#that moment when you don’t remember any of your family but they feel so painfully familiar
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Hey guys I’m kind of done being nice now 💗 here’s some more torture for the boy!
Original audio: JackStauber
#deltarune#spamton#spamton g spamton#art#ut dr#spamton neo#sneo#sneo au#addisons deltarune#the addisons#deltarune au#that moment when you don’t remember any of your family but they feel so painfully familiar#<33333
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You’re An Angel When You Sleep
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader
Content: angst, drowning, a little “off-screen” violence, hurt/comfort, near death experience
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: literally wrote this in between classes so hopefully it doesn’t feel too rushed! not edited super closely yet, the grammar might be a little off. inspired by the song “Around The Bend” by Pearl Jam, specifically the last verse <3
Edited 2/28/24
Law is sinking, and there’s nothing he can do.
People call it “The Curse of The Sea.” They say that “she” turns her back on you when you eat a devil fruit. It’s simply the price to pay for such immense power.
And he has never had to worry about it before. His devil fruit ability affords him the security of being to prevent trips into the ocean. Not that he ever would fall- Law is far too careful a man- but he has plenty of crewmates and friends/allies that could somehow knock him overboard.
How sickening, that the first time it actually happened was at the hands of an enemy. And how disappointing, that it had only happened because of his own pride. A foolish disregard of taking caution while standing close to the railing on the enemy ship, when one of his opponent’s underlings threw something that didn’t even really hurt, but sent him overboard. In the midst of a battle where everyone was expected to hold their own- Law could expect no help as he plunged into icy waters.
It’s cold enough as it is, and his curse does nothing to help. He tries his hardest to stay conscious- perhaps he can still use his power if he thinks hard enough. People awaken their devil fruits all the time, so there’s no reason why he can’t do it now. But, no matter how badly he wants to simply teleport back to the deck of the ship, he can’t. The feeling of impending doom only serves to weaken his resolve, and soon enough Law is unwillingly giving up and giving in to the sea.
He’s about 10-12 meters down now. The weight of the water makes it feel nearly impossible to hold his breath for longer, so he lets out an exhale ever so slowly.
But no one is coming, and it’s time to accept his fate. “This is it,” he thinks, “just another pirate lost to the sea. That’s how it ends for me.”
He takes a moment to reflect on life up until now. So much pain and suffering, but in the end he just can’t stop remembering what little good there has been. His crew, who, no matter how much they bothered him, were his family. His blood family and Corazon, who he hopes to see again soon if there is any sort of afterlife. Then there’s you- with your uncanny ability to make him smile and laugh, your clever personality and friendly nature, all your strength and intelligence, and seemingly unwavering good morals. Law feels he barely deserves to have known you in this life, let alone fall in love with you as he has. Which is why he never shared his feelings with you or anyone, in all the time you’d been on his crew. Before this moment, he’d at least had the comfort of knowing there would always be the future, and therefore more time to open up to you figure out his feelings.
“How foolish.”
Law is just about to close his eyes- at least then it might be a more peaceful demise- when there’s a splash that breaks the surface of the waves. His eyes shoot wide open as he tries to figure out what it is, as it’s rather difficult to see clearly with his vision blurring and on the verge of losing consciousness.
All he can be sure of is that it’s a person. The light from above the waves surrounds their silhouette giving them an angelic halo, but simultaneously blocking out all their features from his view.
Law wonders, “Are you here to seal my fate? To ensure I don’t find some way out of this?” If he could, he’d ask that they do it quickly. Still, that painfully hopeful little part of his mind can’t help but come out in what are more than likely his last moments alive. “Or, are you here to save me? Are you gonna give me a second third chance at this? I don’t deserve it, but I will accept it. I’ll use it to do more; work harder, fulfill every goal. Confess to y/n.”
And that hopeful streak seems to take over his body as he uses his last iota of strength to reach upwards. Law’s angel continues swimming downward, but he can’t hold his breath long enough to see them reaching out to him, too.
His last thought is of you. He swears he can see your face on this mystery person as they get closer; your pretty eyes and lips, your hair swirling around your form underwater. Could it actually be… No, he doubts you’d even seen him falling overboard. But maybe he’s already dead, and you really are an angel. Law doesn’t get the chance to fully consider either reality though, as he finally blacks out.
-
“Gimme gimme gimme… a man after midnight…”
This is how Law taught you to do CPR on someone whose heart had stopped. Years ago, when you were struggling with keeping count of 100-120 beats per minute, he told you to “think of a song with the same count.” Most everyone’s go-to CPR song is “Stayin’ Alive.” But, you prefer the classic ABBA song. You pause every 30 compressions to administer 2 breaths, and as you remove your lips from his, a thought crosses your mind. “He looks so peaceful like this.” And even while unconscious, he’s handsome… angelic, even. Nevertheless, you’d much rather have an alive and annoyed looking Law than a dead and calm one.
“Is there a soul out there… Someone to hear my-”
Law coughs suddenly, and shoots up into a sitting position, gasping for breath.
“Law!” You throw your arms around his neck, nearly knocking the man back over.
And though he’s still catching his breath and coming to his senses, he lets you, and puts an arm around your back. “Y/n,” another cough, “what happened?”
You release him (much to his disappointment) and explain how the fight had ended soon after the crew lost sight of him; their captain. And, while the others quickly overtook the enemies, you dove overboard where you’d last seen him. It was pure luck, though guided by your intuition, that you found Law beneath the surface.
“Then I swam over here-“
“Which is where?”
You nod in the direction behind him. “Just around the bend from the harbor. The Polar Tang and the enemy’s ship can be seen from there, so I thought it’d be best to hide while you…”
“While I was dying.”
“Don’t say it like that,” you scold him with a frown, “you’re alive.”
“But I could have died.” Law says with very little pride. He sounds a little out of it, which makes sense considering the circumstances. “I could have died, and you saved me.”
“Well, any one of us would’ve, Captain-“
“Thank you, y/n.”
You shake your head bashfully. “It was no problem, really.” That’s a lie, and you both know it. The water in this part of the ocean is freezing, but through some incredible resolve that you hadn’t been aware of before, you pushed through it. For him. “So… We should get back to the fight, yeah?”
You move to stand up from your place on your knees, but Law stops you. With his hand on your shoulder, he pulls you back down to his side. “You said the fight is over?”
“Mhm.”
“Then let’s just… stay here, for a moment.”
He leans toward you hesitantly, though you’re not sure if it’s because he feels weak or he just wants you to hold him again. Either way, you wrap your arms around him and rest your chin on his shoulder. You hold onto each other with gentle force, and you feel him exhale deeply.
“I need to tell you something.” Law mutters.
You pull back enough to see his face. “Right now? Can’t it wait, Law-“
“I can’t want any longer.” And he really can’t. He’d tell you about how he had mistaken you for a living, breathing angel another time. For now, he just needs to fulfill his promise to said angel (to you?), and confess his love for you.
“Ok… What is it?”
Law is very straightforward as he says it. “I’m in love with you.” And he makes it impossibly hard to return to the battle when he asks that you never leave him in this life, like so many others have. Which you promise not to, of course, though it’s not exactly your decision. You tell him that you love him too, and in turn demand that he doesn’t die on you, either. Law nods against you.
The two of you stay there a while longer, in each other’s arms around the bend.
#fanfic#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece#x reader#law x reader#law x you#law angst#angst with a happy ending#angst#h/c#devil fruit#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgardwaterlaw#trafalgar law#law x y/n
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NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.
Please do Lando Norris + brothers best friend thank you 😁❤️
i LOVE this trope
BAD IDEA. ❨ lando norris x reader ❩
you couldn’t quite remember the first time you had laid eyes on lando norris. for as long as you could remember, he’d been around. your brother had met him in secondary school when they were only eleven or twelve, but you being younger meant you didn’t really see much of them.
you didn’t have much time for your older brother then, and so not much time for his friends. really, you’d first noticed lando when he was eighteen. he’d been away for a while, racing and what not, so when you saw him again he’d suddenly grown up quite a bit. his awkwardness was gone, his muscles stronger, his face more handsome.
but you were only fourteen. you were just a shadow in the corner, of no importance to him. still quiet and weird, not sure of yourself yet.
your crush on your brother’s best friend only became more desperate over the next few years. watching him grow into himself, just as the world began to watch him. he drove for formula one now, mclaren’s star, and you were no one. he could have any woman in the world, so why would he want his friend’s little sister?
lando, sweet as ever, had paid for your entire family to come to his race in monaco. a weekend away with the norris’, something you’d been a part of many times before. you had learned to suppress your feelings for lando, to push them down to the bottom of your stomach and paint on a polite smile.
“you okay?” your head snaps up, lando’s concern greeting you. quickly do you nod, ignoring how the busy mclaren garage shrinks down to just the two of you when he looks in your eyes.
“yeah, fine. just a little crowded in here.”
lando rests a hand on your arm, pulling you out of the way of a mechanic, sending your heart into a million flutters. “i get that. you can wait in my driver’s room, if you want.”
it feels all too intimate, to be in lando’s space alone. you’d only ever been to his apartment with your brother. so you reject kindly, with a shake of your head.
“i’ll just go for a walk. i’ll see you tonight?”
lando smiles and lets you go. you inhale deeply as soon as you escape the busy paddock, wandering all around the city until you find yourself back at the hotel. lando had paid for all of your rooms, giving you your own, and you couldn’t have been more grateful than in that moment. time alone to think. to silently lecture yourself to get a grip.
three hours later, you’ve showered, fixed your hair and makeup as best as you could. you’re halfway into your dress when the door knocks.
“just a sec!” you call, hurrying to the door with your hand pressed to your chest, holding the fabric up. you unlock the door, peeking around to find lando with a smirk.
“your mum sent me up to fetch you. they’re all ready to go to dinner,” he explains and your eyes widen.
“is it that time already?” you curse yourself for losing track of the time. in a panic to get ready, you hurry back into the room in search of your shoes. the door lies open, so lando lets himself in and closes it behind him.
“don’t rush. they can wait.”
still, you rush. if you made everyone late for this dinner you would never hear the end of it from your mother. shoes slipped on, you reach blindly for the zip of your dress. in desperation, you look towards lando.
“will you—?” you plead, gesturing to the back of your dress. he nods, immediately, pacing over to you. turning, the opening of the dress reveals your bare back to him. it’s only when his fingers ghost over the zip that your panic subsides to realisation.
it’s suddenly incredibly warm in your hotel room and lando is taking a long time to zip up quite a small dress. his fingers linger on your skin, investigating its softness. the zip drags upwards, painfully slow, your eyes fluttering closed as he teases. you both freeze when the zip closes, nothing left to ponder over, waiting with bated breath.
you gasp quietly when you feel lando’s hands on your waist, his lips pressing softly to the side of your neck. your head falls back, resting on his shoulder, trying to gather the muddle of thoughts that gather in your head.
“lando…” you whisper, shaking your head. this wasn’t supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to return your affections, that wasn’t how the story was written. you were supposed to pine and be left with nothing. “this is a bad idea.”
lando doesn’t care. he turns you by the waist, to face his, and wastes no time in in pulling you into a dizzying kiss. years worth of kisses all in one. all tongue and teeth, the taste of your lipstick and the smell of his aftershave intoxicates you both. his hands grip at you desperately, slipping under the hem of your dress to grasp at whatever skin he can find.
breathless and lighthearted, you part with surprise. you could swear he was drunk when he looked at you, drunk on the taste of your tongue. lando still paws at your frame, making up for lost time, a time he was blind.
“we should go. they’re waiting,” you tell him, eyes still wide and full of shock. lando nods, unable to tear his eyes away from you. his thumb reaches for your lips, fixing the smudged lipstick. you giggle, mirroring his actions. when you’re done laughing like schoolchildren, his lips are void of any evidence.
“right. we should,” he sighs, stepping back from you with reluctance. you busy yourself by gathering your things, fixing your hair in the mirror, finding him waiting by the door. he opens it, fingers brushing you waist as you pass him.
“but maybe,” you speak, turning in the hallway when he closes the door to your room. “you could come back, tonight. after the dinner.”
you nod to the room number on the door to confirm your thoughts. lando smirks, stepping towards you, pecking your lips once more.
“you’re sure?” he looks at you with those eyes and you’re fifteen years old again, knees going weak.
“positive. will you?”
lando, too, finds a great weakness in your eyes. eyes that he once barely noticed. but it was like someone had turned a light on, illuminating you and everything that you had become.
“of course, love. i’ll come.”
#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris drabble#lando norris#lando norris blurb#lando norris imagine
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Heart of the Great Wolf
21 - A Bastard or The White Wolf
Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)
Length: 21.2k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slight canon divergence, bloody and gory imagery, mention of animal death, child death, references to rape, descriptions of warfare, canon divergence
Notes: I know, okay? I had to be the one to write it, I know about the preposterous length. I'm sorry. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here
You had never told your father about that day, even though for a long time it stuck out in your mind the more used to it you became. Always in the back of your head, but not only the violence that you had seen, it was the words with it. The first time was the one that frightened most, that was what you were told before and it seemed it was true, because the thing that never got easier was the answer that followed after it was all over.
You could look back through your stays in Winterfell but so often it landed back at a moment right at the start, even though everything else were the ones that impacted your life's course.
During your first stay in Winterfell, you had started to adjust within the month. It wasn’t being away from your father and mother which was the most difficult part to you, it was simply the difference in the day to day that was so odd. The Starks noticed it right away, that you were not used to being apart of a household that wasn’t so stern and rigid.
When you had woken up from your trio of days asleep and fever ridden, you didn’t remember right away that you had even arrived. Taking a few minutes to recall the fuzzy memory of being shown the castle and partially remembering meeting Lord and Lady Stark, before you vaguely recalled feeling terribly unwell by supper. Luwin had been checking up on you while Catelyn sent the boys away thinking that it might be better to ease you into things with a mother figure at your side.
She was wrong it turned out. You were almost uncomfortable and put off by how kind and gentle she was with you. Explaining in a soothing tone that you had been rather sick when you arrived and you had slept through most of it, the entire time you had been painfully quiet and stiff when she would try to run a hand over you comfortingly.
Only when you were up and about, you still were like that, but with everyone.
Would listen and stand by Lord Stark during the day but you really didn’t say much. Meals were when it stood out the most. Robb and Jon were ten at the time, and were as loud and rambunctious with each other at supper as they were outside in the training yard. They would try and include you all the time to talk and joke at the table, but you would look over hesitantly at the curious faces of Ned and Catelyn before giving the boys a shy smile and little else. It took a fortnight for everyone to understand that perhaps you had grown up in a bit more of a difficult family then they assumed. Then everyone had their own tactics at how to make you comfortable.
Catelyn’s was the most simple and emotionally effective. Easing you into the dynamics of a mother figure, knowing you were rather young in a far away place surrounded by strangers. It took some time for you to get used to her being around, prompting you with questions to open up, easing you into things like admitting that you think your mother loves you but she stopped spending time with you after she lost your first brother. Then she lost your second brother and father sent you away. You had thought it was you who did something wrong and this was a punishment.
Asking you as she stood behind you untangling the knots in your hair, “Does it feel like a punishment? Being here?” You shook your head no, before apologizing for moving at all and sitting more rigid then before.
Your voice was quiet, but that never really went away. “Not anymore. I like it here. There’s always people around and something to do, and I don’t have any friends on Dragonstone.”
For a while, she was the one who felt like your mother. And when you went back home, you had trouble getting used to your own again. Selyse was quiet as well, she loved you but was never very affectionate and neither was your father. Things between you both never really got any better after that. Then one day Catelyn started to pull away as well. Not knowing what prompted it yourself, but you were twelve and visiting Winterfell again, it was well past midnight, so your nameday had just passed.
