucky could do without is Jake’s need to introduce him to new music; if Bucky has to hear Don’t Stop Believin’ one more time, he might just snap and beat the shit out of Ransom and blame it on music rage. He smiles to himself at the thought. That’s when the bedroom door starts to open.

“That’s my cue,” Jake smiles and excuses himself. Bucky looks over his shoulder, and he sees a half-naked Ransom walking down the hall to the bathroom, as smug as can be. Bucky sighs and shakes his head as he finishes breakfast.

The sun streams in and shines in your eyes, pulling you from your blissful sleep. You’re blissful yet cold sleep. You reach out on both sides and feel icy sheets under your fingertips. Pouting and staring at the ceiling, you grumble about waking up alone. Steve went for a run right after Bucky got up to start breakfast. You stayed tucked in bed, hoping they’d both be back by now, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. You are still lost in your pouting thoughts when there is a knock on the bedroom door. You forgo your slippers and regret it when the hardwood floor sends shivers up your spine. You tie your silk robe around you before opening the door and seeing who it is, except all you see is a giant bouquet of daisies. You’re eyes light up, and a small giggle escapes your lips. “Steve Grant Rogers, what on earth?!” Steve drops them and places the bouquet by the door before scooping you up into his arms. He tickles your sides, and a laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“I just wanted to treat you, that’s all.” He kisses you as he kicks the door closed behind him. Steve crosses the room to the king-sized bed in the middle of the back wall. The pillows are haphazardly thrown on either side, and the dark green comforter is a little twisted, but that doesn’t stop Steve from laying you down. As you have two men permanently in your bedroom, you have the large master suite with a joined bathroom. Dutchess has a room at the very end of the hall, and it has a joined bathroom as well. Precious (as Jake likes to call her) has the room down the hall, and their bathroom is across from your bedroom. Each room is exceptionally spacious, and you’ve even drawn up plans to add a bathroom to Jake and Precious’ room. It’s only fair that they have the same privacy as you and Dutchess. Also, it would keep Ransom from giving you, Steve, and Bucky a free show whenever he can’t be bothered to close the door. And it would decrease his opportunity to eavesdrop on your private time with your boys. You can count on one hand the number of times Bucky and Steve have stayed and joined in on your time with Ransom… there’s a reason that number doesn’t go past 5.

Lost in the eyes of your husband and the feel of his lips on your skin, you don’t hear the door open. You don’t hear the clearing of his throat, and you don’t hear him call out your name; you don’t hear him at all, but you see him. Opening your eyes when Steve leaves a particularly hard love bite on your neck. There’s Ransom, bedroom door kicked back open, leaning against the doorframe. Ransom has taken your bouquet, and he’s picking the petals off the Daisies. Steve had taken the time from his run to buy you your favorite flower; it’s where your nickname comes from, and here Ransom is just ripping it apart. His smirk tells you everything you need to know; he’s looking for a reaction. Ransom knows those were special for you. He wants Steve or even you to get angry; you won’t give him that. You know he’s acting out for attention; Steve and Bucky would say he’s just being a little prick. You look away, pull Steve’s face close to yours, and whisper, “Next time, take an extra second to lock the door.” Steve scrunches his brow, and his eyes get slightly sad, thinking he messed up somehow. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Ransom’s smug face and rolls his eyes. Noticing how Ransom’s eyes rake over your body, shielded by this sheer silk robe and Steve, it sends Steve into protective mode. He starts to get up and lecture Ransom about respecting people’s privacy and how Daisy is HIS wife, and HE decides who sees her and when. All that would have done is cause Ransom to laugh in Steve’s face. Steve may be the husband, and he may have some control over Daisy, but everyone knows that the women in this house have 100% autonomy, and no one’s husband can say differently. Well, that’s what they let Ransom think, no one’s had the heart to give him the cold, hard truth about these relationships… yet. Steve just might though. Ransom stares Steve down, almost begging him to let go and yell. Ransom doesn’t rightfully fear Steve, at least not yet. You three ladies allow the men to handle their differences however they see fit. As long as no one is seriously hurt, they can duke it out. That rule was put on pause once Ransom arrived because, well, the boys would have permanently damaged his face and their hands with the amount of times they’ve had disagreements with him. So, if Steve had chosen to tell him off like he so desperately wanted to do, Ransom would have answered with a literal laugh in Steve’s face. And Steve would have had no choice but to show Ransom why he should fear him. But Bucky saves the day and the peace. Bucky always saves the day.

“Beat it.” Bucky walks up beside Ransom and stands in the doorway to block his view. Not before he glances at you himself; he definitely likes what he sees, and you bite your lip when you catch his gaze. He turns back around and looks Ransom up and down. “You’re not supposed to have a foot in this room until tomorrow.” Ransom scoffs at Bucky. “Breakfast is ready in the kitchen; go now.” Bucky stands up straighter, towering over Ransom; he’s only one or two inches taller, but still, with Bucky’s muscles, it's intimidating. Bucky gives Ransom’s shoulder a little push, moving him out of the doorway, and Bucky shuts and locks the door on him.

“I’m sorry he ruined your flowers.” Steve opens your robe and kisses your chest. You hum at the feeling of his beard creating delicious friction along your soft skin.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Bucky? Could you gather the petals? If Ransom wants to ruin my flowers, then he will have to bathe with the petals his next bath.” You smile, and Bucky lightly laughs and nods.

“He’s gonna hate and love that simultaneously,” Bucky says as he gathers the petals and places them on the dresser. One hand plays in Steve’s hair as he continues to kiss your chest, and the other reaches out to Bucky. He stands at the end of the bed watching you and Steve; he sees how you melt in Steve’s arms and soften at the feel of his lips along your breast. You make a grabby motion, and he teases you by doing it back. You pout, and a light laugh escapes Bucky’s lips before he gives in and walks over.

“You two left me in a cold bed this morning, all alone,” You tighten your grip on Steve’s hair, and you squeeze Bucky’s hand a little harder. They look at each other.

“I was making breakfast-“

“I needed to run- I haven’t been running in- “

“Yeah, but it was your first morning with alone time since the- “

“I had promised Sam-“

“Boys, boys, boys.” You say, and they stop talking over one another. “I’m not mad,” you smile up at them; you’re still on your back with Steve on top of you. You run your hands up and down their chests, feeling the muscles move and tense under your fingers. “I just need you two to warm me up.” You smile, and Steve gives you a deep kiss, and then so does Bucky.

“I’ve got just the thing. Buck?” Steve says.

“High or low?” Bucky asks, and Steve thinks for a minute.

“High, I haven’t spent enough time up high.” Bucky nods, and then they are both moving you around the bed. Steve lays next to you and opens your robe as Bucky lays between your legs and rubs up and down your thighs.

“Mhmm, my boys,” You hum as Bucky kisses you along your center. He whispered against your skin.

“All yours, Doll.” Bucky gives a love bite to your inner thigh and then sets in to devour you.

“Sweet, perfect Daisy,” Steve says against your lips as he kisses you.

Soon Bucky has you arching off the bed and clinging to Steve as you reach your high. “Atta girl, just like that,” Steve whispers in your ear while playing with Bucky’s hair as he cleans you up and gets more than his fair share of you. You pull Bucky up, and he settles between your legs as he kisses you, shoving his tongue in your mouth as you moan around it. Pulling away to fill your screaming lungs,

“Now it’s your turn,” you say breathlessly. You look at Steve. “Yours too, Stevie.” You smirk and move them around. Bucky settles behind you while you straddle Steve’s lap, already guiding him inside. You moan at the stretch while Bucky kisses your neck, his hands drifting down your body and between your breasts.

“Where do you want me, baby girl? In this sweet ass,” he squeezes it, “in that sweet pussy with Stevie,” He guides you up and down to start riding slowly. “or in Stevie?” He pinches Steve’s thigh, and that has you all laughing a little, and you turn and kiss Bucky.

“I’d never choose that FOR Stevie.” You wink.

“You choose everything else for him.” Bucky retorts, and Steve laughs loudly. Steve gives your ass a smack on one side with one hand and the he reaches up and smacks the side of Bucky’s ass with the other. Almost like a reprimand to you both, you can’t help but giggle and Bucky laughs.

“This is why you have neighbors like Peter assuming we are fucking.” Steve responds with a bit of light in his eyes. Bucky smirks and slowly pushes in alongside Steve.

“I mean, that’s kinda what we’re doing now, isn’t it?” Bucky says, trying not to sound affected by how you are squeezing him. You and Steve moan loudly, and you collapse on Steve’s chest. Bucky beams at the reaction he pulled out of both of you. Steve catches his breath, and a small smile escapes as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“True, but Daisy’s pussy and my ass are two very different things.” Steve struggles to get out. Bucky smirks as he slowly moves in and out, torturing you and Steve.

“Now Stevie-“Bucky starts, but you and Steve cut him off.

“Just fuck us!” You scream, tired of his games.

“My god, Bucky- just move!” Steve screams and emphasizes it with another smack to the side of Bucky’s ass.

Bucky bites his lip and pulls back before slamming back in hard and fast.

“Ffffuuu“ you stammer out. Bucky’s metal hand wraps around the back of your neck, and Steve sits up and wraps his hand around the front.

“You know how we feel about that, Daisy girl,” Steve whispers against your lips.

“Yeah, it’s the only thing we ask of you, Doll.” Bucky coos in your ear. You smile as they squeeze a little and then let go. Bucky slams back in.

“FUCK!!!” You scream as he hits that sweet spot inside you. Bucky smirks and slaps your ass, and Steve kisses you hard.

“Thatta girl.” Steve praises.

“Love that dirty mouth! Gotta fully commit.” Bucky grabs your hips and sets a brutal pace as he chases his high, bringing you and Steve over the edge.

“Squeezin’ us so good, baby girl!” Bucky moans as he cums deep inside you.

“So good, my sweet Daisy!!” Steve cums alongside Bucky and fills you to the brim.

You lay there wrapped in their arms for a good 10 minutes, unable to move or even speak. You play with Bucky’s hair as Steve kisses your neck, and you thread your hand in his. “I guess we should get up, shower, and join the rest of the world,” Steve says; he stands up to head to the shower. “And you, my wife,” you smile proudly. “are coming with me!” Steve lifts you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder. You laugh and smack his ass. He looks at Bucky and winks. “You comin’?” Steve says as he walks off to the bathroom. Lifting your head, you make grabby hands again, and Bucky can’t resist your grabby hands and pouty face.

“Fine, you’ve convinced me!” Bucky teases and runs after you two. After a long, hot shower and an orgasm each, you finally get out and get ready for the day.

“Any plans today?” You ask Steve and Bucky as you gather the daisy petals into a bag for later.

“I’m going to spend some time with Cap. See if I can get through to him.” Bucky kisses your cheek. “We are almost on the road to almost having a breakthrough!” He smiles proudly. Steve laughs and pats his back before leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“I am helping Bucky for a bit later, but first, I’m making a grocery run or else Jake, Cap, and Winter will eat us out of house and home.” He grabs his wallet and heads to the door.

“To be fair, Cap and Winter can finally have seconds without punishment. So I get it. Jake? That you’ll have to talk to Precious about.” Steve waves it off and heads out the door. Once you have a moment, Bucky pulls you close and kisses you sweetly.

“I love you, and I’ll see you later. Hopefully, Cap doesn’t kill me,” he teases you. “I’d like my last night with just my Wife before I have to share you with others again.” You blush and pull him close. Three weeks ago, in a private ceremony with just the house members, you and Steve added Bucky to your marriage. It’s not conventional, but nothing about this situation is. Bucky has always been a part of your lives, and that one day, when he expressed his love for you, it felt right. Even Steve knew and felt the same way. Bucky moved in about four years ago, and three weeks ago, it was made official, as official as this can be. Out of respect for the new “marriage,” everyone except Steve had to be hands-off with you for three weeks; today is your last day. Well, that rule only applied to Ransom; you could hold yourself back from sleeping with any of the other men, and they could hold back from you. Random needed strict rules.

“If he hurts a hair on your pretty head, then he will have to answer to me.” You kiss Bucky and rub up and down his back.

“I’ll tell him he will be in big trouble with my Doll.” He says sweetly and kisses you again before finally slipping out of the room.

You are getting dressed when you hear the bedroom door creak open, but no footsteps approaching. You knowing very well who likes to stand in doorways, observing and taking it all in, you turn around and smile at a happy Jefferson. “And why are you so happy this morning?” You tease. Jefferson smiles and glances down at his feet before looking back up at you and questioning what kind of morning you two will have. He knows this is the last day of your three weeks, but a man can hope, can’t he? You smile and hold out your hand, allowing him to come to you. A gentle smile breaks his smirk, and he walks over to you. You pull him into a hug and give him a sweet kiss on his jawline. Regardless of the hands off rule, Jefferson doesn’t enter your bedroom unless you invite him in. And if there is an invite, he knows it will be a sweet, platonic relationship-type day. If you come to him, step into his basement room where he designs and lets his imagination run free, he has his way with you.

See, Jefferson likes to play this game; he lives off the chase and honestly can’t get it up without the excitement of it. Cat and mouse, hunter and hunted. If you draw him in, then there is no fun, no chase, no sex, just sweet head scratches, fuzzy pajamas, and cuddles, which he loves. If you approach him, all bets are off. It’s his crazed form of consent, and once you got the safe words and hard stops in place, you two have had tons of fun, even involving Steve and Bucky once in a while. If Sex is involved, then Jefferson needs you to approach him with an “I want this; don’t hold back.” He can get intense, so he won’t chase you unless you initiate it. It’s how he keeps himself in check. It keeps the madness from breaking free. You hold out a hand and invite him into your warm embrace; he knows you’re not in the headspace for his games, and that’s okay. Jefferson rubs up and down your back.

“I am Happy, my little Bunny because I just got word that I have a hearing about getting my visitation reinstated.” You could scream, you do!

“Jefferson!!!” You hug him tight, and he lifts you off the ground in excitement. “When?!”

“Later this week, Ari got the call from Andy this morning and told me over breakfast.” He smiles, and tears well up in his eyes. “I could see her soon!” His tears break free, and you give him a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Let me know the exact day and time, and I will be there; we all will!” Jefferson laughs a little.

“Well, we could leave Ransom here, and I wouldn’t care.” You smile and roll your eyes.

“He will be there too. Besides, we can’t trust him to be left alone, at least not yet, so he has to come.” Jefferson laughs again and gives you a sweet kiss on the forehead before he lets you go. He walks to the door and then looks back at you, smirking slightly,

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He asks as he bites his lip. “It’s been too long, Bunny.” You blush as you answer.

“Maybe. It will depend on how exhausting my day is. If not tomorrow, then definitely the next.” Jefferson nods and watches as you walk over to him. “I’ve missed my little Kitten too.” You smirk up at him, and he leans in, kissing you and leaving you breathless.

“Be good, my little Bunny. I’d hate for the Wolves to have to join us.” Jefferson says as he leaves the room winking; you stand there a little dazed and happy.

“Mom! It’s not- No- I am fine-“Ransom rolls his eyes. You laugh to yourself as you walk into the living room. Ransom paces around, having a lovely conversation with his mom on the phone. You come to stand beside a tall beast of a man, his hair long and almost down to his shoulders, a full beard, and muscles so big it’s a shame they are covered with a shirt. He turns and sees you walking in; a small smile breaks across his face as he opens his arms and puts one around your shoulder.

“Hey, Daze.” He kisses the top of your head, and you hug him tight. “Long morning?” He looks down at you, and you laugh and nod.

“You could say that. Hey! Jefferson told me that you got word from Andy about his visitation!” You say excitedly. Ari nods as he smiles.

“Yeah, Andy has a good feeling about it.” You can’t contain your excitement, and you lean up and kiss Ari’s cheek, “Ha! I’m just the messenger! But I’ll take a sweet kiss if I have to!” You tease,

“in your dreams.” Ari laughs loudly, and you smile up at him. You fully believe in platonic soulmates, and Ari is yours. You’ve had moments and still do from time to time where it gets physical, and boy, is it amazing, he is an excellent shoulder to lean on, and he knows you about as well as Steve and Bucky. He’s just the best. “What’s all this about? Linda not happy about the arrangement, again?!” You ask, and Ari nods.

“Oh, you know Linda, Daze. Nothing will ever be good enough for her boy.” You sigh and look at Ransom. “This has been going on for 20 minutes,” Ari says. He nods his head in Ransom's direction and then nudges you. You shoo Ari away, and with a kiss on your cheek, he is gone.

Ransom paces the room while still on the phone with Linda. “Mom, if you would listen-“she cuts him off for the hundredth time. Ransom sees you walking closer, and you take the phone from his hand.

“Linda! Hey, I am so sorry, but Ransom is due for a therapy session. He’s gonna have to call you back. Bye!” You hang up the phone and lock it before sliding it into Ransom’s back pocket. “Now that she’s quiet for a bit… you wanna tell me what that was about earlier?” You ask as you cross your arms and look up at Ransom. He smiles and looks you up and down.

“I was just enjoying the view.” He bites his lip, and you lightly laugh.

“Well, I’ll let Steve know that you enjoyed the sight of his ass.” You pat the side of Ransom’s face before you walk away. He grabs your hand and pulls you back into his arms. He kisses you hard, and you let him have control for a moment. One little moment, and he thinks he got you. Taking his face in your hands and pulling back, you smile.

“Do you not know the meaning of hands-off, Ransom?” You say as you walk away.

“I do, but I’d much rather put my hands all over your body. Even if G.I. Joe and his handler come for me.” Random calls after you.

“Who is the Handler, and who is G.I. Joe?” You ask.

“It’s pretty obvious. Which ones the machine?” Ransom says, trying to get under your skin. Your face doesn’t change, all you say is,

“That was mean, Ransom. And here I was about to tell you to come by my room tomorrow morning, and I’d draw you a nice bath. But I don’t give treats to mean boys.” You turn to walk out of the room. Ransom realizes he messed up.

“Wait, Daze- I-” you turn around to face him. He is conflicted, his brow furrowed, and he seems tongue-tied, like apologizing is entirely new to him cause it is.

“If you can hold your tongue the rest of the day, no mean words, no angry outbursts, and no making fun of the others, then the bedroom door will be unlocked at 8 am. You can come in then. Understand?”

“You got it, Daisy Mae .” He says, trying to regain his sass as he turns and leaves you alone in the living room. He has no idea what’s in store for him tomorrow morning; you thought it all up while cleaning up the flower petals. You can’t wait, and you know he will love it too.

Bucky stands at the basement door and takes a deep breath before twisting the knob and pulling the door open. At the sound of the creaking hinges, Bucky hears chains rattle and scrap along the floor. ‘He’s awake,’ Bucky says to himself as he descends the stairs. He usually sleeps at odd hours, and Bucky can sneak in and be ready and waiting when he wakes.

“Here he comes, the reformed assassin. The Soldier is gone, and here stands the Wolf.” His voice is deep and dark; Bucky can hear the hatred laced in the sound. “Or is the Soldier just hiding in the back of your mind, waiting for the right moment to break free?” A dark laugh slips through the darkness. He walks forward into the dim light hanging from the ceiling. His sick smile is the only thing Bucky can see, “Funny that the Soldier has more teeth than the Wolf.” Bucky flips on the rest of the lights. “Why so many lights, Buck?” He lunges forward, pulling on the chains. “Scared of the darkness?” He laughs and moves back to the wall, and sits down. Bucky doesn’t say a word. “I’m not talking, so if you want to stare at one another all day, that’s fine.” He laughs; it’s tight and sounds mechanical, evil. “I can learn a lot by just observing.” He narrows his gaze and looks over Bucky.

“You don’t have to talk, Cap. I can learn a lot by observing, too.” Bucky sits down and stares at his friend, this alternate version caught by Hydra and twisted into this monster before him. “You can refuse to talk, and you can hurl insults at me, but I’m not giving up on you, Steve,” Bucky says, and Cap laughs again. This time, it’s sad and broken; it actually sounds human.

“Well, you really should.” Cap looks up at the wall across from him; there is a little rectangular window at the very top. He can see red, yellow, and orange leaves on the ground. Cap may detest most things, but he always did have a liking for Autumn. He takes a deep breath; he can almost smell the crisp fall air through the basement walls. He turns his gaze down again and settles on Bucky. “Just like you should give up the hope of getting rid of Winter.” He looks down at his shackled feet, special chains that will hold him. He scoffs to himself and then meets Bucky’s gaze again. “He will always be a part of you.” Bucky doesn’t blink, he doesn’t move, all he does is nod and smile.

“And that’s okay-“

“Yeah yeah yeah…. All is well.” Cap sighs, cutting Bucky off before he can start in on his rousing speech. “Wake me when it’s lunchtime.” Cap closes his eyes and repeats the phrase that has been a constant in his life for the past six months: All is well. He wishes he could believe it, and that thought, that want that he has actually to believe in something? That scares him more than Hydra ever did. Because believing that he is okay and that All is well? Well, that means he has to have hope, and all hope has ever given him is the reality of failure and the bitter taste of blood because someone has to be punished. Hope can kiss his formerly star-spangled ass.

Taglist: @rainydayandmondays @theinheriteddutchess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @cjand10 @janineb86

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #jefferson ouat #ari levinson #jake jensen #hydra cap #andy barber #found family #chris evans #sebastian stan

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imeanyourmomsprettyhot · 1 year

Note

this might sound weird, but could you write a story where aemond has a younger sister and he laid his eyes on her and one night he goes to her room and they just have a talk or something like that and it ends with smut?

Secret Visits || Aemond Targaryen

masterlist

about: female targaryen!reader, thigh riding, slight fingering, sex

summary: you are aemond's little sister and he visits you in your room after dinner.

all characters are of age!

Family dinner was barely something to look forward to. The only thing talked about for months, is the iron throne, princess Rhaenyra's children, and how Aegon is the true heir of the throne.

I eventually stopped listening to our mother's rage some time ago because I never really saw a point in it. Aemond seems to have the same way of thinking, as the only thing he does is look at me the whole time. He does that quite a lot in the past few months and every now and then, I reply with a smile, or I start a conversation with him.

Me and Aemond always were the closest among all of our siblings. We share the same interests and we actually enjoy spending time together. So it was no big surprise when he stood in front of my room the other night, and we read books by the fireplace. And it looks like he did the same this night.

When dinner was finally over, and we all left to get ready for bed, Aemond knocked on my door. I'm only wearing my thin, white sleeping gown, as I opened the door.

"Oh! Good evening, Aemond.", I smile at him.

It seems like he dismissed my guard.

"You shouldn't open your door, dressed in basically nothing, little sister. Only the gods know who could be standing in front of you."

"You're probably right.", I laugh.

Aemond is right with most of the things he says. It often makes me feel really stupid, to be honest.

"Is there anything you want from me?", I ask him, shivering at the cold air entering my room from the hallways.

A book appears from his back, that he now holds up to his chest.

"I know mother won't let you read about the great warriors of our house, so I brought this from the library for you., he softly taps the cover.

"By all the gods! You're amazing Aemond!"

He smiles at my excitement, as I let him into my room.

I sit down on the floor at the fireplace, while Aemond seats himself in one of the chairs. I immediately start reading the first chapter. I barely notice Aemond looking at me anymore, since I'm so used to it by now. I don't know why, but he seems to enjoy it, just sitting there and watching me read.

"Aemond?"

"Mhm?"

"What does it say here?", I ask, holding the book up to him.

Mother never allowed me to learn High Valyrian, so whenever there is a passage in one of my books, I have to ask my brothers for translation.

"Come here.", he waves his hand.

I get up and walk over to him, handing him the book. But with one quick motion, he pulled me onto his lap.

"You mean this?"

He points at a random sentence.

"No, this one-ahh."

A moan escaped my mouth as Aemond started grinding his thigh in between my legs. He holds onto my waist, slightly pushing and pulling me for- and backwards.

The pleasure from my clit moves through my whole body, and the book falls to the ground. And another moan slips through my lips.

"A-aemond...", I yearn for him.

He responds with his leg grinding faster. He increases the speed he makes my body move, as well. I'm not able to hold my moans back anymore. They fly over my lips, one by one.

"I want to hear you, princess.", he chuckles from behind my back.

My moans get louder, and I let him do whatever he wants to do with my body. I'm under his spell, fully.

He increases his speed even more, and I quickly feel my climax coming. I moan even louder as I finish on him. My body falls back, where Aemond catches me, his head right beside mine. I look him in the face.

"What are you doing?", I breathe heavily.

He keeps looking at me, a smile forming on his lips. With his hand, he pushes my head to the side, coming for my neck.

Aemond places rough marks on my skin, leaving me again with nothing but pleasure. At this moment, I start to notice the erection in his pants. He starts biting my skin, sending shivers down my spine, right to my pussy.

"You like that, don't you?", he smirks at my skin, "There's a large wet spot on my pants already."

He whispers in my ear. The vibration of his voice moves through my whole body. I goosebump, as his hand wanders down to my pussy. Aemond starts massaging my clit with his index finger, earning a loud gasp.

"Do you like that, little sister?", he mumbles.

I moan a 'mhm' as an answer. I crave more of this pleasure, so I try moving my hips upward, to get more of this ecstasy he puts in me. But Aemond presses my body on his, making me unable to move any further.

"Say it. Tell me how much you like this.", he huffs.

"Aemond, I like being touched by you.", another moan escapes my lips, "I want you, Aemond. Please!", I beg.

Within seconds, he made me stand up and turn around, sitting now legs-spread on his lap. He looks me in the eyes, biting his lower lip.

I'm so mesmerized by him that I didn't even notice, he opened his pants. He pushes me up, slightly, positioning his cock on my entrance. And with one motion, I am sat, his dick buried inside of me.

I gasp. So loud, the whole Red Keep must've heard it. Aemond presses his hand on my mouth.

"You have to be quiet, little sister. We don't want anyone to hear how good I fuck you, alright?"

I nod.

Slowly, I start bumping up and down, coating Aemond's shaft with my juice. His head falls back immediately, and he lets go of my mouth.

His cock throbs in between my folds, and the room is filled with Aemond's growls and my moans. With every time he enters me again, there's a new rush of pleasure running through my body. A new rush of energy that moves through us, over and over again.

I cry out, as his hand seizes the back of my neck, while his other hand caresses my back. Quickly, his mouth meets the skin of my throat once again, as his tongue runs up to my jaw. He licks my skin with such slight touch that I start to giggle from the tickling it sends to me, meanwhile the pleasure coming from between my legs.

Aemond now started to move his hips as well, shoving his cock even deeper inside me, pounding in and out with an even faster paste. I couldn't care for anyone hearing right now. There's no way I could hold my moans and my cries back any longer.

Aemond's groans get louder and deeper, while his thrusts get sloppier. My legs start to tremble beside him. I feel his dick pulsating, as my knees get weaker and weaker, and a knot in my stomach builds up.

It takes a few more thrusts of Aemond for the knot in my stomach to untie, as my climax rushes over me. For Aemond, it takes a few more whimpers from me, to take it over the edge, before he releases himself inside me.

"By all gods.", he pants heavily, "You're perfect, little sister."

Moments later, we still remain in the same position. His cock inside of me, still pulsating like crazy. Aemond started kissing me - very sloppily. His tongue twirling around with mine, and connected by a string of salvia.

#hotd #aemond targaryen #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd x you #smut

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yesimwriting · 2 years

Text

Final Girl

A/N I start my second year of college tomorrow and i wanted to write something for the movie series that got me through moving out on my own for the first time!!

Fandom: (original) Scream

Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Final Girl Masterlist (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

----

Like usual, the bell that signifies the end of homeroom rings while I’m in the middle of a sentence. Mrs. Ramirez may be strict about tardies, but she always wraps up her announcements early, which means most of homeroom is filled by basic high school chatter.

On the first day, that made me incredibly nervous. I didn’t think I’d have to start over at a new school almost two months into my junior year of high school, but now that I’ve been in Woodsboro nearly a month, the space in between instructions doesn’t bother me. The people here have been a lot more welcoming than I thought they’d be. And one of those surprisingly welcoming people is Casey, who’s patiently standing by her desk as I pick up my backpack.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” The question surprises me a little more than it should. I’ve been invited to a lot of things since I first moved here, and even when nothing’s going on I normally run into one or two of my friends on the weekends. Usually Stu and or Billy.

I swing my backpack over my shoulder, “Uh--besides studying for that unit test in math, nothing much.”

She smiles, “Okay, good.” Casey walks out of the door and into the hall with me. “I was going to rent a movie to watch with my boyfriend, but I’m thinking of blowing him off. You want to have a sleepover at my house? We can watch something scary and freak ourselves out and get no sleep.”

I grin. “Sure, sounds fun. I’ll bring the Jiffy Pop.”

“Great, I’ll write my address out for you tomorrow.” She turns her head slightly, taking note of the students crowding the hall, “I’ve gotta get to class. See ya.”

“See ya.”

A second after I’ve waved her off, a voice comes from right behind me, “New friend?”

The words are so unexpected and strangely harsh in their lowness that I nearly jump out of my skin. I turn, posture straightening instinctively as I do so. Oh. Okay--not a threat at all. “Oh, it’s just you,” I exhale, “You scared me, Stu.”

I offer him a partial smile in greeting, which is a gesture he normally returns with a genuine grin. Today, though, he just kind of looks at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyes look so dark, especially not while he’s looking at me. “Sorry.” He watches me blink at him. “I was just waiting to walk you to your first period like a good friend, but you seemed busy.”

Oh, is that what his weird attitude’s about? “You mean Casey?” He doesn’t say anything. “She’s nice.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend myself or maybe even apologize, but I do. I don’t want him looking at me like that anymore. I want Stu to throw his arm around my shoulders with no warning after making an inappropriate joke that I pretend to get mad over. “We talk in homeroom, she’s a friend.” He doesn’t ease. “Are you jealous?” The joke doesn’t land. “Ease up, you know you’re my favorite.”

At that, Stu’s oddly serious expression shifts into something softer, maybe even a little amused. “Your favorite?”

He finally smiles, making the inky undertones of his expression disappear. “Mhm,” I continue, “My favorite out of everyone, but don’t tell Tatum or Sid because I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

“Fine,” Stu relents, casually throwing an arm around my shoulders, “I’ll just tell Billy.”

I gape at him for a long second. After almost two weeks of eating lunch with their friend group every day, Billy offered me his drink after someone bumped into me and spilled mine. I had been sitting next to Stu, who had made some joke earlier that involved grabbing my hand and he had yet to let go. I released him to cross the table and thank Billy. Stu frowned and pretended to be seriously hurt until Tatum told him to leave me alone before he scared her new friend off. Since then, the two have a running joke (well, it’s Stu’s joke that Billy kind of just sort of allows) that revolves around me picking a favorite.

“You’re in a drama starting mood today.”

Stu hums once absentmindedly, rubbing his hand up and down my arm in a comfortable display of affection. ”What can I say? I want you all to myself.”

Heat rises to my face for no good reason. Stu’s touchy, I learned that about him pretty quickly. “Haha,” I mumble dryly, hoping humor manages to come across in my voice. “We should get to class before you erupt into a jealous rage.”

----

Temporarily discarding the cardboard lid of the Jiffy Pop container, I let my gaze linger on the few polaroids Casey took a little earlier in the night. Just a thing I’m trying out, she had explained before snapping a few awkward shots of me smiling before joining me behind the camera. The one where she’s cross eyed and I’m sticking my tongue out is kind of cute, but most of the ones of me are a little rough.

Casey announces her return to the kitchen with, “Okay, I wasn’t sure what kind of movies you liked so I brought some variety.” She sets her stack of tapes on the counter next to me. “I was thinking Nightmare on Elm Street or Pet Sementary.”

Leaning down, I turn on the stovetop before placing the pan on a burner. “Mmm, both are good but I’m more of a Nightmare on Elm Street kinda person. Can’t resist a story with a final girl in it.”

“Alright,” she says just as the first kernel pops, “I’ll keep that in mind for future movie nights.”

I turn my attention back to the stove in hopes of concealing a smile. Casey caught my attention that first day in homeroom because she’s just so effortlessly cool in a way that normally I find off putting. All morning, I tortured myself over everything that could go wrong. “Yeah, just--”

A loud pop from the Jiffy Pop pan nearly makes me jump. Casey’s lips turn upwards like she’s going to make a joke about how easily startled I am, but a ringing sound spares me. “Hold on a second.” Casey pushes herself away from the counter she was leaning against. “Landline.”

She casually picks up the receiver and I give the stove my full attention in an attempt to offer her some sort of privacy. Her words are low and easy to miss as butter begins to sizzle and more kernels start to explode. My gaze shifts and her slightly bothered expression makes me wonder if she’s on the phone with her boyfriend. I’ve never met him, but the few stories she told me earlier make me think I’m not going to like him.

Casey hangs up with a sigh. “Wrong number.” She straightens, stepping away from the counter before grabbing a tape from her pile. “I’m going to go work on the movie, my mom was just complaining about the VCR. Careful with the popcorn, our stove’s a little iffy.”

“Please,” I hum, “I know Jiffy Pop, I feel Jiffy Pop, I basically am Jiffy Pop. I’ve never burnt a single kernel.”

She raises an eyebrow at my only slightly exaggerated claim before turning to leave the room. “You better hope you’re not all talk or you’re never living this down.

I move the Jiffy Pop around the burner with a level of skill that’s worthy of someone of my expertise. About a minute later, Casey’s home landline starts ringing again. “Casey!”

“On it!”