You and Jon had snuck out when everyone was asleep. It had been his idea. All but sneaking into your room right before you fell asleep, tossing a cloak of his at you and dragging you out of bed. A short ride on horseback to a lake nearby, he was fourteen already and sometimes had to take the reins himself to bring out your more adventurous side. Saying he never got to spend time alone with his best friend anymore. And when you teased him, “So is that my gift, Snow? Being allowed to call you my best friend? I am so greatly honoured-” He hadn’t thought twice about hoisting you up and tossing you in the lake, him following soon after.
The next day, Catelyn was a little different. A little colder to Jon then normal, and a bit stern towards keeping you focused on your tasks. Not a clue that Catelyn had spotted you both coming back. Her putting a bit more of a wall up when she recognized the evidence of him having a crush. Clear as day to her when finally seeing how physically affectionate Jon was with you, when he thought you two were alone.
It wasn’t your fault, you were the only girl both eldest boys spent most of their time around in such a consistent manner, and Robb had mentioned to his mother that he told no one he liked you until confessing in that very moment. Ned had told Catelyn to leave them all be, saying that if Robb wanted to pursue something he would do it respectfully at his own pace. While keeping from her himself, that Jon's crush wasn't new, that Jon had been the one with feelings for you since he first damn well laid eyes on you, so stopping that crush was a solid impossibility.
You were younger then the boys as well. They were both over fourteen and you had only just turned twelve. It wouldn’t be for another two years until you bled for the first time, and another two years after that before you had a single romantic interaction in your life.
Yet still, none of those stood out in impact of your time in Winterfell.
The strange part though, was how it wasn’t Jon or Robb either. Of course as a child, you had no way of ever predicting the life which would spin itself around you all in painful manners of blood.
They had become some of the biggest aspects of your life, both boys deeply curious to get to know the Southern girl who had collapsed ill on her first day in their home. Robb boisterous and eager to lead a new friend into showing you the way Northerners did things. Jon was more quiet and preferred to be the one to help ease you into the more difficult parts of being in such a new place all alone.
Early on there was no distinction between the two. As close with one as the other. Robb would often find ways to get you both into trouble, and Jon would be the one to pull you into the shadows to keep from being caught in the first place. It had been strange for them when you left. Only eight you had no understanding of if this was a place you’d be allowed to go back too, and while they would be left with each other they knew you were going home to a more difficult family and no one to remind you to have fun once in a while.
Not that he told anyone, and of course Jon had naturally treasured every second with his brother, but he liked that you were both a kind of outcast. This wasn’t your home, and Catelyn wished it weren’t Jons but together you enjoyed the quiet and didn’t have to care about those things. Winterfell was a lot more lonely for him when you left, and when they learned the day you were coming back, Jon, almost twelve by then, could have cried. Only realizing in that moment did he think he would never see you again.
A common thread in Jon’s life with you it seemed.
But still, friendships, and love, and marriage. Blood, loss, death and a strange renew of life you still could recall one day so clearly you could hear him speaking to you.
A month your first stay in was when you encountered a deserter from the Night’s Watch. Despite Catelyn’s deep protests, Ned had told Ser Rodrick to get you ready to join them. “Lord Stannis did not send her here to be coddled, Cat. She won’t be this young forever. If it scares her, then she needs to learn to face those fears.”
You had been very quiet on the ride out. Ned had been accompanied by Ser Rodrick, Jory, and two others you hadn’t known the names of as you rode, following in the back beside Robb and Jon. Both whom had been through this before, in fact it was their third time.
Robb was a little less comforting, but he also knew that one day he would have to take over as Lord, and wanted to ensure he was as calm as his father was, taking most of his energy to keep himself collected. Jon watched you a little bit closer. You looked smaller then ever amongst them all in such a large clearing of land. It stuck out to Ned as well, bright eyes and stood shorter then even his boys.
But you came close. Didn’t shy away in the back by the horses, instead up close and still silent. Robb was off to the side, adjacent to his father as the guards brought the man forth. Your eyes narrowed as he rambled. Covered in grime and dirt he looked like what they described as wildlings but draped in black leathers. You couldn’t even remember what he had said, looking so intensely at the wooden platform he was knelt over and the dark stain under it from times before.
Pulling out Ice, a great sword of Valyrian steel and pointing the blade into the ground, Lord Stark leaned over it’s hilt and spoke quietly his sentence of death. Stepping up right beside you as he did so, Jon was close enough you could feel his warmth. Voice very quiet as he asked, “Is this your first time seeing something like this?”
You could only nod, looking at the bloody wood and the great size of Ice. He had leaned in more, voice quieter even to ensure it was only for you. “The first is the scariest, but it’s important you watch.”
He stood right by you as Lord Stark brought the sword down and in one seamless slice did the man’s head come off. Dropping to the ground as the blood behind in the place it once sat dripped profusely down. In the instant it severed, you didn't close your eyes, but you did flinch, not realizing you instantly grabbed Jon’s hand as your stomach dropped at the sight. Jon held it back right away.
Quietly muttering your name with comfort he told you, “It’s alright, you did good for your first time.”
Looking down you only then realized you had grabbed his hand and wide eyed dropped it taking a step back with a mumbling apology. Your own father had always told you it was important you stand on your own with those sorts of things, and you were embarrassed at likely annoying the black haired boy with your childishness.
As Lord Stark approached, Jon took his leave to join Robb by the horses. The man kneeling down to your level with a deep rumble in his voice that held none of the coldness lessons from your father always had. “Do you understand why I did it?”
He was taken in that moment by your wide eyes and small voice. Not yet knowing two daughters was in his future he felt both the pull of teaching you duty, and comforting a little girl. “He broke the law.”
Nodding, he leaned a bit more in. “He did, but the question was not why did he have to die, but why I must do it?” You shook your head an honest no.
It was those next few exchanges that stuck so heavily with you. Something you thought about for that entire ride back, all through your supper and there still as you later drifted off to sleep. “Many King’s and Lord’s have men who do this for them. But we see things differently here. We hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eye’s and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man doesn’t deserve to die.”
Biting your lip, you nodded but clearly something else was in your thoughts. He stayed knelt there waiting for you to feel ready to ask it. “Will I have to do it one day?”
Lord Stark ran a hand over your head, and gently down your hair. “I can’t say for sure if you will. You’re Lord Stannis’s only child which means if you have no brothers, his duties will fall onto you some day. And you will be the one having to make the hard decisions.”
He watched your eyes drift to the men cleaning up what remained of the blood and body before finding his eyes again. Clearly you were a small, sheltered girl hidden away on a grim island with what Ned knew for a fact was a not very affectionate father. Truth be told, if he could have simply kept you in Winterfell with his sons, he would have. “Is it supposed to feel so scary?”
The bit of fear was in your eyes, but you held it out of your person well. “Taking a life should never be done with pleasure. But even in fear you must never look away. A leader who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.”
You never told your father about that day, you didn’t want him to be angry and it worried you that meant you would never go back to the North again. But as you stood there that day so many years from that memory, it was something you hadn’t forgotten. That you couldn’t just look away because it scared you, even when you saw the fires and heard the chanting in your mind.
It had arrived in the early hours of morning with a short scribbled letter. “Bring me my bride, bastard. Bring me her and I will give you back your brother with his head still attached. Keep the whore from me any longer, you will watch my hounds fuck her bloody and feed you to them.” The one that sat in front of you though sent you back into the flames, and the chanting. The horror of a night and an image that made you so ill you dared never think of it.
But as in that box, sat the rotting, thick blooded head of a black direwolf you couldn’t stop yourself from seeing that true horror. You knew such a fate couldn’t happen again. Ramsay would put you through a torture getting his hands on you, but you couldn’t see another Stark strung up and mutilated, parts of his own wolf shoved onto what they cut off and parade it around like a spectacle. Not again.
It had come in the early hours of the morning, a chest of sorts that reeked so heavily it made the Glover’s suspicious in it’s contents. Now it sat open on the table for everyone around it to look at in their own horror. Or in Jon’s case, a rage blazing behind his eyes as they debated around him what coarse of action to take, interrupting the current train of arguing doubt with a frustrated, “What am I supposed to do then?”
Debate had begun on if it was a trap, if walking into it was wise, and if he was telling the truth. Back and forth about the kind of person Ramsay was, how much he would stick to his word when the truth was it was impossible to tell. He was erratic, and his thirst for cruelty meant he had no bounds to keep his person within. Little else would ever drive him but the ravings of a monster that even after everything you could not predict.
Galbert Glover tried with confidence, but it was not bought by any. “We gather more men, we rally the Houses you’ve reached out to and overwhelm their own.”
Running through your mind, there were only so many that you could get to before pushing the time too far. Jon on his own, agreed. “How long will that take? You think the Bolton’s are going to wait for us to be ready? If Ramsay knows where we are, their armies will too.”
“Where’d he even find him? You both standing there telling us he’s alive but where would he even have found the boy when no one else knew where he was?” None had been able to figure that out initially, at least with the resources available but if they had sent men out before to hunt the boys down once then they likely did it again when no word was spoken of the matter.
Robett Glover looked to his brother with a knowing glance before turning to you. “Not many of the Houses under them are there willingly and they don’t have enough men on their own to escape them, but there is one that would have reason to side against you.”
Your eyes slipped shut, bracing your palms on the table with a deep sigh knowing the answer was far easier to sniff out then one may figure. The last time any had seen Bran, he had said that Rickon was being taken east to hide and there were two houses to the east that would have had the ability to search for the boy. And between them, there was only one that had proven they had the audacity.
“Kill me and be cursed.”
He was right in the end. Robb’s end was a horror and now you continued to feel the ripples of how unstable the Karstark’s had become near the end of the war. Your voice was quiet as you glanced back up to the open chest. “Well, we executed his father. So it seems to be he’s decided to take it out on the only Stark they could get their hands on.”
Jon and Theon both remained in the dark, having no proximity to the events you were discussing. Galbert Glover shook his head. “Bunch of oathbreakers, they are.”
Closer to you, Maege Mormont tried seeking your attention but it was trained on the blood in front of you all. “If he’s fool enough to think this is vengeance for his father, someone should remind the boy how old those Lannisters were.”
The rain was so heavy that day, the sky grim and cloudy as so few stood in that clearing as Robb executed Rickard Karstark. The undeniable rage in his eyes only after it was done, holding off so heavily from showing those feelings to stay composed in front of his men. He understood the weight of the choice you both had made, and yet it seemed the Karstark’s still didn’t.
“It’s not about Rickon. It’s about me.” Jon’s eyes trained up to you in a sharp glare that you worked very hard to not look at. “He can’t blame Robb now that he’s gone, but I’m alive which means the Harald Karstark can take it out on me. And he knows sending me back there is vengeance enough.”
It was on the tip of your tongue, but you knew it would cause an argument. You knew too well in fact that Jon would not stand there and let you say it, not make that choice but there was nothing else that was fair. “Why would Roose Bolton allow any of this? He’s smarter then to send out this kind of threat.”
Theon had a point, he was far smarter then this. Smart enough neither his King or Queen suspected his treachery until it was deep in your stomach. But there was one more thing in that chest that you hadn’t brought up. The one thing that you didn’t want to look at more then the direwolf’s head and it was the same thing that gave you that sensation in your stomach.
A dagger had been stabbed in the edge of the chest, keeping the note visible in place. It sat in front of Jon currently, being the one to unthinkingly pull it out to read the letter for himself when you both had arrived in the hall. You wanted to throw up thinking about it, but you couldn’t stop looking at it and unlike many times before out slipped words you couldn’t prevent.
“Theon’s right. Roose is far smarter then to do any of this, but he only let it happen because he wasn’t there to stop Ramsay from sending this one.” The group following your eyes to not the note but the knife with blood dried. Most had thought it was the wolf’s blood on it. Technically, that was true, but it also was yours.
Jon standing a little straighter as he looked to you. A warning that you refused to look at in his eyes and your name slipping sternly from his mouth. “This isn’t about-”
“Except that it is. They don’t have Tywin Lannister lording over their rule. They wanted me to marry Ramsay knowing that if I gave him an heir, then they have something to back their claim. But without that...” You looked at everyone but him, you didn’t want him to so easily recognize the conclusions you were already drawing yourself towards. “Then Roose’s son with Walda Frey would inherit the North..and if I recall he didn’t exactly take too well to the news of her carrying a boy did he?”
Theon dropped his head, “No. He didn’t. As a matter of fact I think he just might have been angry over it.” The look you both shared was dreadfully morose.
Galbert Glover nodded. “Roose Bolton doesn’t give a damn about anyone that gets in his way. You were a valuable hostage and without you then he doesn’t care about finding a new wife for the boy. Wouldn’t put it past him to take away that legitimacy the second he found out about that letter he sent your way.” Gesturing across the table to Jon.
His own hands were clenched hard enough you could see the strains in his knuckles. “If it’s only him, and he gets you back, then he thinks he has the North.” You watched with a still expression, made of stone and trying not to show anything. “He has to have Rickon then. Knows there is no chance I’d hand you over until I could see my brother with my own eyes.”
Maege was strict in her tone, a scolding that was not often heard on her. “We aren’t handing her over period.” Jon met her eyes, offended that she thought he for a second had considered the idea as she caught on quick. “I meant no disrespect, but this isn’t a negotiation, it’s a fight. Just because nothing’s been done about it yet, doesn’t make you any less the King’s heir. And even if you take it, she’s no less the Queen we chose.”
Biting your tongue hard as your eyes slipped closed before reopening. You shook your head slightly with a low tone of warning in your throat. “Maege-”
Quick though, she turned to you with a point and a set wild in her eyes. “No, shut up.” Were it anyone else, they may not have gotten away with that. “Trading one hostage for another didn’t do us any damn good last time, and we aren’t willingly doing it now.”
“She’s right.” You didn’t look at him, you didn’t want to hear about whatever this was going to turn into, and knowing full well Jon was about to keep you all but sewn to his side to prevent you from leaving on your own to do this. “I’m not offering you up to him. If I’m willing to fight for you, I’m willing to fight him for my brother too. But if we do this, we have to do it now.”
Robett tired to protest, “They have horses, weapons, everything we don’t have but numbers. We march on Winterfell now and we’re asking to lose.”
A rise in his voice, flaring a temper you knew Jon was struggling to contain. “We don’t have time. I can’t spend the next few weeks gathering more then when Ramsay has my brother. What about when he sends us something else next time, and it’s whatever he’s chopped off of Rickon? Am I still supposed to wait it out and hope we have enough?”
Voice so clear in your ear, warm but roughed with a strain of frustration as you lived it once more.
“Father rots in a dungeon, how long before they take his head?”
Your own voice finally echoing the words floating in your mind. “Jon’s right. We need to meet with Ramsay, and we need to do it now.” Finding Jon’s eyes they softened a tad towards you. “We never made it to your father when we had the chance, and we had far more time then we do here. The longer we take, the more likely he’ll kill Rickon out of anger.”
Something needed to be said between you, but there was nothing that you would do here. Neither arguing with the other in front of people, and you both hated the possibility one was coming the second you two were alone. But for now, Jon looked at you with a quiet certainty before turning to the others. “We leave as soon as we can. Ramsay doesn’t have the numbers and that’s going to have to be enough for us. I’ll speak to Tormund, make sure the free folk understand what we're walking into.”
Both Glovers and Maege nodded, not questioning that they took orders from Jon in the same way that they had once done Robb. You could almost see the traces of a title on their tongues that Jon had not yet accepted.
Jon called your name as soon as you turned to leave with the rest. Pausing mid step and turning to look back at him, reading the demand you come over to him in his eyes. Glancing at Theon with a flicker of your eyes to the door, he got the message. Leave and shut it behind you.
Standing in the middle of the room hoping he would just say it, and not make you come over to him to hear it. Only Jon could play this game of waiting even longer then you could. Perhaps over a minute passed when you relented, turning to better look at him only to find his eyes trained on the direwolf’s head. Footsteps echoing in the empty room as you approached, closer to his side then you were before.
“If I’m fighting for him, I’m fighting for you too.” His hand tracing the edges of the chest before swallowing harshly and slamming it shut. Unable to stand the sight any longer, no doubt imagining a horror as you were. What if it was the other wolf’s head he sent next. Trying to say his name, he interrupted you as his face twisted in frustration.“Let’s say I give you up, trade you to Ramsay for Rickon, do you really think he’s going to hold up his end and not kill him and the rest of us anyways?”
Arms crossing in front of your chest you shrugged. “Isn’t it worth the risk.”
You wished he had more of an outburst. Slam his fist into the table, yell at you, get angry. Anything but the quiet and almost heartbroken look he gave you instead. “I’m not letting you kill yourself by sending you back to the man who made you want to do it in the first place. You’re not going anywhere.”
“We could end this war right now, boy.”
That’s what he had said. Standing bloody and tied up in front of you and Robb, looking him in the eye saying that it could be that easy. But Robb was smart enough to know that wasn’t the case, smart enough to know that beating Jaime Lannister in a final one on one wouldn’t stop the rest of the Lannisters from coming after them anyways.
“It would save a lot of our own men’s lives. We need numbers for more the just this, only here we have a chance to trade thousands for one.” Jon pushed off the table, turning away from you as he ran a hand over his mouth. Pacing mindlessly to the opposite end of the room as you stepped only a few feet closer. “Maybe this is what’s right.”
Turning to you, his eyes were glaring and his brows narrowed in anger. “And how would you know that?” Face only twisting a little downward at this words he continued to pace. “To you what’s right is always throwing yourself down first to make it easier for everyone else. When all it’s done is make you feel worthless. You mean something to other people.”
Moving to lean against the table, you crossed your arms fixing to a point on the floor that didn’t hold anything that mattered. Hearing him come around the other side of the table, ending up closer to your left. “Not more then your own family.”
You could feel him before you saw him come into the side of your vision, always giving off such a warm heat that you could melt within. Jon’s own arms crossed as he looked to nothing as you did. “Rickon’s my little brother, and I’m going to go get him. The same way I tried to go get you when I found out you were alive. You’ve been just as important to me since the day you stepped foot in Winterfell.”
It was a rainy night when Robb told you that story. One that had been withheld from you for so long to not make you uncomfortable. “Robb said you were the one who looked after me, when I was sick.”
Jon nodded, both of your hearts heavy but maybe that would be a feeling that never went away after losing him. “I did. Watching you for three days because your fever was so bad I was scared you’d die the minute I looked away, and I’m just as scared now. Scared if I leave you alone for too long, you’ll wind up dead again or leaving because you think loving you is a burden.”
Only able to see part of him from the side as you glanced, you sighed deeply without any ability to refute it. “I wasn’t trying to make you choose between us.”
So badly Jon wanted to reach out, run a hand along your hair and down your spine but touching you when you were this dispondant was too risky to do. Not knowing if you’d flinch away from it. But his eyes had slid up to watch you trying not to watch back. “I know.”
The quiet was almost something like comfortable for a moment before you pushed off the table. “We should get to work, if we leave at dawn maybe it’ll take us a few days. If it doesn’t start snowing again at least.”
Jon called your name one more time, pausing you in your steps but instead of waiting for what he wanted to say, you felt him come up behind you. Not quite pressed against your back, but close enough your senses felt overwhelmed by him. His hands ever so slowly reaching around, running gently along your waist until one hand reached where he knew the scar was, and felt a slight tremble in you. Leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your neck you exhaled with a shake.
Didn’t push more into you or let his hands grow with greed. Only making you feel weak in your stance as he so lightly pressed his lips up a path from your neck so he could rasp in your ear. “One of us needs to tell him before we leave.” Perhaps it seemed, a little greed slipped through, the hand tracing your scar moving with a more firm hold on your hip as he stood an inch closer. Making your eyes close at the feeling. “I can-”
You shook your head, dizzy from how close he still was to you. “It should come from me. I sided against him before, meaning I know what to expect in telling him I’m doing it again.”
Jon’s brows narrowed, unhappy at the prospect but he had Stannis had come to an agreement over you, one that he had yet to really explain himself on. But your safety was paramount, even against your own father. Though if he were being honest, it was less of an agreement and more of a thinly veiled threat. Not something to be proud of, but he refused to give any a chance to hurt you again. “Come find me when you’re done. Okay?”
He didn’t move his hands or step away when you nodded, sighing lightly you breathed out, “I will.” And only then did he let you go. The more you two let whatever this was grow, the more you both were realizing it was a little...a lot more intense then the love you shared in innocent times. Something that clouded you when you were close to him like a buzz from too much wine, that only burned hot in your veins for him.
But you had to shake it off. Afterall, it was a burning Stag that you were about to face and he would take far less kindly to things then Jon did hearing it for himself. The halls of Deepwood Motte echoed in your ears as you made your way through them, knowing that where you’d find your father would be away in his own camp, making plans for his own army that you knew wouldn’t include you. But he had to accept this. Had to accept he was striving towards a goal he could not reach.
The North wouldn’t have him, because the North had a King. And now the one they were waiting for certainly wasn’t going to come from an outsider. No one cared about them until it was strategically advantageous for them, and that was the problem. They chose Robb because he was one of them, he cared, and it was their livelihoods he fought for. And all of those traits were shining brightly in Jon no matter what he tried to dispute.
Deep in your mind, you knew there was still something left in your father that could make him a good King, but you needed him to grasp what he had scolded you for. He was going to have to accept a broken Kingdom, because the fight the North was in, was for each other, and for survival against threats beyond the Wall. They wouldn’t return willingly to the Seven Kingdoms, not when the cold in the air was only going to get worse.
Not when the North was going to be the first line up against what was coming. They couldn’t afford to kneel to fights that had nothing to do with them anymore. Fighting for Stannis Baratheon meant later fighting for whatever cause he pledged them too on his own. That willingness died the second Greatjon Umber pulled his sword out, and pointed it at Robb with a passionate deceleration.
“There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to.”
But as you stepped outside, looking to the people all around it was hard to deny that even those who would not look to Jon as their King, he was still the leader they believed in.
“And how do you know know if he is telling the truth? Wouldn’t be hard to lie, the boy has done it before.” Your palm ran up to your forehead pressing harshly against it in frustration. Stannis calling your name to look at him, you let it drop down to your side once more turning back to look a him. “All I’m asking is how can you be sure.”
Your eyes painting over as you once more saw the bloody horror inside the chest with no doubt about whose it belonged to. “It was Rickon’s direwolf, Theon and Jon both knew what he looked like there is no mistaking it. Unless he caught a miracle and found the head of another black direwolf to send as a mocking.”
Your father watched you carefully, noting the agitation in your posture. Leaning back in his seat a small bit, he looked once more like there was no hope in your ask. There was hardly ever any, normally sending you off with a dismissal no matter what it was towards. “I don’t imagine he is going to give you up that easily, you’re heading to Winterfell for a battle.”
Neither confirming nor denying, you only positioned your hands at your hips one knee bending slightly trying to find the right string of words to place after one another. “First light of dawn, the men and the free folk all know to be ready. We push hard enough, we may be able to make it there in three days time.”
Straight to the point your father, “Neither of you have come asking for my help.” Your eyes only narrowing the very slightest of bits, at least fully aware at your father would catch it out of everyone. A remaining trait between you. The only ones who could still read the other like a book. “The wildlings came here to fight the same fight I was, what reasons would they have for not following now?”
Truth was that, he was just not a man they would believe in. You wanted to, truly you did. Those many years ago in King’s Landing as you and Ned Stark looked to each other as the only ones fighting for the right claim to the Iron Throne. But those days were long gone, and too much had happened to push it all back to that now. It was impossible.
“The only way you are willing to find allies is if they respect your rule. Your claim. Trying to do the right thing, but you’ve shown them no reason to believe in you.” Pausing, you let the air in your lungs tighten as it approached your mouth. “Jon doesn’t want them to kneel for him, they don’t need to, to have a leader they can rally around.”
Father and daughter both keeping your eyes as still as possible, letting him connect those dots all on his own. He reached it likely already, but he was a man who needed to stew on things before blurting out the first in his mind. “And why would anyone kneel for him?” The condescension of someone who figured it out but would make you say it.
That habit was a lot more endearing on Robb then it currently was on your father.
Head tilting to your feet, eyes closing as long as it took to inhale before you matched your father right in the eye. “All of the Northern high lords signed off on Robb’s will before...” Your heart still plummeted, that knife sitting on the table mocking you for how you could still see it’s final act. “It outlined his decrees of inheritance, including his line of succession. Who would take over after him.”
“The Northerners have yet to claim anyone as their King, only your the Queen that remains to them. You don’t see fit to take that role of leader for yourself?” It itched in the back of your mind, that he was testing you. Shireen was gone, meaning you were his last living child. Renly was gone and had no children of his own, and the only remaining Baratheon’s would be those surviving somewhere in these lands forced to call themselves a bastard.
Stannis was trying to gauge if you had any willingness to take the Iron Throne after him.
If you took the North, you might be open to taking the rest of them he likely figured. Only you shook your head. “No. Robb trusted me, we were at war and we worked together. But he was King. He was their leader. I am not the Queen who gets to rule on her own, after her King’s death.”
Robb spend no time ensuring you were supported and listened too, but his word was final no matter what and you wouldn’t have spent so much time on his will if it were to only survive through you. You inheriting the North was only a possibility if your son had lived. And even then, you would still be here, because someone would have to be King until little Ned was of age.
You weren’t Cersei. You were not going to just place your sons on into a Kingship no matter how old they were. That was a making of disaster. No matter what those around you may claim, children deserved to stay children. Tommen sat on the Iron Throne now but it was Cersei in charge. Gods, Tommen was what? Eight when you last saw him in Kings Landing?
You could hardly picture what he and Myrcella both would look like now. Myrcella would be verging on womanhood in some time. By her next name day she would be fifteen, Tommen thirteen. At those ages you were still carefree enough to run around the wolfswood with the Starks, stay up until you and Robb were caught trying to sneak wine out of the kitchens. Even if your son had lived, you wanted him to experience those things, live a childhood they deserved.
Stannis watched you lost in thought, were he a better father he would have found some way to assure you, comfort you through these struggles. But he wasn’t. From everything he had heard both from Winterfell and the months in Kings Landing, the man who acted more as a father to you then anyone was Ned Stark. “Who then?”
Inhaling a breath you just smacked your palms in defeat against your thighs as you dropped them from your hips. Looking at your father with a plain honesty. “Robb named Jon as his heir. To be King in the North after him.”
He may have seen it coming, but hearing the truth of it was another matter you suspected. His silence and cold stare hadn’t changed much at all but you could see the cogs turning behind his face. “And how many of these Houses know that he’s left the Night’s Watch for this cause?”
Running in your mind the list and picking out the few that was written off as to not cause disruption in the more loyal ranks to the Boltons. “Most. Save for House Karstark and a few smaller houses. Chopping Rickard Karstark’s head off seems to still be a sore spot for them, reaching out seemed like a risky idea but most others have gotten our calls. None will be able to get to Winterfell before we do, but we can’t risk Rickon’s life in hope’s of waiting for those brave enough to come.”
The silence in the tent was thick, a stifling air that could choke if either of you breathed it in. Once more you stood across from your father, at the side of a King that was not him and saying they will still not kneel anyone but their own King. None had called Jon King yet, but everyone was starting to feel it. The more in command he took, the more everyone saw their leader.
“You understand what this means right?”
Nodding, your face twisted into a harshness. “I do.” Looking to meet his eyes, you found no fear of what he would do this time. Nor did you think if he wanted to, did he have the courage now that he was forced to look you in the eye as he would do so. “I swore my life to the last King in the North, and I didn’t sign in agreement on the next only to betray him for the father I was ready to fight against.”
Looking down, his voice was a bit more rough and strained. “I’m not asking you to betray him. I’m asking if you understand this means I cannot fight with you. I don’t need another leader to follow or to run off alongside. I needed an ally in the North. If he is a King, he’s not an ally.”
“No, in your eyes he’s an adversary.”
As they flew back up to you, whatever was built between you two in the short time you had seen each other again was burning out right before your eyes. If he truly wanted to fight for the threat that matters, then this wouldn’t be so hard for him to accept. But he still was the same man as before. Still the man who stood across from you and Robb saying that he will destroy you.
Opening his mouth to speak, you shook your head. “I don’t have time for this. I left a Stark behind once and he lost his head for it. I’m not doing the same thing again for Rickon. With or without you, we leave at first light.”
Coming out into the cloudy sky, you sighed to yourself. Feeling a dizziness wash over you while you stood there. Once more letting your hand press firmly against your forehead as the pain increased as the racing agitation in your heart.
You had begged Renly not to declare himself King, told him to not break apart this family more then it already was becoming. Perhaps it was meaningless ask. House Baratheon already doomed to split apart and fight against one another in one manner or another. He told you to pick a side, to think about what family you were trying to keep together.
But the only family you had that felt like it, was Shireen. Now, only three of you were left, and everything between you all was without any love. The only family that remained to you were the ones fighting for each other. Not against.
Sitting by the free folk in a tense quiet, did he approach. The one person on the other side you knew without a doubt you were going to miss. Sitting beside you, both watching the camp in quiet as you both contemplated what to say. You gave him a break, starting first time time around. “I’m sorry to see you go, Ser Davos. It’s been a long time since I got to spend any time with you.”
His voice was a bit lighter then yours, not weighed down by onslaughts of problems one after the other that never ended. Just a few personal ones he kept close to his chest. “Easy for you to forget, but I’ve known you since you were a girl. Watched you go from a shy thing too afraid to make friends to a Queen in the North. You’ve done well for yourself.”
Leaning forward, your arms resting against your knees as your hands stayed clasped together. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
Positioning himself enough to still be within your vision, staying with his eyes outward to the same sights you were. “Hardly ever does. I tried to murder the red woman, got thrown in a dungeon by your father and next thing I knew he had renamed me Hand of the King. Success for people like us rarely comes at a pretty price.”
You hadn’t said anything, and you suspected he didn’t want to talk about it as much as you didn’t yours, but leaving him with nothing felt wrong. Not picking up that it was the same words as your father, only the emotion behind it was held back with an obvious weight that hurt more then you could pretend it didn’t. “I’m sorry about Matthos.”
Inhaling deeply beside you, there was a glad feeling that it was shared, but also one that knew how hard it would be to say anything further on it. “And I’m sorry about yours.”
Swallowing harsh, your eyes stung wishing they would let them fall. “It’s not anywhere near the same as your loss, but thank you. I take it my father told you?”
“He did. Wasn’t too happy about being kept in the dark, but I also think somewhere deep down he knew something like this was inevitable.” Nodding, your hands clasped together tightened around what it was holding, willing yourself to do it already. Give it up to someone who would keep it safe as he continued beside you. “Your mother isn’t pleased.”