The ringing ends with the sound of a quick click. She must be on the living room extension. Her voice keeps getting louder, but I’m not hearing enough to understand who she’s talking to. She does sound like she’s getting a little annoyed, which makes me really think she’s on the phone with her boyfriend. Preconceived notions about people kind of suck, but Steve sounds like a total asshole.

Casey returns to the kitchen with a playful, albeit softly irritated eye roll. “How do you feel about prank phone calls?”

My eyes narrow in mock consideration. “Like making them?”

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘P’ sound. “Dealing with them.”

She waves the phone in front of me like it’s some kind of offer. “That’s kinda an ominous question,” I decide, arm extending to take the phone from her, “I’m in.” Without thinking twice, I raise the phone to my ear. Static hums from the other end of the line. “Hi.” The only response to my greeting is the consistent crack of static. “Are random phone calls your big Saturday night plans?”

The static is starting to feel a lot eerier than it did before. That, paired with the continual popping of kernels is starting to unsettle me. Snap out of it, it’s just a prank call. I begin to move around the pan again. I can’t afford to burn anything after all that big talk about my Jiffy Pop skills.

Just as I’m settling the pan at a new angle, the sound of shifting fabric interrupts the steady stream of white noise. “Did your friend scare so easily?”

I blink. Whoever’s on the other line is probably a total weirdo, but his voice is kinda attractive. “It’s not personal, she’s just busy messing with the VCR.”

An unsettlingly deep laugh comes from the other line of the phone. Okay--his attractive voice is no longer enough of a redeeming quality for me to not see him as a total creep or perv. Actually, he’s probably both. “What’s your name?”

The confident authoritativeness of the question rubs me the wrong way. I release the handle of the pan in favor of instinctually placing a hand on my hip. “I don’t share things with strangers.”

A beat of silence is followed by the rustling of fabric. “But I already know something about you.”

“Mhm,” I muse dryly, beginning to work on the popcorn again, “And what is it that you know?”

“Your friend is setting up the VCR, you’re going to watch a movie, aren’t you?”

I roll my eyes, understanding why Casey was so quick to leave them without hanging up. Weird people like this are normally more persistent when they’re ignored. “Wow, your detective skills have truly shocked and amazed me, Nancy Drew. Congratulations, now if that’s all--”

I’m not sure if its my sarcasm or my attempt at stern dismissal that amuses them, but a deep chuckle comes from the other end of the line. “What movie are you going to watch?”

“Why? Are you looking for a recommendation?” My reply comes out too fast and too bitter and I regret it instantly. People like this can’t know that they’re getting to you. “Nightmare on Elm Street.”

Static turns into the sound of more ruffling. “That’s scary.”

“I think I can handle it,” I breathe.

“Do you like scary movies?”

I nod, “Yep, I even have a golden rule for them.”

“Golden rule?”

Rolling my eyes, I stare at the pan. The popping is starting to slow down. Soon enough, I’ll have an excuse to hang up and get back to my sleepover. “Yeah, it’s silly, but I think all the great scary movies have a final girl.”

Another dark laugh. “I agree.”

“Your approval fuels me,” I mumble.

The stranger is quick to ask, “Is Nightmare on Elm Street your favorite scary movie?”

I shake my head, turning the pan so that it’s more on its side than before. “It’s good, but it’s not my all time favorite.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

I sigh, a part of me wishing that Casey would come back. “I already told you that I’m not telling you anything.”

“So I shouldn’t ask for your name again?”

“You can ask, but you’re not getting an answer.” Rolling my eyes, I move my hand away from the pan and towards the switch that controls the stove. “Why do you want know so bad, anyway?”

“It’s rude to not ask a pretty girl for her name.”

Wow--what a line. “That line doesn’t work in person and works even less over the phone when I know you can’t see me.”

Silence stretches between us so long I start to think that he might have gotten up or something. “What makes you so sure I can’t see you?”

It’s the kind of vague threat that normally I’d laugh off. But something about the stranger’s assured tone cuts right through all of my security. Irrational dread pulses in my stomach. “Yeah, I’m not interested in being in a scary movie. Bye.”

“Wait--” There’s the slightest hint of panic in their voice.

“I am so sick of creepy men trying to ruin everything just because they can.”

“Don’t even think ab--!” =

“Porn exists for a reason, perv!” And with a single beep, the man’s voice disappears.

Ugh, men. Even though his threat was the kind of meaningless joke that creepy, horny men tell because they get off on scaring girls, I can’t stop feeling a lot less alone in Casey’s kitchen.

I let myself shudder as I pace away from the kitchen and towards Casey’s living room.

“Y/n?” Casey’s voice is completely casual as she questions me. That means that weird phone guy didn’t scare her.

Be more normal. “Hey--I just..”

She turns her head, blonde bob falling to the side as I trail off. “Did something scare you?”

There are a lot of things I could say, but nothing feels good enough. Denial crawls up my throat and just sits there as my thoughts beg me to tell her. To maybe even warn her. Warn her of what, though? That some weird guy has her phone number and the junior girl she took a chance on is this easily freaked?

Before I can make up my mind, the living room phone rings. Dread roots itself in my stomach and tangles itself in my throat. Casey sits up a bit more on her couch as she reaches for the phone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Casey raises an eyebrow as she picks up the receiver. “Forget that guy, he’s probably already forgotten us and is harassing someone else. She then raises the phone to her ear and listens for a long second, “Is this some kind of joke, because it’s not funny.”

I stare at her with wide eyes as she stands, quickly pacing away from the couch and towards the center of the living room, as far from any window as possible. The noise from the phone is muffled, but something about the tone feels a lot more aggressive than it was earlier. Maybe aggressively calling him a pervert and hanging up on him wasn’t the smartest thing I could have done.

Casey’s face is void of any color as she slowly pulls the phone away from her ear. “He wants to talk to you.”

My eyes widen as I play back the last words I said to him. An instinctual no crawls up my throat. With shaky hands, I take the phone. “Hi,” I curse myself for sounding so nervous, “Again. Hi again.” A nervous giggle crawls up my throat and I have to my tongue to keep it down. “Listen, you win. You scared us. Now I’m going to hang up and you’re gonna let me.”

“Really?” The laugh, or maybe even growl, that follows comes out in the form of low grumble that turns my blood into slush. “And if I don’t?”

Great. Of course phone freak is trying to verify my threat. I don’t exactly have an arsenal of intimidation tactics. “My mom’s dating a cop, and I’ll get him to arrest your ass.”

It’s not the most honest thing I’ve said to him, but it’s not a lie either. My mom’s boyfriend being hired as Woodsboro’s police chief is one of the main reasons we moved, but I’m not sure he’d particularly care about someone scaring me over the phone. I’ve known Wells for a few months now and the only thing I’ve seen him express interest in is my mom and beer. And occasionally, he shows a little too much interest in the length of my skirt.

Silence. Okay--maybe he took that seriously. My finger moves towards the button that can end this call, but before I can convince myself that nothing bad will happen if I press it, the voice returns with a vengeful chuckle. “What’s Chief Wells Hoffman going to do for you?”

I feel each drop of blood drain from me. My hands shake as my grip on the phone tightens. With a wavering voice I ask, “How did--how--”

In an act of a sadistic sort of mercy, the man cuts me off, “Oh, doll face,” he breathes the nickname like he’s taking pity on me. Like I’m a child that needs to be comforted. “I’m going to play nice with you.” He’s waits a beat, “But your good friend Casey Becker’s not going to be so lucky.”

At the threat of someone that’s standing right next to me, something in me becomes strangled. “How do you know her name?” I shake my head, forcing down the wave of dread trying to force me into panic. “Leave her alone, or-or you’re gonna regret it.”

“You look too sweet in those cherry pajamas to be making threats.”

My lips part but I can’t bring myself to ask the question because I already feel the answer in my chest. “How do you know what I’m wearing?”

“Why don’t you look behind you?”

I pull the phone away from my ear slowly, my eyes snapping upwards in search of Casey’s. But she’s not looking at me. She’s staring at something that’s just over my shoulder, her hand covering her mouth in horror. I pull the phone away from my ear.

My body does not feel like my own as I force myself to turn towards Casey’s sliding glass door. Despite the glare of the living room light against the reflection of glass, it only takes my eyes a second to adjust enough to see that Casey’s backyard is not empty.

A figure that’s clothed in all black except for their contrasting, stark white mask that depicts a face frozen in a permanent, cartoonish scream is standing there. Now that he has my attention, he raises his hand, miming the action of answering a phone.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to settle myself, but all it does is make it harder to not scream or cry or laugh hysterically. I raise the phone to my ear again. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Hi,” I squeak back before pressing the phone into the side of my thigh in a pathetic attempt to muffle my words. “Casey,” I whisper, raising my hand in greeting in an attempt to appease the figure on the other side of the glass, “R--”

Before the single syllable can slip past my lips, the glass bursts. I turn in on myself, lifting an arm in a feeble attempt to protect myself from the explosion of glass shards. It only takes me a moment to look up in horror at the masked man that’s now in the house. If throwing his entire weight against gas sliding glass door with enough force to shatter it hurt him, he shows no sign of his pain as he begins to run.

An instinctual scream escapes me as I blindly hurl the phone in the man’s general direction. I grasp Casey’s hand pulling her forward with all my strength as I start running. I urge her forward, ignoring the pain in my forearm and feet from the glass. We’re about to make it to the front door when I feel a firm grasp on my arm.

I yelp, thrashing blindly as I’m yanked away from Casey. My body twists, but the leather clad hand holding me is unrelenting. There’s a strange strain in the way they pull me back, but I don’t care about his promise to play nice. In a move that likely surprises both of us, I kick behind me with all of my force. Their hold loosens for a fraction of a second, but they regain control before I can even take a full step forward. The man pulls on me harder than before, throwing me back and into the Becker’s entryway table. A scream that I only vaguely register as not mine is so terrible and high pitched my lip quivers at the sound of it. The vase on the table gets knocked over and shatters as I fall.

My head slams into the wall with enough force to leave me disorientated for a second. Our attacker must not be completely aware of his own strength because for a brief moment, they just look at me as my body lays against shards of glass. With a shaky breath, I push myself to stand even though the movement forces large pieces of glass to cut into my palm. The man recovers before I’m fully up. He grabs me by my shoulder and forces me down on the other side of the hall. I push against him with the support of all the adrenaline in my body as he moves to pin my wrists above my head. The man reaches for something hidden among layers of black. All I can hope for is that my death might have given Casey a chance to escape.

Instead of pulling out a gun or a blade, he reveals a small, white towel. The confusion makes my stomach twist in a different way as I fight against him even more now. He places the rag over my nose and mouth, forcing me to breath through it. Is this a form of suffocation? I blink twice, my limbs growing impossibly heavy the more I try to breathe. Eventually, that’s all there is. Just the weight of my body and the polluted air in my lungs until even that is replaced by darkness.

----

NARRATOR’S POV

The one thing about meticulously planning is that it takes so little for plans to go off the rail. One can prepare for every possible outcome and life can still throw twists at them because the rest of the world can never seem to listen to the fucking plan.

That’s how Billy felt when he saw you standing in Casey Becker’s kitchen, casually prepping Jiffy Pop like you’ve been best friends with her your entire life. Not only did a dangerous sort of aggravation pulse through him at the realization that his perfect plan needed to be adjusted, he also found himself dealing with the kind of anger that’s a result of betrayal. All the time Stu and him spend with you and you couldn’t tell them that you were planning on spending the night at Casey Becker’s?

When you mumbled some vague excuse about why you couldn’t hang out with Tatum and Sidney Saturday evening during yesterday’s lunch period, Billy felt skeptical. He thought that that’d be something to figure out later. And then he saw you there, grinning and having the time of your life without a single thought about them.

For the briefest moment, Billy wondered if this was some kind of sign. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him to screw it, to let you get what you deserve for keeping secrets. But then he realized that if anything, this signified that he was right about you. After all, what were the odds that you’d be in the perfect place to make your debut as the one thing their movie was missing--a final girl? It only took a few minutes of watching you for Billy to be glad that he thought to bring some chloroform in case anything got complicated.

The new and improved plan went off without a hitch. Steve was an easy kill and Casey’s death was even more satisfying than he thought possible. Nothing bad happened, so why the hell is Stu taking so long?

Approaching the house’s entryway, Billy sighs when he sees that Stu isn’t wearing his mask. “What is taking so--” He cuts himself off as something he doesn’t quite get settles in his chest. There’s a hole about the size of his fist in the wall, blue and white ceramic fragments scattered around a small, knocked over table, and most unsettling of all, your unconscious, still bleeding form lying parallel to it all.

“I didn’t mean to,” Stu says, voice uncharacteristically shaky, “I--I--fuck, I didn’t mean to. I was just gonna put her to sleep, but she kept trying to get away--and the chase was exciting,” he scoffs the last word pathetically. “I didn’t think she’d fight back.”

Billy lets out a breath, crouching down to get a better look at your face. There’s a shallow gash on your forehead that’s still dripping blood into a puddle that your cheek is resting in. If it wasn’t for that, Billy might have been able to imagine that you were sleeping. “What the fuck did you do?”

When Billy’s hard gaze meets Stu’s, Stu blurts out the only thing he can think to say, “She’s still breathing! She’s not--she’s not dead.” He stares at your crumpled form, desperately studying the slow but even rise and fall of your chest. “I didn’t mean to.”

Billy’s fingers brush against the side of your face. “I know.” Stu doesn’t ask him to specify which part of his defense he’s referencing. “She’ll be okay, someone will find this, they’ll take her to the hospital. She’s not that hurt.”

“She fell into the glass,” Stu admits, “And--and her head hit the wall so hard. What if she has a concussion? Shit, aren’t you supposed to stay awake if you have a concussion?” He lets out an uneasy sigh that doesn’t seem to fit him. It’s the kind of breathy, uneasy sound that’s the precursor for a tantrum a child throws after realizing that they just broke their favorite toy. “What if she has some kinda brain damage? She has--she has the SAT next week and she’s been studying for it since before she moved here.” After a moment, Stu snorts, but the sound comes out more desperate than humorous. “She’s gonna be so mad.”

The corner of Billy’s lips turn upwards. “For like a week, and then she’ll be trying to spin this into some kind of college essay.”

Another uneven laugh escapes Stu. “You’re right.” He then looks down, something weirdly close to what some might call guilt cramming itself into his head with too much force. It’s all too much. All he wants is for you to open your eyes and smile at him. “Fuck, we need to call an ambulance.”

“You know we can’t.”

“She could be bleeding in her skull. Isn’t that a thing?”

Billy bites his tongue. So many versions of a reply are circling in his mind and not a single one of them feels right. He should tell his best friend, his partner in everything, that that’s just something he’s going to have to life with. Billy should tell Stu that what happens to you is on him. Instead, Billy just looks at you, at the cuts in your soft skin. Some dominant part of him is thrilled at your vulnerable state. All bloody and broken and still somehow so soft and warm. He could have you now, he thinks, and he wouldn’t have to pretend the way he does when you’re awake. But something else in him, maybe the part of him that knows the way he’s supposed to act, knows that to leave you like this, to waste any more time, could lead to something permanent.

The updated plan is already in motion. After this, there’s no way you won’t need them. He likes the thought of you needing him more than anything else, and he knows that it’d be so easy to push you into a state of dependency. You’re going to be so scared that any reservations you feel towards them because they’re dating your friends will disappear. And how could Sidney and Tatum have a problem with Stu and him being supportive after everything you’ve been through?

Besides, a part of him wants to see how your role plays out. After all, you said it yourself. All the great scary movies have a final girl.

He cups your face, studying each of your features as if to commit them to memory. “We’ll call 911 from the house phone and not say anything. They’ll have to send someone over, but we need to get out of here quick.”

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #final girl fic

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i-magines · 1 year

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Wildest Dreams: Chapter 7

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, eventual drinking and drugs, fem!reader, smut every once in a while, a little angst, protective pedro, panic attack (not detailed), just he being an angel mostly.

n/a: thanks for last chapter’s comments! they always put a smile on my face :D

word count: 1,751

After the extra days off in Berlin, life back at the movie set was not your cup of tea. New director, new schedule, new dynamics. You weren’t able to spend as much time alone with Pedro anymore, because they were redoing a big part of the movie and keeping the same end date for the shootings — that meant no more night sneakouts for both of you, not on working days at least. You still texted all the time and kept staring at each other every time you were in the same room, but you just missed how things were at the beginning, especially with this sparkle happening between you two. You eagerly waited for your off day announcement, hoping it would match Pedro’s for the first time in almost a month. When you got the paper, it upset you. Later, on the same day, you asked Pedro to come over to your cabin for a little, which he happily did.

You could see how tired he was, 3 months into the shooting. This was an ungrateful industry, for sure. You were tired yourself, being just an assistant. You hugged him once the door was closed.

“I’ve missed you so much, mi princesa”, he whispered in your ear. “This filming schedule will end up killing all of us.”

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to the final month, we are so behind…” You couldn’t help but worry about all the extra hours to come, but you didn’t want to spend your time with him talking about work. “I was wondering, I will have the day after tomorrow off. I saw you don’t, but maybe you could ask for it?”

“I can try”, he said, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “There’s something I’ve meaning to tell you about.”

Your anxious ass was already nervous. You stared at him, waiting.

“Donna asked me about the nature of our relationship”, a little pout on his face. “I didn’t give her an answer, but I guess people have been gossiping about it.”

“We don’t even get to spend that much time together anymore”, you felt upset. “That’s just so fucking unfair.”

He held you closer into his chest, giving you a little kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sane, sweetheart”, Pedro promised, as you got caught up on hearing his heart pumping hard inside his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault, P”, you said softly. “That’s the one thing you can’t protect me from, I guess.”

Pedro breathed out strongly, feeling frustrated.

“I just wish we could come clean”, he confessed. “I feel hiding it just makes it look worse for us, and I really don’t think we’re doing anything wrong.”

“People already give me these dirty, judgy looks only being suspicious of it”, you replied. “Picture if we come out, my life here would turn into hell and probably none of these people would put out a good word about me for a next gig.”

“I hate how they choose to pick on you, not me”, Pedro touches your arm with affection. “What do you want to do?”

“It would be lovely if we got the same day off, as a start.” You loved how he was always asking your opinion. “Maybe we could go back to that pub in Berlin, just get out of this place for a bit.”

“I will make sure it happens, promise”, he showed you his pinky. You smiled and took it, kissing him briefly on the lips — there’s no time or energy for more than that.

The next day, you get early to the common area and, before you get to say anything to let them know you were there, you hear Pedro and Donna mentioning your name. It looked like they were having an argument.

“This will fuck your career up if you don’t drop it”, she said, getting an angry look from him. “I did everything you asked: Dave’s out, I kept her on the crew and I will recommend her to future jobs, but that’s what you’re getting from me.”

“You’re talking like she was a kid or something”, Pedro argued with a frustrated tone.

“You know it’s fucking wrong, otherwise you wouldn’t have kept it as a secret until now”, Donna told him, making you fell incredible bad. You should make a sound or something, but it felt like it was too late. “A scandal like this can ruin the whole movie campaign, the award season, every single thing is on the line here. For what? A twenty-something old pussy? Please.”

“I won’t ask you again to watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her”, he was controlling himself, the tension on his body showing.

“You can have your fucking day off Pedro”, she shaked her shoulders. “I wash my hands, but if this backlashes against the project or the studio, I might not be able to do anything about you, but she is fucked.”

“Don’t you fucking dare”, he warned her.

“You heard me and you better make sure she knows what she is getting into”, Donna didn’t seem intimidated. “That’s if you’re even keeping her after we’re done here.”

Pedro didn’t reply and she went away to the opposite direction, her last statement still floating in the air. Fuck, that didn’t look good. You didn’t want him to know you just heard all of that, so you quietly sneaked back to your cabin. That conversation was everything you were able to think about during the day, as you did your best to avoid being with both of them. Later, Pedro texted you to come over with your bag packed for the day away. Once you got there, he greeted you with a tired smile and occupied himself with packing his own luggage.

“I heard you and Donna today”, you confessed. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”

Pedro looked at you, a worried look in his eyes.

“Which part?” He asked, using his hand to invite you to sit on his bed with him.

“The last one”, you frowned. “Was she right?”

“About what?”

“You don’t keeping me after.”

He breathed out slowly, running his hands on his face.

“I don’t know what life will bring, sweetheart”, he started, but your heart was already racing. That’s definitely not what you wanted to hear. “Of course I care about you, but I told you before, I can’t make long term promises right now.”

It just broke you a little bit — at least, he is being honest, you thought. But it didn’t help the sinking feeling you felt inside.

“Thanks for making things clear”, you whispered, doing your best to hold back the tears. “We should get going… Let’s enjoy the month we have left.”

“Baby girl—”

“It’s fine, Pedro”, you didn’t let him finish. “Let’s just go.”

So you two did. The drive to Berlin was absolute silence and, once you got there, you went straight to the same pub/night club from the first time you went out together. Pedro’s friends were waiting for you there, but your mind just wasn’t in it. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but that wasn’t it. You felt heartbroken to the point you couldn’t pretend everything was fine and just be around him, so you decided to sit at the bar by yourself. He didn’t come after you at first, and when he did, you were already kind of drunk, full of all these feelings.

“You okay?” He asked, getting on the seat by your side. “I hope you got what I meant—”

“Do you do it in every project?” You interrupted him, popping the question that was killing you. “Am I just a thing for this one, and next one is another girl?”

“I wouldn’t— Y/N, I never meant that”, he looked worried that you were thinking that about him. “Please, don’t even go there, it’s nonsense.”

You nodded, unsatisfied but unable to start a proper argument.

“If you aren’t having a good time, I would rather just get a hotel room and spend our free time together”, Pedro said after a few minutes in silence.

You didn’t reply, you only stood up and shaked your head at the exit’s direction. He guided you, holding your hand. He opened the door for you and you didn’t expect the flashes and yelling. Scared, you almost stumbled on your own feet, but Pedro held your arm, side-hugging you and using his jacket to protect your face from the paparazzi. You felt a panic attack coming, feeling unable to move. Pedro held you even closer, doing his best to protect you.

"Who is she?” A pap screamed.

“Pose for a pic, Pedro!” Another one did the same.

“Please you guys, give us space”, Pedro asked politely, he could barely see where he was going, the strong flashing lights taking his sight away.

“New GF, Pepe?” They kept trying to get a good picture of both of you. “Let me see her cute face. C'mon, man!”

“Fuck off, asshole”, Pedro pushed his way through the group, getting you inside the car and telling the driver to go. “What the fuck just happened?”

You still couldn’t move, your eyes hurting from the lights and your dizziness wasn’t helping. Pedro held your hand tight and kissed your cheek.

“You okay, baby, I got you”, he promised.

Your breath was irregular and you hid your face against his chest.

“I’m so, so sorry— I don’t even know’, he touched your hair nicely. “Try to focus on your breath, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re with me.”

You did as he asked, trying to pay attention to his beating heart, as it always brought you confort. He reached for a water bottle and gave it to you. You slipped a little bit, being able to regain control of your breathing. Your whole body still shaking.

“Fuck”, he whispered, running his hand thought his hair. “It’s okay, we’re okay.”

“What the hell was that?” You spoke with a weak voice, still regulating yourself.

“Fucking paps, I don’t know—” he tried to explain, but you could see they caught him off guard as well. “Let’s get you to bed, I’m gonna call my agent. It will be fine.”

He did as he promised. He helped you undress and change into your pajamas. You brushed your teeth under his careful look and he tucked you into bed, giving you a long kiss on your forehead.

CHAPTER 8 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86 @eliffluisa @one-sweet-gubler @anaxmcu @untitledarea @shesa-riott @chloelmao67 @majesticjellyfishzombie @adriennemichelle98 @januarycolor @lxdyred

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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justmeinadaze · 6 months

Text

I Have Nothing (If I Don't Have You) Part 7 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I was going to release this later but it may be a week or so before I post anything written again because I'm moving. I was writing a lot more these past couple of weeks because I was avoiding packing lol Any way please enjoy the angst.

Warnings: Security Guards/Softly Dom Steddie X Sub Singer Fem reader, I AM PUTTING A DARK THEMES WARNING ON THIS! There is not smut but much angst dealing with addiction and overdosing. Y/N does have a slip and ends up in the hospital. There are talks about her ex and her parents involving trauma. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

My inspiration for this chapter was "Dancing with the Devil" by Demi Lovato so that should give you some idea of what you're heading into.

Word Count: 4538

“I’m here with Y/N Y/L/N a few months after her cancelled tour and I think I speak for everyone when I say you look amazing. How have you been?”

“Aw, thank you. I’ve been doing really well actually. I’ve been sober for about six months—”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s been hard but I’m trying.”, you giggle.

“We’ll we’re all routing for you and are extremely proud of you! Now Y/N, I have to ask, do you have any comments in relation to what your ex has been saying in recent interviews.”

Eddie growled low at the question and Steve quickly placed his hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“Um, I mean, Simon can say what he wants. Our relationship was tumultuous to say the least but I’m not allowing him to bother me anymore. I’m in a new healthy relationship and I’d rather focus my energy there.”, you softly smile as your eyes hastily shift their way before coming back to the interviewer.

“Oh my goodness. You are just wonderful. I love it. Do you have any news for us on a new tour or maybe a new album.”

“Right now, I don’t have any plans for another tour but I am working on some new songs so hopefully you guys will get to hear them soon.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out and thank you for meeting with us today!”

“And we’re clear!”, a tech guy shouts and the interviewers smile promptly falls. “Oof I need a drink. Alright Y/N, thank you so much doing this.”

“No problem. Thank you for blind siding me with your question about my ex.”

“Hey, he wasn’t on the list of no go questions I got from your team and it’s not like I’m not going to ask when he’s blowing up every form of social media.”

Rolling your eyes, you stalk away from her and out of the studio into a hallway.

“Hey! You okay?”, Steve asks after they both follow you.

“Yeah. I can handle bitches like Becky Stone. I’m struggling a bit with Simon though.”

“I can understand that. Fucking dick has been everywhere since you started getting sober.”, Eddie sighs as he reaches up to pet your head. “You did really well out there.”

After checking your surroundings, you lean in and wrap your arms tightly around him.

“I’m so glad you both are here.”

***

Steve wakes up to the sound of music playing in their living room and you not between them. You had started spending a lot of time and nights at their house saying it made you feel safer. People didn’t know where they lived plus your house was littered with memories you were trying to heal from.

“Hey you. Why are you awake?”, he asked when he found you on their couch strumming your guitar.

“I just had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep so I thought I’d come hang out here.” You smiled as your eyes scanned over his nonprofessional demeanor. Most of the time they were on guard securing you so they were dressed well and alert. In calm moments like this, you found them to be the most attractive. Steve’s honey brown eyes radiated a softness you hadn’t seen in a while. Him in only his black sweats allowed you visual access to the muscles in his arms that made you feel safe and secure especially when he held you. His chest and stomach were always extremely kissable especially when you pressed your face into him after they would make love to you or when you were falling asleep.

When Eddie was at home and relaxed, he usually sauntered around in his boxers and a band shirt of some kind. Curling up in his warm embrace and broad chest was one of your favorite things to do as you kissed his neck and ran your hands along his skin under his attire.

You loved being able to let down your own guard with them and allow them to take care of you in more ways than one.

“You know you should really learn to play, Stevie. With those beautiful hands, you could have all the ladies swooning.”

“Oh?”, he chuckles. “What if I only want one girl to swoon over me?”

“For that you can just use your hands for other things.”

He laughs again when you wink and smiles before patting his knee for you come sit on. Placing your guitar to the side you, you go to him, and seat yourself horizontally in his lap, resting your head in the nook of his neck. His palm gently caresses your bare legs as his other rubs along your back.

“Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad.”, you coo as your voice dips into that little girl tone telling him all he needs to know.

“Was it about Simon?” Steve kisses your forehead when you nod. “I can understand that. You went through a lot with him and his more recent need for attention isn’t helping. You know, though, we would never let him hurt you again, right?”

“I know, baby.”

He grins when you place your lips on his.

“Come on, honey. Let’s wake up Eddie and see if we can help get you to sleep.” You giggle when he stands up with you in his arms and carries you back to the bedroom.

###########

“God, I hate Becky Stone.”, Sarah sighs before taking a bite of her food you guys had brought her. “But you did phenomenal, Y/N.”

Grinning at her, you glance towards the boys who playfully smile back before Eddie gestures with his eyes towards your own food silently telling you to keep eating.

“I’m still working with our lawyer about Simon and getting a cease and desist but there’s only so much we can do because it’s just him flapping his gums, you know.”

“I know. I mean fuck him right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course, the three of us will do whatever we can to keep him away from you. Speaking of…”, she turns towards your security. “How did the interview go with Pearce Security? I know we’d hate to see you guys leave but that is an amazing company.”

Their wide eyes find yours as everyone freezes.

“Um, we think it went well. We haven’t heard back from them though.”

“Good. If they need a recommendation…or…anything…Y/N, are you ok?”, your agent asked as she gave you her attention. Your eyes were closed as your breathing became a bit more erratic. No, you were not ok; you were panicking. Sarah grabbed a pen off her desk and threw it in their direction. “You assholes didn’t tell her?!”

“We didn’t want to worry her if we didn’t get the job.”, Steve explained.

“Of course, you’ll get the fucking job. You both are good at what you do!”, you shout.

“Y/N, honey, breathe.”, Sarah tried to soothe. “You two leave and let her calm down.”

Nodding, they exit the office and wait in the lobby. An hour passed before your agent’s door finally opened and your seemingly calm demeanor sauntered out, swishing passed them as you headed for the elevator. They followed you silently till you got to their car in the parking garage.

“I would like you to take me home, please.”

“I…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, Mr. Munson, I don’t pay you for your ideas. I pay you to secure me so, please, secure me home.”

“Really? You’re going to throw a tantrum and we’re not even going to talk about this?”

“Oh, Mr. Harrington? NOW you want to talk? Honestly, there’s nothing to talk about. I really hope you do get that job. You’re great at what you do. Hopefully, your next client isn’t someone that requires as much up keep as I did.”

“Y/N—”

“Mr. Munson, I don’t want to hear it—”

“Yeah but you will!”, Eddie interrupts. “This right here is exactly why we didn’t say anything. We knew you would take it personally when quite frankly, sweetheart, this has nothing to do with you. This is our dream, Y/N. Just like with you and singing.”

“If we decided to take this job, we’d still be here for you, honey. You’re our girl. We…we love you, Y/N.”

Tears began to fall as you hugged your arms around yourself.

“People who say they love me abandon me or use me. Don’t love me. Just go and forget about me. You both deserve better than me anyway.” As you start to walk away, Steve grabs your arm but you promptly smack him before running.

Both men are hot on your trail before losing you as you jump into a cab and it speeds away.

##############

“FUCK!”, Eddie roars as he throws the pen he was using against the wall. “She’s so FUCKING STUBBORN! That’s a no on the hotel by the airport, Harrington.”

Both men had been hunting for you since you disappeared. Not playing games with them this time, you turned off your phone entirely so they couldn’t track you. They checked your house as well as any place you might normally be and had yet to find you. Currently they were calling every hotel in LA searching for any name they thought you may be under to no avail.

“Sarah’s right. We should have talked to her.”

“She’s still so fragile, Munson. We didn’t want to rattle her if we didn’t have to.”

“Oh yeah, Steve, because this is fucking better. Yeah! What?!” Eddie’s phone had vibrated to life with a number he didn’t recognize and he angrily answered without thinking.

“Heeeey Eddie.”

The metalhead’s head shot up as his eyes met Steve’s at the sound of your slurred voice, quickly putting you speaker.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, where are you?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to be so nice to me anymore.”, you giggle but there’s a huskiness behind you tone that tells them wherever you’ve been you’ve been crying.

As soon as they realized it was you calling, Steve went to work trying to find you. Your phone was still off but the number you were calling from was local.

“Ok…you don’t want me to be nice?”, Eddie sighs as he switches gears shifting into his more dominate tone. “Tell me where you are now, little girl. You already scared us half to death. Now, where are you so we can bring you home.”

“Home… I don’t have a home… This is ma life, sweetie. Gah, what was I thinkin’ pretending to be sober?”

Steve grabbed the phone from his friend and handed him his own.

“Y/N, you weren’t pretending. You were doing so well. If you slipped because you’re scared that’s ok. We’ll still love you, honey.”

“Stop. Saying. That.”

“What? Telling you the truth? I LOVE YOU!”

“STOP!”

“I love you to, sweetheart.” Eddie flashes Steve his screen showing him the number that you’re calling him from IS from a hotel that’s not too far from them.

They pause when they hear knocking on your side of line.

“Y/N…Whose there with you, baby?”

“Don’t love me. I deserve…I deserve men like him. At least I know what to expect…”

“Y/N! Did you OD in there or what?! I’m all alone out here.”

“Y/N.”, Steve warns at the sound of Simon’s voice as his tone drops into a strong authoritative growl that pushes through your inebriated brain. “You are not safe with that man. Do you hear me? Tell me where you are NOW.”

“I can’t—”

“No. This is security Steve and Eddie talking to you. You are in danger. We know what hotel you’re at but we need the room. If you don’t tell me, I swear to God Y/N, we will kick down every door searching for you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes. I…I’m sorry.”

As soon as you give them the room number, they grab their keys, and run towards their car.

“Listen to me very carefully. Stay where you are and keep the door locked. We’re on our way.”

The sound of you heavily inhaling through your nose makes them cringe in anger. They weren’t angry with you but themselves. They should have been up front with you and told you everything; reassured you that if they did move on to a different job they’d still be there for you because they cared about you so much.

You started saying something to them but it didn’t make any sense.

“Y/N, you’re slurring too much. I can’t understand you, baby.”

Eddie pushed his foot on the gas as he sped towards the hotel. He knew what that meant and knew they needed to get to you.

“…I say…I…love…you.”

***

They don’t even bother knocking, the door banging open as Steve kicks it in.

“What the fuck?!”, Simon drunkenly hollers as he tries to get to his feet.

“Stay down.”, the boy warns while Eddie runs into the bedroom and pounds his palm on the bathroom door.

“Y/N, it’s Eddie and Steve, sweetheart. Open the door.” After counting to five with no answer, his boot connects the wood and it swings open. Finding you on the floor passed out, he collects you in his arms, and lightly taps your cheeks. “Y/N, open your eyes for me, pretty girl. Come on, now.”

“Yes, we need an ambulance now!”, Steve yells into the phone as he grabs your ex’s collar and forcefully shakes him. “What did she take?!”

“Jesus, I don’t fucking know. Get off me.”

“What do you mean you don’t know!?”, he shouts as he smacks him hard. “She didn’t have anything on her so whatever she took YOU brought!”

“Oh please.”, he slurs. “She fooled you with that sober routine? Small town whores like her never change. Trust me.”

Steve punches him in the face, throwing him to the ground before running to the bathroom and watching as Eddie rubs your back as you throw up in the toilet.

“I know. I know it hurts, baby. You have to get as much of it out as you can.” Collapsing into his arms again, you cried into his neck as he rocked you back and forth. “Good girl, princess. Stay with us, okay? Everything’s ok.”

##############

Sarah fiddles with a keychain on her keys as the boys and her wait to hear anything from the doctor. As soon as the guys called her, she ran down to the hospital sporting her jeans and a pajama shirt. Eddie had offered her his jacket which she appreciated.

What she didn’t appreciate, however, was when Jack (your ex-agent) sauntered in with a smugness that made all three of them want to hit him.

“Wow, Sarah. You had her for what, six months, and she ODed. Good job.”

“Fuck off, Jack. Why are you even here?”

“Because you’re going to need me for something this big. After six months of sobriety, she overdosed on a hotel bathroom floor with the ex who’s been badmouthing her to the press in the next room.”

“I think you forget; I was her publicist. I know how to handle the press and her image. To be honest, that’s the last thing on my fucking mind.”

“That should be the first. At this rate no one in this room is going to have a job. Either she’ll kill her reputation or herself.”

Eddie angrily rose to his feet to confront the man but Steve hastily grabbed his shoulder.

“Get the fuck out. She fired you, you’re not welcome here. Get. Out.”

“As far as I can tell, you two are the ones that shouldn’t be welcome. She’s never been this bad.”

“Oh please. She was worse before we came into the picture but you were too greedy on the money she was bringing in to notice. As long as she continued to sing and bring in income, you didn’t care how wasted she was!”

“Last time I checked, you boys are security. You’re not her father or boyfriend—”

“Sure, because men like Simon and their opinions about her matter so much more.”, Eddie growled. “And last time I checked, her father doesn’t care about her either. She needs people in her life who give a damn.”

“Yeah well, you can take that up with her parents because I called them.”

“You what?”, Sarah asked as she rose to her feet as well.

“She’s their daughter.”

“Since when?”, Steve accused. “That was not your call to make. Their judgements are the last thing she needs right now.”

“For Miss Y/L/N?”, the doctor calls as he comes around the corner.

As everyone moves forward, Eddie places his palm on Jack’s chest, stopping him and motioning for the security guard behind the nurse’s station.

“This man is not with our party and he has no family or relatives here. If you could escort him out we’d appreciate it.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO NEED ME, SARAH!”, Jack shouts as they drag him towards the exit. “This is about to get out of control!!”

***

“So, she’ll be ok?”, Sarah asks as she anxiously adjusts the blanket by your feet.

“Yes, ma’am. You got her here just in time it seems. Legally, we have to keep her for 72 hours for observation but even if we didn’t I would anyway. She had a lot of drugs in her system… I know she’s an alcoholic…Thankfully we didn’t find any in her stomach. I fear if she had been drinking…”

“She’s been sober for about 8 months.”, Steve murmured as his fingers reached down to gently caress your arm.

“I see. Well…slip ups are normal. Honestly 8 months without one is a quite a feat. She should be proud of that.”

“Knowing her, she won’t. She’s going to wake up and blame herself.”, Eddie sighed as his eyes scanned your sleeping face.

The doctor could only nod before he finally continued, addressing the boys.

“We do have security watching the doors to keep out fans and paparazzi. Is there anything else we should be aware of or people we should be on the lookout for?”

“That idiot we just threw out said he called her parents but they’ve never come to California before and I really don’t think they will now but I have a picture of them from her social media. I can give them to your security.”, Sarah confirms.

“Also this man…”, Steve flashes the doctor his phone. “Her ex is not allowed anywhere near her. If we can keep him out of the hospital entirely that would be great. He ran off before EMS arrived.”

“Simon Gates? That’s the one the police are looking for. Ok. We can do that. She’s safe here, guys. I promise.”

Eddie offers Sarah a chair after the doctor leaves but she shakes her head as she gathers her things.

“Now that I know she’s ok, I’m going to go home real quick and change. I’ll post a statement and get anything else from her house she may want. I assume you two aren’t going anywhere?” She grins when they nod. “Ok, good. I’ll be right back.”

As the door swings shut, the metalhead reaches out to touch your face.

“This is our fault, Steve.”

“Eddie—”

“Look at her!”, he hisses through his teeth. “Look at her. We should have told her the truth. We asked her to put her faith in us and we still fucking hid something from her.”

“I know! I fucking know but THIS is why I thought we didn’t tell her.”

“How do you think that made her feel?! That we didn’t trust her enough to handle news that involved our future, a future that we want her to be a part of!”

They glared at each other before turning in the opposite directions but the sound of groaning got their attention as they towards you.

“Hey. Hey, pretty girl. How are you feeling?”

Your eyes took in their worried exhausted demeanors as you remained silent.

“Honey, are you ok?” Again, no response as you shifted your gaze towards the wall behind them. “Y/N, baby, please. Talk to us. Tell us what’s going on inside your head.”

Sighing, each boy took a seat as you quietly began to cry.

***

“Uh, Mr. Munson?”, one of the guards called as he poked his head into your room. “There’s a man out here claiming to be your uncle.”

Flashing the man a quizzical look, he headed for the hallway, bewildered by the sight of his uncle who was leaning against the wall waiting.

“Wayne? Hey, what are you doing here?” Extending his arms, they hugged each other before Eddie nodded at the guard.

“I saw on the news Y/N was hospitalized so I came down as quick as I could. With the way you talk about her, I knew this would be hard so I didn’t want you two to be alone.”

“You didn’t have to do that but I really appreciate it. The doctor said physically she’s doing much better but she hasn’t said a word since she woke up. We’re concerned.”

After entering your room, Steve stands to shake the man’s hand as Wayne comes around to sit in the empty chair beside him.

“Sweetheart, this is my uncle Wayne Munson.”

Your eyes flick towards him for a moment before shifting them back where they were causing both men to glance towards each other nervously. As the night droned on, you listened to them talk to each other until a nurse arrived to check your vitals and bring you something to eat.

“Y/N, honey, you have to eat.”, Steve cooed as you stared at the tray in front of you silently.

“Hey, uh, boys why don’t you take a break and go get some coffee. Bring me a cup as well, hm?”, Wayne suggested giving the man pause.

Tugging on his sleeve, Eddie ushered his friend towards the door knowing that his uncle would keep an eye on you while they were gone.

“My nephew says you have an extremely beautiful voice. He would definitely know. Kid’s been into music since he was born. His mom used to rock him back and forth when he would cry and sing some old songs from musicals she loved.” Wayne’s eyes shifted towards you but as soon as they met yours you looked away. “There was one she used to sing all the time from that one movie with Olivia Newton-John and he would just giggle up at her.”

Rising to his feet, he nonchalantly removed the plastic around your fork and opened the can of ginger ale they had brought you, pouring it into your Styrofoam cup.

“You remind me of her a bit. She was such a strong woman… I remember once, when she found out she was pregnant, she asked me ‘Wayne, what if I fuck up?’ and I told her that if she did that’s alright. Nobody is perfect. As long as you keep trying and keep working to move forward…if you falter…then, sweetheart, it’s ok.”

Your bottom lip trembled as you absorbed what he was saying.

“My brother, Eddie’s dad, never tried. Even after my nephew was born and his wife passed, he just kept getting worse till he ended up in jail.”

Lifting your cup, he brings the straw to your lips and flashes you a small smile when you take a drink.

“God, I wish I could remember the name of the song his mom used to sing it was something like ‘But now there's nowhere to hide since you pushed my love aside—”

“I'm out of my head…Hopelessly devoted to you…”, you sang in response making his grin grow.

It was just then that the two of you realized Eddie and Steve had been standing by the door watching everything unfold.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

############

That following morning, you still weren’t very talkative but the guys were content with the fact that at least you were eating and doing things the doctors suggested. Whenever there was lull in the room, Eddie’s uncle would talk to you about random things making you smile occasionally.

Commotion in the hallway, however, grabbed their attention as they slipped into security mode and commanded you both stay put. As they entered the hallway, a couple of photographers were being held back as doctors ran through with a gurney into an awaiting operating room.

“What’s going on?”, Steve asked in a firm tone.

“Police found the boyfriend. They’ve been trying to revive him but nothing is taking.”

“Ex-boyfriend. What do you mean revive him?”

“A friend of his called saying he passed out on their floor. They found much harder drugs than what your client had.”, the hospital security sighed.

“Shit.”, Eddie exhaled as well, walking with his friend back to your room only to find you both gone. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

It doesn’t take them long to find you, skidding past an open door where you and Wayne were standing. The man kept a firm grip on your arm as you watched through the glass in front of you while nurses and doctors did what they could to save Simon.

“Honey, you shouldn’t see this.”

Steve reaches for your hand but you promptly yank it back.

“I’m not glass, Steven. You can stop treating me like any little thing is going to break me.”, you whisper.

“I see we’re back in our old mindset. Wayne, would you mind?”, Eddie asks as he gestures towards the door.

“I’ll be in her room. Be gentle, Edward.”, he warns making the metalhead nod.

“Sweetheart, this…”, he continues as he points towards your ex. “…this isn’t a little thing. Don’t treat it like it is. You need to feel what you’re feeling.”

“Stop. Stop talking to me like child.”

“Fine. Then let me talk to you like a boyfriend who loves you. That was you 36hrs ago… own it.”

“Y/N, you didn’t fail just because you made a mistake. You did the right thing by calling us and getting us to you. You could have been like him and ran but you didn’t. That’s a wonderful improvement. The old you would have been in jail or worse.”

Your head hung as you begun to cry and Steve gently reached out with his fingers to lift your chin.

“You deserve better than me.”, you reply in a hoarse voice.

“And you, baby, deserve better than this.”, he absently gestures around the hospital room. “The problem is you don’t believe it.”

Beeping fills your ears and the three of you turn just in time to see the machine flat line as the doctors in the room exhale heavily.

Your knees gave out and Steve quickly caught you, falling to the floor with you as he pressed your head to his chest. Eddie sunk down beside you, his hand petting your hair as they listened to you sob.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. Everything’s ok.”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry for everything. I love you…”

“Shhh. It’s ok, Y/N. We love you to. We’re right here. We’re not going anywhere.”

Series here

#####################

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goodgirlofglory · 4 months

Text

In the balance - Chapter 9: the world in the balance

Chapter 8

/Masterpost/

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 6,1k

Warnings: non-con (series), dub-con (series), descriptions of ptsd symptoms, panic attacks, descriptions and references to past psychological, sexual and physical abuse

Summary: your world is suddenly turned on it’s head when Steve leaves you in the care of his best friend to go hunt your attackers down. You just have to get through it until Steve returns, but that can prove difficult when Bucky starts to prod into you and Steve’s relationship...

Note: First of all, it’s been a year since i last updated this story and it’s been a bitch. I'm starting to see the ending approach though, which is great cuz im looking forward to write it🥰 For those of you who have been consistently commenting on how you were looking forward to the next chapter - THANK YOU! You guys kept me going<333 Hope you enjoy🦋

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the contents of the warnings upset you!

Minors DO NOT INTERACT!🚫

Reblogs, likes, replies and asks are amazing💖

You stared out of the floor to ceiling window, vertigo sloshing in the back of your head as you peered down at the gridwork of roads and flashing lights, the cars and people looking like ants from all the way up here in the clouds. You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, fighting the nausea down.

A broad hand suddenly clasped around the back of your neck and you jolted.

“Whoah there, it’s just me,” Steve said as he gave your neck an affectionate squeeze. He stepped up behind you and wrapped you in his arms, his big, warm hands sliding down to stroke lovingly over your swollen belly. It was getting heavier for each day that passed, and the kid was getting more restless along with it. You leaned your head back against his chest, closing your eyes as he swayed you from side to side.

- a flash of light in the dark, cold marble under your bare feet, a sickening crunch. So much blood -

Your eyes shot open and you heaved for breath, suddenly choking on air.

“Whoah there, it’s alright,” Steve said, turning you around and putting his hands on your shoulders while bending down to catch your eyes. “I know this is a big change, and we both would rather be back home, but it’s not safe there anymore. Remember I told you that, buttercup? Not like up here. The building is heavily secured and no helicopter could sneak in - the city has a million eyes. You’re safe here, sweetheart, there’s no need to worry that pretty, little head. I’m gonna keep you safe like I always have,” he said, repeating what he’d been telling you over the last 24 hours as you’d moved across the country.

A penthouse in the middle of Manhattan, New York City. 8,4 million people right below you, crawling underfoot while you swayed up in the clouds, 1300 feet up in the air. Your worst nightmare a couple of months ago. Now, you didn’t really know how to feel. You were so tired, and confused. Your memories of that horrible night were blurry blotches, and you fought between not wanting to remember all those atrocious images of blood splattering and bones breaking, and feeling so panicky over the black spots in your recollection it made your head all loopy.

“Besides, Bucky will be here with you, to keep you safe until I return to you,” Steve continued, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek softly.

That’s right, Steve was leaving. After everything that had happened, Steve was leaving, almost right this second. To catch the guys that were behind the attack on the mansion and see that they’re put away, all so I can get back to you and the baby before it’s born, he’d said when you’d hidden your face in his chest and sobbed uncontrollably at him breaking the news of his departure.

You supposed you understood. He wanted the bad men in jail by the time you went into labor, so he could be with you from then on without worrying for your safety. You got the logic of it, it was now or never. It still terrified you. You needed Steve, and just when everything was going so well between you, he was leaving you. All alone in this huge, fancy penthouse in a city with millions of people. Okay, you knew you were being irrational and naggy and ungrateful. Steve had gotten you the most secure, safe and luxurious residence he could after the mansion, perhaps even more secure, under the ever watchful gaze of the city, breaking in would be even more difficult. Besides, Steve had apparently been their primary target that night, not you. So if he was out there hunting them hunting him, the target was off your back, collateral or not. Plus, Steve was leaving Bucky here for you.

Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. There is no one in this world I trust more than him. He's the only one besides myself I would entrust with your safety. An old friend, the polar opposite of Steve. Scruffy where Steve was cleanly groomed, broody where Steve was charming, quiet where Steve knew the perfect things to say. You'd barely even spoken a word to Bucky, and he always seemed to have this glare directed your way, scrutinizing your every move with cold eyes under a heavy brow. Neither of you had seemed particularly pleased with the arrangement, but Steve had assured you Bucky was the sweetest, most nobel man out there, and that he would do this for you and Steve - no questions asked. Didn’t change the trickle of ice that ran down your spine at the way Bucky assessed you, the coldness in his stare, and the way it put you on edge.

So Steve was leaving, and you were to be alone in this strange, new home with a man you didn’t know. And you were seven and a half months pregnant. With Steve’s super enhanced baby. If you weren’t so sure of the baby’s strength, you’d worry about an early labor from all the duress you’d been under these last few days…

Steve pulled you into his arms, careful not to squish your belly too hard, and kissed the top of your head while stroking a soothing hand up and down your back. You needed his touch so bad, had become so addicted to his constant physical connection, you were already dreading the withdrawals when he left. You already felt lonely.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured into your hair, tilting your head back to tenderly kiss your lips. “You be a good girl for me, and treat Bucky like this is his home too,” he murmured against your lips, making you shiver. It had been days since he’d fucked you, you hadn’t had any time alone between moving residence and him planning whatever mission he was going on with his organisation. You were aching for him, body and soul, and weren’t ready for him to go. You weren’t ready…

But he left either way.

And then you were at a complete loss. What were you supposed to do in a penthouse all day without Steve? You couldn’t take walks like on the vast lawns of the mansion with the soft, perpetually green grass under your bare feet. The penthouse was huge, sure, and two stories, with several enormous bedrooms with private bathrooms and a sitting area on the second floor and big kitchen and way too big living room on the first, along with a personal spa, a private cinema, guest rooms, personal gym and more bathrooms. Nearly the whole apartment had floor to ceiling windows, making your slight vertigo a constant with how the looming, chaotic city below and endless sky above. And you, floating in the middle. Your only option was to go down all those levels and walk in the city. Could you even do that?

A knock on the door had you slowly emerging from your thoughts, sitting on the edge of your new bed in your new bedroom, the sheets unrumpled and made up exactly like a hotel. How long had it been since Steve left? Five minutes? Five hours? You turned around to see Bucky standing in the opening of the cracked open door, shoulders almost as broad as the doorway.

“I’ve prepared some food for you,” he said, leveling you a very evaluating stare you tried not to shrink under.

Food. You had no appetite, your stomach full of dark, messy feelings and a restless baby. But you always ate when Steve prepared your meals nowadays, so you should probably do it when Bucky did too. You gave a little nod, and the brunette didn’t wait around for you to walk together down to the first floor of the penthouse.

Down in the kitchen, the aroma of creamy sauce and garlic filled your nose, and you tried opting for a seat at the kitchen island before realizing you just couldn’t get up with your belly. Bucky was loading up plates by the stove, and turned in time to see you wobble on your feet as you tried hiking yourself on the high bar stool. Your cheeks were hot with mild embarrassment as you instead opted for the dining table right next to the kitchen, sighing in relief as you got the weight off your bloated feet. They were already starting to hurt like hell, and Steve hadn’t been gone even a day yet.

Bucky appeared a moment later and put a dish down next to you. Pasta with mushrooms of some kind, a cheesy cream sauce and small pieces of bacon. The aroma was mouth watering. Bucky took the seat across the table from you as you picked up the utensils and started eating. You could scarcely stop the moan escaping you as you took your first mouthful.

“This is delicious,” you said between the next bite and the one after, already shuffling the food into yourself in a rather unmannered way. It took you a while to realize Bucky had neither answered you, nor moved a muscle, his own steaming dish of pasta untouched before him. A ping of unease flared to life inside you.

You looked up to meet his gaze and nearly winced at how cold his eyes were, pinning you with a look that could only be described as scrutiny. Your muscles seized, a premonition blooming. That wasn’t the look you expected, and definitely one that you liked.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“W-what?” you answered after nearly choking on your food. You’d introduced yourself only a few days ago, had he forgotten? How did the room suddenly feel colder, Bucky’s cool, steel eyes raising goosebumps along your skin in a flair of nerves.

“Who do you work for?” he asked.

“I…I don’t have a job anymore, Steve, um… I quit,” you answered, confused, trying not to focus on how you’d gotten out of your last job at that local yarn and handicraft store in your hometown.

“There is no point in feigning innocence here, I’ll get your file any minute now,” he said, and that threw you for a loop before your unease doubled. Your breath was speeding up, getting choppy.

“You’re running background checks on m-me?” you asked. What the hell was he suspecting you of doing? You hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, couldn’t remember having done anything wrong.

Bucky didn’t answer your question, just sat there while his meal turned cold.

“If you have anything to confess, I suggest you do it now, before I get the intel,” he warned you instead.

Your heart was picking up speed, your stomach restless both from a sudden nausea and the kid squirming around. Steve had said Bucky was noble and trustworthy, but here he was being all threatening and cold, and you were locked into this apartment alone with him. The sudden feeling of danger made your head spin, and your mind wandered back to that night.

-sudden lights at the window, your body moving too slow under all its extra weight, your heart in your throat -

Bucky leaned forward in his chair somewhat.

“What are you planning on doing with the baby? What is your plan for Steve?”

Hot tears sprung from your eyes like a sudden faucet, and a violent sob burst from you.

-hot, sticky blood raining down on your face in patters, the mortified gurgling sound of a throat ripped apart -

Your chair toppled over as you jumped up, driven by a flash of adrenalin, and you groaned as your joints protested the sudden movement with pain.

“I…what…n-no, he was the one who..I tried to say no, I never wanted - I didn’t want -”

Your throat closed on another sob, your lungs burning and you just couldn’t draw enough breath into them, panic making you suddenly dizzy. Your thoughts were running too fast, a voice in your head yelling at you to not say anything bad about Steve, about how he got you to the mansion, about how he got you pregnant.

You swayed dangerously to one side, your feet numb and weak, and for a split second you registered Bucky’s expression turning from suspicious and hard to something more concerned, a crack in his confidence. He got to his feet and clasped a hand around your upper arm. On second thought you should’ve realized he was trying to keep you from falling flat on your face, but in the moment all you saw was the masked man who’d tried to pry you from the closet in the mansion and drag you away.

Your reflexes kicked in, and before you knew it, your hands met Bucky’s chest with all the strength you could muster. Bucky did not fly across the room like the masked man had flown down the stairs - Bucky merely stumbled a step back - but the pure shock on his face registered in your mind even through your panicked haze. The half-open mouth, wide eyes and pinprick pupils, the color that drained several shades from his otherwise tanned skin and rosy cheeks. You might as well have flung him to the moon.

Your mind cleared slightly from its dizziness as you realized the baby’s inherited strength had charged yours once again, but your breath was still too short, too fast, the oxygen rasping up and down your esophagus before it could even reach your lungs. You were going to die, your mind thought with a pathetic little whimper.

“Whoah, easy,” Bucky said, taking a step forward with his hands raised in surrender, worry alight on his features where suspicion had been only a minute ago. “Breathe, c’mon breathe,” he said, gently stepping up to where you stood frozen in place, doing all you could to keep conscious as your head started pounding from the pressure and lack of oxygen. You watched as he brought one hand up to cradle your elbow, and found yourself reaching out your own hand to cling to him, grabbing on to his arm with your nails first. It somehow helped, if only a fraction, the warm, real, corporal feeling of his flesh working as a lifeline to keep you rooted to the earth, to reality, to consciousness. Your feet moved on their own, staggering a step closer to grab his other arm with your hand.

Help me, please, help, you thought with desperation as your irregular breaths got fractionally deeper.

“That’s it, breathe for me,” Bucky said as he let you draw closer to him, your nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. He looked into your eyes, his own calmer now than before, gentler, staring into yours so hard it forced you to focus through your panic, noticing with increasing awareness the speckle of green in his irises, how the light caught the blue, how his pupils slowly expanded as your breaths got longer and more even.

“That’s right, good girl,” he murmured, when at last your breath evened out and you could pry your stiff fingers from where they were stabbing into his forearms.

God, you needed a hug. Your feet felt like jello, there was a stab of pain in the back of your neck. You were going to have such a gnarly headache. And you needed a hug, your nerves hanging on by a frail, frayed thread. You needed Steve, but he wasn’t here, so you needed a hug, and the burly figure in front of you seemed like he gave great, big, warm ones.

Leaning forward, you slumped against Bucky, your face smushing into his chest, not caring that he was a practical stranger and that he’d just accused you of being some secret, evil succubus spy. Bucky stiffened noticeably as you practically fell into him, but then his arms came up to wrap around you, steadying you with an air of politeness.

You’re sure the moment was exceedingly awkward, but you were suddenly so overwhelmed and tired and filled with grief you couldn’t even feel it. Bucky was warm, like a furnace, so incredibly warm.

You were halfway into exhausted slumber by the time Bucky gently pried you away from his chest, and you barely kept the disappointed mewl from slipping past your lips. You looked up into his eyes, and saw tension there, intense and concentrated, along with unmistakable curiosity, still a little tainted by suspicion. But he asked you no further questions, simply said “let’s get you upstairs so you can rest” and then tugged you gently along back to your room and into bed. You were slipping into unconsciousness when you felt the bed dip, the silk sheet being draped over you and a gentle squeeze to your shoulder.

You awoke to the gentle rap of knuckles on your door and the smell of chamomile tea. You were still in the same clothes, sheet draped over you, and you blinked bleary, exhausted eyes open to see Bucky standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands.

You sat up and smiled a little as he made his way over to the bed, though you weren’t quite brave enough to meet his eyes. He put the tray down beside you on the bed and lingered.The tray had a mug of tea and a salad that looked delicious, with a wide variety of greens and cheese, nuts and seeds and a dressing of some kind. It looked like the perfect textbook snack Steve would’ve prepared for you. He’d probably given Bucky list upon list of things to give you and make sure you did while he was away. Steve and his imperious ways. You couldn’t help smile at that, your heart aching for him, feeling that Steve wasn’t too far away for a tiny moment.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asked.

“Better,” you said, truly feeling better in that moment, and patted the bed for him to sit and join you. You needed to get along with Bucky if he was Steve’s best friend.

You dug into the food, feeling famished. You felt Bucky watching you, and forced yourself to not lock up. You could feel the questions hanging in the air between you, but if you just pretended everything was fine, maybe he’d forget about asking them. You didn’t know how much Steve would allow you to tell about…well, anything.

“Can I ask you something?” he said after a minute of silence as you ate and sipped from your tea.

Oh crap, here we go

You dared to look up at him, meeting his baby blue eyes for a second before giving him a tiny nod and continuing to eat.

“You said something before…downstairs, when I asked what your plan for the baby and Steve was,” he started. He was speaking softly, no accusation in his tone whatsoever, but your heartbeat still sped up in your chest.

Scrambling, you tried to remember what you’d said. That whole ordeal was a blur, you couldn’t remember much outside feeling you were going to die from lack of oxygen.

Trying to keep your breathing in check, you raised a shoulder, trying for relaxed and feeling much too stiff, hoping against hope that Bucky would just let it go.

“You said that Steve was the one who…something, and that you had tried to say no. That you didn’t want…something,” Bucky said, sitting unmoving on the edge of the bed. You didn’t dare meet his eyes, afraid he’d see something in them you didn’t mean to show. Afraid you would betray Steve in some way, a sickening pulse of guilt wracking through you. “What did you mean by that?” Bucky asked after several long, silent seconds.

You tried opening your mouth to speak only to choke on your own spit, swallowing painful before opening your mouth again.

“I didn’t mean anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t say - I didn’t mean anything with it,” you stammered out, and bloody hell, you didn’t even believe yourself in that moment, all sweaty hands, flaky eyes and trembling voice.

Please don’t ask me anything more about it, you’ll ruin everything

You knew without looking that Bucky didn’t believe you, he was way too quiet for that, unmoving, assessing you, scrutinizing your crumbling appearance.

Why can’t you just let it go?, you thought desperately.

The food you’d just consumed churned in your stomach.

“Are you sure?” you heard him say, and you stared down at your hands in your lap, giving him a tiny, unconvincing nod.

Just leave it, please.

Bucky got up from the bed, the mattress aligning itself without his weight, and stood by it for a moment. You kept your gaze lowered, forcefully holding your anxiety down in order to keep what suspicions you could at bay.

“I’m going out to the city for an errand. Would you like to join me?” he asked.

You couldn’t help how your face shot up in surprise, how your eyes widened as you processed his words.

“What?”

Bucky looked you dead in the eyes, still scrutinizing, but he shifted on his feet as though a bit uncertain of himself.

“Well, Steve told me you liked to walk around the garden of his estate, and he insisted I try and keep your daily routine as unchanged as possible. If you were used to walking a lot, this apartment isn’t really big enough for that, so I thought you could join me in the city to get your steps in. We could take a turn around central park if you’d like,” Bucky said.

Walking. In the city.

You shook your head a little. No, you couldn’t do that. Were you even allowed? You doubted Steve meant for Bucky to take you into the city when he said to keep your routine unchanged. Still, an aching flare of need burst to life in your chest. Going outside. You wanted to go outside, to feel the breeze on your face, smell the rose garden, to listen to the birds. You knew you wouldn’t find much of that in New York city though.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the need to get outside the glass cage that was the apartment warring with your uncertainty of being with all those people in the streets below. Things had not gone well the last time you’d done that. All that time ago, before things had become so good between you and Steve. Before he’d made you see you weren’t cut out for being independent. That you would be so much happier with him. Under his protection.

“Oh come on, it won’t take long, we’ll go as slow as you need,” Bucky said, and though his tone was lighter now, his eyes didn’t relent in their careful assessment of you.

Would he become more suspicious if you refused? You feared it. What normal woman would suddenly refuse to go for a walk if that was what she was used to? Maybe Steve wouldn’t mind. Or maybe you just desperately wanted to be somewhere else but inside the apartment all the way up in the sky like this, perched and dizzy.

“Okay,” you finally conceded.

You tried for a smile as Bucky bid you to meet him by the private elevator on the first floor in fifteen minutes.

The tiny hope that Steve wanted you to take walks down on the NYC streets soon died as you went through your closet and realized there was no coat nor any real shoes in the wardrobe Steve had curated for you. Uncharacteristically driven to succeed at your prerogative though, you put on a double pair of socks and the flat strappy sandals from way in the back of the closet, dorned your thickest cardigan and made your wobbly way downstairs.

Bucky was waiting by the elevator, checking something on his phone. A phone. How long had it been since you’d seen a mobile phone? He put it away as you approached, smiling as he lifted his gaze to you. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he looked over your outfit.

“It’s way too cold out for that, I’ll get your coat, and you should probably put on some boots,” he said, moving to go past you. Your hand shot out and landed on his chest, halting him.

“N-no, I, uh, I haven’t got any,” you blurted. His warmth burned through the layers of his sweater, distracting as your palm absorbed the heat.

His eyes narrowed on you.

“You haven’t got a coat or shoes?” he asked, and you just knew you’d revealed the wrong thing. This looked so bad.

“No, I do,” you lied,” Steve must’ve just forgotten to pack them when we moved, it all just happened so quickly, you know,” you said, smiling a little up at him, hoping he would back off at the reference to that night. “Anyway, I prefer these sandals. Bloated feet and whatnot.”

Bucky leveled you with his narrowed stare for a few seconds longer, probably weighing your words with whatever he could read on your face.

“All right, but I’m getting you one of my jackets. It’s a chilly day and I don’t want to risk your health,” he said sternly and made a beeline for his own room.

You breathed a sigh of relief, belatedly realizing he could’ve cancelled the whole outing outright because of this. You were suddenly quite…happy he didn’t. You were excited to go out, you realized, eager almost. And nervous, so nervous the baby was getting increasingly restless within you, moving about in your belly as you waited for Bucky to return, staring at the elevator doors in front of you.

You almost didn’t hear Bucky return with the way your blood pumped in your ears, not until a leather jacket was gently draped over your shoulders, the smell of a spicy cologne and well worn leather wafting into your nose. Not unpleasant, you realized as you insinuated your arms into it and brought it around yourself.

“Sorry, this is the only thing I have that I think’ll fit around your…um, well everything,” Bucky said, hesitating as he gestured vaguely at your belly and you noticed the faintest of pink dusting his cheeks.

How thoughtful…

“Thanks,” you said, closing the zipper at the front of the jacket tightly over your belly. It was snug, but it did indeed fit. Your outfit couldn’t have been more uncoordinated if you tried, with your woolen socks and strappy sandals, an ankle length satin dress and big, black leather jacket. But you didn’t care. You were going outside.

Adrenaline started pumping in your system the second the elevator pinged and the doors opened, and you again fought to keep up appearances and you stiffly moved into the little steel chamber to be taken down to ground level.

It’s perfectly normal to go outside, it’s perfectly normal to leave the house, there’s nothing to be afraid of, you kept repeating to yourself silently, avoiding looking in the direction of your chaperone.

You did well, you thought as you stared at the display above the door counting down the floor numbers until it only displayed a capitol “L” for lobby. Ground floor. Here we go.

Only, when the elevator doors opened, and there were several people waiting to ride it up, just standing outside, minding their business, not even looking at you…you couldn’t move.

Something was wrong, this was all wrong, you shouldn’t be doing this, you knew you shouldn’t.

In your peripheral vision, you noticed Bucky watching you, waiting for you to move ahead of him, observing even more of those things you were certain Steve wouldn’t want you to show him. The baby kicked your ribs.

“Come on, little lady,” Bucky murmured, and a warm, gentle hand on your back carefully nudged you forward. Under the guise of being heavily pregnant (which you were), you slowly moved forward, out of the elevator, not brave enough to meet the eyes of the people waiting, but murmuring thanks to them as they moved out of the way for you and Bucky.

Your breathing was choppy, and Bucky moved you to the side as soon as you were out of the way of the elevators. There was so much noise in the lobby, people milling about, music from somewhere, some children somewhere screaming with laughter, and through the opening doors all the way on the other side of the vast voajer, the deafening roar of city traffic filtered in.