“She rarely is.” Now that got a bit of a huffing laugh from Davos. Pulling only a tiny smirk from you in return. “She thought she lost me, then her husband, Shireen...but she always had a purpose beside him. Was loyal to him, and she should keep that. Give her something proper to hold onto.”
He was looking at you, but you not brave enough to look back. “And what about you? What belief now is keeping you going?”
Maybe you knew, maybe you didn’t but the answer felt strange to admit all the same. So you shrugged in response. “Only the gods know that now.” Fiddling with the bag you finally leaned back, turning partially to him. “I have something for you, before we leave.”
Gently, you opened your hands and moved them over to him. Taking him a good minute to open the small pouch to see, slowly as he knew what was in there, but having to be sure. Saying your name in protest you shook your head. “No, I want you to take her. She was like a daughter to you, and I know you’ll keep her safe.”
Holding it in his hand, he turned it around to look it all over as if it would show you anymore of her then the small bits. “Why not take her with you? She always wanted to go with you to visit Winterfell, after all.”
You shook your head, hoping to not hear the toxic words in your ear. “We’re walking into a battle with no idea if we can win it or not. If I die out there then she’s just lost to the ground. If Ramsay gets me back...I refuse to let any part of her be around him. Ever.” Finding his eyes proper, and as much ran through his in pain as yours tried to hide, but your voice broke all the same. “Take care of her for me.”
Moving to stand up abruptly, Davos followed suit calling your name. Looking back, you both found no ire for standing on different sides of this mess. Finding the other in a hug, he held you close as you found the sound of a father’s care in his voice. “You and Jon go reclaim your home, and I’ll bring her there to visit myself.”
Nodding you held tighter for a moment. Tired of leaving and losing things left to care about.
The closer you got to Winterfell the more everyone could tell there was something deeply wrong in the air. You had grown to be dead silent during the day, and the normally endearing brashness of the free folk only served to further worsen your head. The cold hardly feeling like it touched you anymore and only found itself further freezing soon as it reached your heart. Clouds were mostly grim, and even though in some places the snow wasn’t any more prominent then a sprinkling on the ground you found it’s once beauty to return to darkness.
It was that first snow storm that blew in not long after arriving in Winterfell. It was that which you would find yourself staring out into, the small pockets of quiet you were trusted to be by yourself with only to know it was because the only other option was death in the drastic drop below. The fear from the rush of how high up the one you and Theon had to make was minuscule in the grand image.
Only a few horses were within your ranks. Not nearly what would match Ramsay’s men. He had not the numbers, but the weapons and the strength. You only had so many, less then a hundred up against the many hundreds if not close to thousands in his. No doubt having taken the time to rip away your chances of finding enough on your own.
The free folk were fierce, and Jon was a great commander but you were walking into a bloodbath and you all knew it. The kind of bloodbath you desperately wished Jon would let you prevent. Maybe he would keep his word, if all he cared about was getting back what he lost, maybe you would be enough and Rickon could live without doubts.
But Jon still kept you close to his side in the journey. Refusing to allow you alone, and certainly not alone with a horse. You’d ride off the second you did and Jon knew it. If he wasn’t there it was Ghost, and if Ghost wasn’t there it was the large imposing form of Tormund who would no doubt just toss you back with no effort.
Let him take you, let him do whatever he wants and maybe this didn’t have to end the way it was going to. Whatever your odds were, you didn’t look at them with promise. Numbers didn’t mean anything, you knew that too well. For three years you had the least amount of numbers rallied behind Robb and he lead them to every victory. Ramsay wasn’t a commander, but he had the strength, and he certainly had the brutality.
The night before you would arrive at Winterfell was awful. You wanted to throw up, maybe scream while the entire time you saw the same in Theon. The nightmare of what you had escaped and now both of you were running right back up to the front door.
“Can I even trust you tomorrow to be on your own horse?” From watching the small fire where you sat away from many, Ghost only a few feet from your feet most of the evening, Jon seemed to have snuck up on you as your mind was too far away. Turning your upper body back and upwards to see him approaching you narrowed your eyes in confusion. Taking no time to sit down next to you as he elaborated. “When we meet with him. Can I trust you with your own horse that you won’t run, or am I putting you on the back of mine where I know you will stay put?”
You looked over at him with a sigh. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”
Exhaling deeply, Jon looked you over before learning to rest his head in his hands. A sinking in his posture as he contemplated the approach. Raising his head enough, he too only watched the flickering of flames in the mumbling quiet of the camp. “I shouldn’t be making you go, after everything he’s done to you, it feels cruel to ask you to come with me. But he needs to see you, see you by my side and not as if you’re some toy we’re fighting over.”
The sting behind your eyes hurt, the prospect of what on earth he was going to say tomorrow perhaps was what frightened you the most. What horror’s would he find to mock with, to taunt, to belittle and shove you back into the ground. What he was going to say about you to Jon?
You nodded, hands clasped in front of you as your head hung in the space between them with a shaking exhale. Your name slipping gently from his mouth, “How well are you going to take it, if I ask you not to fight.”
Your face twisting in a frustration, covering your face entirely in your palms. Trying to maintain a composure of how little you wanted to be here but how important it was that you not abandon him again. “Jon-”
Calling back with your name in the same dismissive tone, “Look at me.” Tearing your head up, you rolled your eyes over to meet his. Jon’s expression full of a love you couldn’t handle right now, and knowing in yours was fear and doubt. “I’m not trying to dismiss you, but if you’re out there how do I know you won’t do anything rash?”
“Like surrender to Ramsay?”
You held a half smirk, he didn’t. “Like surrendering to Ramsay.” Yourself trying to argue that you could still do that from the sidelines but the flashing of something dark in his eyes didn’t go away. “I have one chance tomorrow at settling this peacefully, and if it doesn’t I want you to promise me you won’t give yourself up just to end it.”
A dripping of sorrow was in yours that also sought to plead for him to understand you once last time, only the intensity that pushed the grey into something so dark it was as protective as it was possessive in a way. Looking at the other, none else existing in that camp you both could only hear the dancing of the flames. “I promise.”
No lies found in your eyes, Jon deflated a bit. Braving to run a hand gently over your hair that led to holding tenderly at you jaw. “I won’t ask you to stay out it, but when this turns into a battle I won’t have you out in front.” You opened your mouth and he only pulled you a little closer to his face, “No this isn’t up for debate. You want to be out there, I won’t stop you but you’re not going into the worst of it. I- I’m not going to be able to handle that.”
Your mouth parted slightly as your lungs sunk in your chest. Closing again as you mustered enough of the turmoil inside you to gently reach up, grasping at the wrist attached to the gloved hand at the side of your face. Both inhaling deeply at the feeling as you pushed past the material to run your thumb across his pulse, like you’d done with multiple Starks before it seemed. A reminder of life. Even after death, his ran strong.
“Why do you drive me so crazy?” Jon’s other hand moving to hold the other side, resting your forehead against his as he spoke, before sitting back up, and turning you by the waist to sit more back against his chest. Facing you both out to the fire once more, his hands resting at your waist now and the side of his head pressed into yours. “Feels sometimes as if living without you wasn’t real. Like we were never apart, how easy it was to fall back into it.”
Resting a little bit back, one of his hands slid across your stomach to pull you more upright against him comfortably. “We’ve never had to fall into it. Not really. It always existed between us, only we weren’t old enough to understand for a while.” His hand squeezed your waist more, but said nothing as you both looked just to the fires and ignored the distance that others may look over with. Ghost’s eyes peeled and sharp, as if to tell those to leave you both alone.
His voice was a low rasp in your ear that almost sent a shiver up your spine. “Speak for yourself. I’ve always known you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted. And I’m not about to give you up to someone who hurt you the way he did.”
Heart pausing in a beat, you felt almost a jolt of something pass through your head at the sudden voices and feelings inside. But this time, you could feel and hear it was only Jon behind you, making that your mind’s focus to settle down. “I don’t know what he’s going to say to you tomorrow. He’ll want a reaction, he already knows me, and now he’s going to try and find the right ways to poke at you in just the worst spot.”
Jon hummed, the sound vibrating through your ears and shivering now down your arms this time. “I’ve handled being degraded all my life, I don’t care if he tries to rile me up. Only that it doesn’t hurt you to hear it.” He was watching you more from where he sat behind you, just tall enough that he could watch the troubled clench in your jaw but enough to your level that he could nudge your head with his, leaving a kiss in your hair.
“He’s said a lot of things. Most of it so bad I couldn’t even begin to know where to start..or if I even could.” His heart raced behind the leather armour, knowing the things Theon had told him and how sick it made him feel. A long quiet sat there, only the warmth of him behind and the fire in front keeping you steady. “You’re not allowed to die by the way.” Jon humming in question, “If I’m not allowed to surrender myself to Ramsay, you’re not allowed to die fighting him.”
The hand around your stomach slid across to grasp at your hand, encasing the far smaller one in his as he ran his thumb over your palm. Sighing out dramatically behind, “You come back to me a Queen and now you’re the one barking all the orders.” You breathed out a laugh, and in Jon a deeper one fell much more freely. Pulling your hand up to press a kiss to it before settling it back down on you. “And it’s cute that you think I’m going to listen.”
Turning ever so slightly to try and catch a glimpse of him, “You’re not King yet, Snow. Technically you are still supposed take orders from me.”
Your lungs shook as he pressed another kiss to your hair at the side of your head this time. “Naming you a Stark didn’t make you any stronger. You can try and order me around all you like, but I’m the one here whose strong enough to toss you over my shoulder.” Smiling in a blissful warmth you almost laughed.
“That’s probably true.” You thought of no reasonable explanation as to why you said it, but you did. And as soon as you put it out there you felt the heavens drop down and shine something on you that Jon hadn’t felt in too long. Or ever. “You’re father knew about us.”
Stilling like a stone statue in a second, you could feel the wide eyes behind you with the same that you had that day. Not letting it turn into something warped you continued, “I don’t know for how long, but he knew about us. Said that it didn’t feel good, watching as Robb got one final thing that had always been yours alone. Wondering how different things could have been if he made you a Stark in name, that then there wouldn’t have been anything keeping you from me.”
Jon was silent behind you, nowhere to hide from this one only sat in the others arms for as long as the dark remained above the skies. Choosing the path less full of heavy agony of many ways, Jon rested his head against you almost trying to hide away in your neck. “Would’ve been able to kiss you in public at least.”
Raising an eyebrow, you snapped back, “You don’t even do that now, Snow.”
A full laugh came from him that time, pulling from your neck as it rung in your ears at how little you were graced with the sound. Pulling you a bit more into his chest, his other arm leaving your waist to drape around your stomach, the one still holding your hand dragging up higher on your ribs. “It’s for your own good.” Asking how, he never let that smile leave but his voice was deep in your ear on purpose. “I’m not kissing you until I have you alone in a bed, because once I do you’re not leaving that bed for at least a week.”
That shiver across your whole body he definitely had to have felt. Breathing stuttering as you sighed out in a tensity that he could only have known from those intimate moments together these past weeks. A tiny indicator of amusement in your tone, trying to play it off. “What, are you going to chain me to it?”
Heart spinning in your chest as Jon so confidently whispered, “If you let me.” That one got more of a breathy laugh out of you and grin from him. “No? We’ll work up to it.” Kissing the side of your head once more as if in the private moment here, he was unable to keep away from you.
Neither of you said much more for a long time, you felt no need to. The peaceful quiet with Jon was always something you could count on bringing comfort. Just being near the other was good enough some times. In moments like this it felt like no time or changes have passed, only to feel in your heart that something deeply was different and there was no hiding the desire anymore. Or, Jon simply had found little care anymore in pretending as if it were otherwise.
“Do you ever wish we could go back to that night?” Your eyebrows raised in question, “Our last night together under the Weirwood.”
Truthfully, you hadn’t thought of that night in a long time. You didn’t want to. It was a night you thought was the last time you would truly see each other, and certainly didn’t feel good to think back on it in the worst of days. Biting your lip before shaking your head, you were quiet, almost a whisper just for him. “I don’t think so.” Jon asking why, you took a deep breathe and tried to lean your head back a little more against his in a sort of nuzzle. “Because that was a Jon who didn’t think he was worth enough, one who didn’t think he deserved anything good. Despite everything, the you I found again isn’t like that anymore. You’ve found purpose, you’ve found confidence. These people all look to you as their leader because of it. Going back means I want the Jon then. I loved you then too, but I’m proud of who you’ve become. I wouldn’t want you to lose that.”
You didn’t expect him to reply, and it was likely the most you had said in one go in a number of days now. Once more not a painful quiet, one that you could bask in forever. You wouldn’t want to go back to that night, that was true, but it did remind you of how easy it was to feel so close to him in complete silence. Like being around each other was enough to know what the other was feeling.
Speaking quietly into your ear, there was that hint of doubt, a dash of insecurity that was so much more prevalent in your years before. “You’ve always thought too highly of me.”
Shaking your head firmly, your free hand reached up to grasp his already covering your first hand near your ribs. “No, I haven’t. I’ve always known who you are, who you could be. You deserved the world back when everyone looked at you as nothing more then a bastard. But these people, the Northerners around us wouldn’t have rallied to your side if that was still all you were. You’ve always been so much more then that.”
You could hear him swallowing harshly, throwing down whatever emotions were spilling from them back to their depths. Waiting a good minute before finding the courage to speak again. “When did he tell you? My father, when did he tell you he knew about us?”
The smirk on your face was in no way able to be stopped. What a panic that man sent you into in the worst place possible. “About five minutes before he walked me out to marry Robb.” The stillness that erupted in his body had a burst of a giggle fly out. Catching Jon’s attention who rolled his eyes in a playful spark. “Almost sent me into an early grave.”
Huffing behind you, even through the pain there was something playful in such memories of Ned Stark, this man known for his stern Northern rule who also had a propensity of finding total amusement in his children’s embarrassment. “We have a way with words.” And those words in Jon’s mind always worth it to see that very laugh on your lips just like now. So rare anymore to see or hear it.
Leaning back finally, you rested against him more comfortably. “He would be proud of you, you know? Your father. He would be incredibly proud of the man you’ve become.”
“And I need you to know, I’m proud of you too- no shut up you don’t get a say in how I feel.” Knocking down your instant protests of that with such a genuine casualness that you couldn’t help but just laugh. It had been a long time since either you or Jon could just sit together, joke and laugh and feel like two normal lovers. But tomorrow you meet with Ramsay and the fear in your heart was great. But you knew, that even in fear you must not look away.
Maybe you hoped, you had at least one father in Ned Stark who might be genuinely proud of you.
The sight of Winterfell once more filled with dread instead of the once lifting feeling of relief. A place you once could only feel home, and yet all you could see looking at it anymore was a pitiful reminder of how far you’d fallen to. Snow having clear enough that there was a clearing of grey scattered around the clearing to the South.
Much like the last time, your group had arrived first. To his word the night before, Jon kept you on the back of his own horse. You had wished you were trustworthy enough to have your own, but you understood his misgivings over it. Jon knew too well that you would rather send yourself back into a hell instead of a fight. Ensure Rickon’s return for yours. But he didn’t trust you, and so you were kept with him.
Trying to keep it to minimal, you knew Jon was doing his best to present his side as the route to a more peaceful outcome rather then having so many men stand behind. On what horses you had, men of the Mormonts and Glovers followed as did a number of free folk. To your right sat Tormund as well, curious to your deathly silence and almost barley moving. Knowing the very second there was view of them something in your blood would freeze up and threaten to drown you then and there.
Not even the breeze of wind graced you, just a cold that stung through your skin. When they appeared, they seemed to be confident enough not to bring as many men. Perhaps ten at most from what you could see and sure enough, the person of Roose Bolton nowhere to be found within them. Just riding in the middle, a smug smirk from Ramsay himself as he approached.
Eyes looking between you both, as you felt Jon stiffen in front of you. His own gaze sharp and grey bleeding into a darker almost black colour at the sight.
Only men of the Boltons accompanied him, no other houses which may have pledged to his side joined the parlay and you couldn’t help but wonder why. Of course, as they stopped a few meters away from your own group, Ramsay’s pale blues found yours with a sickening pleasure you had known all to well.
Your lungs barley finding any movement within them, having too many times recalled what such a look would normally follow. It was that same look on his face now that he had that first night he came down to the dungeon of the Dreadfort all alone to begin a new nightmare.
Jon spent no energy on courtesies. No civility or neutral greeting as had been the day such a meeting occurred on the opposite end of your father. No, he had not the care to play Ramsay’s games.
Ramsay however always played. A tone of sincerity that was as fake as the air was cold as he looked past Jon to you. “My dear bride, you wound me. Running away only to return to me on the back of a another man’s horse? What would the people think of such behaviour?” His smugness turning to Jon himself, “Come bastard, you’ve brought my bride all this way, now give her to me where she belongs.”
Jon clutched the reigns on his horse a bit tighter in his fist, keeping a stoned expression trained on him without giving much away. “I’ve shown you her, now you show me my brother.”
Tsking at him, Ramsay never once gave up the ruse. It took much to break that joy of cruelty to something more angry and vicious. “Now, it doesn’t work that way does it? You don’t get to see little Rickon until I have her by my side again. This can be easy, bastard. Give me what belongs to me and I give back what belongs to you.”
Jon’s voice was rough, a louder tone to ensure all heard but tinted in a husk of anger. “She’s not your prisoner, and she’s certainly not your bride.”
Raising his eyebrows in a fake impress, your heart dropped realizing the things about to come out of his mouth as his eyes shined with a horrifying glee again looking to you. “My lovely bride, you wouldn’t have happened to play around with other men while you were gone were you? Running from where I’ve given you a home in a nice warm bed right into his, I’m hurt.” You couldn’t tell if you hated how he was trying to rile Jon up through you, or how in a sick way, he wasn’t really wrong.
“She isn’t a toy for you to throw around, and this isn’t your home, Ramsay. It’s mine.” A bit of a fallen expression painted over the man, possessive like the one in front of you but not in a way that was full of a care or love. Just a childish anger of wanting things to belong to him and no one else.
Finding his eyes once more, Ramsay found it in him to give a second’s patience for diplomacy. “It hasn’t been your home for some time, bastard. But I may forgive you for that if you just give me what I want. Hand me my bride, kneel before me, surrender your army, and proclaim me as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. You should be thanking me, I executed the man who murdered your brother, gave justice to how many times he stabbed a knife into my bride’s stomach there. Him and that fat wife of his won’t trouble us any longer.”
Glad for the gloves on your hands so you couldn’t dig your nails deep into your palms, trying to keep calm when all you felt was ill. Jon was equally as tense in his posture, you had been right. Murdered Roose Bolton and that way with you nothing would stand in his way of ruling the North alone.
He found once more, no amusement in Jon’s own response. Finding him to be difficult to manipulate with his words. “We both know why I’m not going to do that.”
“Come, bastard. You don’t have the horses, you don’t have the strength, and the only men at your side are a bunch of savages with no discipline. There’s no need for a battle, get off your horse, return my bride to me and kneel. I will even bring your brother to you myself, alive of course. I’m a man of mercy.”
So this was why he knew to keep you behind him. Your muscles all screaming at you to get off and just go to him, let this be over. If you did it willingly perhaps he wouldn’t even need to submit to him at all, your willingness would be enough. But Jon wouldn’t let you give yourself over, and you knew a strained feeling inside your heart was as close to gratefulness as you could get.
“You’re right. There’s no need for a battle. Thousands of men don’t need to die. Only one of us.” In a real trick of the gods, you suddenly realized too much what Jon was feeling before. Your heart raced almost too fast leaving you lightheaded. Your hands reaching barley forward so he could feel the slight pressure of your fingertips at his back. “Let’s end this the old way. You against me.”
Almost indescribably, did he lean back just the slightest. Even as Ramsay chuckled, you could sense Jon telling you to stay calm, let him handle it. Pale blue eyes narrowing slightly in a curiosity to him. “I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way the people in the North talk about you, you’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don’t know if I’d beat you, but I know my army will.”
Voice not wavering for a second, strong as he sat tall atop his horse, Jon didn’t miss a beat. “Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn’t fight for them?”
A blaze in his eyes send a prickling shiver down your spine, one that you had seen in your more daring of moments. Before he had learned ways to shut you up. Scoffing with what you knew wasn’t a true security in his leadership he played himself off too casually.
“You’re good. Very good. I can see why my bride ran all the way to you. Needs a strong man with enough sense to knock her around. Not just anyone can handle a cunt like hers. Tell me, does she bleed and fight against you as she does with me?” You couldn’t see Jon’s eyes, but you would be willing to wager they were as black as could be if the strain in his shoulders were to go off of. “Do you fuck her like a wolf, bastard? She certainly takes it like one.”
Everyone on your side of the field was horribly uncomfortable. In a way, it sickeningly reminded you of that morning at the Twins. Having to stand in front of Walder Frey and let him look you over like a slab of meat and parade his disgusting interests in front of his family, your army, and Robb himself knowing that saying anything in your defence as he wanted was a mistake.
Jon felt the same, and your insides twisted at what he could possibly be imagining. “I offered you and your men a way out. But I’m not handing her over just for you to torture her more. I know the North as well as you do. Do you really think they will stay at your side after finding out what you’ve done? That they’ll still fight for you, if you murder Rickon?”
Whatever confidence Ramsay was boasting, didn’t seem as confident in the glare he gave Jon in return. More of an anger that was rarely wound up by another in his monster of a mind. “Have it your way. Come morning, we will find out. I hope your men are ready, I haven’t fed my hounds in seven days. They are dying to meet you. Of course, not before I keep you alive just long enough to watch me and my bride consummate our lovely marriage properly. You know as well as I do she's nice and broken in. But I am a generous man, so I'll even let you watch as my hounds give her all a turn before I kill you.”
Never to leave his guard down, Jon had everyone stay in their place as Ramsay so confidently turned to leave. Almost out of sight before you too, made your leave. Once the morning comes, you knew this same field would be drenched in blood, but you had to be ready this time. You’ve been in battle before, only never with such a risk of being on the losing side.
“If he was smart, he’d stay inside the walls of Winterfell and try to wait us out. But he won’t.” Nightfall had fallen upon your army, only a fair few of you still up and rerunning the plans again and again until it was ingrained in everyone’s minds. Charging into a bloodbath, too many scenarios played through your minds and every one had to be planned out no matter how minute.
Lord Glover looking at Jon with the kind of trust you’d seen in the man before, only directed towards another he’d eventually call King. “You don’t think he’d force us into a siege?”
Shaking his head no, voice low but no hesitation. “Most of his men are houses forced to fight for him. If he can make an example out of us, then he knows they won’t turn on him out of fear. He wants it to be a slaughter.”
Your eyes were narrowed, looking over everything laid out to the group almost without blinking, running along the edges where they could come from. Tormund leaning over more looking to Jon with a knowing. “It’s his horses that’s a problem. I know what mounted horses can do to an army. You and Stannis cut through us like piss through snow.”
Your eyes flickered up briefly, before turning back down. Tactic’s running through you head trying to find a solution that even sounded good before speaking up. Your head already hurt, trying to come back into this kind of world after being so drastically torn from it made it feel so much like your first battles all over again. Relying on the skill of others to push you into an idea that could even work.
The conversation around you continued as you leaned over the table silently, “They won’t be able to hit us from the sides.” Jon called your name causing your head to snap up with a bit more intensity in your eyes then perhaps you realized. “Are you with us?”
Gaze drifting to the side, you couldn’t help but recall those days in Riverrun. How full proof the plan was until one thing had taken it all apart, and ended it just before your father had breached the gates of King’s Landing. “They’ll charge at us trying to push us back, but maybe we need to do the same.” Only catching Jon’s eye you spoke with a hesitant pause hoping you made as much sense as the images in your mind. “How long would it take to breach the gate?”
A glint in his eye caught yours, something of an understanding as he answered, “If we have a proper clearing, maybe minutes.” He put the pieces together faster then you did, leaning back up as he looked to the others. “He’ll send his horses into a slaughter because he thinks it will push us back.” His voice trailing off with a lightness, looking at you with a plan the others hadn’t seen yet.
Nodding slowly, you looked to the outlaid plans once more. Finding a voice for the first time in a long time that awoken the memories of what used to be in Maege and Glover. “They’ll attempt to block our path closer, but if we can break that line we can push them right up to the gates. And if we get into the gates?”
“Then it’s over.” Maege finished for you, a proud look on her face. “I knew you were still in there somewhere.” You didn’t quite share the confidence. None of the battles Robb had one had been rushed into knowing a victory, handling every time with as much planning for failure as their was success.
Every time you would get to cocky about your own plans, was the same instances the Stark’s would all knock you into the dirt in the training yard. And Ramsay was confident. He has the advantage of Winterfell, and he has the horses but it also means he thinks there’s nothing for your men to stand up with. Jon had at some point come closer to your side, his tone rumbling in your chest from the proximity. “Ensure all the men out there knows my instructions are clear. I can’t have surprises from them tomorrow.”
Hardly having noticed Theon watching you closely, you also missed the glance between the two of them the former nodding towards you. It was almost an odd dynamic, between the four of you as teenagers it was usually split evenly of Theon and Robb, and Jon and yourself as the pairs. It was a bit odd for Jon, having missed war bringing you two together, and the trauma that bonded it for good
In ways, Theon knew you as well as Jon did. He hadn’t gone into detail so much about what Ramsay had done in specifics, but it was enough to paint the picture to Jon that day in Castle Black. It also was clear, Theon’s quiet was one thing but the fear in his own eyes trying to describe the things you had been through was another.
It wasn’t until you had told him that night in Deepwood Motte, did he learn that Theon would be dragged into the room to watch what Ramsay would do. And judging by how many marks were left on you that first night he truly came back, clearly there was so much worse happening. And it felt strange, knowing that it was Theon who knew it all best, not Jon. Theon had been the one to protect you, get you out of there and instead of returning to his family he betrayed Robb for? He stayed, knowing if Jon were vengeful enough he may have merely acted out Robb’s own execution order for him.
When you came to Winterfell shortly after you turned fourteen, Theon had already been there for about two years. Long enough to lose that initial fear of what may happen to him, and feel more at ease around him and Robb as friends of sorts. Then you showed up, and Jon could still recall how much red was painted over his eyes as he heard Theon remarking about “showing you what a man looks like.”
Robb had been as close to hitting him as Jon had. The two of you were always combative though, always bantering and joking. Many days he and Robb would have their own tasks when it was usually you and Theon whose jobs typically aligned with the other. If he used to feel jealous of what he saw as Robb getting their father’s true attention, it was Theon he was jealous of spending so much time with you day to day.
Standing there, seeing Theon’s eyes trained concerned as you tried desperately to only focus on what was right in front of you instead of the fear to come. It was that same feeling of jealousy in his gut, like no matter what he did Jon would never know you the way others did. Then again, he also wasn’t sure you knew yourself better then others did anymore.
Both men nodded at the other, at the very least, Theon had found himself working to trust your well being with him more freely. Theon could talk you down, but Jon was there to prevent it in the first place now. Most took their leave, save for Tormund.
Raising an eyebrow to him, the larger man asked with a doubtful amusement “Did you really think that cunt would fight you man to man?”
“We could end this war right now, boy. Save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters.”
The same offer, only given by the other side of the fight. Except Jaime was already a prisoner, and the battle already won. Jon next to you though, spoke deep as he glanced from Tormund to yourself. Eyes dark with far too much brewing behind them. “No. But I wanted to make him angry. I want him coming at us full tilt, no tricks waiting for us over the hill.” Turning to glance at you, he looked back to Tormund in finality. “We should all get some sleep.”
Both men nodding to the other, once a threatening dynamic built on lies turned into someone the other had found a deep trust in. “Make sure she does too,” Gesturing towards you, “Need you both sharp tomorrow.”
You hardly noticed it was only Jon left. A true battle oncoming, and sending good men into an undeniable slaughter. You could have been in the war tent garrisoned in Moat Cailin over four years ago and you might not have realized, the anxiety racing just the same.
Only brought back to the world when warmth enveloped your back and two arms came to stretch beside yours, keeping you caged between the table and Jon. A barley there hint of relaxing coming over you at the feeling, but little would make it go away. His voice was low, resting close to your ear almost humming in tone. “We’ve gone over everything as much as we can, nothing left to do but wait.”
Tilting your head barley to one side, but didn’t make any moves to look away. “I can hardly remember when I used to go into these things with any confidence.” Sighing behind you, Jon moved his hands to your hips, adjusting you a bit closer, standing a bit straighter against the wooden surface so he could more comfortably keep you close. “How the hell was I going to do any of this on my own?”
Hands holding your hips a bit tighter, voice lowering more to a rasp that could’ve made you shiver more then the cold air around you. “You were never going to do this on your own. The moment I realized you were alive, I knew ever letting you go was a mistake.” One hand running smoothly from hip to across your stomach and pulling you more back into him, your eyes fluttering shut at the sudden feeling.
Slowly, you let your hands reach up from the table and rest gently along the arm running around your front. “That day on the Kingsroad, I remember this..strange feeling. As if the second I turned from you something in me started screaming. Trying to tell me something was wrong. At the time, I thought that was just what heartbreak was supposed to feel like.” He nodded against the back of your head, prompting you to continue. “But then it kept coming back. Almost as if it were some sign that I was making the wrong choice, or was walking into a trap. I never felt something like that until we finally left, and it hasn’t been back since..since I’ve been back.”
Shivering in his arms as the hand across your stomach begun to stretch and trace along where your scar sat hidden under your layers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. All three of you.” Neither of you spoke about it, about what you had lost from that scar other then your life. You had no way of knowing what to even say to him about it, or anyone. You didn’t want too, but you still felt a sting building up quickly behind your eyes.
Trying to shake your head, shake the water from them too, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to you fast enough to protect you.” Jon trying telling you it wasn’t your job, but you pushed past him. “No, Jon. It is. If you’re supposed to protect me, then I’m here to protect you. That’s what this is. You don’t get to do all the work by yourself.”
Another sigh, this one with enough strength that it was both exhausted yet purposely dramatic. “Did you drive Robb this mad with how stubborn you are?”
Shrugging lightly, you leaned back into him finally. “Sometimes.”
His hand traced along that small area a little firmer, as if wishing he could feel it from over it all. Insecurity once more seeped so lightly into his voice, asking in a whisper, “Can I ask? About him?” Pressing harder into that scar for a second to indicate which he meant.
Your head felt light, for a moment it wasn’t his hand there, it was that warmth pooling of blood that left your body shivering and pale. It wasn’t judgment in your tone, but for a moment you worried it came out as such. “You’ve never asked about him before..why?”
Stilling for a moment before exhaling deeply, the nerves not quite leaving him this time. “I was jealous. Most of my life I never thought too far ahead, life like mine didn’t have much to look forward to. We couldn’t even be together anywhere but completely alone, I knew marrying you was never going to happen. Then I saw you like that in my dream one day, and all I could think about was how jealous I was that it wasn’t mine.”