Steve’s voice was suddenly loud in your head. You can’t make it out there, you’re too weak, too frail, they’ll swallow you whole, the voice whispered with finality, growing in volume, warping into a static roar. The laughter of the children turned to screams, the crowds noise became a deafening tsunami of sound, the blaring horns from cars hurting your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut and -

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice cut through the noise like a knife, bringing you back to your body with a pair of strong, warm hands on your shoulders, like anchors on your mind. “You’re okay,” he said, bowing his head to capture your gaze with his own.

You stared into his eyes, realizing you were about to spiral into your second panic attack that day, and that he’d calmed you down for the second time as well.

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice low and comforting, not drawing any attention to the two of you from the other people in the lobby.

“I’m, -” you rasped, realizing you were on the verge of hyperventilating, “I’m too weak,” you whimpered.

“Too weak for what? You look pale, is it the baby? Do you need to sit down?” Bucky asked, looking you over while keeping you from wobbling.

No, it wasn’t the baby, it was never the baby. It was you, you were too weak.

“No, the baby is fine, the baby is strong. It’s me, I’m too weak to make it out there on my own,” you nearly whined, eyeing the doors to the outside warily.

“What do you mean? You’re not alone. I’m here with you. And besides, you are strong, I felt it earlier,” Bucky said. You could tell he was sort of confused as to why he needed to give you a pep talk just to leave the lobby, but here he was. He put a hand on your belly, and the warmth of his palm could be felt through the layers of clothing, even through the leather of his jacket. The touch grounded you even more, sharpening your focus. You looked into his deep, earnest blue eyes. “You’re protecting the little one, right? You are his or her momma bear, and he or she gives you the strength and courage to do it, right?”

You stilled at those words, felt them absorb into you, felt them settle neatly somewhere deep inside you.

That’s…right. That’s it. Your baby gave you strength, unnatural amounts of strength, and you needed to protect your baby. Only you could protect your baby, you could feel it, deep down in the marrow of your bones, a deep-rooted unwavering certainty that could only be some instinctual thing inherited from all the mothers that came before you. How had you not noticed that before? How did Bucky manage to find the words that somehow unlocked that knowledge? Or maybe it’d been there the whole time…

Like a fog, the panic and anxiety lifted slightly from your hazy mind, and you laughed. Suddenly, a bit shakily, and incredibly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, wiping at a few tears that escaped your eyes. You hadn’t even realized you were on the verge of tears.

Bucky smiled warmly.

“No need. I can’t imagine what all those hormones are putting you through, but if looks rough, I gotta tell you that. Now, how about we get on with the mission, if you’re still up for it?” he said, taking his hand off your belly and squeezing your shoulders reassuringly once before retreating them both from your form.

You nodded.

Your baby gives you strength, you protect your baby, you repeated in your head again and again as you followed Bucky to the doors. Though not a miracle cure, you found yourself steadily moving out the doors, into the streets, down the sidewalk, across to the next street and then on.

It was like watching yourself from outside your body. Here you were, just six weeks shy of your due date, walking the streets of New York city like a normal person. You kept expecting the world to explode, but it didn’t. You kept expecting the people meeting you on the street to brandish clubs or knives or needles to hurt you with, but they all pretty much ignored you.

Suddenly, Bucky had finished his errand and you found yourself waddling around Central Park with Bucky, breathing in the fresh air, listening intently for the bird song. You kept on the lookout for rose bushes to smell, but found the worm leather of your jacket made a surprisingly nice replacement. A child gave you a grin that lacked a front tooth and excitedly pointed at your belly before her mother pulled her away, scolding her for being rude. You couldn’t help waving at her and smiling as she was dragged away, looking back to find Bucky watching you, his eyes gentle, but guarded. He’d kept a close eye on you ever since leaving the apartment building, but strangely, you found yourself pushing the worries for what he might be thinking far away.

You hadn’t felt this calm in days. The breeze was gentle and cooling on the exposed skin of your face, your leg muscles thrummed pleasantly from how long you’d walked and the open sky above you made you feel like you could finally breathe properly again. You suspected Bucky might be part of why you felt so safe to just enjoy these sensations right now, but his words from earlier hadn’t stopped shining like a lighthouse in the back of your mind.

The baby gave you strength, and you would use that strength to protect your baby…and yourself. You had come to realize you’d already done that in the past. When that man had grabbed you from the closet in the mansion, you hadn’t freezed and cowered and yielded to whatever violence he’d dish out. You had defended yourself. You’d used the strength the baby gave you and protected you both. How had you not seen that as a reason for confidence before now?

Who knew how long those words could keep your anxiety at bay. For now, you made the most of this uncommon calm and said virtually nothing to Bucky for the rest of the walk before he took you back to the apartment complex.

The minute the elevator doors closed and locked behind you, and you reluctantly gave Bucky his leather jacket back, the threatening gloom of fear began to sink over you. You raised your chin, repeated your new found mantra to yourself and reflected on a new found experience you hadn’t believed possible. You had just been out almost all day in New York city, one of the busiest and most dangerous cities on the planet, and nothing had gone wrong. Fretful hope bloomed inside you. Maybe, just maybe things could work out for you. Maybe you didn’t have to be so scared shitless all the time. Hadn’t you lived and managed on your own before? In another life, all that time ago? Hadn’t that been you on your own for years before Steve entered your life?

You wobbled over to the couch, sighing deeply as you finally got your weight off your feet. Amazing as it was to feel the ache in your legs from muscles well spent walking, you could already feel all the aches in your body that Steve usually kept at bay with his massages, start to grow - beginning in your feet and lower back.

Steve…

Just the thought of him had you aching in an entirely different way. God, you missed his hands on your skin, how he fired up this all-consuming need in you, made you desperate for him. You were wound embarrassingly tight already, backed up in a way that was hard to ignore.

Before you could fall further into that line of thought, Bucky entered the living room. One look at him had your pleasant mood shifting.

“We need to talk,” he said.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #in the balance #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers fanfic #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader

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katsukikitten · 2 years

Text

Synopsis: Your worst nightmare comes to life after you receive a call well after midnight that isn’t from your husband Bakugou but about him. Rushing to the hospital you’re thankful to find him alive but when he comes to he asks to see his wife despite you standing there.

Warnings: Angst, dark themes, mentions of child loss, mentions of difficulty conceiving, mentions of postpartum Cheating if you squint

Chapter Three: The ghost that haunts my dreams, I shall not forget. wc 9366

Master List

Your water really did break at the worst time. In the middle of an interview for an office manager position at an agency well away from your preferred hospital. The most memorable thing was the panic of the heroes. Tamaki had never delivered a baby before and surprisingly Mirio was stunned into silence.

"Don't panic, I have a few hours. I'm going to call Red Riot." Relief almost floods your system from the thought of these miserable last few months coming to an end. Your body wouldn't be totally yours anymore but at least you'd be able to shit again.

Probably.

"B-b-but I heard f-first time mothers have their babies much faster." Tamaki's hands shake so hard he clasps them together. Knuckle white from the grip while Mirio continues to be checked out. Curling your lips into your mouth before offering a tight smile you reassure him through the pain of your first contraction.

"I'll be fine."

Famous last words.

You were indeed not fine, your contractions so powerful so close together you were falling to your knees. Mirio and Tamaki made quick work of escorting you to the hospital while Tamaki sheepishly yelled to his assistant to call Red Riot right now.

The huffing pair made it just in time with weeping half moons on their forearms. Just as you're waddling with shortened, shallow breaths to the desk to fill out paperwork, a burning sensation between your legs demands ALL of your attention.

"Ring of fire. RING OF FUCKING FIRE!" You would have your baby right here in the lobby wouldn't you? Nurses rush towards you, thankful you wore a flowy skirt as they made quick assessments. Walking you to at least behind the nurses station for some semblance of privacy as they yelled over the PA for an OBGYN.

Kirishima and Mina arrive in the lobby at the same time. Breathless as they grab onto Tamaki and Mirio to ask where you are.

Only for the sound of a scream to echo through the lobby silencing the room. Everyone waits on baited breath as their ears strain to hear even the faintest cry.

As the unwanted audience begins to cross the line of worry a powerful cry is heard. Healthy lungs pulling and pushing out air with force. A sigh of relief is shared by strangers as Mina rushed towards the sound.

"Ma'am we're sorry but-"

"She's with me." You say desperately having just caught the smallest glimpse of bubble gum pink relieved that she was here, then spies Kirishima, "They're with me…'

Mina calls for Kirishima to follow, he hesitates unsure what to do with his two sons until Mirio grabs them off his hands. Giving a smile and a thumbs up before Kirishima runs to catch up. Shirtless and dirty, still in his hero uniform. Fighting of tears of joy, of sorrow. Knowing another man should be taking these exciting steps.

"Eyes on the baby, I've got mom." Mina barks and Kirishima nods in response.

They make quick work of cleaning you and baby up. Praising you all the way for how amazing you did and preparing you for care and what's to come. Letting you hold your little baby boy and you hadn't realized that your whole world, your whole reason for living would shrink down and be something so small.

Yet so very big.

"And the name?" The nurse asks, pen poised on the birth certificate. You stare down at him, knowing you wouldn't be able to name anything else even if you tried.

"Bakugou. Daiki, Bakugou." The nurse smiles as you stare at the ‘sun’. Pen writing out the characters.

"Shining bright."

"Yes."

A few hours later, Mirio and Tamaki are allowed back with the kids. Looking over the baby that Mina holds as Kirishima now monitors you. You give a slow sleepy nod that you're okay. Just a little tired and he silently vows to kick everyone out if they get too loud.

"Daichi, what do you think?" Mina asks as her little boy scrunches up his nose.

"He stinks." The room lets out a loud laugh as you rest your eyes for just a moment.

Time sours with each passing month. As you stare at that lighthouse of a child and see no way out. Seeing nothing but the fog that hazes your mind as his siren call grows louder in the night.

You were steadfast to crashing your boat ashore despite all the warning signs.

In the end you weren't fit to be a mother. That's what all of those fail- misfortunes were trying to warn you of. You couldn't do this.

You really couldn't fucking do this.

He was a great baby, a happy baby.

Healthy.

All the things a mother wishes for and yet you still cannot tell what he needs. Feeding him too little one week and too much the next.

Checking between his toes for hair that could wrap around it by accident and cut off the blood flow. Changing his diaper but some brands irritate his sensitive skin. Trying to keep him properly moisturized without drowning him in cream. All while the clock read 1pm and 1am the next.

Time was slipping away and so were pieces of you.

You never were fit to be a mom.

Mina opens the door to the nursery softly. Offering a harmless smile.

"Hey." It's barely a whisper as she comes into the room, watching you stand helplessly with a bottle in your hand staring at the mobile.

"My postpartum was terrifying." Mina gently lifts Daiki from the crib, rocking her weight between her feet, "Was so bad all I could think was. Why? Why did I get pregnant? Why did I have this baby that never ever stops crying? Am I fucking doing this right?"

She guided you to the rocking chair, gently placing Daiki into your arms as she prepared a new bottle in the room.

"Got to the point where l couldn't stop crying. I'm both lucky and privileged to have Eijirou be such an amazing man. He saw the signs, supported me. Got me the help I needed and I didn't start to feel better for months. Almost a year! They said I was one of the lucky ones! That mine didn't last too long." She passes you the bottle, fluffing you in a warm blanket before she sits on the floor beside you.

"So I can't imagine what you're going through." She squeezes your knee and your vision blurs as you openly sob while feeding your happy, healthy son.

Your baby that you jumped through every hoop to even conceive him. Losing weight, injecting yourself with medicine daily for the entire duration since you saw Doctor Aiya all those months ago. Making smoothies with Mina and lactation cookies because you wanted to try to breastfeed if you could. Which of course your body miserably failed at producing anything. Reading every book under the sun about parenting until your eyes crossed.

But books be damned. Hardly any of them talked about this. This gut wrenching feeling that you never have, never were, and never will be good enough. Not for your friends, not for your husband, not for your son and especially not for yourself.

"But that doesn't mean that you're alone. You've got me. You've got Kirishima." Mina smiles up at you and you sniffle, you were nothing but a burden to this kind hearted family.

As if trying to ease your worries Mina adds. "It's okay. Kirishima needs the practice."

Patting her stomach in lieu of announcing. Your eyes widen and she winks at you.

"Yea, never thought I'd be the barefoot and constantly pregnant type."

"Neither did I Miss number 8 hero!"

You choke out a laugh as Mina giggles while the two of you work together to get fussy Daiki to settle down for the night.

After he's settled as you're rocking in the chair and Mina still sits in the low light of the room she says feather soft.

"I'll go with you or if you'd like I'll watch Daiki while you go."

Everyone around him must think that he's too stupid to notice. Bakugou Katsuki was anything but. His sharp vermillion eyes picked up on a lot of things without so much of a second glance. Yet still it took him a full year to realize people around him were acting weird about the dates. The year always smudged on his report or his review or the refill for the medication he wasn't taking. Didn't like how they dulled his senses.

It bothers him, gnawing on his ribs as he thinks. Eyes roaming over other's reports only for the papers to be shuffled away.

Bakugou can't put his finger on it but he's got that feeling again. Even after all this time almost everywhere he goes he feels as if something is different. Like his life is now a game, the kind where the picture is side by side by side with the hidden pictures and messages and slowly he's finding the subtle almost unnoticeable differences.

It started with the pictures at Momo's, lots of events he remembered and one or two he didn't. In all the pictures he looks different, younger. None have his signature undercut, all just a spiky mess except for one photo on the mantel, one of the ones he doesn’t recognize. Izuku, himself, and Shouto.

Izuku, smiling wildly, in the middle arms around the more stoic men, Bakugou with his hands carefully tucked away in his pockets paired with a scowl and Shouto giving a small, rare smile. Those two toned eyes are looking beyond the camera. It jogs something but the memory is warped, like blurred ink in an abused book left in the weather. Half the book is bone dry while the other half has pages bleeding into one another. Voices slowed, deepened, and mostly lost underwater.

!s s e n t e e w s e l i m s

The sound makes him grip the nape of his neck and grind his teeth.

Even in his reflection he struggled to find familiarity, after he washed away the smell of sorrow and stagnant grief of hospital air from his skin, counting scars from battles he shouldn't have forgotten. Yet here he stood, different and the same, a living contradiction. Wondering where the hell Momo moved his razor to shave back his undercut that got unruly during his stay.

Even the first day back at the agency, something runs ghostly fingers over the fringes of his mind. A desk of all things. Sitting outside of his and Kirishima's office, pushed against another. Except one desk was empty and the other full of paperwork, photographs, even fresh flowers. Bakugou lingers by the empty desk, fingers going over the dusty top seeing the various moisture rings staining the wood from a sweating glass or most likely a vase.

Need to get some hydrangeas or peonies

The thought blossoms in his head on its own. Which is odd. He doesn't know anyone who likes those puffy flowers, he knew for a fact it wasn't his wife's favorite. Momo preferred roses, the kind where the petals looked painted.

Even his running route made no sense anymore. Starting at the penthouse apartment, concentrating on his breath and clearing his mind for miles and miles until he decided the burn in his lungs felt good enough. Ending up at some small apartment complex with a doorman who gives a sad smile and a wave. Stupidly Bakugou always waves back before his scowl returns ten fold as he feels like an idiot for waving to a stranger, taking, the now, long route back home.

And the last thing that crawled up his spine was catching the year. Finally seeing how much time had passed than he last thought. Swallowing thickly as he realized he was no longer a fresh faced 21 year old but actually 27. It was weird blinking away six years of his life, six years of growth he’d have to make up, again. Waking up in what was starting to feel like an alternate lifetime but it would explain the gray hairs. Explains the guilt he felt every time he’d lose his temper, explains why sorry is so quick to coat his tongue now.

Realizing he lost his fucking twenties somehow. Scraping together what he could with the photos Momo left around the house and what little he could pull from his friends.

Kirishima somehow always preoccupied unless Bakugou was calling to go over that stupid night again. While Mina now spoke to Bakugou in clipped responses. One word answers even for questions like "How's the baby?" Her eyes would blaze as she said Fine.

Deku wasn't much help either considering he and Bakugou only touched base every few months. A lunch the wives "force" them to take where they discuss over ramen what's been happening in their lives. Still that freckled jerk was acting weird too. Well weirder than usual. Jumpy at lunch, stumbling over his own words and calling him once a week just to "See how you're feeling."

Katsuki hated it. It made the scars on his shoulder and stomach burn. Izuku was acting like a fucking helicopter parent. Just like he did after Bakugou jumped in front of him decades earlier. After all that crazy shit cleared up Izuku tried to hover over him and if anything he was smothering the ash blonde. It raised suspicion, like something was wrong with Katsuki that he didn't know himself. It bothered him to think that these people were tiptoeing around him, as if he'd shatter if he could put a name to the weight that sits on the tip of his tongue.

But the thing he hated the most was the absence of something.

Of the family he wanted to start after he turned 25 and hit number one.

Of his wife.

Course that was three years ago now and still some things never change.

Sitting in bed by himself as that inky feeling settles at the nape of his neck. Whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Mocking him with echoes of the past he can't place. Either so quiet or so jumbled he cannot make out the words.

ssenteews efas yats

lliw I uoy rof. lliw I

He drowns out the sound with music and the dark amber liquid he brings to his lips. Palm heating up as he mulls over the past few years in his mind. Making it through life by doing the math wrong and yet getting the answer "right." Least that's how it felt since he woke up from that fucking accident.

Nothing was right about this.

Especially not how he'd wrap his arms around his wife after a long day, only for her to shuffle away from him and when Momo thought he was asleep, throwing his arms away from her body or worse yet. Leaving him alone in their shared bedroom.

Hell it might as well have been Bakugou's penthouse with how little his wife was around.

And when she was, she just wanted to ride him like a living dildo, with condoms and while she was on the pill, of course. Children would ruin her career and the last thing Bakugou wanted was an unhappy partner.

He used to love the way her mouth would part, how her tits would bounce and those sweet sounds she made that would spill from her lips. Now it left Bakugou feeling sticky, grimy. That he needed to scrub until his skin was raw for reasons unknown.

When he got like this, this damned restlessness as he called it, Bakugou would call Kirishima. Dialing the number by heart before reaching into his nightstand to pull out an old cracked phone in a dusty pink case.

"Bakubro, Hey" Kirishima is always happy to hear from his friend, except tonight he sounds different, "Feeling alright?"

"I should be asking you. Your voice is all fuckin tight."

"Yea I'm just…working on something…"

Silence dances on the line for a moment.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Kirishima huffs out a held breath.

"Eijirou, I know when yer fuckin lyin. I hate liars." Ironic but in other words Bakugou needed to know what was wrong with his best friend. It was obviously something that bothered the red headed giant enough that even his golden retriever voice sounded solem. Bakugou quickly follows up his statement, "Is Mina okay? Daichi? Iwao?

Kirishima swallows thickly, running his hand through his hair as he looks into the glass eye of the camera, the view finder reflecting his movements. He could confide in Bakugou right? Katsuki was still his best friend, right?

"All the kids are fine. Mina is fine. I'm fine. But in case…" Kirishima trails off, the sadness in his eyes states back at him in pixelated form, "In case one day I'm not I'm making tapes."

"Why?" Bakugou flips the old phone in his hand absentmindedly. Turning it over and over and over. He isn't sure why he holds onto the chunk of cracked glass, it's not as if it held some secret he didn't know about. Not as if someone other than Momo would be his lock screen if he turned it on. Not like he could figure out the fucking password to the cloud that holds all his shit.

Across the city Kirishima holds his breath, tears he had managed to keep at bay finally spill in fat droplets down his cheeks, running along his scars. Catching in his peach fuzz that Mina loved, Daichi pushed away from scratchy kisses and Iwao let his stubby little hand run across. He grinds his teeth to keep the shaky breath in. He wants to tell him, so what happened to you doesn’t happen to me. Wants to scream that Bakugou’s wife is here in his house, that he’s holding up his promise but at what fucking cost. It’s not as if Bakugou was dead, maybe to you he was dead but here he was, waiting patiently for his friend to share his woes.

He was missing so much, too much. First words, pulling himself up, first steps. Daiki trying so hard to keep up with his older “brudder” Daichi. Soft hugs and sweet kisses. Three years of unfathomable, unconditional love.

Bakugou didn’t know it but he was missing the joy on his wife’s face too. On your face while you and Daiki cuddle, falling asleep to evening cartoons. Because you, you were his wife not her.

“I just can’t imagine losing my wife when she’s standing right in front of me.” Kirishima’s voice is barely audible and his words send a molten rod straight into Bakugou’s chest.

“What the fuck did you say?” There’s his unruly temper again, defensive and angry for what? Jesus Christ his friend was trying to give some of the burden to him and here he was being a total ass. Before Kirishima can say anything Bakugou hears a small voice in the distance.

“Unki pima, why cryin?!”

“I’m okay baby.” Kirishima says softly to what Bakugou assumes is Daichi, “Bakubro I gotta go….I’ll see you tomorrow. We can go over that night again then.”

“No.” Bakugou is quick to add as he hears the kids' feet slap against the hardwood towards Kirishima, “Don’t worry about, s-tsk. Sorry I cussed ya. Call me back if you need me.”

“Yea.” With that Kirishima hangs up, the little ash blonde that caught him looks up at him with bright, puppy dog eyes. His pain reflected in the little ones eyes, his heart so big like his dad’s and his little hand came to wipe away tears.

“No cry, or I cry.” Kirishima scoops the small three year old up in his muscular arms carrying him back to bed.

“You’re right and your momma just wants to see you smile.”

Moonlight dances on Bakugou's ash blonde hair, turning it into silver star light as he gently closes the door to the small apartment. Muscle memory pulls him through the methodical motion of removing his grenade belt and gauntlets. Stuffing them away in the newly installed safe both he and his wife agreed on. Bakugou was happy his wife suggested baby proofing the house before his wife got pregnant. It gave him time to settle into routine, to not get overwhelmed.

Silently he steps down the hallway and into the shared bedroom. Closing the door softly as he makes his way to the bathroom for a shower he stops by the bed to check on his wife.

He can barely make out the shirt he sprayed with his cologne and slept in a few times so his wife wouldn't miss him too badly. Stirring in her sleep she speaks

"Morning, Sweetness." A yawn and a big stretch.

"Morning Sweetheart." Bakugou teases with a whisper, pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek, "Go back to bed. I'll be there soon."

"Wait." He can't see his wife's face in the dark, that or even in his dreams he can't make out features. As if his wife were photoshopped out. Still he hangs onto his wife's every word because no matter what anyone fucking says. This woman here, tucked into the dark comforter and moonlight, wearing his old skull T-shirt was his goddamn wife.

He knew it, in his heart of hearts this was the woman he truly loved.

"Don't get excited but I've been thinking I finally picked a name for our future son!" Even with sleep stealing his wife's voice the sound of it makes his heart flutter.

"Yea?" He leans over his wife, trapping her beneath the weight of his heavy gaze. Staring up at him with sparkling eyes, with a soft smile opening her mouth to say

"▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ "

BEEEEEEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEP

Without opening his eyes Bakugou slams the old alarm clock into the night stand. Subconsciously reaching out for his wife only for his warm fingertips to touch cold sheets. His eyes open then as if touch deceived him and he stops himself from ruining another pair of sheets with his hot headed ways. He flips into his back. Staring up at the ceiling as he hears the shower running in the joined bathroom. He figured she must be mad at him still but it wasn't like he was the one who came home late. Or was the one whose stuff has been misplaced, moved or thrown out. He knew Momo wasn't a fan of Bakugou's personal wardrobe but did that justify getting rid of everything? She never did explain herself when he first came home, only gave him a spare key. Hanging up more and more photos of her at shoots, with the crew and friends. Still she hasn't asked Bakugou to take a single picture with her.

The pain ebbs in his chest and he covers his eyes with one arm.

Despite what everyone says Bakugou Katsuki was actually a really sensitive guy but only when it came to those he loved. He couldn't stand anyone in his circle being mad at him. Should it be Kirishima, the Bakusquad and hell even damned Izuku he'd right his wrong. Or at least try too. Heaven knows he's been trying with Mina since woke up and that's three years running just goes to show that forgiveness really is a two way street.

He just didn't like missing out on their lives. He wanted to see Daichi and Iwao before they got too big and she hardly let him over.

He sighs, thinking to himself that maybe he can at least apologize to his wife even if all they've done for the past three years is bicker and fight. Dressing in a t and gray sweats heading straight for the kitchen.

His hands moved on their own as they made coffee. Scooping up the ice and getting the sweet creamer that he would drown the coffee with. Making sure he put it in his studded travel mug with the straw that she liked so much. She only liked it cause it was his. The thought of it makes him smile, makes his heart full that even though she's away so much she likes to carry around a little piece of him.

He checks the roses on the counter, the painted kind with a few peonies tacked in because he thought she'd like them.

Momo comes out to see Bakugou in the kitchen with his travel mug in his hand.

"Going somewhere darlin?" She asks sweetly walking past him to grab herself a mug. Bakugou's smile falters.

"No, I just made you coffee. You know the way you like it." He shakes the mug and the ice clinks inside. Momo's perfect brows furrow.

"Come on, don't play with me." He tries to laugh off the growing frustration, "I put it in my cup for you and everything."

"Baku- Katsuki. I don't drink…"

Suddenly Bakugou's blood starts to heat up. He's watching her mouth move but he can't hear anything over the rushing sound of his blood. Can only see her grab a package of tea as the room gets hotter and fucking hotter.

It's hot.

It's hot

It's fucking hot

Skin searing as he tries to swallow down the burning anger. Tries to let the bloodied half moons in his palms calm him, talk him down from the edge as he holds his breath.

But his body betrays him and burnt sugar hangs heavy in the air. Igniting at his palms in agitated pops as he screams at his wife for the first time in a long, long time.

Breaking the promise he made at 19 that he'd never explode like this again.

How many promises has Bakugou broken now?

"THIS IS HOW YOU TAKE YOUR FUCKING COFFEE I SHOULD KNOW IVE BEEN DOING IT FOR ALMOST FOUR FUCKING YEARS!"

His voice echoes off the wall of windows and rounds back to him bringing with it rotting guilt. Momo has tears in her eyes. Falling down her cheeks in movie star action and sadly this wasn't a scene out of one of her scripts. She sniffles as she tries to hold her head up high.

"Bakugou." She says sharply, "When was the last time you've ever seen me drink anything other than tea?"

She throws the box at him for emphasis and the earl gray blend just bounces off his chest. Loose leaf tea spilling into the wood grain tile. She storms off then, rushing towards the elevator with her purse and phone in hand. Begging into the receiver as the chrome doors shut.

"Shouto please! Just this once. Please!"

As the elevator travels to the ground slower than his failing relationship Bakugou sighs out. Sweeping up the tea as the nagging starts in the back of his head.

Oddly enough it's his Mother's voice today. He hadn't spoken to her in a while. He can't remember why but he knows he should keep contact to a minimum. Was it the way he was treating his wife? Heated words flying from his tongue at the old hag for insulting the love of his life?

That couldn't be right. She loved Momo for some reason. Maybe for her image, maybe because she improved his too but that's all any of this was. Superficial.

Shallow.

With the mess cleaned up and his cluttered thoughts Bakugou begins to pace debating on calling Kirishima or not. He decides against it , having just bothered him a week or so ago.

So he goes with his other reliable friend, almost dreading the call half hoping it goes to voicemail.

"Kaachan?" Of course that nerd would pick up on the first ring, "Everything okay."

"No." He says gruffly, least there was one constant in his life. Bakugou always was blunt and honest.

"What's going on? Do I need to end my shift early? I-"

"No no. Shut up and listen a sec will ya?"

With that Bakugou lays it all out for Izuku, telling him about the turbulent last few years although leaving out some details. He's sure to mention his dream though. If anything he figures this nerd could see where this road was leading and quickly at that.

Divorce.

Fuck

"Look Bakugou honestly. I-" Izuku bites the inside of his cheek, debating everything he can think of in the short amount of time he has. Letting copper coat his tongue before he sighs and tries again.

"Maybe it's best that you stop chasing ghosts and focus on your relationship with your wife. With Momo."

Ice floods his system, carrying in his blood threatening to freeze his already guarded heart.

Bakugou felt like his life was turning into an old VHS, parts of the film blurred with snowy static, or overlapping scenes, very few parts of it are clear. A movie Bakugou so desperately wanted to see, wanted to remember.

But nobody wanted to help fill in the blanks.

Bakugou turns the dusty pink phone in his hands while the other holds up his red phone. Over and over and over the phone flips in Bakugou's deadly, powerful hands.

And yet he never felt so powerless before. Frustrated tears burn his eyes as he's watching his wife fall out of love with him.

Again.

All fucking over again. He has really tried to see his accident as a blessing. A second chance to show his wife he's a better man but all he's done is explode like a jackass.

Like a 21 year old but he was 27 now wasn't he?

Letting out a shaky sigh Bakugou finally answers letting the visage of "his wife" from that dream fade to the back of his mind.

"Yea, you're right. I should stop chasin fuckin ghosts."

Three years later…

“Hey Daiki, why do you and Daichi share a daddy but you aren’t brothers? Do you have two mommies?”

“I don’t have a daddy.” Daiki says proudly, “Kiripima is a God Daddy. Plus I’m six now, I’m old enough to be my own daddy!”

“Yea!” Daichi shouts, sharp teeth in a crazy smile as he stands next to the wild haired ash blonde, “We’re our OWN daddies.”

“Your own daddies?” Kirishima pouts, having overheard the kids shouting well before he got to the gate that led into the school.

“Yea our own daddies!” The troublesome duo shouts in unison while still rushing towards Kirishima while the other kids stare in awe. Somehow forgetting just how big Pro Hero Red Riot was. He was older but still one of the cooler ones. Just like Dynamight, Deku, and Shouto who still hold the top rankings from their youth.

“Mr. Riot, can I sit on your shoulders again?” One of the kids asks and of course Krisihima indulges. Taking the kid to new heights as they scream in delight. You and Mina just roll your eyes, finding out how the day went from the teacher to make sure these kids of yours stayed out of trouble.

“Daichi was very helpful today, he tied Hinta’s shoes when she was having a hard time. Daiki was a bit grumpy at first but I know he’s not the best in the mornings. By the end of the day he was just as helpful as Daichi and both answered questions right today. Although Daiki was feeding Daichi the answers.” The teacher laughs before passing their little book bags off to each corresponding mom.

“Why do you say feeding?” Mina asks and the teacher looks at the lively ones fondly, “Well Daichi was standing in the front of the class, suddenly shy in front of his peers and Daiki let out a little pop to get his attention. Mouthing the answers until he got more confident.”

“He’s using his quirk in class again?” Agitation laces your voice, ever the saint, Sensei Susuki waves it off.

“Daichi did too, half the class does. They’re just at that age.” She watches the kids vie for Red Riot’s attention, starting to wonder if the Pro hero wore his outfit on purpose, “Besides Mrs. Baku- ahem.”

She clears her throat, it was always tough not to call anyone by their last name but especially you. She curses her old mind for trying to fail her before she quickly adds.

“Daiki is very careful with his hands. Very careful.” She praises, thinking of how the little rough thing pockets his hands when his emotions get the best of him.

When he’s angry, when he’s excited, when he’s upset, they find their way into the small pockets of his khaki school pants. The white fabric scorched and left with a large whole at the bottom.

Still, Sensei Susuki doesn’t know that your son learned after only one accident. Having been overly excited to meet his “baby bro” Iwao when he came home from the hospital. Daiki’s favorite stuffed dinosaur that he wanted to “hammydown” so his little brother would have a piece of him to hold on to. Something to “scare the monsters away and protect Iwaoy”

But in his excitement his hands got too sweaty, too hot and the toy exploded into ashy fluff. A sad way to discover his quirk. Little five year old Daiki never felt his eyes burn so much. Crying to his Momma who comforted him and told him he would just need to be mindful from here on out.

And mindful he was. Always thinking about his hands, sometimes fearful of reaching out to his friends but the more the two of you practiced his quirk. The more confident he got.

"Come on kids! You too Eijirou!" Mina calls and the children scramble away from Red Riot with delighted giggles.

"Aw come in babe. Five more minutes? Not everyone got a turn!" He gives the biggest puppy dog eyes Mina has ever seen. She rolls hers, cocking her hand on her hip.

"Fine but anything more than five and we're leaving without you!"

Kirishima sighs for what feels like the thousandth time causing Mina to groan. Why couldn’t men just come out and say it?

“What’s wrong?” She says absent mindedly, rummaging in her side drawer table for cream for her growing stomach.

A long stretch of silence as Kirishima puts away clothes in the closet half heartedly.

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“Daichi?” Mina asks, rubbing lotion on her stretched belly, as she looks at the baby monitor to see Iwao fast asleep, “He always activates his quirk before he hits his head. Kid has my reflexes.”

Mina looks up, smirking at her own joke but when she sees her husband’s handsome face crestfallen she straightens, giving her full attention.

“It’s just…with what Daiki said today as we were walking up….” He trails off and Mina rises to cup his face.

“Didn’t you hear him, Red?” She says softly, “He sounded okay when he said he has no daddy….”

“But he does. He does damn it. It’s not like the man is dead…it’s it’s….” He sighs out, tears forming in his soft garnet eyes.