Biting your tongue, trying to keep the inevitable emotions at bay desperately. But he continued. “Then you and Robb died, and I felt like a horrible person for it. Spent all that time wishing it was mine, and then you lost both of them. After that I don’t think I even knew what to ask.”
You had thought it was Robb’s in that dream, and maybe it was, or maybe it was Jon’s you didn’t really know. That dream of a baby boy was so far away in another life that it was too foreign to remember properly. Yet, you found a smile. Something deep in there was the softness you shared with Robb over it. The only times you two had any happiness before it was all ripped away. “We had names picked out.”
Jon turned a bit to look over your shoulder, a hint of a smile on your face that you never had anymore when talking about Robb. His thumb now gently running across your stomach, not at all realizing it was just the same manner that Robb himself used to do when you were pregnant. “What were they?”
Looking to nothing for a moment, you found the same words you told Robb coming back. “Both you and Robb were named after your father’s closest companions. Jon Arryn named his son after Robert, but neither of them did the same for him. We left for war trying to save him, it seemed only fitting. We had at least two others planned as well. If our first boy was named after Ned, then any girl we had would’ve been Lyanna. And-” You paused, and for a moment Jon couldn’t quite tell why you almost seemed amusingly hesitant.
Squeezing your hip he prompted, “What?”
Holding a smirk back, you shrugged. “We uh...were fairly certain however that Catelyn was not going to appreciate what we thought of for our second son...”
If anything got a sigh along with an eye roll out of Jon, it was that. Letting his forehead rest against the back of your head, grumbling, “Seven hells...what was wrong with you two..” A small laugh burst from you, prompting Jon to tear himself from you and turn you around. Backing you against the table once more, his arms now reaching to encase you between them as well. A playful glint in his own eye, “Well, when we get to our second boy we’re sure as hell not naming him Jon.”
A flush ran through your skin, and a flustered smile you wished wasn’t running so obviously across your lips. The sheer ease in his eyes and grin on his face as he said it almost made your head spin. Trying to play yourself off as just coy and joking, “Well what did you have in mind then?”
Once more there was no hesitation or doubt. Just the somewhat, actually very intimidating aura of a man who knows exactly what he wants. Running a hand gently along your hair, “Robb would appreciate having one of your boys named after him a lot more then I would after me. It doesn’t have to be our second if you’re not ready. If I recall, I promised you eight.”
Your eyes widened, mouth parting in incredulity his audacity. A higher pitched protest trying not to laugh out of your mouth, “Excuse me, I clearly remember saying we should stop at three, but you made me agree on five, where's this eight coming from?”
Jon leaned forward, his breathe brushing across your skin as he ran the hand down to stroke gently at your jaw, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m older now. I want more.”
There wasn’t much sleep to be found that night. Not by your, not by many. A battle was one thing, but tomorrow was going to be more rough then the ones you remembered. What little you did, for the first time in a long time, you were so vividly haunted by that very thing. That very horror you couldn’t keep from. Only this time, you couldn’t even tell which Stark it was strung up like a puppet, a blend of direwolves morphing in front of you so jaggedly staked onto where their heads were.
Whatever Northerners were fighting on Ramsay’s side, you hoped they too recalled the inconceivable cruelty of what House Bolton helped create as the end of their own King. Maybe Jon was right, maybe you were wrong to think giving yourself up was an option. It would’ve have saved Robb from that fate, but maybe you just needed to force yourself into those fears. Get out in the mud and do what needs to be done. No one protected Robb from such an end, but you could protect the two brothers that were right in front of you.
But perhaps, two was too great of a number to be allowed to come true.
You knew what would happen as soon as you rode up. Most of your forces on foot, only a handful on what horses you had, most in lines of archers lined across the fields from one end to the other along where you dug out. Cutting off their ability to circle around you, as your archers stood tallest to pick off any oncoming men seeking to circle your forces. None of the Bolton army was seen as Jon rode up in the middle of his army to the front.
Standing atop it were only a few figures, one of which was Ramsay and the other to yours and Jons horror was Rickon. He was alive, but as soon as you saw the distance between, and the bow in Ramsay’s hand you looked to the men poised to flank to the free folk’s right. Eyes looking to Theon’s as you knew exactly what was about to happen.
All of you were deathly silent. Ramsay leaning to Rickon in a falseness that you knew the boy wouldn’t be able to tell. He was older then you last saw, almost eleven now and yet he looked far older then a boy his age had any purpose looking. Your place enough behind Jon, you knew he could hear you in the painful quiet that was surrounding everyone.
“He’s going to make him run...”
You didn’t elaborate, and the worst was that Jon knew too well exactly what you meant. This wasn’t an act of war, this was pure cruelty. You had spared a child’s life before, you had stood beside him as Robb executed his own men for murdering children even as hostages. This wasn’t an act of a commander, and it was why Ramsay couldn’t have Roose Bolton around to stop him.
If he was sure he was going to win this battle, he still had one last game to taunt with and you felt utterly sick. This was why Jon refused to let you even attempt your own surrender, he had enough foresight to know it wouldn’t be as simple as that and he was right. Only it was against the wrong person in your eyes.
As soon as Rickon ran, Jon took off. Riding towards his brother as all of you were forced to wait in a wide eyed horror. Arrows didn’t barrage Jon, no it was a far sicker game. Ramsay stood from his safe high top, and shot arrows down around Rickon desperately running to Jon. The first time they had seen each other in over four years and you knew Jon could see nothing else but how far he had to go to get his brother.
Only, Ramsay was toying with them both. It was almost enough to make you look away. So close to their brother, both almost managed to even grab the other’s hand. Only as soon as they barley could feel the other, a final arrow shot right into the boy, and hurled him face down to the ground.
Heart stopping, the sickening dizziness. Rickon laid there, and didn’t move and for a moment Jon could only look down at what he only just couldn’t reach.
And yet, that weight, that darkness, everything that had bore down on you for over a year. The blood and bright blue eyes of that night, the fire and chanting turned to torment and a nightmare only death was your wish from. It all didn’t quite ring clearly.
Something stirred in the sheer seconds you had to act. An instinct that had been buried so deep the last time it was awake, it was Robb’s side you were fighting at. And at his side, you knew what needed to be done, and so did you now. You knew better, because you knew exactly what Jon was about to do.
As soon as Jon beckoned his horse to ride straight forward, you found a voice. Quiet for so much of your life, and yet somewhere deep you found enough of that desperate Baratheon fury that would cause Robert to shout like no other man. “Prepare to charge,”
Jon rode more, and the arrows shot at him with more vigour then the toying of his brother. In an instant enough hit his horse, sending it stumbling down and Jon slamming to the ground with it. And it was then, there was no turning back.
He stood there alone as Ramsay commanded this men to charge, a terrifying onslaught of mounted horsemen all riding towards one lone man with but a sword at his side. “Men, go, protect your commander- now,”
The free folk were as terrifying from this view as it was for the men coming. A ferocious people, sided along good men you had known and fought with before. Your own on the horses you had at their backs following enough to cover.
The roaring from both sides only forced your lungs out harder in commanding their draws, each side knowing their strategy and yours trained on those in front of Jon himself.
There was no way to describe it. What kind of blood was shed in the middle of that chaos. Your own archers the only thing that was poised to keep the Bolton armies from circling around Jon’s forces but the carnage below was something new. Mounted horses, brutal fighting from both free folk and the men with a flayed men itched into their insignia, it built up before your eyes.
Desperate yourself to remember everything you’d been taught and yet nothing could prepare anyone for this. None. In a true twisted fashion, you were sure this was his plan. Bolton men in the brunt of the action, as Jon’s men had to navigate a chaos around them and the arrows barraging them from their own sides with sigils you indeed recognized. Ones that you had sent pleas to, and ones whose arrows were as focused on you as you were focused on your own men.
In the ensuing chaos, both sides of your own on horse back had to push forward, push the line of men towards the chaos because there was no other option. They wanted to keep you as far from the castle as they could and there was only losing if you were pushed back enough.
But what built, was horror. Two sides guarding the line all poised at either side of what they created and in the middle was a wall of dead. Piles trampling over the other and adding to the weight that you could barley see in. One that you could barley see Jon in, and in an instant you found a voice that almost shocked the man you called to as it did you. But you yelled over the chaos and he heard you. “Tormund-”
It was indescribable in those moments. So much around him that he could feel his lungs crushing under the pressure of it all and soaking his vision. If this was what hell felt like then Jon would lose himself inside of it. Barley managing to push back what was on top of him until enough was there to reach up to grab onto what he knew was dead. His own and their own but he had to drag himself from it.
Something, someone seemed to have the stance to yank him back to earth, and as soon as his feet touched solid ground and he felt the air once more through the blood and grime that soaked all who found trapped within it’s depths. He hardly felt anything but a shaking ferocity that threatened to tear him apart. It wasn’t until he was yanked by the arm, forced to look at Tormund urging him to stay in control. To not lose it.
Senses from a highest peak that radiated something he couldn’t describe as the man forced Jon to keep eye contact did he realize how far down did he need to be pulled back. Coming to earth did he realize that something was off, or maybe it was that it wasn’t so deafeningly loud.
The wall of the dead in the middle, on two sides were a mixture of Boltons, Umbers, and Karstarks all holding their own line, some men, Jon even recognized himself. Many, he knew had once fought by his brothers side and it only made him angrier.
Watched their King betrayed by the Boltons, and now watched as the same house murdered Ned Stark’s last trueborn son and all posed in a challenge. Begging his forces to charge them first and get picked off by them and the arrows behind them.
Only, Jon recognized the men flanking to the Bolton’s left and right as well. Houses that he and you had called to. Houses that now, weren’t watching the men their arrows were trained on. No way of knowing the silence between a fair few that spoke volumes.
The Northerners were sure that the other houses forced to fight would surrender when the tides turned, but it wasn’t quite that. Your eyes and Theon’s had found leaders in the horseback archers parallel to your own. And a wave washed through, looks you had shared with these men in plans of battle before. Hornwood’s, Manderly’s, Blackwood’s, Dustin’s, all men you knew and you realized it wasn’t surrender they chose.
Fight as you had no other option, and once a choice was to be made they made the one that you barley had a plan for. But it was there, it had to be. You didn’t spend three years at Robb’s side, not to know exactly the kind of men who followed him. Jon’s forces on foot slightly ahead of you, and the opposite arches aimed over just enough to hit them. Your own flanking each side, turning enough to see Theon recognizing as you saw. So it was the very last plan in the book you were to cook up, was it?
Jon stood soaked in blood, men all at his sides ready to cut through them as tensions arose and as the archers poised at them were commanded to start moving. He could hear you, from what he could tell almost just behind him by a good number of feet as you held the back lines harshly.
As children, Jon and Robb often found themselves climbing the highest towers, and shouting to each other from increasingly far distances. Their father had told them that the greatest of commanders could only do so much if no one on the battlefield could hear them. That a good commander knew how to yell, a lesson he knew he and Robb both had learned with success.
But then he heard you, and he got it. He knew why you refused to let him stick you off to the sides. He wanted to fight for you, but you would for him. And no matter how much having you there scared him, you’d keep going as long as it took to ensure he kept going. And your yell, had to be that of a commander right now. One that he had previously only heard stories of from his father, that Baratheon’s were the one house who had a true set of lungs when they wanted too.
“Nock,”
The faint sounds of men and horses shifting behind them as he stared down the ones holding the line from them, teeth gritting and heaving for as much air as he could.
“Draw,”
A yell he had never heard on you, but there was a confidence he only caught at the last second. That the men in front of them, were only ones that had denied their cause and pledged to the Boltons. Only those and the Bolton’s themselves. None else. The Northerns at their backs however, looked as if they were actually listening for orders from the voice yelling behind him, watching you with a nod as if- oh honestly Jon could’ve turned around and kissed you right then and there.
“Loose,” Your arrows all fired, and the second they reached the men blocking the path, did the archers behind the Boltons turn. And arrows flew in vast numbers into the remaining men all posed to charge.
Another set of arrows and Jon found his own voice to match. “With me, men. Break their line,”
Taken off guard, Jon and his own men found their strength once more, and found the shock and confusion of the Bolton’s being picked off by their own sides broke through. He couldn’t quite see ahead of him enough, but he also knew to trust your eyes to watch those from the leader who hadn’t touched a single second of battle, save for an innocent boy running for his life.
The Northerners turning to the side of their own, men who now fought at Jon’s side recognizing the leader they didn’t just need, the one they wanted. One that was as fierce as the brother before him.
In the turning of the tides, Ramsay stood almost baffled by what was happening. Realized that the only men fighting for him for the ones being picked off by the bastard. So he did what cowards do when faced with forces that could outdo them. He ran. Commanded his men and what was left to turn back.
Realizing what happened, you made a risky judgment call. One he would be likely mad at you for later but now was important. Because you weren’t leading these men. The free folk, the Northerners all turning to fight for Jon’s side as one.
In a stroke of, not quite luck, but trust in someone who once fought beside you, you commanded your own horse forward and it was Theon picking any off before you could reach him. Coming to his side as there were more of you then there were of them, Jon looked up to where you came towards him.
Barley a glance was needed and it was all spoken already. Ramsay didn’t have the men for a siege anymore, and they all knew it. Hauling himself up in front of you, grabbing the reigns for himself. Telling his men to follow, telling them “We’re going home,”
Ramsay wasn’t ready. He wasn’t the one to lead such vicious battles and he despised that his men knew it. He thought he had them. He thought he could do it that he only had a scrap of wildings to help. Only to have the irritating audacity of Harald Karstark the night before, telling him that if it was a wildling army led by Jon Snow, then they might be fucked. That he would know this place better then any of them could wish.
His own bloody men turned on him, Houses that had sworn to his side. Albeit through threat of force but his side none the less. He thought he had the bastard, and then..he didn’t. And now he knew there was only a matter of time before they broke those gates down and the instant they did he would only have seconds to find a plan.
“Archers to the walls.” Only they didn’t. Wide eyed and rageful he yelled louder, “Archers-”
His own men by his side telling him, “Our army’s gone, we can’t hold off a siege.” At least there was the satisfaction of knocking the mouth breather on his ass for that. But the men that remained, ones that weren’t soldiers of his own house? Oh it was bad. It was bad, because they stood down. They stood down, and the gates open.
There would be no siege because there weren't enough men willing anymore to die for Ramsay Bolton’s malicious temper. They had a King, a King his father murdered, and outside those gates was the King that without ever calling himself one, had led his men through a bloodbath as fiercely as their last.
As those gates opened, on either side taking sure control of the perimeter of the yard were a mix of free folk and Northerns together finally. But as Jon descended on the home he had once thought couldn’t ever be his again, all he saw was red.
A monstrous, pathetic man who preyed only on those too weak to fight back. All Jon could see was the vile thing that waited until Jon had just reached Rickon, before shooting the boy dead. All he could see was how horrifically scared he had seen Ramsay leave you and the fear in your eyes for too long tormented by him. He didn’t get here in time to kill Roose Bolton for Robb, but Ramsay was here when Rickon wasn't, and Jon felt an intensity in his blood like none other.
You followed not long after, you and the men beaten, covered in grime, blood mixes of yours and others as Jon was drenched, soaked in the massacre which tried to crush him in. And Ramsay, stood there almost entirely clean with a bow in his arms. Looking between Jon and you with the same condescension in his voice he always had. “You suggested one on one combat, didn’t you? I’ve reconsidered, fighting for my whore of a bride sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Men all standing back, as Jon walked forward with not an ounce of fear or doubt in his eyes. You could still see Jaime Lannister, tired up, bloody and beaten taunting Robb “ Swords, lances, teeth, nails choose your weapons. And let’s end this hear and now. ” But Robb was smart enough to know a trap when he saw one.
Ramsay wasn’t.
Step by step Jon threw his shield up, taking arrow after arrow all barley moving him back a single inch. All of you stood heaving from the fight to get to this point, as you watched Jon approach Ramsay without a care in the world over his attacks. The second he got close, Jon thrusted it forward by a blunt edge, smacking Ramsay in the head and sending him knocked to the ground.
And that didn’t stop until there was barley anything left to recognize outside the blood. It could only be described once more, as brutal. An anger and violence that was so destructively pulled to the surface that none stepped in to stop. Maybe you should have, but you found no strength left in you to do so.
You fought back against Ramsay too many times and he overpowered you with ease. But Jon was the one who overpowered him, and you couldn’t convince yourself it was wrong to stop. Luckily for you, however, Jon had more strength then physical.
Ramsay broken and bloody on the ground when he stopped. Jon’s voice a hissing rasp full of vitriol as he knelt over him. “I should kill you right here, let you die humiliated in front of your own men.” Tossing what was left of his hold on him to the ground, Jon stood up. Looking down to the man with exactly what you knew you had seen in him. “But I won’t. That’s not the kind of leader these people deserve, and it’s not the kind of man I am. For now, you can rot in the dungeons with the rest of your men.”
Taken back to Whispering Wood, some taking away what was left of the men on the other side, while the rest stood around you in cheers. But it wasn’t quite over. It was why you told him, why he needed to know before he got here. You were Robb’s Queen, they fought beside you. But you weren’t their leader, you never were. Only one here was the only person it could be.
Only this time, the man they would call to saw it coming. And he knew better then most, the cheers around him couldn’t last. You didn’t come all this way together just to fight this battle. Jon’s voice was loud as he stood in the middle of his people. “Men, you’ve fought with honour. Stood beside the free folk and fought together, my father used to say we find out true friends on the battlefield. And you’ve proven that today, but one victory does not make us conquerors.”
Multiple men stepped forward, Northern Lords who you had seen in this position before, had seen this look on their faces, but this time, as you stepped forward as well they knew that you still truly believed it too.
“Winter has come, and I promise you. There is a bigger enemy coming for us. One that won’t wait out the cold. They will bring the storm with them. Bury and burn the dead, and celebrate while you can, but this war is far from over.”
It was Lord Dustin who stepped forward first. “We all received a call from a Southerner calling himself King, but we refused. Some of us forced into allegiance with the men who murdered our King and our Queen, and yet by the gods grace she’s standing here in front of us because she understands better then we all did.”
Jon met your eyes, and you just once, begged the gods to let him accept what he deserves. Just once.
Another loud, impassioned voice that spoke over many with conviction. Only Maege had a bit more grace then that was of the Greatjon who spoke the declaration years before. “Bear Island knows no King but the King in the North, whose name is Stark. Robb Stark was the King we chose, but he didn’t need to make this one a Stark to follow after him. He named Jon Snow as King after him because Ned Stark’s blood runs through his veins all the same.”
More stepped forward, men who answered the call and those who didn’t all as Jon stood at the centre of all. The Manderly’s next, and you knew too well they realized at the last second what the true choice was, their eyes had found yours in those vital seconds before Jon broke the line, and turned to join. “Lady Mormont speaks true. Your brother came to us, chose you to succeed him, and it wasn’t until I realized I was on the wrong side of the battlefield did I remember that.”
Lord Blackwood stepped next. “My son died fighting for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, and never once have I regretted standing beside him. And I won’t regret should I die in battle beside the brother he trusted, the brother he called King.”
Fighting against until the very last surrender as they opened the gates finally, it was indeed Smalljon Umber who had the courage to step forward just as he was the one who ordered the gates to be opened. “My father’s rotting in a Frey dungeon because he fought by Robb Stark’s side, and I dishonoured him, my King, and my house by pledging my men to the ones that killed him. A man can only admit when he’s wrong, and ask for forgiveness, if not mercy.”
Jon’s voice wasn’t as powerful as before, and he caught you in his eye, closer then before. Rough and scratched like the toll was long taken on it. “You sided with us in the moments it mattered most. There’s nothing to forgive.”
With as much admiration as he had that day years ago, Lord Glover was as confident now as he was then, this time your name in his words. “We’ve heard rumours, about your death, about his.” Gesturing to Jon, still as quiet and still as ever, like he was the stag about to be spooked for once. “And if the gods brought you back, maybe they wanted you to bring him back too. Without either of you, we wouldn’t have a Queen, or a King. House Glover has stood behind House Stark for thousands of years, and I will stand behind Jon Snow.”
Silence was met, as you approached him. Bloody and beaten beyond belief and yet you held no doubt in your eyes, or a nervous hesitation as you had shared with Robb before. Now was different, and you could only see a man that was exactly what you wished he himself had seen earlier.
Your voice nowhere near as loud as any of theirs, but you trusted these men to hear you. Even if your voice was only loud enough for Jon as you found his grey ones you missed for too long.
“Robb chose you because you deserved everything he had. He didn’t want to force you to become a Stark just to lead, because Stark or Snow, you’re his brother. He didn’t want you to be the King he was, he trusted the King you would be on your own.” A hint of a smile on your face as Jon’s gaze was trained intensely into yours as if needing to lighten the thick air between you in front of so many people. “Though being a Snow..I suppose would make you the White Wolf instead of the Young Wolf.”
Had Jon’s heart not been about to break through his chest and armour and sink him into the ground, he may have found it in himself to laugh. But as he looked to you, and then up to the men, he knew there was only one choice. The Free Folk wouldn’t kneel to him, but Jon didn’t want them too. They followed him as a leader, but it was the North that was his home who needed him as their King. And who would he be if he refused the call when Robb hadn’t, he thought.
Soaking in blood from a horror bloodbath he led them all to victory in, the Northerners around Jon graced him with the title he never thought he would’ve deserved. “The King in the North,” And as more joined, drawing their swords to swear, he looked to his people with an acceptance in his eyes.
It was different this time though, you didn’t make any pledge of loyalty because truly Jon had no gods forsaken reason to hear one from you. You both came back from death in ways not a soul other would understand, and that was enough.
He did though, in front of men, in a home, in a place he never would have dared only four years ago, find enough in himself to let go of that long insecurity. The last time it happened, you both were in Winterfell together, thought was the last time. Leaving the other may have been a mistake, it may not have been, but you were in front of him all the same.
That cold night of the feast he was kicked out of, both of you had looked around to ensure you were alone first. But this time, Jon let himself just not care, and in however long the men chose to chant and cheer, Jon pulled all the air out of you as he grabbed you, pulling you to him.
Almost spinning you in his arms as you both clung to the other in a tight yet tender embrace, as all the “King in the North” faded until only your breaths could be heard by the other.
For this very moment, it would have to do.
Splashing harsh against the rocky shores, the fleet all gathered around to see the immaculate castle that stood before them, stone dragons carved into their towers and the volcanic cliffs around it acted as an overpowering shadow. An image of fear to many, but they had only just arrived. They couldn’t leave now.
Some were familiar to the land, others weren’t at all but they all stepped ashore, and with little fight as could be given, the island was theirs. It wouldn’t last for long, not as a permanent home, but it was the closest thing to what was his blood family as one man could get for now.
Some called him Young Griff, but as he stepped onto the shores of Dragonstone, he knew he had to become what he was trained to be his whole life. Eventually all the Seven Kingdoms would know him by what he came here to be. Here to claim his rightful place on the Iron Throne, as would have belonged to his father befor
But Young Griff wasn’t here to be his father. Rhaegar died a prince, but Young Griff was his only living son. The rightful heir. He was here to be King.
For his true name was said to be Aegon Targaryean
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#jon snow#robb stark#game of thrones#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#jon snow x you#robb stark x you#jon snow imagine#robb stark imagine
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vintage misery
pairing: obey me! brothers & reader [can be platonic or romantic]
reader’s pronouns: unspecified but masc-intended
note: my initial idea for this fic was basically just the obey me! demons not being familiar with depression and trying to help the reader in any way they can, whilst also being a lil startled/worried. sooo that’s how it goes, essentially. hurt/comfort, with mostly comfort. :0
cw: depression, mentions of suicidal ideation [can be avoided by skipping to the bolded sentence that starts with: “Lucifer nods.”]
word count: 1.8k [ao3 version here]
“How did you get up here?”
You bite your lip and pull your knees closer to your chest. You’re sitting on the roof of the mansion. The night air chills your skin, but you hardly notice over the tumultuous nature of your own thoughts. It takes you a few seconds to remember that someone has just joined you. “What?” You say, not bothering to turn around to see who’s standing behind you. They move closer and crouch to sit down beside you.
“Why are you up here?” You recognize Lucifer’s voice. Out of all brothers, you’re surprised that Lucifer is the one standing on the rooftop next to you. Then again, he’s the leader of the household and he’s sort of responsible for you. You bite your lip.
Your throat feels tight, so you just shrug in response to his question. Lucifer’s gaze is intent and it almost seems as if he’s waiting for something. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s implying. “What, did you think I was going to jump?” Silence. “No, ha.” The laugh sounds awkward and weak, even to your own ears. You’re painfully aware of Lucifer’s presence at your side. You can’t help but feel embarrassed at the thought of being so vulnerable in front of him.
“Are you homesick?” Lucifer asks, unknowing of your internal dilemma. You frown and think back to your life, your friends, your family. You miss them, of course, but that’s not the cause of your mood dampening.
“Not really,” you decide to answer honestly. Lucifer arches an eyebrow, but you don’t explain any further. An explanation about your lack of homesickness would quickly bring your doubts and self-defeating tendencies to light. You don’t quite want a therapy session with the Avatar of Pride.
“My brothers are worried about you,” Lucifer says, evidently catching onto the fact that you don’t want to explain your situation anymore. He’s staring at you expectantly.
“Hm,” is the only word that falls from your lips. It feels strenuous to speak. You pull your legs closer to your chest.
“I find myself... a bit concerned, also,” Lucifer says. You’re surprised at the admission- so much so that you turn to look at him for answers. This time, it’s Lucifer who is silent. He places a hand under his chin and looks out to the night sky. Even so, you can feel his attention on you. “Is this normal for humans?”
“What, depression?” You laugh awkwardly. Never in a million years did you think you’d be having this conversation with Lucifer of all people. You take a deep breath and try to ignore your heart hammering in your chest. “Not for all humans, but for some.”
Lucifer nods quietly. For the next few minutes—or hours, time in the Devildom is hard for you—he sits with you in silence. At some point, your back starts to hurt and you push yourself up to your feet. You stumble a little bit but Lucifer sets you right with a hand on your forearm. Together, the two of you return back to the mansion. The Avatar of Pride walks you back to your room. You’re too distracted to notice the thoughtful expression on his face when he leaves.
The next morning, you notice that something is off. You’re immediately roused awake by Mammon, who seems to be unusually restless as he pulls you along to breakfast. You’re then greeted by the other six brothers—another strange occurrence. Typically, the brothers wake up at vastly different times. They hardly ever meet down here all at once. You push the thought to the back of your mind and begin picking at your food.
From there, things only get weirder. All the brothers seem keen to talk to you, strangely enough. Hell, even Levi taps you on the shoulder and starts talking to you about Ruri-chan. You glance about the table in confusion, wondering if today is a holiday or something. Eventually, you catch Lucifer’s eye—only to find that he's already looking at you. There almost appears to be a gleam of concern in his eyes, but it quickly fades into obscurity and you’re left wondering if you imagined it.
After breakfast, Leviathan forces you to watch The Tale of the Seven Lords with him- albeit with a few murmured insults about you being a normie [you have given up on arguing with him about that]. At one point, he abandons the series and begins to play video games instead. You watch over his shoulder and occasionally offer tidbits of information about the games you had back home. He seemed particularly interested in MarioKart when you described it, ironically enough. This is far from the first time when you’ve watched him play games over his shoulder. Sometimes, when he gets into the zone and you begin to get tired, you’ll fall asleep on his shoulder. Levi is kind enough not to mention it when you wake up.
You’re walking down the hallway and back to your room when Asmodeus practically drags you to his room and throws you in front of his unnecessarily large makeup mirror. He then proceeds to test out different products on your face, before eventually settling for applying eyeliner and a small amount of mascara. You let him do so without much complaint, despite how awkward it feels to have someone else apply it for you. Your patience pays off, however, because Asmodeus finishes a moment later and takes a step back to take in your reflection. You follow his gaze, surprised to find that the look is both modest yet flattering. The demon puts a hand on his chest and marvels about your “endless beauty,” to which you respond with an eye roll and a fond pat on the shoulder.
As time passes, you begin to realize what’s happening. Lucifer’s remark from the previous night comes to mind once more. My brothers are worried about you, he had said. I find myself a bit concerned, also. Well, that explains the sudden insistence of the brothers. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you realize that they’re trying to cheer you up in the ways they know how.
You round the corner and nearly crash into Beelzebub, who smiles apologetically at you. There’s a rather pleasant smell wafting off of him. You squint at him in confusion and he explains that he’s baking something in the kitchen. Surprised, you decide to follow him into the kitchen, only to find flour strewn everywhere. You resist the urge to facepalm. The saddened expression on Beel’s face is too much for you, so you reluctantly offer to help him bake.
The process is rather slow, as Beel keeps eating all of the ingredients. It must be extremely hard for him to prepare food, you think to yourself. Even so, he manages to reel in his hunger and form the cookie dough you prepared into balls. The next time you glance at the baking sheets, you’re unsurprised to find some of the dough balls missing. You sigh fondly.
Against all odds, the cookies last long enough to be baked in the oven. Beelzebub and you spend your time cleaning up the kitchen and once you’re done, the cookies finish. Beel doesn’t even bother to wait until they cool down, instead shoving a few into his mouth automatically. It seems he doesn’t have to worry about his mouth being burnt. Must be nice, you think to yourself. He offers you one, but you shake your head and explain that you have to wait. Beel frowns and grabs a few, placing them off to the side for you. He then devours the rest of them, and you decide to give him a round of applause for the impressive disappearing act. He sends you off to your room with a plate of cookies before you can argue.
Just as you walk to your room and open your bedroom door, there’s a hand on your shoulder. You turn around, only to find Lucifer staring at you with a rather complex expression on his face. His gaze flits about your room and a frown rises on his face. You grimace internally, knowing your room is far from perfectly clean. You take a moment to set the plate of cookies off to the side, before turning to face the demon behind you.
“You need more furniture,” Lucifer announces, crossing his arms over his chest. You raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting the remark. The Avatar of Pride pauses for a moment, before a look of resolve appears on his face. “Let’s go.” You don't even get to ask where it is you’re going, before the two of you are walking through the mansion and out onto the grounds.
You find yourself being taken to what appears to be the demon version of Ikea. You say as much to Lucifer, who appears to stifle a laugh behind his hand at the thought. He leads you to a rather extravagant showroom and you spend most of the time denying any of the suggestions he makes. At one point, Lucifer sighs heavily and picks something out for you, to your mild chagrin.
Mammon appears out of seemingly nowhere and decides to tag along. He spends most of the time complaining. You tell him that he can simply leave if he doesn’t want to accompany you, but he turns an interesting shade of red and mumbles something under his breath at that. You pretend not to notice the knowing look Lucifer sends you.
Mammon and Lucifer seem to be more invested in your furniture than you are. Mammon flits about the showroom with interest, occasionally poking or kicking at things. He finds an armchair and, in the blink of an eye, swipes Lucifer’s wallet and purchases it for your room. When you ask him about it, he gruffly murmurs something along the lines of “every king needs a throne.” You roll your eyes. You also resist the urge to ask Mammon why the chair needs to be in your room instead of his. Finally, the two of them seem to be satisfied and you can return to the House of Lamentation.