The three of them always said their kids would hang out. Brag on their, at the time, imaginary kids. How one of Bakugou’s kids was bound to get his quirk with his good genes and how Kirishima’s would get his hardening quirk and the other would spit acid. How they’d play fight and all the adults would have to watch out for their powerful quirks.

And yet only Krisihima and Mina were the only ones who got to see those daydreams come true.

The red giant finally breaks the silence with a wavering voice,

“It’s just my best friend deserves to see his son grow up and he can’t. He needs to come back. He’s fucking missing all of it.”

Mina blinks away tears now too, pulling Kirishima into her arms.

Quietly, so quietly, Daiki takes a few steps back. Holding his breath as he stops heading towards Daichi’s room, discarding the plan of an impromptu sleepover in his “brother’s” room. Instead he tiptoes back to the room across from you. Gingerly sliding open the door hoping the tatami doesn't grind before he can slip into his futon and feign sleep.

Daiki just wanted to be a good boy.

Because maybe if he was a good boy, Daddy would come back.

“Mommy mommy look! LOOK!” Daiki jumps from the kotatsu almost plastering himself to the screen, “Dynamight MOMMA DYNAMIGHT!”

He points to the screen and his shirt as you look over the morning paper without ever looking up. Debating if you wanted to get another job soon, the Kirishimas’ were kind enough to let you stay here rent free this long.

But surely you overstayed your welcome?

“Mhmm I see.” You hum, biting the inside of your lip as nothing has the hours you need to make sure your son is practicing his quirk properly. If there was one thing you remembered Bakugou talking about it was that he had to do a lot of training to get his quirk as precise as it was.

And despite not knowing who his father was, Daiki still wanted to grow up and be just like him.

The number one hero.

Reckon the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“No, you’re not looking!” Daiki yells, to which you give a stern look. Especially when you smell something akin to caramel scenting the air, “Momma please!”

“Okay, only because you asked nicely.” You glance up at the TV looking over the broad shouldered ash blonde. Grinding your teeth to keep the frustrating tears at bay. Frustrating because you were trying your best to raise a level headed young man by your fucking self. Frustrating because you knew it was only because he lost almost a decade of his life and he'd be here if he could. Frustrating because you knew those two were still out there playing house. Holding hands on live television and you look away before the camera pans out to see him looking at his wife lovingly.

Frustrating because it still hurt so fucking much. Like the wound was fresh and you were in that hospital room again. Bleach burning your nose as you tried to find any semblance of hope, playing his favorite albums and humming the songs and it was you who washed the nasty gash on his temple carefully. Washing out the blood that would dye his blonde hair strawberry. Hearing that fucking beeping sound that brought with it new and more horrifying thoughts.

After almost seven years, it wasn’t supposed to still hurt like this.

“Isn’t Momo so pretty momma?” Daiki shouts.

“Mmhmm.” You hum again, except this time it’s clipped and Daiki doesn’t ask again.

“Not as pretty as Momma though.” He adds softly, pulling at your heart strings. Before you can say anything the doorbell echoes through the sizable house.

“What are you doing here?” A vicious bite to your hushed tone as you use your body to block her from seeing indoors.

“I was looking for you. I just want to talk about Bakugou, he hasn't been well.” She says matter of fact, as if she hasn’t been a bitch for the majority of your marriage and now just wants to see you out of the blue?

For what to fix her fucking son?

Been there, done that and look what it did for you.

You ended up alone and a burden to your best friends.

Wait? Was Bakugou really why she was here or?

Did Kirishima fuck up and mention your son to her? Did he let slip after one too many drinks that a carbon copy of Bakugou was sitting at his house being raised by his very single mother.

You go to slam the door in her face but fate was a cruel and twisted thing.

“Oi, Momma, who’s that?” Daiki pulls at your pants leg, looking up at the elderly lady, at her spiky blonde hair and dark red eyes, “We’ve got the same hair color, you and me.”

He points to himself and Mitsuki then himself again letting out a giggle.

“You know who else has blonde hair?”

“Daiki.” You try to stop him but his excitement gets the best of him as Mitsuki can do nothing but stand there shocked. Staring, staring through a timewarp as she sees what looks like her son, her baby boy except this kid, ‘Daiki’ has your eyes. Everything else is pure bonafide Katsuki.

For once she was thankful most kids spend all that time growing just to look exactly like their fathers.

Daiki shouts on, hands popping as he jumps into the same stance as the ash blonde on his shirt.

“Dynamight-kun!!! He’s my favorite hero, granny!” He just means it like all kids do when they talk to an elder. Grandpa, granny, a tease, a running joke with the youth. But the name crawls under your skin like mice in the woodwork. Tearing up everything as it competes with the loud tenor of your voice.

“DAIKI. To your room!” You look down at him, eyes a little too venomous as you hiss out, “Now!”

The boy deflates and you hate when you yell, mentaly reminding yourself to apologize later. Right now you have more urgent problems. When you turn back to dismiss the vile woman you are met with tears rushing down her cheeks.

“I didn’t know.” She says so softly, so fucking softly that it hurts. When it shouldn’t. When you should be angry, infuriated that this family was still somehow pushing their way into what was supposed to be your new life.

It was bad enough your son was obsessed with Dynamight, needing every poster, every action figure, anything with that asshole’s face on it, little Daiki needed.

“I’ll make tea.” You say through gritted teeth, letting her in and guiding her to the dining room with the low table, having remembered that’s the only setting for dinner she had in her own home.

Things are never easy with the emotionally constipated Bakugous. Making the first fifteen minutes of this meeting unbearably awkward.

“Why did you say that?” That isn’t what you meant to ask, you wanted to ask why she was here, instead over a decades worth of strife claws up your throat in a viscous bite, “Why did you say I wouldn’t last?”

She stares into her tea causing you to press on.

“Are you happy now? That I ‘gave up’ on him?” Your tongue was sharp again, if only it had been the night of your wedding. If only you set the tone then instead of trying to appease this bitter sad woman.

Least that’s how she looked at you now. Mourning her son just like you were. Except he wasn’t six feet under was he? He was living and breathing, still doing hero work, still keeping people safe. Still looking good in the eyes of the media so what the fuck could Bakugou Mitsuki actually be sad about.

“No, I’m far from happy.” She looks up at you, burning ember eyes, “I was wrong. I was really fucking wrong.”

You lean back, crossing your arms, closing yourself off from this conversation. You want to send her out. About to send her on her marry fucking way when she speaks again.

“Bakugou didn’t grow because of Momo, they married so young. No one is really a fucking adult at 18 but you know Katuski, you can’t tell him shit.” She sighs, taking another sip of her tea. You made it perfectly for her, like you always do. She watched Bakugou teach you how one day.

Guess there are some things you never truly forget.

“He grew because of you. Because he wanted to. Momo, she was a sweet girl at the time. I didn’t think my son was fighting hard enough but I should have known, I should have fuckin know he wasn’t telling me the whole story.” She tongues her cheeks, “I’m his mother and yet somedays I feel like I know nothing about him.”

“It’s your fucking fault for pushing him away. For being such a bitch to me for two years.”

“I know.” Holding your gaze with no animosity in her own, “Trust me I know and I was too stupid to figure it out sooner than that.”

Another awkward pause, you hear the apology in her voice, in her action of her showing up here today. Swallowing her pride whole, refusing to choke on it when it came to the well being of her son.

“I meant to visit earlier. But I figured you wouldn’t want me reminding you of him although I see you have an even bigger reminder of my son. Bigger than I could have imagined.”

“So no one told you about him. About Daiki?”

“Shining bright?” When you give a curt nod she smiles widely, proudly as she straightens, “He is bright isn’t he? He must get that from you.”

“But no, no one told me about him. I honestly had no idea. I came here as a shot in the dark.” She sets down her tea, “We need to get Bakugou back. He needs to see his son he-”

“No.” It’s cold and cruel, venom dripping from your lips, “He isn’t Daiki’s father.”

“It isn’t his fuckin fault he isn’t here! You think he’d ever leave you behind?! Kirishima gave me a letter on the year anniversary of him losing all memories of you. It was handwritten, you know.” Her lip quivers, clutching the cup to give her hands something to do, “It was all about you. How Kirishima and I needed to take care of you, were going to take care of you should anything happen to him. Whether that meant he was maimed, died or somehow lost his brain function. He was specific in what I was going to do in that letter.” She wets her lipstick stained lips.

“I was supposed to fight for you. Reach out to you, nurture you since you don't have anyone left. In that letter it said I only made you feel welcomed once. That it was nice even if I was just pretending for the holiday. I’ve been thinking about that since. Thinking about how I was really shitting on such an amazing woman. A woman that not only loved my son but that he loved with his whole fucking heart. I know it seems the shoe is on the other foot. I was debating seeing you at all until Bakugou called a few months ago. About a dream. He asked me what it meant, why he dreamed such a vivid thing of another woman in a wedding dress when he didn’t plan on remarrying.” She pulls a photo of your wedding out, of you and Bakugou gingerly feeding each other cake. Huge smiles the two of you not knowing the hardships that were to come.

That you’d endure seemingly by yourself.

Her manicured nail taps on your dress, “This is exactly what he described to me.”

You look anywhere away from the picture, body rigid from the heavy sea of emotions that wars between your lungs stealing the air from your chest. When you meet her eyes you see desperation.

“This is Daiki’s father, this man right here.” Her voice cracks causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, “Even without his head on right he’s still fuckin looking for ya. He’s just unwell right now, Sweetheart.”

The nickname sends a new found rage into your body, straight to your bones as you draw in a breath to scream at her to just fucking leave but instead a booming voice comes form the hall way.

“You found daddy?!” Daiki couldn’t help himself, shouting it from his hiding spot in the hall, jumping into the threshold. Demanding to be seen and heard.

“Daiki!” You hiss, rising to try to take him back to his room but he squirms. Falling to the floor like dead weight as he screams.

“HE’S MY DADDY! I GET TO KNOW HE’S MY DADDDDY!” Tears burn your eyes as you stare down at him. You should have known that eventually he would start asking questions. That him being “old enough to be his own daddy” was just a front.

A brave face kids put on when they have emotions that are a little too big for them to understand. Scooping him up you place him in your lap reluctantly sharing your cookies with Daiki only for him to ignore them.

“So you found daddy?!” Stubborn just like his fucking father. Mitsuki looks from Daiki to you to which you give a glaring shake of your head. Clearly mouthing no.

Mitsuki pursed her lips, eyes starting to water as she tried to find the right answer in her head.

“No, not yet. He’s still a little bit lost.” Mitsuki stands abruptly, “I should leave. I’m so-tsk- sorry I disrupted things here.”

“No, don't go!” Daiki tries to crawl out of your tight grip, “Momma please, she knows about daddy, I wanna hear about him too! ‘Ts not fair!”

Again Mitsuki looks at you, vermillion eyes boring into your skin, the same way her son’s used to. With a heavy sigh you gesture to the seat across from you again. Slowly she lowers back down, staring at her grandson with this dreamy smile.

“How about I tell you some stories about your daddy when he was your age.” Instantly Daiki perks up and you just hope this doesn’t fuck you over later.

Bakugou hates these, hates these fucking meet and greets so fucking much. Too many people, too many unfamiliar faces and the heroes had to spread out too far apart. Plus his wife is never here, never by his side as she’s “busy” much more busy than he ever is.

Yet still he always finds time to make it to her premiers despite his hectic work schedule. Always finds time for her only to be told there weren’t enough hours in the day for him.

It stung, really fucking hurt to watch his peers grow. Watch their families grow as he all but begged Momo, again, to try for a baby.

She always said no.

She was too busy.

And that was that.

Bakugou was getting too old to remarry and he wasn’t going to marry just anyone. Bakugou needed someone special in his life, never one to fall easy. Slowly until he’s already soaring over the edge falling and falling and ever fucking falling for -

Besides, he didn't like how he felt here, looking at all his friends through hazy green lenses.

Everytime Bakugou looks at Kirishima’s pretty little wife, with her swollen belly it sends a jolt to his heart. Jealousy eats at the muscle mass under Bakugou's skin, like rot he can never quite dig out.

Suddenly a small hand grabs at his pants, tugging so hard it rattles the grenades on his belt. He looks down only for small palms to burn bright orange before they ignite. Popping explosions much too close to his temperamental grenades as the brat screams with delight cocky little smirk on his face,

"LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!"

Bakugou stares down at the kid, eyes wide as he replays what’s just happened over in his head once more.

Something isn’t right, explosion wasn’t a common quirk, if anything it was a miracle Bakugou got a useful quirk at all.

He knew that quirk better than the back of his own hand.

That little crackling, explosion quirk was Bakugou Katsuki's.

Was this ? Did he have a one night stand he couldn’t remember?

Fiery eyes burn into what looks like a mirror into the past except his eyes. His eyes aren’t the same burnt embers as his own, no they were a different color. Soft and yet strong in their own right. Quickly under the weight of Bakugou’s glower the boy’s smile fades, replaced with tears that start to gather in the small ones eyes.

Your son staring up into the darkening face of his favorite pro hero. The babe’s lower lip trembling as his little mind races. Did he…did he hurt Dynamight-kun’s feelings?

“M sowwy. Dy-dynamight-kun. I thought hicc I thought you'd think it was cool…” The boy sniffles as Bakugou stiffens. He never was good at this comforting shit. Especially not when it came to kids but if he ever wanted any he’d better fuckin try. Just as his glove is about to wipe away some tears a manicured hand pulls the boy into her leg. He follows up that smooth leg to find you in such a pretty sundress. A snarling face that makes his mind race. His chest aches lungs squeezed by the hands of Kamisama themself.

Shit made her mad again. Better get hydrangeas- Wait, what the fuck was he thinking, why would he care if he made some extra angry? It was your brat that charged at him.

It was one thing to look at you with disgust and make you cry. But to make your son cry? Fat fucking chance.

“Tsk.” You suck your teeth harshly, leaning over to pick up your baby, “Somethings never change.”

Three words, three words make Bakugou’s chest tight, as if an arrow lanced straight through the beating muscle and he could do nothing to stop it. He hears your voice soften as you speak to your son. It makes Bakugou's throat tighten up, like suddenly he can’t breathe.

“Daiki, sometimes people don’t realize what they’re doing, okay Sweetness?” You smooth down ash blonde hair as you start to walk away as the words finally decode themselves in Bakugou’s head.

“ssenteews efas yats.”

“Stay safe, Sweetness”

“ssenteews uoy evol”

“L o v e y o u s w e e t n e s s”

The voices in his head slow, blurring, together overlapping as he hears Momo’s voice and someone else's. Hears yours as the sound rakes sharp nails across his brain. Momo never said sweetness, hardly used a pet name anymore and sure as fuck never that.

Never told him to stay safe when he left the house. She’d have to be fucking home to do that.

His head splits in two, feeling as if someone bashed a lead pipe into his temple. The feeling reverberates around his chest and his voice tumbles from his mouth all on his own.

Frozen, the two of you stare at one another as if a predator caught prey and if you didn't move he wouldn't be able to see you anymore. He takes a step forward and you take a step back. Launching yourself and your son into the air to flee as quickly as you can, looking away only when you see Bakugou encumbered by a growing crowd. By Kirishima pushing his way through the fans towards the bulking ash blonde.

You never should have agreed to take Daiki to a hero meet and greet but it was his birthday. The only thing he asked for for weeks and besides Bakugou never used to come to these things.

Not as if you knew him anymore or even wanted to.

Liar, then why'd you wear his favorite sundress?

Daiki pulls at the collar of your dress to get your attention, little eyes staring down at the people as they become the size of ants.

“Mommy, why did Dynamight-kun say your name?” Daiki looks up at you eyes widening as he panics, wiping at your falling tears as best he can, “Mommy why are you crying?”

When you can do nothing but shake your head he parrots back to you.

“Sometimes mommy.” His little voice shakes, cracks almost as he tries to comfort you, “People don’t realize what they’re doing.”

You pull him closer to you as you fly straight back to the Kirishima homestead, mind hazed over with a list of essentials to pack to leave this country forever.

You couldn’t do this anymore, you weren’t strong enough anymore. It was official.

With the sweet syllables of your name, Bakugou Katsuki broke you.

Kirishima children first born son Daichi - earth second born son Iwao - rock third born - tba Bakugou children Daiki - big, shining bright

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #katuski x reader #bakugou angst #kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛🖋️

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 8 months

Text

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 4: The Mission and The Mistake

Summary: As Y/N's time with the Avengers comes to a close, Tony wants him to get some firsthand experience by joining the team on a mission.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Mild language

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Sorry for the sporadic posting. I've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff that hasn't given me the mental capacity to write or do anything really. The urge to write has been extremely low and I don't really want to anymore. I'm hoping it's just a phase and that I'll be able to power through and keep writing. In the meantime, enjoy chapter 4 :)

“No. Absolutely not. He’s not ready, Tony. He’s not coming.”

“He’ll be fine. We’ll make him our water boy.”

“Who’s going to watch him? Are we supposed to get a babysitter?”

“He’s got Karen, she’ll keep him out of trouble.”

The back and forth between Steve and Tony drolled on as you zoned out. You were due back in Manhattan at the end of the week and you were more than excited to get back to late night study sessions and chemical equations. The past month at the Compound was a transformative experience in so many ways, but you didn’t particularly enjoy it all too much. It was difficult making friends with the rest of the team. Bucky was the closest thing you could consider a friend seeing as you spent every morning in the weight room with him, Natasha coming in at a close yet still distant second. Most evenings you spent alone in your room, frozen vegetables strategically spread over your battered body and the faintest image of your corpse being magically driven by the Scarlet Witch in the corners of your mind.

Being an Avenger wasn’t what you wanted. If anything this experience further solidified your decision to pursue medicine. But Tony didn’t want you to leave without getting some real-life experience. There was a mission planned for the end of the week. Rogue A.I.M. agents had been tracked to a secure facility in Washington, D.C. where they were planning on stealing the last remaining samples of the Extremis virus. The mission was simple: get in, get out, ensure the sample’s safety. It was going to require all hands on deck. A month of training had given you rudimentary Spider-Man skills. You didn’t think that you would be useful, but Tony obviously thought otherwise.

“Tony, Steve’s got a point. He’s only been here a month,” Natasha added. “What if he gets caught up in a mess? We can’t have eyes everywhere all at once.”

“There’s going to be more than enough of us to make sure that he’s got backup if he needs it,” Tony explained, rubbing his temples.

“Look, I don’t have to go. That’s more than okay with me,” you interrupted. A dozen heads abruptly turned in your direction. It felt like everyone forgot you were actually in the room.

“You’re going and that’s final, young man,” Tony snapped. “I’ll keep him under my watch. He won’t cause any problems.”

“And what if someone gets hurt? Then what, Tony?” Steve asked.

“He won’t get anyone hurt. Well, except maybe some bad guys, but that’s okay. You won’t hurt anyone, Y/N. Right?” You quickly nodded. “See, look, he just promised he won’t. Case closed, he’s coming, see you all tomorrow.”

Great.

******

Spandex clung to you a little too tight as you sat in the very back of the Quinjet. Maybe it was the anticipation of your first mission, but everything felt a little too tight, a little too warm, and a little too loud as you flew towards D.C. You nestled up into the back corner, cool metal radiating through your suit and feebly working at cooling your skin. The apprehension about your first mission was one you’d never felt before: it was like the anticipation of a final exam dialed up to an eleven. While you could always retake a course if you failed, there were no do-overs if you messed up on the mission. A sense of dread looming over you, you failed miserably at relaxing into your seat.

“So,” You looked up as Tony plopped down next to you, “how are you feeling?” You shrugged. “Nervous?” You shrugged again. “Everyone’s first time is a little nerve wracking. Performance anxiety’s a killer. Hey, did you know that one out of every-”

“Where exactly are you going with this, Mr. Stark?”

“Here’s the deal: we’ll drop in, you hang back. We’ll call you when we need you. Water cooler’s over there.” He motioned to the orange cooler resting in the opposite corner.

“So that’s it? Just swing in with the water and swing out?”

“Pretty much,” Tony nodded. “I just want you to get a smidge of experience before you get out of here. Nothing too crazy, maybe have you shoot a web at a building or a tied-up bad guy.” He clapped you on the shoulder rather awkwardly.

“Thanks,” you replied.

“Look alive, kid. We’ll be heading in soon.”

While Tony turned to address the group, you found yourself deep in your own world. Logically you understood that the likelihood of being in danger was extremely low. Even so, images of Peter’s final fight flashed through your mind. The last thing you wanted was to end up like him. You also felt incredibly unprepared. These were literal superheroes fighting literal bad guys. It wasn’t your wrestling room, faux-city training sessions with Tony’s drones: this was the real deal. Things could go very wrong and people could get hurt. While Tony asserted his confidence in you, you doubted your own instincts. Your “spidey sense” was still faulty in the sense that it was difficult to tell what was a true threat and what was a false alarm. If you couldn’t trust your own superpowers, how could anyone rely on you to get the job done?

“You get all that, kid?” Tony’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Huh?” you answered, jerking your head towards him. “Uhh, yeah. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she tossed Clint some more trick arrows. “This is gonna go well,” she muttered.

******

“Rogers to base, we are over the drop zone,” Steve called over the radio.

“This is base. Area secured, you are all clear,” the agent’s voice crackled over the other end of the radio. “I repeat, you are a go.”

Steve stood up, placing his headset on the dashboard before turning to address the group. “You all know your parts, let’s get the job done.” Bucky snapped off an exaggerated salute as Steve rolled his eyes.

“Once we land, you’ll-”

“Stay on the ship, I got it,” you interrupted as Tony tried to remind you yet again of your inaction on the mission.

“Call if something catches fire,” he instructed, his nanosuit deftly encapsulating his body.

As the ship landed, you hugged the back wall as everyone departed. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Clint took off toward the main bunker where the virus was being held. Wanda and Pietro would secure the perimeter while Tony, Sam, and Rhodey took to the sky to keep an overhead watch. Sighing, you slumped down, clutching the silky mask in your hands and watched the mission unfold in real-time over the holographic display. Steve’s crew expertly navigated the maze of buildings and security measures as they trekked toward the holding facility. Wanda hovered overhead, observing Pietro dash wildly around the entire complex. He was a mere blur against the grainy screen, barely visible to the naked eye. Even higher were the three flyers: stationary yet constantly scanning for threats.

So far, so good, you thought. No enemy agents had been spotted, making this retrieval of Extremis easy. Standing up and stretching your arms overhead, something caught your attention on the bottom of the screen. A small shadow flickered near one of the other buildings. It was difficult to make out what it was at first. As you studied it further, your eyes straining against the low video quality, your heart started to race: a group of A.I.M. agents had somehow made it through all of the Avengers’ defenses. Regardless, they were slinking their way towards Steve and his crew were retrieving the virus.

“Karen, I need to talk to Mr. Stark,” you shouted as you pulled the mask down over your face.

“Hold on, I’ll connect you,” Karen’s quasi-robotic voice politely responded.

“Fire extinguisher’s right under the-”

“There’s a bunch of bad guys heading toward the south entrance of the building where Cap is, Mr. Stark!” you exclaimed somewhat aggressively.

“What? You sure?”

“I just saw them on the video feed. There’s, I don’t know, maybe half a dozen of them?”

“Armed?”

“Yeah-? At least I think so.”

“Well, you spotted them. Finders, keepers, so why don’t you swing on in?” Your heart lurched, as did your stomach. You were being called into action.

“Karen, I guess we’re going in,” you sighed, tugging at your mask.

“Would you like to activate instant kill?” she asked.

“No. No, I’m good. Let’s…let’s just see what happens, I guess-?” Taking a deep breath, you jogged off the ship toward the commotion. Your jog quickly morphed into a sprint as you eyed the nearest tall object. An oversized gate post became your target as you flicked your wrist, a silky white web launching out and attaching itself to the concrete structure while you used your momentum to propel yourself into the air.

The weightless feeling of web-slinging wasn’t one you particularly cared for. You hated roller coasters and anything of the like. The inevitable lurch and stomach drop were two sensations that were extremely unnerving. At least while swinging you could control whenever the weightless sensation occurred.

As you crested in mid-air, no webs to tether you to solid ground, you shot another web to the side of a building, pulling yourself closer and closer to your foe. The rhythmic thwip and release of your webs and the wind whooshing past your ears was unusually calming: it calmed your overactive senses and focused you on your objective.

“Karen, can we get a location on the bad guys?” you asked as you landed somewhat awkwardly on the side of one of the robust brick buildings.

“Targets are in the building directly to the southeast. They’re heading north toward the building where Captain Rogers is.”

“How many are there?”

“Eight, but there could be more. I’m not able to scan inside the buildings. That building’s walls are lead-lined.”

“Okay, umm, guess I’ll just follow them-?”

“Would you like to activate instant kill before you start moving?”

“What is it with you and that goddamn instant kill, Karen?” you gritted. As you stuck to the wall, postulating what your next move was, you felt something whoosh by you: it was the flyers. Rhodey and Sam were nosediving directly toward the agents, Redwing following closely behind them. Tony fell back and drifted over toward you.

“Nice job,” he complimented as his helmet flipped up. “We can take care of it from here, but if you wanna hop down and shoot a web at them just to kick a little extra sand in their face, be my guest.”

“Sounds good,” you responded.

“Great! I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you.” He flipped his helmet back down, his hand propulsers firing him toward the fight on the ground. Steve and his team had joined in, fighting and easily overpowering the A.I.M agents. You smirked underneath your mask. As much as you didn’t like being part of the Avengers, it was pretty cool to see them kicking butt. Clint was shooting off trick arrows that were exploding and dropping nets. Steve had one of them cornered, using his shield to keep another one at bay while Natasha roundhouse kicked him. Bucky was shooting in every which way. It was reminiscent of a Fourth of July celebration. The colorful fireworks and booming explosions were replaced with the hazy smoke and echoing pops of gunfire. The sulfuric scent of the powder overpowered your scent even though you were stories in the air. Yet as the scene wore on, your spidey sense told you something was off.

“Hey Karen, can you scan the area again?” The eyes of your mask narrowed as you slowly circled your head around the perimeter. “Wait, hold on, what’s that?” you asked, the hair on the back of your neck standing up as something spooked your senses.

“Three more agents, heading up the southwest corridor.”

“Shit!” The rest of the team was directing all their attention to the primary group of agents. There was no way they’d be able to see these other three. But there were only three. The odds were in your favor and you could probably deal with them long enough for Tony to fly over and give you a hand. “Karen, if they get into that building they’re gonna take the samples…shit.” Time you spent contemplating what to do was time wasted in the grand scheme of stopping anything bad from happening. Taking a deep breath, you lept from the building, aiming your webs as close to the targeted building as possible: it stuck. You swung forward with all your might.

Your field of view narrowed and sharpened as the three assailants drew closer to you. Hoping they didn’t sense your incoming presence behind them, you shot a web at the one furthest from you. It snared his legs and he hit the ground with a loud yelp. The other two whipped around, their guns pointed straight at you.

“You know, I’d like to get home in one piece,” you quipped as you trapped the next one to the wall of the building just as you landed on it yourself. He stuck to the wall just as you landed against it. The man yelled in protest, so you webbed his mouth shut. The third assailant sprinted on, firing sporadically at you as he ran past the building. The bullets pinged off the building, chunks of brick popping off in every which way. Somehow you could tell where the bullets would land before they did: chalk one up for Spidey sense.

“Nope,” you shouted. The assailant dodged and weaved as you shot burst after burst at him. His luck quickly ran out. You awkwardly trapped him on the yellow bollard set alongside the sidewalk. The angle of your webs caught him on the butt. It left him wriggling like a worm.

The sight of three rogue agents caught in your trap unexpectedly filled you with a sense of smug satisfaction. Maybe you weren’t as helpless as you and everyone else thought.

“Hey Karen, can you let Mr. Stark know about these guys?” you asked. Just then a wild dust cloud tore towards you: it was Pietro. The dust settled around him as he stopped, his hair whipping wildly in the remnants of his self-contained cyclone. His blue shirt, drenched with sweat and dirt, clung to his heaving chest as he caught his breath.

“Did you do…this?” Pietro asked, motioning to the three captives with his finger.

“Yeah,” you yelled, jumping down from the wall. “Karen’s gonna let Mr. Stark know about them.”

“Nice,” Pietro grinned as he pushed a strand of hair from his face. “I’ll go back in and double check on everything. Make sure it’s all safe, you know?” He turned on the spot and jogged toward the door. You were a fair distance back from the building watching Pietro head inside when you saw it: the thug you strapped to the wall managed to wiggle his hand to his utility belt, get his hands on a grenade, and, much to your horror, pull the pin as Pietro opened the door to the pressurized building.

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thelightsandtheroses · 5 months

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Secret Smile: Homecoming (Chapter Ten)

Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye on you. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 2.8k Chapter Warnings - 18+ blog, passing mention of differences in familial status, slight secret relationship, discussions of dismissal/quitting jobs/workplaces and injustice, mentions of sex. Reader has a backstory and family but no physical descriptions. Notes - This has been a long time coming and for anyone still out there reading this, thank you and I hope it’s worth the wait. The past few months have been particularly tough IRL which has made writing Blue's work stresses pretty triggering and difficult and then made me weirdly superstitiuous about even opening the wip file. That said, the muse finally hit, I decided to fight my anxiety about it and here we are.

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You didn’t have a plan. Not really. Rather your plan was merely the rough semblance of an idea, a delicate decision tree that was completely reliant on people caring and wanting to do the right thing. That, you realise now, may have been a mistake.

Frankly, Plan A had failed so long ago, you are probably somewhere around O or P in the alphabet now.

Whatever you had thought you would do though, it didn’t work. The best result you’ve negotiated, and one that was hard fought, is to have officially resigned, rather than be dismissed. Your time with that office and career aspirations are dead though.

Sometimes that’s what happens. You live in a world where perhaps certain victories are pyrrhic, your heroes don’t always prevail - or, if they do, there’s a cost. It’s one you’d pay again. It was the right thing to do.

Only a sense of integrity doesn’t pay the bills or prevent awkward conversations with your family. You’re going to have move in with your parents again because Rafa won’t have room at his house. You need to think of a way to frame this to them all.

There’s been a cold spell in DC. You can feel it still ghosting the air as you take a sip of coffee, clutching the to-go cup tightly between your hands. It’s a change to the humidity of Colombia, the familiar heat of Texas. You remember what it felt like you first moved here years ago and how novel the snow had seemed, how romantic thick jumpers and hot chocolate by a fireplace had felt.

You look over at the building ahead of you.

Javi won’t be long.

This is the last time you’ll be in front of this building, you’ve left it for the last time and that chapter of your life is truly over. You can barely remember who you were when you first stepped into those doors anyway.

You notice Javi leaving. You watch him loosen his tie as he leaves the building, making his way towards you.

“Hi,” you say gently. “All wrapped up?” You try and read any emotions on his face; whether his meetings went as smoothly as you hoped.

“All wrapped up,” Javi says, before kissing you deeply.

“Nice try to distract me,” you say, “but you didn’t tell me how it went.”

Javi groans into your neck. “Well, Spencer offered to make my resignation go away and for me to go to Mexico.”

“Mexico?” you ask, alarmed. Javi told you he couldn’t do this anymore, that he’d reached the end of his career with the DEA. Selfishly you have only just started this with him, you don’t want to lose it yet, you don’t want a long-distance relationship just now.

“Yeah.” There’s a bitter note in his voice that signals there’s more to this, more to what was said than a simple job offer.

“What did you say?” Is it over already? Is it over before you and him even had a chance to really know what the two of you could be? Will Javi go to Mexico while you return to Laredo without a job, without him?

Practically, you will understand if he says yes. You might not agree - you don’t agree, but you won’t say that unless he expressly asks.

You steel yourself for his next words. This was just a fling, stress relief, a stress response even. It doesn’t mean anything to him. He hopes you can still be friends.

You will smile, you will agree. You will lie.

Javi looks over at you quizzically, shifting his hand so he can entwine his fingers with yours. “I’m officially no longer a DEA employee. My - my time there is over.”

Relief courses through you. “Oh. Are you alright?”

“Are you?” Javi asks.

You pause, leaning into Javi and his warm body. In all honesty, you’re not sure. It isn’t just the job, or loss thereof, and the way your time in Colombia bought up so many demons from before. It’s not that you’ve been directly involved, or even witnessed, the most terrifying aspects of Javi’s work or time in Colombia. It’s more that you’ve lost something.

You’ve lost that faith, that certainty in a system of justice, in checks and balances. You don’t believe like you used to. There’s this cynical edge to your thoughts, this sense of sadness and futility that justice isn’t what you thought it was.

You’re tired, burnt out and you have no clue what to do next.

But then there’s Javi.

“I will be,” you say, pulling away from him before immediately reaching for Javi’s hand so the two of you can walk away from this building for the last time.

Together.

You thought you would show Javi the city you used to live in. There were coffeeshops, restaurants, walks you wanted to share with him. Moments to make together in this strange in-between time before you return to Laredo.

You’ve barely left your hotel room though. Restaurants were abandoned in lieu of room service fries, a club sandwich and salad. Strolls across tourist attractions have been discarded in favour of another kiss, another touch, another moment with Javi.

You tell yourself it’s because who knows when you’ll have time like this again. You tell yourself your feelings and this situation are completely under control.

Either way, the two of you are insatiable. It could be the relief of there being a firm line between Colombia and now, it could be making up for lost time.

Javi is the best thing the year has bought you so far. He makes it all worthwhile. You’re sure of that, even if the thought scares you.

You lean back against the pillow, as you try and catch your breath.

“How long do we have?” you ask.

“Until our flight?” Javi asks, kissing down your neck to your collarbone. “We need to check out in a couple of hours and then we’ve got a changeover in Dallas, but we should land before its dark.”

“Okay, I should go pee, clean up a bit,” you say, sitting up. “Water?”

“Water,” Javi confirms, placing a hand over his head as he collects himself. You like looking at him like this; the way the hotel room light hits his skin, still glistening with sweat, the look in his eyes, the way his hair is slightly undone and curls at the ends.

You get out of the bed, tugging a hotel robe around you as you walk to the bathroom. When you return, you pour two glasses of water and hand one to Javi as you sit back on the bed.

“So,” you say, before taking a sip of your water.

“So,” Javi repeats slowly, looking you over with care and concern. “Have you -” he falters.

You look at him curiously. “What, Javi?”

“Are you - are you coming back here? Or Austin? Or - are you sticking around?”

It never occurred to you. For all your anxieties about Javi leaving you for another job, you never thought he’d have the same worry about you.

“Well, the good thing is that even a town like Laredo probably needs a lawyer or two.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You nod and watch the way his face softens. His smiles are rare, but they’re so worth it. They light up his whole face, make an already attractive man even more attractive.

“I think I need a change though and maybe I can at least figure that out back in Laredo.”

“That’s good. Are you ready for this?”

You make a face. You’re starting to think you would rather spend your time grappling with legal systems and international diplomacy than this. “To move back in with my parents with no job? Oh Javi, absolutely not.”

An unwelcome thought suddenly hits you. What do you tell your families about you and Javi? It’s still so new and you’re still figuring out what any of it means. Part of you is worried that without the connection of Colombia, of work, maybe he won’t want you for much longer. Maybe it’s not enough to make something real.

“Do we tell people back home about us yet?” you ask. “I mean, do you want to? Or do we .. should we just keep this for us for a bit? Figure everything out?”

“What do you want to do, Blue?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. There’s been so much change, so much anxiety. Javi’s been this amazing bubble and you know you feel something strongly for him. You know it feels like it could be something. You’re used to decision trees as a lawyer; you feel like you know where this is heading, you like that direction to.

You like who you are with Javi. So why are you scared to say that right now?

You stare down at your glass of water, wishing you could craft the right legal argument, the right way forward.

“We’ve got time, Blue,” he says calmly, “That’s something the two of us definitely are going to have right now in Laredo.”

“Well, I will. Didn’t you say you were going to help your Pops. Be a rancher?” You raise an eyebrow at the thought of that. It’s an appealing image though, you can’t lie. Javi all sweaty and working hard, you remember that day in Curacao and how he looked in the pink shirt after running around the town.

“We can figure this out on our own time,” he says, “I want to. I don’t want this to end right now though.”

“Neither do I.”

“So we’re agreed on that?”

You nod.

Javi leans over you, taking the glass from your hands and moving you so he’s on top of you. “Well, we’ve still got some time before we need to check out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Laredo, TX

It feels like déjà vu. Another party in Laredo, another homecoming where it sounds like a success but feels like a failure. Another day of standing around the people Javi grew up with and feeling like a stranger.

He’s changed. Colombia’s changed him again and again and again. He thinks it’s something he has to wear; a solid, distinguishing marker of who Javi once was and who he has become. Before and After Colombia.

Laredo hasn’t changed much in the last year. His father’s home is almost exactly the same. It’s reassuring somehow; this stalwart unchanging community. His dad is driving the same truck, his room is the same as he left it. Everything even smells the same.

Time stops then starts again.

The prodigal son has returned once more. Javi supposes at least he’s here sooner than last time, at least his Pops can see he’s trying.

He is trying. He’s been trying for so long.

He’s home and he’s not sure what difference he’s made at all, a point only made more obvious when Mike Spencer confirmed that his fear the cartels Javier and his team had helped bring down were nothing in the grand scheme of things.

He’s failed. He couldn’t put it right. It’s why he went back after all - though if he’s honest he didn’t know how to do anything else.

He doesn’t know how to do anything else.

It’s not for him now though- he’s done. Javi’s given it all. It feels like he’s been sucked dry by the DEA over the past decade. He has nothing left to give them.

It’s not all terrible though - he looks over at you. You are the impossible bright side in all of his mess.

Officially this party is a joint welcome home and

He takes a sip of his beer as he watches you in the corner of his eye. You’re dancing in the garden with your niece, smiling widely and laughing.

You meet his eyes and he notices the smile; the way your eyes widen for just a second, the smile he’s never seen before. Not before you and him became something else anyway.

You take his breath away.

He wants to walk over to you straight away, to take you in his arms and just be reminded that you’re real, you’re here. He wants to kiss you and lead you straight to your bedroom, to taste you, have you, to know you again and again.

He knows so much more about you now; the way your body feels, the way you like to be kissed, touched, fucked. He knows how you sound when you wake up in the morning, the way you take your coffee each day. He knows you. In the past weeks, he’s taken to wanted to commit every detail of your body to his memory, just in case.

He can’t approach you though. Not now. Not here. Not yet.

Rafa pulls up the chair next to Javi. “It’s good to have you back, Javi.”

“Good to be back,” Javi replies automatically.

“Are you sticking around for a while?”

“I think so. Pops could do with some help on the ranch.”

Rafa raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t think - I mean, that’s great, Javi. So, you’re done with the DEA?”

“Yeah, it was time to make a change.”

“Well, I guess once you’ve taken down two cartels, it’s hard to know where to go next,” he replies wryly. Javi’s always liked that about Rafa; he’s quick thinking and smart. He knows how to put people at ease too. Javi supposes that’s an important part of being a doctor, especially being the family doctor in a town like this.

He’s sleeping with Rafael’s sister. While the two of you were in Colombia, or DC, he could forget that so easily. You were just Blue to him. You are just Blue to him.

Only you’re also his friend’s sister and in a small community like this, he’s not sure how this will be received. He’s not sure how Rafa will really feel about the two of you. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Rafa quite as much as he did before he went to Colombia.

It's not just that. Standing there in your parents' home, he's struck by the differences between your families. It's not featured in his friendship with Rafa, but there's no denying your family is a different type of affluent to his own. The ranch does well, his Pops runs it really well, but your family is doctors and lawyers and businessmen. He's not sure where he stands in contrast.

It makes sense now, why you asked that question of him in DC. Why you’d wondered aloud about whether they should tell people straight away. At first, he’d thought you were having second thoughts.

He gets it now.

“Was my sister okay out there?” Rafa asks.

“We didn’t spend much time together. Different departments.” A story you’ve agreed, but he hates this already. He wants Rafa to know what you’re like, how good at your job you are.

“Oh. Did you try and keep an eye on her?”

“When I saw her? Yes. But Rafa, she was more than capable of looking after herself from what I saw.”

“I know. I’m just glad she’s home. Glad you both are. Everyone was proud, but - I know my parents worried about her, know your pops worried about you.”

Before Javi can add anything else, you walk over with Sofia who is keen to head inside and regale her abuela with exactly what she’s been up to.

“I spent most of my time on the other side of the embassy at Medellin,” you say smoothly, looking around before leaning against the porch post. “Lots of paperwork and calls.” Javi hates how you play down your impact, of what you did and how you really helped.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhhmm,” you say easily, your eyes meeting Javi for just a second. There’s a slight smile in your expression, almost imperceptible but Javi sees it.

“Well, I’m glad the two of you are back safe.”

“Me too.”

“Would have been nice if you’d worked together though. I mean what were the chances? Two people from Laredo in the same place.” Kismet, that’s what you called it one day, right? That’s what Javi sees it as now.

Rafa looks over to the inside of your parents’ home. “I should go check on Sofia, see you in a bit, Javi. It’s good to have you home.”

It’s just the two of you on the porch now.

“So …” you begin with a soft smile. “Enjoying the party?”

Javi shakes his head. “It’s kind, but -”

“I know.” He knows you do too.

He stands up and moves to look out from the porch, standing next to you. His hand is so close to yours and he notices how you subtly move so your hands are touching.

Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Tag List

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#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x you #javi pena x reader #javier pena x female reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena #javi pena #*secret smile #fic: secret smile

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dearestgojo · 2 years

Text

Indifferent Love

Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo’s life gets turned around when you declare you’ve never held any feelings for him, and an arrangement is formed so that you may live the rest of your days in peace with each other. But upon your declaration, something stirs to life inside Satoru.

A/n: I tried to hurry to write this so I can't guarantee that the writing is that great, and there are probably more mistakes than usual.

Warnings: 18+. Fingering. Grinding. Wet dream. If I missed any please let me know I'm tired so something might have slipped past me.

Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Series Masterlist | Wc: 6.5k

Kenji Ono is a lot of things. A son and grandson to well-known doctors, a medical student doing his residency at his grandfather's hospital, and a future heir. He is the dream fantasy of most women; tall with dark hair and handsome, he has a boyish smile to top it off. Kenji is kind, protective, and observant. But there are also a lot of things Kenji Ono is not. He isn’t the great student his father and grandfather wanted. He was impatient and could have quite a temper when pushed to the end of his limit. Most importantly, Kenji is no longer your lover anymore.

And it kills him.

The prominent knot that twisted in the pit of his stomach made him search you out, despite you already ignoring his efforts to fix things, and beg on his knees for your forgiveness. Beg for you to listen to him, so that he may explain that things weren't as they seemed. At least from what he could remember from the night.

Kenji would stop making his plea until he got you to listen, which is how he ended up here. In a restaurant, a few blocks from the hospital his grandfather owned with Shoko Ieiri. He'd never been particularly close to either of your friends, he was a few years older than the three of you and had only met you and Utahime when Shoko had dragged the two of you to a party a co-worker had planned. As soon as his eyes landed on you, and your gentle smile as you greeted strangers, he knew he had to figure out a way to know who you were.

From then he'd made an effort to get somewhat closer to Shoko, who had recently started working part-time at the hospital as a nurse, and be able to get a chance to meet you again. After several parties to which only Shoko and Utahime showed up, he'd grown a bit closer to the ladder by association, and he did his best to get from as much as he could about you discreetly. But both of them are smart, and after several long months of trying to lay his eyes on your delicate smile once again, they'd both dragged you out to a party he was attending. Taking it into their hands to introduce the two of you, and plan small gatherings where they would leave the two of you alone.

And seating in front of Shoko right now, he can't help but wonder if she regrets ever introducing you.

Shoko brings her leg up to rest on the chair., and rests her chin on her knee while stirring the hot coffee in front of her. She doesn't think twice about informing Kenji of your wedding, "She's getting married at the end of the month."

Kenji feels the world tip on its axis. Everything he had ever dreamt of building with you crumbling between the fingers. Every discussion you had ever had about the future fades into nothingness as Shoko’s words repeat in his head. He wanted to be angry at how quickly you had moved on. How quickly you had tossed him aside for the man you had been engaged to for seven years. He wanted to yell at you for proving his biggest suspicions true. But he knew he had no right to. Kenji was nothing to you anymore. And though how he couldn't exactly remember how he had ended up in the situation that he did, he was the one who had sent your entire relationship to its downfall.

He grips his hands, his nails digging into his skin, nausea settling in the pit of his stomach, "What?"

"Don't act like you didn't hear me," Shoko answers, moving the food around on her plate, "I'm not telling you so you can win her over or anything like that, I just think you have the right to know. The two of you built something in the three years you were together. I think you deserve to at least know that she's moving on so that you can move on too. Y/n would probably skin me alive if she knew I was telling you this, so I'm warning you not to do anything stupid, she's already made up her mind about the wedding. And trust me when I say that Hime and I tried everything to get to not go through with it, but you know how stubborn y/n can be."

"I thought she didn't want to marry him," it's a mumble, Shoko barely picks it up over the clatter of the restaurant, but she manages to hear him.

She shrugs, staring out at the street, her lips pressed together, "She'd rather be tied to him the rest of her life than have someone cheat on her again."

"I didn't cheat," Kenji grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Then what exactly happened? 'Cause from the photos y/n showed us it didn't look like you were just talking."

Kenji's eyes squeeze shut, pain forming in the front of his head as he tries to remember what happened that night. All of it blurring together into one large mess that he could make sense of. "I don't know. I don't remember, okay? All I know is that I didn't sleep with that girl...as far as I can remember at least."

"As far as you can remember doesn't get y/n back," Shoko huffs out, setting her empty cup slowly and standing up from her chair, "so if you want to win her back you need to know for sure whether you did sleep with that girl or not." She looks Kenji over, swallowing loudly, and uttering, "Don't make me regret my choice of letting you close to her even more, Kenji."

Kenji remains seated long after Shoko's returned to the hospital. Turning her words over in his head as he tries to make sense of the glimpses of the night he supposedly cheated on you. All the frames bled into one another until he couldn't distinguish one event from another. The front of his head throbbed as he attempted to recall that night for the sake of your relationship. Kenji knew that if he tried hard enough he could make his case and save the relationship that had been ripped from between his fingers.

Because if there was one thing he was certain about in this life, it was that he would never dare look at another woman when he had you.

There are several things you never fathomed you would do before getting married, and on that list was having a proper date with the man you were to marry. Yet here you were somehow on the terrace of a famous local restaurant, sitting across from Satoru Gojo himself a week before your wedding. You had secretly hoped he'd reject the idea of doing such a thing, especially his last week as a single man, and were quite shocked when he agreed.

"For appearances, right?" He had asked over the phone, "Sure, I don't see why not. Might as well get to know each other."

Maybe you shouldn't have underestimated Satoru's dedication to the faux relationship you would present in front of others, and kept your mouth shut to be saved from the glances of acquaintances who were glancing at you. Whispering behind their menus after every lingering peek.

"They're staring," you mumble, raising your glass of wine.

Satoru skims around, waving at the onlookers who he catches looking, chuckling loud enough for them to hear, "Let them."

You glower, "It's your fault you know? If you hadn't built a reputation of being a lady's man they wouldn't be looking."

"Says who? They could be staring cause of the rumors going around about you and a secret lover," he challenges.

You don't flinch when he brings up the tale of your escapades with an unknown man, giving him no emotional indication of whether the story was true or false. You simply lean back in your chair and raise your chairs, and riposte, "I highly doubt that when you're the one who's had several close calls."

"So you do have a secret lover."

"And if I did? What's it to you? Jealous?" you inquire, watching Satoru's adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

He leans back in his seat, grinning, "Not at all."

You return his smile, eyes closing so you appear to be sweet and loving for the people glancing at your table, "Good. This marriage will work better if neither of us have any sort of feelings."

"Don't go falling for me then."

"Never in a million years."

The table falls silent again, the sound of your silverware clicking against the porcelain of your plates the only sound that fills the space. Your meal get's interrupted a few times as people approach your table to congratulate the two of you on your wedding, a few of the women looking at you with sympathetic glances before walking away. It's almost as if you can hear their thoughts as they sadly smile at you, can hear them calling you a fool for marrying the man who had no intentions of ever being faithful to you.

Lifting your glass of wine you smile against the curve, if they only knew that you were using Satoru for that exact reason. You had no desire, or intention, of forming any sort of emotional bond with him. You knew what you were getting by walking into this marriage. Marrying Satoru was a safe way of never risking getting heartbroken or having a hand laid on you again.

"I think we should look for our own place to live," He suddenly says, peering at you over the curve of his glass, interrupting your thoughts.

"What? Why?"

"Well, we'll be a married couple, so we can't keep living with our parents. It would also be hard to keep the help from talking when they notice we aren't acting like newlyweds," he explains.

"It's an arranged marriage, I don't think we're required to act like newlyweds in front of the help...I don't think anyone actually expects us to act like newlyweds when it's quite obvious you never wanted this," you state.

Satoru leans onto the table, his blue eyes staring into yours, white seafoam moving around in them, "Who said I never wanted this?"

For a moment, you feel your breath caught in your throat, your heart speeding while you lose yourself in his eyes. Composing yourself you clear your throat, leaning back into your chair "You've made it pretty clear, these past seven years, that you would rather be anywhere in the world than tied to me," you lean back across the table, fork dangling from your fingers, throwing his words back at him, "don't tell me you already fell for me."

Satoru leans back in his seat, his eyes scanning your face before he smirks. The light from outside hits your head at just the right angle casting a halo around you, and Satoru feels his heart beating against his ribcage, his mind running wild by how beautiful and angelic you look at the moment the words leave his curved lips. "Never in a million years."

The sun hides behind a cluster of clouds, the halo cast over you gone as you give him an apathetic, "Good. Then this marriage should go swimmingly."

You go back to eating your food, not letting the stares of the onlookers bother you anymore, but Satoru continues to study you. Examining the curve of your lashes, and the way your lips press together while you chew your food. He feels something inside of him cracking, something blossoming from out of the crevasse in his facade he had come to believe was the truth, a bloom he still stubbornly stomped on as he felt his chest fluttering.

Deep down Satoru knew he would eat his words and choke on them. Every single word and sentence repeated over the days, months, and years.

Satoru can hear the pitter-patter of the summer rain outside of the car, his eyes closed as he leans back into the driver's seat. It's been hours since he dropped off on the front steps of your house, and he seems to be able to do is crave your nearness again. The scent of your sweet perfume lingers in the car, mixing in with the smell of rain, intoxicating him and bidding him stay seated inside the car while the rain pours down.

He wonders how you've managed to captivate him, so quickly when he's been so sure that you are the last thing he wanted in this world. He could have any woman, and yet he's sitting here ready to jump off a cliff if you so desire him to. You must have put a hex on him to have him falling to his knees with just the simple sentence of you not wanting him as he had thought you did.

Searching the depths of his brain he attempts to find the signs of you falling out of love with him. At want moment you had stopped looking up at him with wide eyes as if he held the entire world in the palms of his hands. As far as he knew you had been attached to him since the first time he met you when you were but a newborn baby and he was barely starting to walk. Attached to his hip until you both came of age and it was proposed you marry each other.

All he can remember is you always stealing glances at him, your eyes fluttering whenever he'd catch you staring. He'd found them endearing at one point, he recalls.

Though there had been that one time when he was visiting for Christmas when he noticed you acting differently. You had greeted him with the same warm smile but made no attempt to converse with him. Every time he'd look up, he'd find you looking down at your phone, a soft smile toying on your lips, instead of looking at him. Maybe it had been then when your feelings for him had started to change in you.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he revs the engine again, pulling out of the driveway of his parents' home. He drives through the wet roads toward one of his favorite bars, located in the center of town. It's easy to find an empty parking space near it with all the rain, he barely even gets wet when he runs inside the safety of its roof.

It's mostly empty, save for a few men getting off work and seeking shelter from the rain and their nagging wives. He finds the empty bar stool, raising his fingers to order a drink, looking to his left he finds a man throwing his head back and downing his drink.

His black hair is a mess, falling into his eyes, which Satoru notices are a hazed over and his cheeks flushed. He can smell the alcohol wafting off of him with every blow of air he puffs out. Satoru watches as the man stands stumbling on his feet, leaving a wad of cash on the counter, and heading into the pouring rain.

Shrugging Satoru raises the glass placed in front of him, throwing his head back in a similar fashion that the man who left just did, the liquor burning the back of his throat. The bartender laughs, "Seems like you and that guy are having a tough night. Drowning out problems of the heart with strong liquor."

Satoru taps a finger on the edge of his glass, the bartender pouring more alcohol into his cups, returning his laugh, "Not exactly, I wouldn't call mine problems of the heart," He takes a sip of the glass, "when neither of us feels anything for the other." He looks at the employee in front of him, "Though I thought she did at one point which is making me wonder at what point she stopped."

"That's tough man. At least your not in that guy's shoes," the bartender points towards the door, "his girl is getting married."

Satoru chuckles raising his glass up, "At least." Satoru has a couple of more drinks before deciding it's time to go back home.

Satoru walks out into the street, the rain has stopped and there are a few people already hurrying home before the next shower comes. He stands there for a few minutes watching, breathing in the scent of the wet cement and ground. A few couples walk past him, and he watches as the girls cling to their boyfriends' arms, fluttering their long eyelashes, and their lips curving upwards when they lean towards them to whisper in their ears or tell a joke.

And he can't help but wonder if that could have been you and him. If that could be the two of you in the future. He doesn't dwell on the questions for too long and shakes his head, running off to his car. Choosing to ignore that he's even thinking of the possibility of a happy marriage at your side.

The day of your wedding comes, and you can feel the house quake from the excitement. There is constant movement within the house; maids scurry in and out of the spare room.

The room allows you to look out to the warm summer morning, and watch as birds fly to land on the small closed-off balcony while the hairdressers curl and pin your hair and adjust your make-up, their feathers catching the sunlight as they balance themselves on the leaves of the shrub outside. They stay perched on the leaves for a few moments, their little eyes peering through the window as their heads turn before they spread their wings and fly away.

"And done," you hear the stylist behind you mumble, putting the last hair decoration onto your hair.

Looking over your shoulder you give them a tight smile as they start gathering their things, "Thank you."

Your mother walks in as they walk out, her heels clicking on the white titles, and her red lips curving upwards, "You look, gorgeous dear," she says walking up to you, her hands coming up to cup your face. She pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, the stench of alcohol reaching your nose when she whines, "My little girl, my angel, is getting married."

Your hands come up to hold onto her wrists, pulling her hands off your face, "Thank you, mom," you place your hands between your bodies, "A little early to be drinking, no? Especially today of all days."

She gives you a meek smile, wriggling her wrists from your hold and lacing her fingers with yours, "I know I'm sorry. I had a small...disagreement with your father and need to let off some steam." Her gaze meets yours, "I promise no more drinking for the rest of the day."

There's a flutter of hope in your chest, but you knew better than to let the feeling last more than a few moments. It wasn't uncommon for your mother to have moments like these when she was sober, where she'd at you the tenderness of when you were young. You wonder at what point things had taken a turn. At what point in life did your father become a greedy heartless cheater and your mother a drunk? Or had life always been like this and you were just too young to remember it clearly

Exhaling softly you nod and return her cheerless smile, "Okay." You free your hand from hers, and smooth the front of your dress, feeling the rhinestones on the palms of your hands, ignoring her longing look.

"You do look beautiful. Satoru is extremely lucky to be marrying you," she compliments again, reaching up to adjust the heavy dangling earrings you're wearing, breathing under her breath, "I hope your married life is happier than mine." She suddenly lets go of your hands, clapping them loudly the noise resounding throughout the room, "I'm going to get the chauffeur to bring the car around, we need to head to the venue." She does a once over again, her fingers brushing the smooth fabric of the skirt of the dress before walking out. You watch her leave, the door closing behind her before you turn to look in the mirror.

You stare at yourself in awe, taking in the beauty of the dress for the first time. If you hadn't been as tired the day you went dress shopping you would've seen just how breathtaking the dress you had begrudgingly picked. A wedding ballgown with a plunging neckline that accentuated your breasts, the lace straps resting at the ends of your shoulders. The skirt of the dress matches the top extending out. Decorating the skirt of your dress is a shining lace-like material in the pattern of flowers, that shine brightly when the light hits them when you move. But what really catches the eye is the long veil Utahime placed on your head and situated to rest on your shoulders over the straps of the dress. The lace that's sewn onto your wedding dress is stitched along the edges of the veil, which travels down your back and fades into the train of the dress.

Tearing your eyes from the mirror you walk towards the loveseat in the room, becoming aware of how heavy the dress is. You struggle to find a way to sit down the train and veil, everytime you attempt to the veil ends up underneath you, pulling on your hair. After several tries, you give up and lean against one of the arms, sighing in defeat.

The room is quiet, only the ticking of the grand clock in the room fills the space. The silence leaves you alone with your thoughts, the urge to walk out of the house crawling up your spine, and an uneasy twist in your stomach as you wait for your mother to return. Is that what getting cold feet feels like? Is this the felt feeling Satoru felt every time he'd run off overseas? Is he also thinking about running off?

You bring your thumb up to your lips, chewing on the tip of the acrylic nails you had done yesterday, staring at the door. A few seconds pass and no one walks by or in. Pushing yourself up to stand and walk towards it, pausing right in front of it. Examining the door frame and the walls of the room around you, feeling jittery as you raise your hand up to the knob, hesitantly.

If Satoru could run away from you, from this marriage, this unwanted bond, so can you, you think to yourself turning the knob, If you're going to do this, the time is now.

The door is pushed open unexpectedly, causing you to stumble back a few steps. Your mother stands on the other side, a small surprised gasp leaving her lips as the door almost slams into your face, "What are you doing there?"

"I-i," you stumble over your words, feeling as if you've been doing something you shouldn't have been doing. And maybe you had, considering you were contemplating leaving Satoru at the altar and your father with empty pockets.

"Doesn't matter, driver and your dad are out in the front waiting for us, so come on let's go," your mother reaches for your arm, pulling you through the threshold. She pushes the small of your back, gathering the tail of the dress in her arms, "The bride can't be late to her own wedding."

Like any man about to get married, Satoru spends the entire morning doing nothing. He doesn't fret with wedding jitters as he lays back on his bed, listening to Suguru speak on the phone, his wedding suit still hanging from the hanger inside of his closet. The television in front of him is on with the sound all the was turned all the way down.

Satoru finds himself closing his eyes as Suguru continues to talk, letting his mind wander to what his wedding night with you would be like. His closed lids flicker as he drifts off into a nap. When he opens his eyes again, his still in his room, but Suguru is no longer there, and the lights have been dimmed down. He can hear clattering traveling from the restroom before you appear at the door. clad white lingerie. His eyes follow you as you silently walk up to the end of the bed, your fingers coming up to cup his face, your thumbs drawing circles into his cheeks. Satoru melts into your warm touch, his long fingers brushing over the tops of your thighs.

"You look beautiful," he whispers, sliding his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"Do I?" you ask, your fingers finding his white hair.

Satoru inhales, pulling you into his lap, "Mmh."

He can smell the scent of your perfume as you settle down on his lap, his hands immediately falling on your waist as you rest back on him. The inside of his mouth flooded with saliva at the sight of the white lingerie set with embroidered butterflies on the sheer material. Satoru can see your nipple peeking through, pebbled from the cool air. He swallows down hard as you gently grind down on him, your mouth falling open as you feel him getting hard through the material of your panties and his slacks.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," he respires, his fingers reaching to toy with your clit through your panties, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your chest. He lets out a groan when you grind into his fingers, your nose buried in the crown of his head. "Needy little thing aren't ya'. Don't worry I'll fuck you nice and good just as soon as I get you ready," he says pushing your panties to the side and gathering more of your slick in his fingers. He slowly pushes one in, moving it in and out, the heel of his hand hitting your clit. He relishes the way your walls clench around it. He curves it upwards, pushing a second in as he brushes your soft spot, listening to your small gasps for air and whines.

He makes a come hither motion with both of his fingers, your thighs shaking around his hand, "'Toru too much."

He moans as he feels you cum around his fingers, your walls gripping his fingers. He doesn't stop moving his fingers, helping you ride out your orgasm, "That's it princess, cum all over my fingers." Satoru watches you pant as you cum in awe, your mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. "Fucking hell you're so freaking hot when you cum," He pulls his fingers out and tosses you on the bed, hurriedly reaching down to pull his pants and boxers down, "Think you can come for me one more time, angel. Think you can cum all over my big fat cock?"

He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving your face as you nod, huffing out a quiet, "Yes. Want to cum all over your cock." Your eyes are drooping, hazed over with lust, your head moving up and down.

Satoru lets out a strangled groan, pushing the head of his length just past your clenching hole before a loud noise interrupts him. You slowly start to vanish from his vision as three more continuous resounding sounds echo throughout the room.

The fifth loud clap near his ear jerks him wake, Suguru calling out his name. Satoru's eyes pop open, Suguru is already walking away from him while speaking.

"Come on, man you have to get dressed. We have to head to the venue. Your wedding is in less than an hour," Suguru says, going into Satoru's closet to get his wedding suit.

Satoru stays seated in his spot, pants straining against his crotch. He clears his throat, "Give me a second." He reaches down to adjust his boxers, doing his best to hide the raging boner inside of them before he got up.

Your pacing back and forth in a small room in the venue, waiting for the ceremony to start. The palms of your hands sweat as you wait. Your eyes eye the door, which you approach slowly it and turn the knob. No one is outside, the hall bare of all signs of life. Taking a deep breath you walk towards a glass door at the end of the hall, that gives you a glimpse of a garden just beyond it.

You don't hesitate in pushing the door open, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air before stepping out into it. You spend a few minutes walking around the enclosed space, eyeing the high walls of the gate. The sound of the door you came in through opening tears your attention away from them, your head turning to see if Shoko and Hime have come to get you. To your surprise, you find the last person you want to see standing there holding the door open with the tip of his toe.

"What are you doing here? I told you I didn't ever want to see you again last time." you hiss, raising the skirt of your dress to walk away. But the weight of your dress weighs you down, making it easy for him to catch your wrist.

"Y/n, please listen to me. You're making a mistake. I need you to listen to me, so you can understand that I didn't mean to hurt you. That I didn't want to cause you any pain," Kenji begs, pulling you into his chest, stumbling over his words as he cups your cheek with his free hand. He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes while breathing in the same air you breathe out, your heart pounding in your chest as you feel his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, "I know you don't want to marry him, I know that you don't love him. That you love me, so please, just let me explain."

You consider giving in to him and giving him a chance to explain himself. To give in to whatever excuse he comes up with, so you forgive him for sleeping with someone else. You so badly want to close your eyes and let his lips brush against yours.

But you don't. Instead, you push against his chest, letting the anger from his betrayal remind you that Kenji was not the person who had dreamt of marrying one day. That he had let his own vexation with the status of your relationship and the uncertainty if you would ever be able to be together, lead him to bed someone else in the place you had called home with him.

"How would you know? You slept with someone else because you thought I would fall in love with him. That would toss you aside because I had to marry him. What if that's what's happened now? What if I told you that you had been right and that I'm marrying him because I love him?"

Kenji reaches for you again, his grip tighter than before, "You don't mean that, y/n. I know you love me, what we felt doesn't go away over a few nights."

Your jerk your hand away from him, "Loved. I loved you, but not anymore," you snarl, fighting the sting of tears that threaten to spill. Take in slow breaths of air and steady your pounding heart. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get married."

Kenji follows you as you make your way back into the venue, his hands desperately trying to get a hold of you again before you disappear back inside. "Y/n look all I need is for you to listen and to give me some time. I promise on my life that I didn't cheat on you. You know how much I care about you. How much I love you."

You reach the door and pull it open, catching a Shoko walking towards the room you had been secluded in, "Save it Kenji, I don't have time." You lift your heavy skirt and walk into the building, letting the door swing shut behind you. But before it fully closes behind you, Kenji calls out one last time.

"I promise I'm going to prove how much I love you. Prove I didn't cheat. You'll be begging me to take you back, y/n."

His words fall heavy on your chest when you reach the room, Shoko walking out at the same time you reach it, "Where have you been?"

You wave your hand around, "Needed some fresh air."

Shoko quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't question you further as she gathers your dress to help you with it, "Okay, well we need to get you to the front, the wedding is about to start." She leads you down the hall, and to the front of the venue where most of the bridal party is along with you're father, who hooks his arm around yours as the first couple makes their way down the aisle.

He leans down towards your ear, whispering in it before he leads you down the aisle toward Satoru, "You look beautiful...I'm proud of you."

Most of the wedding ceremony is a blur to you, the officiate’s words barely reach you over the loud ringing in your ears. It's not until the person officiating your wedding asks Satoru to say his wedding vows that you come too.

"Repeat after me."

"I, Satoru Gojo, take you, y/n l/n, to be my wife," his eyes flicker as he looks into yours, "to have and to hold from this day forward," you swear you feel his hand tighten around your hand as he slides the ring on your finger, "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

The officiate then looks at you, signaling for the ring bearer to hand you the wedding band, "Repeat after me."

"I, y/n l/n, take you, Satoru Gojo, to be my husband," you repeat, "to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health," your eyes meet Satoru's, "to love and to cherish," the words feel heavy on your tongue as you loudly say them, knowing deep down that you could never actually give your heart to him, "until parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Kenji standing near the entrance of the venue his head shaking back and forth, as the officiate's words bounce off the walls of the venue, "I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Your eyes never leave Kenji as Satoru presses a quick kiss to your lips, the crowd around you clapping. You watch as he leaves, and you silently hope that it's the last time you ever see him.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you is deafening, bouncing off the walls of the unfamiliar room. You’re unsure of what to do with yourself you find yourself fiddling with the soft material of the dress and moving around the room. It’s the typical room you’d expect a bachelor such as Satoru to have, the walls are bare of decorations and painted a light gray. There’s a single bed, a futon, and a drawer resting between what you assume is the walk-in closet and bathroom. The bed frame is a few inches off the ground, covered by a gray duvet, a few shades darker than the light gray of the walls. Surprisingly there’s a wooden headboard, but you might attribute that to the fact that Satoru still lived with his parents. There are two nightstands on either side of the bed, each with its own lamp that turns on when the switch of the overhead lights does. The white and black curtains of the room are drawn closed.

Stepping further in you see that the room is much cleaner than you expected it to be. The nightstands are bare save for the lamps, a pitcher of water with its empty glass, and Satoru’s phone charger. The drawer has a plant and a few picture frames of Satoru and Suguru the year they graduated high school and college, one of him and his mother that appears to have been taken recently, and another with both his parents when he graduated college. You walk closer and run your fingers through the edges of each picture as you look down at them.

“If you’re looking for photos of us together those are in the bottom left drawer. I can put some out if that would make you more comfortable.” Satoru says from the bed, where he’s bending down to take off his shoes.

Shaking your head you walk towards him, turning your back to him so that he can unzip the back of your dress, “There’s no need for that, you said we wouldn’t be here long so I don’t see a point.” The mattress shuffles behind you as he gets up, and your body jolts when you feel Satoru’s fingers touch your skin between your back shoulder blades, the sound of the zipper following.

“Okay. There.” He says when he reaches the part of your back you can reach, “I had the maids put your bags in the closet if you want to change.”

“Thanks.”

"Hey," you turn to look at Satoru, quirking an eyebrow at him, "I-I...let's try to get along."

You nod your head, "Okay." You walk into Satoru's restroom, noticing your bags near the entrance. You make quick work of changing out of the dress you had put on for the reception, letting it pull around your legs, and start on your daily nightly routine of showering and cleansing your face.

When you come back out Satoru is laying on one side of the bed, overhead lights and his lamp turned off, you assume his usual side, his back turned to the empty spot next to him. You approach the bed, grabbing a few of the pillows he had tossed aside, and putting them between you and him, before climbing next to him.

"You don't have to go that far," Satoru mumbles as you turn off the light, "I'm not going to touch you when you don't want to."

You stare at the unfamiliar ceiling, "That's what you say, but I don't trust you."

"Shouldn't you trust your hubby, wifey," you can hear the smile on his face when gives you the new nickname?

"Don't ever call me that again," you warn, turning to your side, "Now go to bed."

You feel the bed next to your shift, Satoru turning to his back, his elbow pushing the pillows further on your side, "Okay...Night, wifey."

Taglist(closed): @thetempleofnyx @legbouk @purplecandygerl @cloudsinthecosmos @watyousayin @descargueestoporgojosatoru @moonlightaangel @the-amaranthine @vintagexparker @fushiigumi03 @pyschopotatomeme @mekorausada @belovedcherry @my-names-angel-but-im-not-one @kellyyween @shintin @rntrsuna @crispmarshmallow @weebotaku21 @ekaterinatepes @artemisthestar @levisfav @winter-bearv @attackonsimpp @rogueofbullshit

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fic #jjk fic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut

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iaminfourthwing · 23 days

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The Generals Daughter

a/n: finally the first chapter is here and the next one is almost ready for upload. I apologize in advantage, because I am still a bloody beginner in terms of writing. still, enjoy!

Chapter I

Conscription day will forever be one of the deadliest every year, right before Threshing. Ever since the first time I witnessed this from afar I hate it with all my heart. All year I have the same “privilege”, how my father would call it, to watch the candidates, that passed the entrance exam six month prior, fall to their death. And those who survive the Parapet either graduate or going to get killed – due to other cadets or dragons. One wrong move and all you will be is dead meat.

Today is possibly my last day on earth. I have to cross the Parapet myself to get into the Riders Quadrant but according to the General, I will just do fine – I am a Melgren and I have ten years of training in my bones after all. I am still not so sure about this, but I have no say in this. Not anymore.

Somewhere in between these masses of candidates must be a certain other general daughter and I really fucking hope she survives this. Even though she doesn't look like she could kill a fly, I believe wholeheartedly in her. She is strong and if someone can do this, it's her, even if she doesn't knows it yet. I tried to talk to her mother but she wouldn't budge, nothing would change her mind. Even Mira tried it more than once and if the General isn't listening to her, then she won't listen to anyone.

The orders from my father five days ago were clear – wait till the end, when everyone else is done, then I'll cross the Parapet alone. On the other side at the entrance to the quadrant will wait a third year that'll bring me to formation into the Dragon Rotunda. Commandant Panchek is informed that I'll join the Quadrant and which wing.

And with that I am waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

I have a good spot to observe these kids, trying to survive this death trail and see some of them already fall. I don't understand how some of them want to become a rider after all. So many of them volunteer to join the quadrant while others don't have a choice, like me. Malek lingers at every possible corner and no one is safe from him. Having a dragon might be “thrilling”, how many officers describe it, but till you possibly get to this point you could be dead, or worse.

These dragons are terrifying, like that beast of a dragon my father bonded all those years ago, long before I was born.

The weather isn't in anyone’s favor today – the storm took a turn at some point. Even though the sunrise was beautiful, it left a bitter aftertaste as the dark clouds covered the sky. For some of them it was their last sunrise ever.

It's been more than two hours since the first one entered the Parapet and there aren't many candidates left. I make out a figure striking over the stones like they own this place and – did they just threw another candidate down?!

My heart starts racing, my breathing becomes uneven, and I feel like I'm having a panic attack. Shit, now?!

`Take a deep breath, Arya. You`ll do this alone, no one can throw you down and no one will interrupt you.’

I just really hope I`ll never have to meet this asshole. I may look tough and have more fighting experience than others, but those people are unpredictable. And I certainly don`t have my father’s signet to see if I could win a fight against him, so I really want to avoid this guy.

A knock on the door interrupts my train of thoughts and when I turn, one of the officers from infantry stands at the door. “It's time” is the only thing he says. Shit.

Around fifteen minutes later I find myself lingering at the edge of the Parapet. No one else is around, the officer walked away the moment, I stepped foot into the tower.

Only a few centimeters separate me and the abyss. Just a few centimeters left and then I'll be out in the open while the rain thankfully eases into a slight drizzle.

`Okay Arya – you`ve got this. Take a deep breath – and step forward.’

Well … it takes me about three minutes, with stumbling and cursing the shit out of every person that crosses my mind, to reach the other side and I am nearing the entry to the famous Riders Quadrant. Just like father told me, a third year is already waiting for me, looking annoyed. But it's not like he can disobey a direct order from above. “Finally, they are about to start” he grumbles. Hello to you too, grumpy, but I know better than to aggravate him, since he has a dragon that could incinerate me before I even have the chance to hide.

We make our way through the empty corridors of the college while I try to sort my thoughts. I really survived the Parapet and now I am allowed to call myself a cadet. Still alive and can't fucking believe I am now part of this hellhole. I already imagine the way the General will stand in his office and rant about how it was predictable that I would succeed. “She is a Melgren after all and it would have been a waste of time if she didn't survived.”

Faint voices in the distance interrupt my thoughts, which get louder with every step we take but before we can even walk out into the biggest courtyard one has ever seen, the chattering grows quiet.

“Three hundred and one of you have survived the Parapet to become-“

The third year, I have yet to know his name, and I interrupt Commandant Panchek, who stands on the dais in front of the cadets.

“I apologize, Commandant, but it's three hundred and two.”

There is a heavy silence that spreads over the rotunda. I stand behind the tall rider, most of the curious glances immediately find him, only a few of them spot me behind. Great.

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame #bodhi durran #xaden riorson #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran x reader

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rise-my-angel · 1 month

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Heart of the Great Wolf

43 - Waving Tides of Turmoil

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 14.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slight canon lore divergence, animal death, past character death, religious discussion, non explicit mention of past rape/sexual assault, light smut, oral (f receiving)

Notes: The lore change is slight addition to an object from a book specific plot point, in order to write around a certain talking door that I really did not want to adapt. But it shouldn't change the overall lore of the story. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

There was a specific memory Jon was unable to ever get out of his mind. But he knew it was odd it was the one it was. In his bed at Castle Black, he had woken up far earlier in the morning then he wanted to be, but he had much to do and too little time to get it prepared. But when his eyes fluttered open, it was that sight he felt his heart flip at.

Pulled tight back into his arms, you were fast asleep. He never had this. Not the way that morning was, you were a beautiful sight for him in a way no one else could possible understand. The only peace Jon had and would see on you for months as he leaned up more. Pulling your hair out of his path, but he was hesitant to do what felt so natural. Press his lips down to your cheek, neck, whatever he could reach but he wouldn't do it.

Things then were unsure, and you were trapped within the horrific fear of memory so soon escaped which Jon still did not truly know about. You had lied to him about how bad it was, Theon had lied, later Maester Wolkan would lie. They all lied to him about what Ramsay really did to you at his worst, and he recalled that first morning waking up with you in this arms he despised that he would be leaving you to awake thinking he abandoned you.

It took months to coax you into a state that wasn't always terrified, and even now he saw the cracks of it appear behind your dedication to seeming as if you were beyond that struggle anymore. But he knew that pair of pale blue eyes haunted you, and the longer you were here at the Nightfort the more Jon was starting to think perhaps you were forgetting how well you had been doing.

Reminded of that horror, but that morning as Jon awoke, did he no longer hesitate to lean over and press his lips to your neck. Drifting a hand to your side, and prompting your sleeping self to turn into him so he could kiss you properly. You wouldn't even respond, you were still asleep, but it took Jon a good while to pull from your lips and kiss your forehead. Both of you bare, Jon so desperately wanted to pry your legs open. Slide gently inside of you and lull you awake that way. Start your morning by filling you deep or perhaps he'd attach his mouth between you and drink every perfect taste you could gift to his tongue. You'd awake so shy about it he knew. He adored it as much as it drove him mad.

Jon knew he needed to ensure you stayed with him. Be with you gentle and tender, to not allow you to fall back into such horrors in memory. But as your brows narrowed at the sound of a knock at the door, Jon pulled you firmly into his torso and covered with the fur, what of your bare frame he had let slide down as you slowly woke up to the sounds around. Knowing he needed to get you both dressed, Jon sighed. He had one single night with you, and back into the never ending fray of mystery and death which haunted every facet of your lives now.

At this rate to Jon, it felt like he never would have a life with you where he'd get you all to himself even just for a little while. Even though he knew you both desperately needed it, he never could or would force it. No matter how much Jon wanted to force everyone from his life with you, even just for a few days.

Just enough to stop feeling so on edge, for both of you. But it felt impossible to Jon presently.

Every other abandoned castle along the Wall had their tunnels plugged with rocks and ice to flood, yet the gate rose up without any force, it opened as easy as the free one of Castle Black did. Only you all knew it was not the normal outer gate which would be found at the opposite side. The wind blew high and cold as the gate slowly begun to rise up. It was far more well preserved and functioning then you would have expected for how long it had been abandoned.

Commenting to Sam that it seemed strange, he had said, “That isn't the strangest thing about it.”

There up above on the ceiling seemed to be something like a passage way, if glancing through, you could see the structure of what looked like a well, as if what was down here sat in disguise from the remainder of the buildings. Empty now, but Sam had said it was in there which he and Gilly had come through and met Bran. Yet it was how he came to the gate in the first place which was the intrigue. How he got inside.

The tunnel unlike the one of Castle Black appeared to glow by the end. Where in one was only darkness other then torch fire hung from the walls, there was a glow of white by the end as if something had been painted there using the stars bright in the sky. Nor was it made of steel either. No, it was made of wood and it was as if the bark on it was not white paint at all, it was the base of the white branches routing through the fort.

One just like you had known in Winterfell, on the white bark, was a face.

Dark and almost black with a wide open mouth as all others, only this was taller then any and all of you. Not the gate alone, the face was carved to fit the whole thing. The glow seemed to touch hardly anything outside of the gate itself but it illuminated the vision of all four of you as you all slowly came to a stop.

All were quiet as you looked at it, unlike anything seen at the Wall before it appeared to be as old as the ice it was guarding in between. Something sat in the air here as the roots wound about the room as if at any moment they could come to life and wrap themselves around you in attack. Hardly even wind blew anymore, and no torches were even around to hang. Only the milky moonlight radiating from the face before.

But it was not a face alone you could see, no it was what led you all to such a clue in the first place. A faint carve in the wood all around the sides were runes just as you knew them. Some were ones Sam had transcribed, others were but a mystery you had yet to lay eyes on but scouring all along the frame you sought out one as Jon did the other.

Rasping out beside you, Jons attention drew all eyes up to the left corner. “There, that's the one we saw at the Fist of the First Men.” Spirals drawing outward from what looked to be one small circle in the middle, it certainly didn't look quite as uniform as what you could recognize of the rest.

Tormund muttering from the other side of Jon, none of you tearing your eyes from the gate. “Wouldn't be surprised if there's more here we haven't seen. Between Mance and me, saw more of them the more years went by.”

Sam stood beside you at the end, the only one who wasn't as in a strange awe being used to this sight from before, but no less curious of it. “How far back did you first see something like that?”

Thinking in a quiet, a distant rumble sat vibrating within Tormunds chest as if it blended well with the out of sorts cold which permeated so close to his once home. “Heard stories as a boy, but it wasn't until damn near thirty years ago did anyone actually see something. Came across a pair of spear wives, going on about how their men came back from a hunt and tried to kill them. Had to kill 'em twice, since they got back up the first time. Was no older then that sister of yours,” Tormund glancing over to Jon, whose eyes had barley peeled from the symbol to the face in the gate. “The lad who said he had to burn his hut down just to stop some stranger walking in from coming after him. Lived near the very edge of Thenn territory, so we went over to cut them to pieces for it, but we got there and they were already cut up into plenty of naked pieces all over the ground. That one there's what we saw.”

Pointing up to another by the lower right leading towards the ground, a symbol you hadn't recognized sat there just on the cusp of standing out as unusual. An opening sat near the middle bottom of what should be a circle, but designed that like of a maze. A thick loop closing off each end right at said middle, and inside it another smaller copy and a smaller copy inside the next until there was no more space for such.

Your own eyes found it near the edge of the corner by you, just as you could see it fresh in the snow it sat carved beyond on the wood of the gate. A circle interrupted what almost a hilt of a sword down the middle, and four dots around it's edges which you could feel a shiver in your bones thinking of. In that sight, such dots were heads bloodied and skewered onto spikes. Whoever you were looking through the eyes of in such a vision, you could still feel the creeping feeling of confusion when bringing his companions back to a sight of nothing.

How he had turned around, and up against a tree all on her own as if a warning sat a little girl with bright orange curls. Her eyes remained wide open but without fear as if she had died before grasping the terror of what was to come, and how those same eyes turned around to look at you in a bright glowing blue just as you heard screams.

Feeling Jons warmth lean more to you, his voice low as he asked you, “Is that the one you saw?” Not even blinking, you nodded slow only once as he leaned over your sight more to Sam. “And you're sure these match?”

Stepping closer, Sam looked between them and the face on the gate. There wasn't anything else like this in the other forts along the Wall from what you were told. It was here, just here. Sam however answered with another question, “Did you notice something? About these symbols?”

Quiet in thought for only a moment, Jons brows furrowed as the rest of him twisted in a fallen frown to pull the horn from where it sat safely on his person. All of you turning to him, he turned it all around slowly as his gloved fingertips traced against the marks. Looking at some, then others, then the horn once more before his grey eyes shined wide looking up in a wonder. “Not all of them are on here.”

Sam only adding, “Maybe they took out some of them when they made this.”

Only a whisper but in the eeiry silence the three men heard regardless. “Or they etched them into the horn first, and added more later.” Eyes flickering up to Jon, you weren't entirely sure but any suggestions were better then only one with such things now. “If the Wall came first, why would they leave out some things and not the other.”

More gears were turning in his mind then you could keep up with, not wanting to imagine just how much of every waking moment was spent trying to put this into any understanding for him. Nothing short of an oddity that Jon didn't look as exhausted as you did these past weeks, knowing he was getting less sleep then he was being honest about. “What if they're trying to speak to us?” Eyes narrowing as you asked what he means, but Jon was distant in his thoughts. “Three symbols on the horn and gate that they left behind for us to see. They're using what used to be our language out there, it might mean they think we can understand.”

The air was heavy until someone found the strength to speak up, “Wouldn't that mean they don't know we can't anymore?” Jon's head turned down to the side to meet your eyes, and the answer sat right in his gaze, both in it's uncertainty and somehow unwavering confidence.

Calling Sam's name, Jon found his command once more, gesturing to the symbols new to their understanding now. “I need you to figure out what these say. Can you do it by tonight?” Sam replied saying he would try, did you and Tormund find yourselves walking up to the carved face.

It was high in the air. Taller then any gate needed for any man, but most of them were. The question of why sat unspoken in your mouth. Rumbling as he leaned toward you, “Why call it the Black Gate if it's as white as a Weirwood?”

Almost on instinct, your gloved hand reached up as it to brush against the carved face as you would smaller ones but pulled back the last moment,. Fingers curling into your fist, as your lips sat slightly parted trying to strain your neck looking at it's enormity. Standing on your toes would you'd still never would even be able to reach up to Tormunds height, “Stories used to say when the cold winds came and white walkers rose up, a never ending darkness flooded the lands with them.”

“Winter north of the Wall's always dark.”

Looking at the Black Gate with carved and made with that of a white Weirwood, you could somehow see through it as if a form of night you never would have once comprehended lay behind it. “Not this kind of dark.” Tormund's brows narrowed in question at you but you had no answer or look back to him. You continued to look a the face with it's closed eyes and open mouth as if ready to speak. But nothing is ever that simple.

An approaching warmth came up to your left and a hand running up your spine with enough pressure you could feel Jon even through his gloves, and the layers and fur over you. Tormund asking to break the quiet first, “Now how do you open a gate with no way to raise it?”

Jons hand curled just the slightest into the white fur around your shoulders as if to subtly pull you just a bit closer to him, and the slightest bit more away from Tormund. “Sam said it opened on it's own after he recited the Night's Watch oath.” Both men looked at one another with you in the middle feeling lost amongst the white and a dizzying feeling the longer you stood so close to it.

“Horn that can bring the Wall down, runes that match a door with face on it that only opens to you crows and your oaths and no one knows why? What's the point of manning the Wall if no one understands what they're doing?” There wasn't a tone of condescension on Tormund's tone but you couldn't help but feel the answer was somehow staring you in the face. But it wasn't. Only the carved one in the gate.

Jon inhaled deeply, jaw set a little harder at the thought. Lord Commander turned King in the North and you knew it wasn't easy feeling as if he had so little information to lead from. “The Nights Watch has manned the wall for eight thousand years, we've barley been able to get eight hundred men between three castles in centuries.” Once more the hand curling around the fur on you tightened. “The less resources you give people to do their job, the less likely they'll be to ask why they should care about doing it.”

Or maybe you thought, they were hiding the secrets they wanted to protect from those they didn't trust. You couldn't say why you thought of it, but the black gate sent you into your memory of charred black bones and the creature roaring into the open air to cause them. Only one Targaryean ever tried riding their dragon beyond the Wall and it was said the creature refused to go anywhere near it no matter what it's rider wanted.

It was possible in your mind that it wasn't just dragons the Wall was to keep out of the far north, perhaps the men guarding it, was keeping it's secrets safe from the dragonriders themselves. Magic keeps the creature from burning it's frozen land, the men hide their secrets and reasons from the pillars of destruction and massacre who conquered the lands the Wall protected. Once you you couldn't stop the feeling, ice and fire were fighting before your eyes, and even with the slash in your palm and bruise now discoloured around your neck, you'd still choose ice.

The question caught both men off guard but your mind wandered too far to return to keep up with their pace and topic. “There are animals beyond the Wall we don't have here, correct?” Turning when neither responded up to Tormund, he looked at you almost amused for a moment.

Nodding, “Aye, we do. Pretty Crow thinking of getting a wild pet all of her own?”

The seriousness painted in your gaze up at the gate either did not take them off guard or they did so in a silence you could not see. “Have you ever seen a raven with red feathers?” That came to be an easy no, but the next question caused a silence that stumped you and Jon both. “What about a crow with three eyes?”

When Tormund said nothing, you and Jon both looked over at him and Tormund slowly met the action with a curiousness in his eyes burning more intensely. “And where did you see that?” Not just you, and not see it with your own eyes.

Jon spoke for you, the hand now tight enough were he not hidden by gloves one would see the strain in his knuckles. “What does it mean?” Tormund played games, pretending it didn't mean a thing but you looked at the gate still. “Tormund.”

Your hands twitched at their side to pull the gloves from your skin and run over it's bark.

“Doesn't mean anything. Only interesting crows I've ever seen out North were you and Mance. And you'd look a lot less good at her side if you had a third eye, Snow.” Keep your gloves on you told yourself, why was it begging you to do this now?

You needed to leave. You were too tempted looking up at this gate to grasp hold of it and ask the old gods to just give you the answers Jon needed, and you weren't going to do so in front of him here and now of all times. But Jon kept you at his side as long as he and Tormund stood there.

Not really noticing how easy it was to let Jon speak for you sometimes, while your head still sat in this utter mess. The dizzy feeling however, only had you grow both far colder in blood and warmer on skin then such a place asked for.

The three eyed crow in your dreams didn't feel a threat, but if that were true, why did the stranger call himself the Crow's Eye? How did this all fit together here and now? Who were any of these people now invading your visions and dreams as if they had any right too? None did but the wolf by your side.

“Is this what you looked like waiting for him to come home before?”

Your head turning to the side, seeing Theon walking up as you leaned against a stone railing looking higher up out to the south. Your hands folding and unfolding whatever paper it was which had been preoccupying yourself without your gaze blinking once against the unchanging sight of snow and fields set against the late morning sun. A graceful, “Huh?” Left you just as Theon leaned next to you in a similar position as yourself.

Gesturing out to the sight with his head he elaborated. “Waiting for your father to come home, can imagine you up on the cliff sides watching for his ship to appear.”

A low voice left you sitting with as much nostalgia as it did defeat. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

Though you both were not terribly dissimilar to one another in that regard. “I remember watching my Uncles fleet sail off when it all started. Never watched them come home though, first ship I ever saw come into our waters was Robert Baratheon's.” You could hardly recall those days anymore, your time on Dragonstone during the Greyjoy rebellion was spent so heavily with Shireen you had little time to reflect on where your father was.

Your hands stalled on the paper but kept it folded tight as if maintaining the tensity in your fingertips as well. Terse was the manner which your voice came out, “I used to bring Shireen out with me, she was just old enough then I could walk her around the main grounds and I'd bring her to the stone path and watch with her until the sun set.” The huff which left you wasn't quite a laugh but enough so it might have passed as one. “I remember being so relieved the day I saw his ship in the harbour, now everytime I know he's coming my way I dread it more and more.”

“He's a tough old goat your father, I'll give him that. Not sure why none of that passed to you.” A glare flickered towards him from the side was met with a jesting smirk, your own rolled into the back of your head as you shook your head. Gaze back on the sight of nothing. “He doesn't think you're a traitor anymore, he likes Jon well enough, what else do you have to worry he's going to say? If anything, I'd have guessed he wouldn't care much that you remarried.”

Were Theon drinking anything, he may have dramatically spat it out as you so dryly commented, “I would wager you right on that. Considering he so very casually asked me in White Harbour if Jon and myself were bedding one another.” You could see his head spin to look at you incredulously but you only shrugged. “Not ones for tact, my family. If you haven't noticed. Will cut right to the very awkward chase.”

“What did you tell him?”

Once more your voice was far too monotone for what came with it's words. “Oh I relayed to him in explicit detail the manner in which Jon fucked me against the wall in the Castle Black right after he stopped being a corpse. What do you think I would have said to him, Greyjoy?”

A mighty laugh left him, a lift tugging at your heart. Little by little he looked a little more like the Theon you once knew, at least when it was just the two of you. Shaking his head he almost looked a bit shocked if not amused. “I knew something happened that night, but this? You really brought a man back to life and let him just have his way with you right after? Not quite the rigid girl with far too much self respect for your own good which I first met.”

Perhaps you'd laugh, if you didn't feel a wave of guilt slam right away. You changed your mind, you didn't want Theon to go back to the man he was before. He should be nowhere near what led to what Ramsay did to him ever again. Instead, you swivelled it back to you as if keeping your own mind away from the thought. “I'm nothing like that girl, anymore. Not sure she would recognize me were I to see her here and now.”

“Good. No one wants you to be.” That was how you knew it was true, the sheer fact of not having the inclination to argue or debate back with Theon of all people even if just for the sake of it. You still felt dizzy even after being out of that tunnel over an hour.

Olly had to bring you water himself because you at one point felt as if you were warm and cold and sweating and wavering on your feet. You hadn't left that spot since then, leading to the current quiet tones between you and Theon. You felt no better however. You felt just as dizzy and hazy in your mind then you did standing right up in front of it, even worse, your hands still twitched to run over it with your bare fingertips as you would the Weirwood in Winterfell.

A childish part of you wanted to return to your chambers and crawl under the sheet to block the world out until the haze dissipated but the last thing you wanted to do was hide away and act as if you couldn't handle the world. Everyone around you already was working and you had spend the past hour or so trying not to faint. Maybe you'd dream of ravens and crows if you did. Or maybe just one. Or worse.

Perhaps sleeping was a bad idea for many reasons currently.

The first to arrive was not what you expected, nor any. They came alone, and with an urgency that could only relate to one thing. Black fur adorning over their person, the only to come to the Nightfort for now was a man of the Nights Watch. Riding through the gate, some very specific came first to greet them as you stepped into the cold once more but without the same enthusiasm.

Much like as you could see Jon and Sam reunite and stood far away, you felt it was not your place to intrude on now many people's reunion as Edd came through the gate, climbing from his horse. A glance to your right, your eyes found Theon and with a luck he read your thought process with an ease. The read of your expression not much of a mystery when it was painted in a blatant insecurity.

The sight of them all happy to once more see each other was something warm in the cold trapped in your chest, nor was it the fact that you were fairly sure none have ever been as thrilled to see you as they all were one another. No you moreso grew to realize, you had no idea how to stand in the background when you had no place and not look uncomfortable or off putting.

You barley fit in with a crowd anymore, and so much like the last time Jon and Edd reunited in the courtyard of a castle at the Wall, you and Theon slunk off out of sight before it became obvious the degree to which you otherwise felt you'd be intruding. Theon beside you not unfamiliar with the growing isolation he continued to watch you fall back into.

“Almost couldn't recognize you. What are you, half the size you were bumbling into Castle Black the first time?” It was easy to tell Sam was attempting to not appear so bashful, but in all likelihood hardly any had commented on anything of his size in a long time. None in Winterfell did nor did Jon imagine that was anything Maesters of the Citadel would comment on but one could always rely on Edd being the man to say the first blunt truth which came crashing through his mind.

Trying to deflect, Sam almost backtracked into a stumbling of words. “Perhaps not half..”

Jon felt a smirk grow easy, the swiftness in which Edd tossed back at him as if no time passed since the day Sam left. “If I didn't know any better I'd ask if they were starving you.”

Tormund was another easy greeting between them. Edd once resistant to the plan Jon put forth when he and Tormund were to go to the remaining free folk at Hardhome, but once Edd had joined he found what many of them found when giving each other a chance. Once they set aside the killing each of them had done to the other group and many of them were just men fighting for their survival.

“Everytime I think I forgot what being around so many crows feels like, one of you comes along and reminds me.” Gesturing vaguely behind him to Jon, “They named this one King and he still can't figure out how to stop dressing like one of you.”

Jon didn't know why he thought of it. Why he could see the two of them that day in the courtyard as he readied his horse that morning.

“Next time I see you, you'll be all in black.”

“It was always my colour.”

The last hug with Robb he ever shared fresh in his bones and the way Robb nodded just before parting ways, over to where you stood in a more solemn silence with your own horse ignoring the two wolves goodbye. As if to tell Jon to not let you part ways with him without a proper goodbye, knowing you'd avoid it if they let you. Their last interaction ever, Jon thought. And it was about you.

The talking around him continued, and overpowered the ability he had to stand there and contemplate why he was even thinking about it. But really, he knew why, and it sat odd in his stomach enough he shoved it all down as soon as the thought cropped up in the first place. Not right now he thought.

Cutting through the noise, Jon asked him plainly, “What are you doing here, Edd?”

Unlike his normal however, Edd answered Jons question with one of his own. “You have the lift up and running yet?” It wasn't yet high on his priority, trying to get the Nightfort even functional was what the day had been about so far, but Jon could see something in Edd's eyes.

Something distant and unnerved, and strangely, not dissimilar to the look you had sometimes when Jon knew you were hiding a vision or dream you had he was not privy too. A much smaller, darker part of himself scolded for even allowing a possessiveness to grow. As if somehow you having something in common with Edd which Jon didn't know about made a sharp edge of territorial urges beg to come forth when it was not needed.

Jon trusted Edd as much as he did Tormund, but at the least Jon could also trust Edd's thoughts towards you were nothing of that sort. But he told himself to get a grip, and focus on the issue which mattered here and now. “If we start now, I can have it running by nightfall.”

Edd didn't have a shred of amusement in that one, and seemed to wait to explain the urgency of why he was here until then. “Good. 'Cus I already received word from Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower and they're reporting the same thing we're seeing at Castle Black. Knew if you just got here, you'd have no way of knowing about it yet, but you'll need too.”

A seriousness tensed in Jon's eyes as his voice matched in a gruffness. “Know what?”

Yet he only confirmed Jons suspicion, “It'll be easier to explain after I show you.”

That for now, would have to do. The lot of them had much to catch Edd up on in the meantime anyways, the men all finding somewhere warm to lay out what he and Sam had put together but Jon couldn't stop that same burning possessive feeling. He knew Ghost was around here to keep an eye on you, his hands clenching tight, imploring himself not to invade his direwolf's mind instantly just to figure out where you were, and why you hadn't appeared to greet Edd yourself.

Considering as they moved further into the grounds the man himself asked without a shred of hesitation as your name came up, “You hiding her away, or what?” Jon's brows narrowed as he looked at him in question, but Edd was as casual about it as he was everything. “Wouldn't surprise me, the way you watched her at Castle Black I'm surprised you two aren't even on your first kid, yet. Thought by now you'd have her up to six how much you'd leer at her.”

Almost like jesting boys, Jon argued back in an instant, “I don't leer at her.”

Edd huffed a disbelieving laugh, “Yes you do. Think they invented the word just to describe the way you never could stop staring at her like you were obsessed with her.”

Sam didn't help one bit, the amusement on his voice piping up from Jons other side. “He's still like that, don't let him tell you he doesn't. I made the mistake of interrupting them once and I think Jon was about ready to tear my limbs off for it.”

Jon grumbled to himself, knowing Sam was right and the annoyance at how no matter the months gone between them, his brothers still knew him well enough they could take the piss out of him without thought. They and Robb all had that in common it seemed

It made Arya mad to think about.

For a while, it was a bit easier to forget some of it. Years on the run it felt, most nights never having anything close to a roof over her head, and her family separated or many of them gone. She could think of her family and think that she should find Sansa, as she should the rest of them. And yet, Arya sat there in the hall that day looking over the ravens from Ser Yohn Royce to Jon, which he had given her permission to look over, and it made her mad as more and more memories came rushing back to her mind.

Sansa had every right to be upset she knew, after all, while Arya had chased Nymeria off to spare her, her sisters direwolf wasn't here for far worse reasons. Cersei had taken her ire out on the Starks for an incident Joffery instigated, and when the guard told her there was no trace of Arya's direwolf, just as they thought it was going to be over, the Queen had turned to the crowd and said, “We have another wolf.”

But, she wasn't the only one who lost someone that day. Sansa lost Lady, but it wasn't until the next day did Arya learn Mycah was dead. He got scared and ran away when Joffery had started swinging his sword at Arya and now he was dead. The entire time Sansa had stood there defending Joffery, telling Arya to stay out of things and got angry only at them “spoiling everything” while Arya was the one being properly attacked.

Yes, Sansa had every right to be upset about Lady but Arya was still blamed for it all when her own friend was dead. A friend no one cared about. They had been at the table in their quarters long after settling into Kings Landing, and she could recall feeling grateful when you had walked in.

Since arriving in Kings Landing, she hardly saw her father until evening and then he'd many times be shut away in his chambers scribbling away. When you weren't at her fathers side, you'd normally be out of the castle entirely usually finding your way to the docks by the water. Saying you preferred to ensure things were running smoothly yourself rather then have the men make mistakes and lie about it. But on occasion you would manage to make it to a meal before leaving again.

Not that Arya was in the best of moods, but at the very least when you came in it meant Septa Mordane was given a break from the girls, and Jeyne Poole, normally found at Sansa's side scurried away, being scared of your scowl and short demeanour. You were also the only one Arya's tone could be short with and you'd never take offence to it personally.

Instead of eating, she had been holding the knife sat out with her plate and stabbing it into the wood, her mind still upset and needed something to occupy it. You had looked between the tense silence of the sisters and chose the easier subject to tackle. “What exactly are you doing, may I ask?”

“I'm practising.” She had replied, and when it was Sansa who asked for what, she hadn't hesitated to look over to her and shortly reply, “The prince.” You had called her name in a quieter warning but the lid was off and Arya's temper flared up. “He's a liar and a coward. And he killed my friend.”

Defending him as always, Sansa piped up “The Hound killed your friend.”

They both knew while it was true, that was as fair as Sansa being mad at father for Lady. So Arya, without even stopping the childish stabbing at the table almost lectured her older sister. “The Hound does whatever the prince tells him to do.”

Back and forth they went, as you rather then sitting down right away, moved more to their side of the room in a watchful quiet. Sansa gave no real rebuttal but looked at Arya still and spat, “You're an idiot.”

Naturally, Arya told the truth which was not the accusation she told her sister. “You're a liar. And if you told the truth, Mycah would be alive.” She had stabbed the knife a final time into the wood in as her heart shrunk in on itself at the thought once more but Sansa refused to let her have the last word.

Raising her voice shrill as it was the day she yelled at them by the river but still quiet in a smugness. “Go ahead, call me a liar all you want. You won't be able to when I'm married to Joffery. You'll have to bow to me and call me your grace.”

Arya looking back on it knew it was childish, but she was younger and rash and angry and did it before she knew you'd stop her. Reaching over the table, Arya practically flung halfway across to where her sister sat. Snatching a half orange from the table, she threw it at Sansa's dress. It landed with a plop against the white lace trim against her torso, and fell to the floor as she shrieked while Arya's tone was much more mocking. “You have juice on your dress, your grace.”

In an instant, as if wrangling rowdy horses, you almost didn't even bat an eye as you grabbed Arya before she could sit back down. Pulling her from her seat with a more proper scold, “Enough of that.” Only to have Sansa interrupt. Your hand curled into Arya's shoulder as you kept her mostly behind you at that point.

Yelling at Arya, Sansa shouted what Arya had yet to forget. “You are an animal,” Echoing what the Queen had passively said about Arya and Nymeria that day at the Inn, only Sansa didn't stop there as she tried to hide her tears. “They should've killed you instead of Lady-”

In an instant you yelled Sansa's name louder then you had at Arya. It was the first time both girls in their lives actually had heard you raise your voice at either of them. It had startled Sansa into a quiet as she looked rather wide eyed and guilty at your twisting expression of disapproval. Arya felt herself shrink inward even moreso in the quiet minute which passed just as her father walked in.

“What's happening here?”

But, you did what you always were good at. You understood both girls. You knew why Sansa was overreacting and you knew why Arya was throwing a tantrum and covered with a swift ease for both of them. Your grip on her shoulder easing up, “The girls were riling the other up a little too much is all.”

Arya said nothing, and Sansa looked down to her plate as if nothing happened. Both were smart enough to recognize that you had covered for their immaturity, but Arya knew her father could sense the tension that you'd likely relay a little more diplomatically at a later point alone. Gesturing to her, her father told her, “Go to your room, we'll speak later.”

As Arya's eyes now though read over the raven scrolls, she could look even further back. She and Sansa still were rather young, and Bran while only a year younger then Arya was small enough that he didn't quite grasp things around him just yet. She had overheard after an argument with Sansa, her going to their mother.

Asking if it was a mistake, that grumpkins must have come and stolen her trueborn sister away. Their mother with an amusement on her light voice asking what would that make her now, and Arya in the present day had felt her body stiffen just as angrily now as it did when she and the too young Bran overheard what Sansa had said next. “A bastard, like Jon, she even looks like him she can't possibly be my true sister.”

It had bothered even only a girl of four in that memory as it bothered the now teenager of fifteen. Robb and Jon both were wonderful to Arya where Sansa was mean, but Jon had always been her favourite sibling. From as early as she could remember, he was there for her. Would walk into the hall for meals, passing her by and ruffling her hair to annoy her while fondly calling her “Baby sister.”

Jon was the one only second to their father who ever actually told Arya she was pretty, when that was something everyone only ever called Sansa. He'd indulge when she broke the rules or played a prank and even when Jon got to be too old to act a boy anymore, he never scolded Arya when she'd continue to be childish on her own.

Maybe she was too young to remember, but Arya had never known a point in her life where Sansa ever respected Jon or her. It made her more angry now, which made her hope what they suspected wasn't true. She didn't want Sansa to be involved in whatever ploy this was, because it meant their sister still refused to see Jon as a legitimate brother.

And if telling her trueborn sister she wished she died instead of Lady was how she acted then, she dared not think what way Sansa would treat her bastard brother now. Arya wanted her sister to come home, but not this way. She wanted Sansa to come home so what few of them were left could be a family where they all belonged.

Arya could forgive her sister after all these years if Sansa had grown the way all of them had for the better, but still she thought to herself. Even if Sansa had changed, she hoped Jon would never tell her the truth. He was always just her bastard half brother in the best of times, she dared not think what her older sister would do now finding out whose son by blood he really was.

The Sansa she knew then, would tell the first person she sees just to make a claim for his title herself.

You had simply intended on redoing the wrappings around your palm but here still you were looking at it intently. The sliced cut looked nothing unusual anymore but there was no taking back the memory of how unnaturally red it was when Theon had yanked your wrist up to see it. Or the pain that erupted from that every cut the single moment before flames engulfed the wight before you. There was no fooling anymore over it.

There was no source of fire in the room, and it came right from you onto the creature. There was nothing else to speculate and yet you hated every second of it. You found yourself thankful neither Beric nor Thoros came to you about it further, but it wasn't their words alone waiting to strike, and as it turns out Selyse continued to very good at cornering you into uncomfortable discussions.

She had not so gently dismissed Olly from the room but nothing else had been said quite yet the moment the door closed. Her eyes not on you, but trailing to the fire burning near the back of the room had your own peeling back from showcasing a glare as you finished off tying the cloth around you off.

Your mothers voice was low as it was entirely genuine. “I have never asked you to believe as I do,” Inhaling deeply, you continued to not look her way. “But the Lords power continues to follow you wherever you go.”

Only a mutter hissed from under your breath, “Tell your Lord to leave me be, then. I don't pray to him.”

Tilting her head as if to implore you to listen, knowing you were too stubborn to even return her gaze from here. Making her slow way around to the other side of the table your arm was draped over, you were carefully pulling your gloves back on with a slight wince at the tightness when pulling across your palm.

Reaching on her own, she grasped at the leather for you, almost pushing your free hand away as moved the material over the wrappings much easier and with less force then you'd push with. “I didn't pray to him for most of my life, but that doesn't mean he isn't watching.”

Your eyes flickered up as you pulled your arm back and down onto your lap. The uncomfortable twitching wish you had kept the fur cloak on this side of the room, so at least you'd have something to hide your need to fidget in their warm depths. Selyse matched your gaze, but they were not demanding nor even judging as you always felt with such discussions.

Your mother and her faith has always been a tricky spot for you. After Shireen fell ill, you had lost much of your own faith in the Seven. Hardly going into the Sept and you had not returned to the idols on the beach until the night Jons forces had beaten Aegons. You prayed and prayed for your brothers and prayed in the Winterfell sept for your mother to not lose the child in her womb that time around and then when they answered, they almost took Shireen away just as fast.

Your mother always fell deeper into it. The most devout of House Florent it seemed. Your Uncle Alester believing much like her and even followed his youngest sibling into following the Lord of Light once the red woman came to their shores. The rest of their side of the family you did not know. Ser Axell still worshipped the Seven, which was the sin he committed to be burned in the first place, but whatever distant relatives you had outside of your mother and two uncles you hardly knew them.

Your Uncle Alester had a daughter in the Reach but you knew nothing of her. By the time you were born he lived on Dragonstone and scarcely mentioned what family his daughter went on to likely have. Then you knew, once Renly was dead, your father sent him and many guard you knew to rule Storm's End in his name, now that by rightful law, Storm's End passed to Stannis's lineage. A mess in and of itself that turned into. Difficult to have a lineage to follow when your firstborn child kills your second and only other child, and that daughter is married twice to Kings in the North.

Your mind a bit of a mess of thoughts scattered about, your mother took up the mantle to fill the silence between you both once more. “I have done and said things I regret, many things, including what I believed was for the greater good. I would tell myself, no act done in service of the Lord of Light could ever be a sin, that I thanked him everyday for being the Lady Melisandre to us. I served him as loyally as I believed in him, but he does not require such devotion from us all.” Your jaw clenched, tongue being bitten down against roughly at the womans very name passing your ears.

Not wanting to drift into thinking of where she could possibly be now, you muttered in a dry tone not truly looking at anything in particular. “I presume the point you are trying to get at, is that the three of you discussed me behind my back.”

Selyse no doubt was once more looking to you in a scolding but you had not the strength to endure it at the moment. Her voice a pinch more tender then which you expected. “They do not think our paths have all crossed by coincidence, and neither do I. The only thing I am asking is for you to keep your mind open to the possibility the only one answering your prayers-”

Stern and short, you cut her off with a flashing of warning in your eyes. Sharp as an edge, while your palm burned as did the scar on your stomach. “Did you try converting Shireen on these matters?”

Almost guilty did your mother appear for brief passing seconds, though it was hidden under her natural guise of quiet and poise rather well. “We tried on more then one occasion, but it appeared Shireen never quite took to it.”

One could only wonder the attitude she would give towards such a subject, if you knew your baby sister as well as you thought. “When the Seven Pointed Star is the first you read, it's difficult to find faith in anything else.” Though, not impossible. Very clearly as your branch of this House would indicate. Three followers of the Seven down to none in some years.

“It is, but faith in him or not, Thoros of Myr believes the Lord has allowed his power to run through you freely. I have not seen even in the Lady Melisandre, such ease at his power without even asking for something of him first. Almost as if it comes to you naturally where all others had to gain their connection to such ways.”

You were hesitant, the burning in your stomach contrasting to the feeling of the cold metal against your torso of Shireens hidden away necklace. The whisper was unsure, and you nor him had spoken much of it. You both tended to prefer to accept and look beyond that night considering the rest would require talking of what led to it. “Jon has never been unsure how he returned. From the moment he came back, he insisted he's known it was me who did it. But I never did anything. I didn't perform anything, didn't ask anything, bringing Jon back was never even possible in my head. All I know is that one moment he was dead and the next he was..”

The fading meant one thing but seemed innocuous to your mother thankfully. You needn't not elaborate on just what occurred in the very first actions taken place one you and Jon reunited. Maege would never let it go were you to tell her.

“Strange things follow you, and I only want you to consider it unwise to write off certain manners it might be coming from.” It wasn't judgment she spoke with but you felt it all the same. After what the red woman has done you wanted nothing to do with something she committed such atrocities in name of.

Breathing heavy you forced the words out as even and collected as possible. “What's happening to me..this is more then whatever your beliefs tell you. It's..this is something else entirely. The Lord of Light is anywhere and everywhere. It doesn't matter where you go, it seems to follow you. But something is..it's keeping me here. Keeping me in the North as if I must be here.” Looking into the distance of nothing, your voice turned down to but a whisper. “Something bigger is trying to tell me something. So you may be right, I may be here for a purpose, but it isn't for your god.”

Selyse was silent was she watched, a connection you knew she had no understanding of and yet you knew too well it was impossible to explain to anyone at all. Why you said it, you couldn't be sure but it came running from your lips regardless. “I had dreams and visions before I died.” Her eyes flying up to your unsure ones, “I never understood what they were, or even thought they were real until..”

Swallowing heavy you pushed passed that memory. It led neither you nor Jon down a path you wished for him to revisit. Your mother leaned forward, something akin to wonder in her voice. “Were they like-”

“No.” It was more distressed then you meant, but why hide the feeling inside. “This is worse. Far worse, I can't even begin to describe what these are like now. If I had any when I came back I barley noticed until that night on the ship. It started then and it keeps getting worse.” There was a twisting in your gut that seemed to match the burning of your scar and it left you without breath. “Something is tethering me to the North, mother. But I don't understand why.”

Or did you not? It certainly seemed as if it was trying to come to you.

The quiet between you lasting not long, your hand returning in a fidget on the table almost tapping against it. Your gaze cast to the side with it barley coming out of you. “Does he know?” Your mother answering no swiftly, you felt your jaw twitch almost giving away your disbeleif. “Are you going to tell him?”

Leaning forward, Selyse tried gaining your attention with a burrow in your brow, a lecturing tone to boot. “If you are asking if I keep secrets-”

Without second thought did you cut through, still not looking at her but even shorter then previous you spoke. “I am asking if he's safe at Winterfell.” Meeting her eyes, a softness you felt not the energy to read into came forth as she nodded a yes.

Your jaw clenching again as you looked away once more, but she did not take it with that as the end of such a discussion. “I won't sit and defend it to you, but he did what he thought was necessary. At the time.” The further you said nothing the more your mother read the doubt. “Your father has changed since, he has grown passed what led him on that path. If you talk to him-”

Snapping over to her, she could read the anger brewing just beneath the surface with ease, as little as you attempted to hide it. “Gendry is my blood. I have to protect him. I didn't once, I didn't the second time but I can and I will now.” Looking back and forth as a weight built in your throat, you settled on looking in a different spot all together to avoid the feeling rise further. “He wasn't the only one I met. I met a girl, no more then fifteen or sixteen. She worked in one of Lord Baelish's brothels, and she had a baby. Not even one yet. Barra. Looked just like Shireen did her age.”

Only a whisper remained, and your mother too knew what it was you thought of. “No one could have known what Joffery was going to do-”

The crack in your voice was not quite at an upset, but it was not what you could see as collected either. “Of course I could have known. I knew what he was, what he was capable of doing. I don't even know how many of them there were.” Hand tensing into a fist, you were grateful the glove was back on as to not tear into the skin. “They were all my blood. My family, exactly as Gendry is and the only other one I knew was a baby girl. All they'll be remembered as were a bunch of slaughtered bastards, and I don't even know any of their names. They should be in Storms End. Resting with the father they never knew they had, with a family that should have been there to care about them.” Finally through something shaking in your lungs did a conclusion find itself in the air. “I won't let that happen again. Gendry and I are the only ones left. And as long as I have to keep him safe from what my own father tried to do to him, I will. No matter what.”

He had arrived come nightfall. Your own watchful figure distant even moreso then before up on a landing with the knowing you should go greet him. But you didn't have the words yet for that, not in front of other people. Whatever he may bring up you knew, was not going to be in the place he stood in the courtyard. Too many people around on both sides and you were well aware of your fathers tendencies.

Between you both, your father liked Jon more easily. An interrogation about certain matters were not going to be found between them, but you. You were his daughter and thus his misgivings would be demanded answers from you alone. Though as you watched from afar, Jon and Stannis greet one another with an ease you never knew from the later, it seemed the company at your side was considering their own interpretations of events.

Olly stood beside you, your gloved hands braced against the wood tense as he glanced between you and the scene below. Happy you were, that he was sat least direct about it. “Are bastards not supposed to marry highborns, your grace?”

The smirk coming to you was easy, as was the lightness in your tone with a brow raising at what you too once thought. “In most families, it is not advised. Certainly not within royal ones.” Asking if that was true, why between the two present Kings, did there not appear to be any issue. “I think my father enjoys having a son more then he despises my choices in life for once.”

Glancing to one another, your head tilted with a small bit of passive jest in between the tenseness within your muscles as Olly muttered something more unintelligible no doubt at your fathers expense, not with the confidence to say it. Following up with one much more acceptable to put forward, “It still is a King you married.”

Tilting your head the slightest bit, you nearly relented. “Yes. But my father liking Jon, and my father liking Jon being married to me are not the same.” In a moment which still took the boy by surprise, he asked if all highborns were this complicated about things or just your family, and you laughed rather freely. Light, but still freely. “Most of us are to a degree, but I think it is a fair assessment to say the Baratheons are indeed a special kind of insufferable.”

Olly was clearly attempting not to say anything, so you said it for him. “You work for me you know, you're allowed to agree. I'm aware more then anyone how difficult I make everything.”

“Your grace-”

Quick on the draw though, you cut through his formality. “Oh, so you've never though to yourself, why can't she just do things the easy way for once?” Turning with a raised eyebrow to his own gaze, the childish smirk on his face only caused you to match more knowingly. An arm pulling him more into your side with a playful jostle as he dropped a bit more stature into amusement. “Do me a favour, go check on how progress is going on the lift and let Jon know.”

Watching him take off, you too could still feel eyes on you. But not Ollys. Eyes turning from one direction to another, you found one which did not feel it. The figure of Ghost approaching now that you stood alone before nudging into your front. A small smile forming as you let your hand come up to run along his fur. “I don't suppose you have any advice on the matter do you?”

A small huff nearly running his head into your side affectionately, you grinned. Hands now running along his ears firmly. But looking to the distance, still both sides of two Kings discussing things with one another did you stumble upon the eyes watching you. Just as held back as he had been hours before in the morning, the manner in which Tormund watched you was new.

He had nothing to say about the mention of a three eyed crow, but he knew of the Sight and he knew of many more things beyond the Wall which did not garner such a reaction. But like many times before in this day, did you turn away. Prompting Ghost to follow inside closely, until nightfall, there was little use for you to interrupt the others work.

Though, sometimes you still were not sure if it was just work you were avoiding interrupting, or the bonds of men you felt small in comparison to, or the very people involved all together. Jon had once said it could feel as if everytime he got somewhere with you, you would proceed to take ten steps back from him. And it felt true even now, but there was too much in your mind that you didn't know how to settle, or from where it stirred back up.

But maybe you thought, being back at the Wall was more then just a move towards what you were all fighting towards. It might also be the place throwing you back to memories of the last time you were in a place like this, and the memories that caused you to avoid disrupting Jons life in the first place.

The problem was though, you were not the only one who noticed. You were certainly not the only one who noticed. Theon could tell since being here, something was more wrong then the strange events which had just played out, and he could see Jon felt something was wrong too.

You avoiding your father, and much chaos around to settle the new company having arrived, Theon found something grow within him.

That just maybe, he had made a mistake. Because it was not simple want of avoidance in your eyes, it was something he recognized. You were not there yet, but he knew you would be soon. You'd avoid and avoid until that darkness came back and this time Theon decided to man up about it. No one had told him, not you, not Maester Wolkan, and not Theon himself. But Jon had asked him months previous what Ramsay had done to you, so he would know what to do to start helping you, and Theon wasn't honest.

But too much had passed between then and now, and betraying your trust meant making up for the lies of omission Theon was too scared to commit last time. By nightfall, the lift would be operational, and just perhaps he thought, now was the time to say it.

He knew you might hate him for it, but Theon lied for you last time and this time, he would be truthful before everyone had to watch your mind spiral all over again the way you were pretending it wasn't. He felt guilty telling him without your permission, but Theon knew Jon needed to know these things.

Already it already didn't sit well with the man knowing he was being kept in the dark intentionally. You didn't tell him because you were clearly afraid it was your fault, it reflected on you that it meant you didn't deserve what love Jon would never stop giving you. You were always hard on yourself, but none moreso then blaming you for what Ramsay forced you to do.

Maybe he should have given you a warning he was going to tell him, but you would've begged Theon to not do it, and he would've given in. So he didn't. Theon loved you like his own sister, and over a decade of being raised with him and now him being married to you, Jon was as good as his own brother he had remaining. And the Starks as a family were at their best when being entirely honest with one another.

So Theon took advantage of that evening. You were preoccupied with avoiding the arrival of your father at the Nightfort, and with others drawing your focus at every other time also occupying your workspace, it gave Theon the chance to approach Jon alone.

“I need to speak to you about something, in private.” This time, it was Theon who looked stern and serious instead of that day in Castle Black when it was Jon. But the nerves he had felt in the moment in Castle Black, were nothing compared to the shatteringly broken look in Jons eyes as he realized the extent of why you had refused to tell him the truth.

Theon was as honest as he was blunt. “I never told you because she didn't want me to, but now I know she doesn't want to because she thinks you'll see her differently. Like it changes anything about who she is now..”

Grey eyes wide as they were screaming in an unspoken horror, Jon opened and closed his mouth a few times before pacing along the length of the room. A hand running over his mouth instead as he turned to look back. Still just as wide eyed as before. He hardly looked like a King in that moment, more like a boy. Finally finding a voice in a distant rasp, “How often did he make her-”

“Just once. For that at least. That was only once. I can't say how often he made her endure the rest of it, but I'd wager a lot.” Jaw set and his hands tensed as he crossed his arms over his chest, Theon looked the angry he expected Jon too. “He loved making her do those things, and then leave her to get dressed so Lady Walda could walk her to supper. So she'd have to sit next to Ramsay and eat as if they were a family and nothing was wrong.”

Still quiet, Jon had hardly blinked as he only could look at Theon with something more devastated then he was capable of handling. So he turned to the side, paced along towards the window and found distraction looking out it. He thought it would be a red, steaming rage Jon would react with, not the heartbreaking red in his eyes like a boy wanting to cry.

Gods, Jon was truly so very in love with you, Theon thought. It wasn't fair, after everything both of you had been through, not even in marriage did you and Jon catch a break. He hoped your years together back when they were all younger were happy. Despite being secret and forbidden he hoped those years were easy and happy. Because your new life together kept refusing to let you both breathe.

The strain in Jons voice made Theon selfishly thankful he wasn't looking at him anymore. “You said Ramsay's men would..who?” Jon had sent what remained of the Boltons bannermen split between Castle Black, Eastwatch by the Sea, and the Shadow Tower, in a bit of an ironic punishment. Now Theon was fairly certain if he gave names, Jon was going to give those names to Edd and once he got back to Castle Black, there'd likely be more then a few hangings that night.

“They- they didn't..” How on earth was Theon supposed to explain that? He was fairly certain it would not be comforting in the least to tell Jon that Ramsay only allowed his men to make use of one specific part of you. It likely would not at all be any better to hear or to say.

And it wasn't.

“Why didn't you tell me about any of this when I asked you what he did to her?”

Jon was trying not to yell now, not wanting the attention drawn to the conversation but Theon felt the meaning behind it all the same. “Because you would've beaten Ramsay to death the day you reclaimed Winterfell, or even worse you'd have done it the second you met him to discuss terms. Which wouldn't have helped her, wouldn't have taken any of it back. She didn't need you to avenge all that, she just needed you to be there for her. Telling you all that would've set you off, and she didn't need any more of that.”

Asking if anyone else knows about it, the worst which 'it' spoke of, Theon could at least placate that only he, you, and Maester Wolkan were the ones alive left for that detail to know outside now of Jon. He mentioned Barbrey Dustin had heard rumours of it, but Theon knew such rumours had come from Myranda, with one dead and the other in a cell, that specific story wasn't leaving to the wider world.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jon clearly was trying to keep calm again. “For now this stays between us. I don't want you telling her I know. It'll upset her and she doesn't realize that's not good for her right now.” Theon paused, asking why.

It was Jons turn to hesitate, but he wasn't ready to say it yet. He was supposed to have told you before even leaving Winterfell, but now? Now he was even more worried about how you'd react then ever before if he let you find out alone.

“Is there a reason you've been hiding today?” As soon as Jons low voice rasped in your ear the tension in your shoulders deflated in an instant. Relaxing back into his warm touch as one hand held at your waist and the other slid across your stomach to pull you back into him. Gloved hands wrapping what you could around his forearm, were you facing the other way he'd be large and warm enough to shield you from the cold entirely as you stood out in the night.

You barley gave Jon a shrug, quiet only for him to hear. “I'd rather not have intruded. You were all close in a way I'm not, none of that is my place.”

Were you to wager gold, you'd have guessed Jons brows furrowed as he leaned over you more to try and see your face. His voice low near your ear in a hinted plead not to go down such a path. “You're my wife, darling. You're place is with me, no matter who else is there.” Giving but a slight nod, Jon chuckled as the sensation even through his layers and yours, rumbled against your back. “Besides, if you were there, would have spared me being made fun of.”

Your face twisted, eyes brightened only tinge asking “What were they making fun of?”

The arm around your front ran along your stomach over your scar, a grin blatantly following the words Jon mumbled in your ear once more. “Edd seems to think we're slacking in how many children we don't have.”

Grinning with ease, you felt him laugh along with you, the sound making your heart grow strong in an adoration of such rarities. Leaning back a bit, you felt him rest the side of his head against yours, “Shall I remind them we haven't even been married two months yet? These things take time.” Running along your scar back and forth, the gesture soothed what once would be a feeling on edge in your heart.

Each day, it got a little bit easier you supposed.

Despite the cold around you, Jons breath danced hot across your ear. “Do you want to know what's been on my mind?” Nodding, you thought nothing of any hidden intentions, soothing yourself back into his comfortable warmth. “If I had gotten you pregnant that night in Castle Black, you'd be about ready to give birth right now.” The hand on your scar more flat as if he yearned to run it along the skin covered by too many layers.

Rolling your eyes, the jest in your heart came off so naturally it almost sounded as if you were making fun of him right along his brothers. “If you had gotten me pregnant that night, you wouldn't have allowed me to do over half the things I've done since then. Not sure how much I'd have stepped foot near a battle if you had something to say about it in that time.” A pause as your eyes narrowed putting the timeline together on your own memory, “If I hadn't known I was with child by the time we were ready to go up against Ramsay, you'd have yelled at me afterwards for fighting in it even more then you already wanted to.”

Almost on the tip of his tongue was a denial, but Jon relaxed his person and thought better of it. You both knew that one would have been true. Something else was on his mind you could sense, but only giving a patience for him to get there when he was ready. “I know we've never talked about it properly.” The quiet giving a question in the air which he elaborated on as he pulled you even closer into his chest. “Having a child. We've joked about it, I've rambled about it when we've been together, but we've never actually talked about it.” The hand on your scar giving more pressure wishing to feel your bare scar as if he needed too.

Your heart was a bit heavy, but once more, easier day by day to think about it. But it was the swiftness of how you dived so close to the core of Jons gentle words in your ear which caught him off guard. “I know why you don't bring it up, Jon. Truly I do, for a while I didn't want to talk about it either.” Inhaling deeply, you cut to the chase of what you were just starting to think was Jons intention here. “I know you want children, and I know you won't ask me for them.” Your gloved hand covering his on your scar and Jon changed tactics to press your own against your stomach and he covered one of yours with both of his, your other hand grasping what you could of his wrist.

Sighing deeply, Jon's presence stood heavy behind you as he tightened his hold on your hand moment by moment. The breath shaking with nerves in your ear, had your head tilt somewhat. A narrow passing your eyes in an innocent wonder of what he suddenly of all people seemed uncertain of saying, but not the right chance to speak it as a very different voice cropped up from the side of where you and Jon both stood.

“And I thought hearing Sam go on about Gilly was sickening.” Turning swiftly to the side, the approaching Edd was followed by the Sam in question, Tormund, Theon, and Ser Davos by the side of your curiously silent father. All three former behind him amused despite Jon growing more rigid behind you, and even worse so as you pulled away respectfully in front of them.

Your tone however, the brightness in your eyes matched theirs whereas unbeknownst to you, Jons jaw clenched in a troubled scowl more serious then Edd's jesting should normally have elicited. “No need to act petty for what you don't have. What was it one of your brothers told me, Edd? That you had hoped women all over the Seven Kingdoms enjoy a uniformed man?”

A flat look fell across his face as he nodded to behind you to walk with him, expression in a matching lack of seriousness. “That's what I get for ever telling Hobb that story. He gets one beautiful woman complimenting his food and he tells you all my embarrassing secrets.”

Turning to follow down the path beside him, Jon almost didn't follow until Ser Davos and Stannis both stuck back with a questioning gaze at how tense he was compared to you. Shaking his head, Jon nodded for the two men respectfully, to go ahead first. Somewhat wrapping his dark fur cloak around his front more as if trying to hide how unsure yet unsettled he now felt.

He had gotten so close.

Coming now to where the lift up the height of the wall was stationed, you despite your misgivings, seemed to have found an ease in which Edd did not bother showing you any decorum or grandiose greeting. A banter from you came naturally at the accuracy of his statement. “Truly, it's almost tragic considering the uniforms of the Nights Watch do look rather catching. It just isn't women you're seeing day in and out to impress.”

A smirk almost came over you as he did not quite commit to his own glare, but it was not aided in his favour from Tormund speaking up. “You joined an army of men and thought women come running towards you? Sure some of you southern men look pretty enough, but not that pretty.”

Sam found his own amusement come easy towards Edd as well. “Who would've thought I would be the one to attract a girl before you did.”

Dry as ever, Edd shook his head. “Did I come here to put up with this or help you? Because it's starting to feel like the former.”

“There's no shame in admitting your allure isn't what it once was, Edd. You men can't all be Samwell Tarly's, some of you have to settle to be the Giantsbanes of the world.” Sharing a raised brow looking back to the large man in question and were so many people not here you knew that smirk meant he'd have the right words to knock down that high positioned jesting attitude in seconds.

Despite avoiding them just that early afternoon, it was notable how easily you found common ground amongst them. Never in your entire life in Kings Landing did you find any sort of companions with as natural ease in words as you continued to do so in the North. As if it was the place you were meant to be, something poked at your mind added.

In the ease of banter, none but two of them continued to notice how quick Jon had gone from soft and approachable to on edge and utterly quiet and closed off watching the figures ahead of them trait jests and mockings. They too, were also the ones lucky enough to know when not to provoke the bear, or wolf. Were it not already dark out, Jons eyes would have looked an angry black hiding the greys behind it now.

The land looked far more dark even in view of only the South from the rising lift. Your hands braced against the bars at the back near the wall, the wind picked up around the group of you and a shiver fell through your spine. Eyes drifting to the other side, yours found Jons wide and already trained on you.

A silent bright plead in them as if needing something you couldn't provide in the right here and now, and the yearning to go to him slammed you right in the chest. Not in front of all these people though, not in such a situation or in close quarters, but something about the softness of how he watched only you tugged at something.

Your brows raised ever so slightly as if trying to ask him what was wrong, but yet only a small smile was gifted back. Bright and gentle as he ever was but you felt yourself biting down against your tongue to keep the racing of your heart to something slower. Even in the cold and crowd here, Jon managed to take your worry and transform it right into something coming up into needing.

But the lift reached the top of the Wall, and filing out, you waited for the others to go first. Slowly making your way to Jon, seemingly waiting for you back he said nothing. Your lips parted to ask first, but he just pushed you gently in front of him at your lower back without a word. His hand much like earlier that day, slinking up to the white fur around your shoulders and curling into it just as none of the group was looking back at you.

Edd's voice finally begun to report, and Jon pushed you forward a bit more in order for you both to hear properly. “We kept getting more and more reports from rangers that they were seeing something far North, but we couldn't risk sending enough so far out to confirm it. So we had to wait and see, but then the days started getting shorter and slowly we saw it making it's way.”

Stannis's voice shouted a bit over top the swirling wind around. “Saw what?”

Turning the path, Edd reached one of the landings leading out to the North side of the Wall, and as you all gathered to look, silence fell upon each and every one of you. It was not in any dream, nor were any of you standing in a vision, but in the real world as you stepped up and closer to the edge where Edd stood. Jon's hand still firm behind you, as if keeping an ability to pull you from the edge, but everyone's eye's were wide.

It was far, so far off that it would take an unknown amount of weeks if not months to genuinely reach it.

The sky of the far North was utterly pitch black, no stars to be seen but it was covered up with a shimmering green. Waving thick in the night sky like a milk pouring against the dark and a shine glowing from it that memorized you as much as the pull of the Weirwood gate down below the ground did the same. As if the green made you want to pull your gloves off to reach out and grasp it.

Your father once more, was the first to speak up, as calm as he was unnerved only caught by your ears. “What is it?”

It had been Jon who answered, not Edd. “Them.”

All gazes found him, but he turned his head to the side to meet Edd's, who only nodded once slowly in a yes, yours never leaving the sight of green. “Aye. Days been getting shorter, and sooner or later that's going to reach us and we won't have days any more to worry about.”

Ser Davos somewhat behind you asked how he could be sure it was them, and while Edd's answer came in the formal report of what his rangers had found Jon had a much easier answer. The speculation running through the group until Jon tenderly rasped your name, you not noticing you hadn't blinked the second your eyes found the green.

Still, you didn't look away as you whispered. “It isn't normal darkness they'll bring, the further south they come the closer that will get. They bring it with them.” It was Sam that time repeated the ask of how you were sure, but it was the distance Jons eyes that was certain.

“Sam, what did the translation say?”

No one looked away from the shimmering green as Jon asked firmly. Pulling you now right into his side, you barley reacted as your eyes found nothing but the calling for it.

The answer almost didn't register to you, “It's the Nights Watch vow. I said the vow and that was how the gate opened the first time, but the symbols on the inside are also our vows.” Jon asking if that that included the symbols from the Others, and Sam nodded as wide eyed as everyone else. “Including the Others.”

Without his grasp, you may have fallen from the Wall, how dizzy you begun to feel. The white glow underground and the shimmering green glow in the far North your breathing picked up. Seen by the amount of white pouring from your every breath. Jon asked Edd how many rangers he currently had North, getting the answer of none in response.

“Good. Send word to the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch by the Sea. No one ranges North anymore for any reason. If any of them have men North, tell them to send a raven and get them back as soon as possible. If where they need to go isn't in the South already, no one is to leave.” Your head spun still further, it shook and it pounded and you begged to go back and see it once more or ask the unknowns why this both called to you and had you feel so unstable on your feet or in your mind.

You barley heard Jon even though he was giving orders right by your ear in an authoritative tone even more. “I'm not sending our brothers into another slaughter, and I don't want them thinking we're ranging North searching for one either.”

Standing next to Jons warmth, you could only see green, and you could only recall the sensation in a dream like vision almost a fortnight passed. The memory of an unseen freezing cold wrapping around your limbs like a lovers embrace, and yet it seemed in such a moment to stem in a harmony along the warm feeling Jon already was giving you. As if they were feelings tied together from him.

You had one thought, and the thought was you needed more answers and one way to get them was the only path available to you now. If they were coming, you had a purpose to fufill and it was to do more then be there to warm Jons bed. You had to be there for him in more ways then that and you couldn't do that if you couldn't get answers.

Your health, your well being be damned. They were coming and you'd sacrifice whatever was needed to ensure Jon lived through it to fight to the end. Even if it cost you yourself once more. The green wasn't terrifying like wildfire had been, but it was a symbol all on it's own without any bodies needed.

It was a message that you truly did not have time to avoid this anymore.

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