Satan hangs out with you in your bedroom once you return from the impromptu shopping trip. He helps you rearrange the furniture into a suitable arrangement, and he laughs at the armchair that Mammon picked out. You let him choose a drama to watch, which he does without question. The two of you lounge around and watch television for a while, until Belphegor joins you. You’ve been tired most of the day, but being around Belphegor only makes your exhaustion worse. You suspect that he’s purposefully manipulating your energy to get you to be more tired, but you don’t really care.
Unsurprisingly, you fall asleep within a few minutes. Thankfully, the three of you are all huddled up on your bed, so it’s far from uncomfortable. You fidget a little before eventually giving in and falling into the mattress, turning to the side and closing your eyes again. Just before you drift off, you hear rustling and feel a blanket being thrown over you. You smile and let your exhaustion pull you into slumber.
endnotes below! ;0
thanks for readingggg :)
Levi is so autistic and I love that for him. [and also me, because I am autistic. hence the headcanon, lol.]
I love the idea of Mammon stealing Lucifer’s wallet and Lucifer not saying anything. Let’s be real—Lucifer is definitely used to Mammon’s behavior. The moment Mammon turned up, he pretty much expected his wallet to be stolen. Even though Mammon has a healthy fear of Lucifer, I like to think that his greed overrides that. Hehe. [and yes, I have a weakness for Lucifer, as you can probably tell.]
ironically, i played obey me! about a year ago and quit after like 20 minutes, ‘cause i got frustrated w the battles (I sucked at them.) hopefully, my inexperience doesn’t show through too much in this fic. I like to think that I researched enough about the characters [in addition to drawing from the limited gameplay I can remember] to portray them accurately.
once again, ty for reading <3
#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me x mc#obey me mc#obey me x male reader#obey me x male mc#Lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphegor x reader#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#Leviathan x reader#gn reader#male reader#yuh yuh#so many tags sheesh
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Moonlight Reign Ch. 4
A/N: Here she is! Another heavy chapter LMAO pls heed all the warnings and put yourself first always! Also pls give me asks I am a rabid dog without them and will rattle my cage without them. I need the interaction or else I will frown. As always, everyone say thank you to my amazing beta reader and loml B @rapline-heaux
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader
Words: 5.4k
Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect, crying, familial issues, abandonment issues, blood from biting own lip, covering ears, pinning someone down, mention of open relationship, threat of suicide but as a form of reassurance(?), allusion to possible past addiction, delusional thoughts and manipulation kinda, the yandere-ness has begun
You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, looking for any kind of distraction as the elevator ticked up at a maddening pace. You just wanted to be home without having to worry about what Jungkook was going to do–
And of course, he was slumped against your door.
You heaved a sigh, swallowing down the pain of seeing him so dejected. Not that you had to try very hard as fear quickly replaced the emotion when you saw another man standing there next to him. You didn’t recognize the figure with an expensive suit, but you certainly had no desire to as he tried tugging Jungkook up.
The two men’s eyes snapped to you the moment the elevator dinged, making your presence painfully known. Meekly stepping out of it, you gave the men a tight smile that you neglected to remember they couldn’t even see since it was far from reaching your eyes and you still had the mask on. The man standing regarded you lazily, looking you up and down for a moment before his gaze morphed into an emotion you did know quite well: hatred. Pure, unbridled, hatred burned in his gaze, making you feel warm beneath your mask.
But what the hell did you do to this guy? You don’t remember seeing him ever, especially not in your past. Almost everyone who’s seen your face is dead, trusted, or in hiding themselves, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to recognize you, at least not enough to hate you.
“Is this her?” His voice was deep and filled with a venom you were sure wasn’t warranted, but you had little interest in engaging. It did irk you when his eyes looked over your form and his snarl deepened. You just got off work, can’t he give your looks a damn break?
“Can I help you?” You responded with an equal amount of venom, internally cursing yourself. So much for not engaging, dumbass. Your pride was getting the better of you.
The man before you cocked a brow, “Yeah, you could tell me why my boyfriend refuses to go back to his place until he speaks to you.” Jungkook did his boyfriend no favors in satiating his evident jealousy, his gaze only fixed on you with an emotion you knew nothing of.
Fuck.
That was a good question. A question that could cost your life, so you decided to tread lightly– or as lightly as you could considering how shitty of a job you were doing already. If this guy was one of Jungkook’s boyfriends, that meant there was a pretty good chance he was also a part of Bangtan, and you’ve poked that hornet’s nest more than enough.
You cleared your throat, “Jungkook.” He nearly keened forward at your voice saying his name, and it made you sigh, “Go home, yeah?” He frowned, slumping back against your door childishly, making his boyfriend glare at you even harsher somehow.
“This is ridiculous.” He spat, eyes never leaving you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d take that as him calling you ridiculous and say something stupid.
“Yeah? Imagine how I feel.” You sneered back. Obviously, you didn’t know any better right now. But goodness graciousness, this guy was shortening your temper at mach speed. You evidently had the same effect as he scoffed, “Look, what do you want from me?”
“I want my boyfriend to get up from your doorstep.” He hissed.
“Great.” You gritted your teeth, “Me too.” You stepped closer to them, “So why are you being such an asshole about it to me?”
He rolled his eyes, and you wanted to badly to see him try to do that with a black eye, “Becuase obviously you did something to upset him.” It was your turn to scoff, “So fix it.”
“Right, 'cause I’m the problem.” You muttered sarcastically. You were pretty used to being blamed your whole life for a whole number of things, but you took that shit because you had to. You didn’t know this guy, and you didn’t have it in you to care right now.
“You saying he’s the problem?” He snarled, obviously protective of the man. The jealousy at the fact that Jungkook had someone who loved him so much when you didn’t even have a pet was quickly outweighed by your anger and a twinge of fear at this man getting in your face.
“Hyung, you’re making it worse.” Jungkook groaned, and you were a little surprised at how sober he sounded. You thought if he was leaning against your door he was trashed, or at least semi-drunk, but he was speaking clearly, “Just wait for me at my place, okay?” The older man ignored him, crossing his arms and keeping his hatred trained at you.
“I’m saying no such thing, fuck.” You huffed, “If anything, I’m saying you’re acting like a real dick right now, and I’m not in the mood.” You explained harshly, “Take your jealousy or whatever the hell your problem is with me somewhere else.”
“Jealousy?!” He guffawed, “Me? Jealous of you?!” Ouch, damn. The way he could knock down your self-perception with three words was almost a talent. The power of tone never ceased to amaze, and especially at this moment, wound you. You knew he was more attractive than you. You had eyes after all, but evidently you struck a nerve with him to warrant that response.
“Oh, my bad.” You sarcastically mocked, “You’re seeming real secure right now. I must be mistaken.” You could hear Jungkook sigh, undoubtedly regretting helping you with your sarcastic tone years ago.
“Do you think I’m enjoying this? He looks miserable.” He grunted, pointing to his dejected lover.
“So leave then.” You challenged.
“Is that what you do to people you care about?” He spat, “Leave?”
Okay, that struck a nerve with you, “You don’t know a thing about me.” You fumed. You didn’t want to leave anyone, least of all Jungkook, but you also weren’t too keen on sticking around and getting yourself killed. You didn’t anticipate Jungkook not giving you the choice.
“Well from what I’ve seen, I can’t say I see the appeal.” He retorted. Is this guy calling you ugly or a bitch? Or is it both?
“Taeyung!” Jungkook scolded his boyfriend.
Your eyebrow twitched at the thought. Fuck this stranger to all hell, “You’re not doing yourself any favors either, I can promise you that.” You looked him up and down, forcing an unimpressed look on your face, and you could see him bristle at your actions.
“Y/n, come on.” He sighed. Great, now you both know each other’s names. Just what you needed right now. More fucking knowledge.
You sighed, not wanting to upset Jungkook anymore than you were about to by fighting with his boyfriend, “If I talk to him, will you get the fuck out of my face?” You prodded.
Taehyung clenched his jaw. God, you were the worst, even worst than he and Jimin thought. You had the worst personality and your face… It would only be fair for you to be as ugly as your attitude, and the fact that you weren’t only pissed him off more. Even worse, you were stunning with a mask on. He swallowed hard, “Fine.”
“Yipee.” You deadpanned, turning to Jungkook, “Ready?” You asked and he scrambled to get up, taking your bag of takeout from you so you could fish out your keys.
“Is that a routine you have or something?” Taehyung seethed quietly.
“I’m just being considerate, hyung.” Jungkook shot back, “Especially when her guest is being so mean.”
“The last thing I’d consider him is a guest, Kook, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes, taking off your mask so you could put it away before you forgot. Taehyung already had your first name, address, and how your eyes looked, Showing him the rest of your face wouldn’t make you any more in danger than you already were.
Taehyung wanted to punch a goddamn wall when he saw your the rest of your face. You were stunning and instead of shrinking away from him and out of his lover’s life, Jungkook was clinging to you, and you were more than holding your own. You matched his energy, calling attention to how much of a dick he was being, and he didn’t care for the mirror you proved to be. Even with that stupid piece of tissue clinging to your lip, saturated with blood, you looked beautiful, and it pissed him off.
“What happened to your lip?” Jungkook asked worriedly, making Taehyung fume even further.
It took you a couple seconds before you remembered, and you sighed, “Just bit it earlier, that’s all.” You explained, taking the tissue off before flicking your gaze to Taehyung, snapping him out his angry hypnosis with your face, “Bye.” You urged him.
“Watch yourself.” He warned, making you scoff.
“Thanks for the concern.” You quipped back as you unlocked your door, walking in to let Jungkook bid his stupid boyfriend adieu.
Jungkook watched you retreat into your room before looking back at his boyfriend, “You know better than anyone you catch more flies with honey.” He remarked, making Taehyung huff.
“She’s mean.” He simply said, and this made the miserable man snort. You were anything but mean, your kindness was one of the many things he admired about you. It was effortless, you weren’t even trying to be good. You just were. It scared and enticed him so.
“She’s really not.” The younger man said, “You were really mean, and I’m literally the one who taught her how to be mean back, a little too well obviously.”
“Taught her?” The man echoed his lover. What, were you a child? Why did his boyfriend need to “teach” you anything? And why the hell did it bother him so much?
Jungkook shook his head, “Nevermind. What I mean is she would’ve been way more receptive had you just been a bit more polite. Then you’d have something to report to Yoongi.” He sighed, irked at the fact that his boyfriend’s kept prying about you since his mood has been sour these days.
Taehyung chewed his lip, obviously guilty, “We’re just worried–”
“Sure.” He cut Taehyung off, making the older man scowl, “Just go wait for me, alright? Let me handle my own things.”
“So she’s yours now?” Taehyung bitterly remarked.
“Tae, please.” Jungkook sighed, “You’ve never been the jealous type like this, so I have no idea where this is coming from.” He grit out, and Taehyung bristled at this, the words on the tip of his tongue but before he can even think to say them, Jungkook spoke, "Just go, okay?” The older man rolled his eyes but followed his orders, the doors to both apartments closing at the same time.
—
You had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt the moment you got in. Not only was it because you didn’t want to overhear what Jungkook and Taehyung were talking about, but you also knew this conversation was going to drain you beyond belief so you wanted to be prepared to go straight to be afterwards.
You entered your living room right as Jungkook closed your door, and you plopped onto the couch, already tired of this, “I don’t know what you want me to say.” You huffed, sending a glare to your turned-off TV. Should’ve never gotten the damn thing if it was going to be the catalyst for this much grief.
“You know what I want you to say.” He sighed. All the desperation from earlier in the day seemed to have tapered off and now you were both just left tired. Part of you was thankful he wasn’t freaking out like that right now, you rarely saw him like that. In your years of friendship, Jungkook and you basically never fought. You could count the number of times on one hand. Most often, the moment a disagreement arose, you dealt with it then and there. Keeping distance and being dismissive was new between the two of you, and it drained you both, “Tell me why, and I’ll let it go.” He professed and you scoffed. You weren’t sure how much you believed him judging by the dark circles blooming beneath his barely subdued crazed eyes.
“What difference does it make?” You refused to meet his eyes even as they burned holes in your cheek.
“You said you weren’t scared of syndicates or mafias.” He blurted, and you stiffened, “So tell me why.”
You shrugged, “I lied.” It was a half-truth, but you knew it wasn’t enough. Gone were the days when cagey lies and half-truths were sufficient between the two of you.
"We've both lied to each other enough, but it's time to stop, yeah?" He asked, and you could tell his sanity was toeing a very thin line but you simply huffed, “Come on.” He groaned, “Why won’t you tell me?”
You remained staring at the TV, “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t–”
“Both.” You crossed your arms, “The more we talk about this, the worse it’ll be for me.” You added, “And you, probably.”
“Fine.” He hissed, and for a moment you thought he was going to leave, “Then I’ll tell you what I know.” He pushed off of your door and walked to stand in front of the TV. It sounded like a threat, and in a way, you knew it was.
You swallowed hard, “Don’t you dare tell me a thing.” You warned. Knowledge is almost everything when it comes to risk assessment. If you knew too much, there would be no running away, there would be a chase. You could not afford to be chased. Hell, you couldn't afford to even be having this conversation in the first place.
“Why?” He challenged, eyes colder than you’ve ever seen. You pressed your lips together, not wanting to entertain this, "What's the harm in knowing things?" He was prodding you to show your understanding. He was baiting you and when you remained silent, he flashed a bitter half-smile before speaking, “Very well. I know that I am Jeon Jungkook, cyber specialist of the Bangtan syndicate, one of seven leaders.”
You dug your nails into your palms and fought the bile that rose up in your throat. One of your worst nightmares come true, and yet, you were stuck. Your body was rigid and your mind could barely process the million ways the reality of the fact could and was actively ruining you.
His words made your chest seize, and you wanted to throw up. The fucking cyber specialist, a whole leader, of the most powerful syndicate in the country had been coming to your apartment every week? How stupid could you be? “Stop.” You seethed.
“I know that you acted weird when the camera panned to the audience during the fight on Friday.” He took a step forward and you pressed yourself further into the couch, “I know that you said it was because you saw a teacher in the crowd, but that wasn’t true.”
“Enough.” Each word was like a stab to the chest. In more ways than one, you were sure nothing would be left of you by the time this conversation was over.
He wore that bitter smile so seamlessly, “I know it wasn’t true because I checked every single person in that fucking crowd, not just teachers.”
“Please.” You pleaded, pressing your nails so deep you could almost feel the acrylic snap.
“The only one who called into work that day doesn’t know you.” He spat, and you felt utterly ill.
“Jungkook.” You croaked.
He pressed on without a care in the world, eyes trained on you, “You wanna know who was in that crowd?”
“No.” You protested.
He clicked his tongue, “Too bad, it–”
You shook your head, covering your ears, “Shut up, shut up!” You exclaimed, palms pressing to muffle him.
In no time, he pinned your hands to your side, hovering over you with a fierce glare, “I can’t let you run away from this.” He snapped, “Not from me.”
“Why not?” You hissed.
“You mean too much to me.” The vulnerability and the sheer honesty in his voice, made you regret asking. Your heart cried out for more as your mind begged to run and never look back.
You struggled against him, significantly harder to hold your own against him when he was sober, “Let go of me.” You pleaded, your words having a double meaning that he didn’t care to listen to.
“Never.” He huffed like it was a promise, plucking at your heartstrings, “I can’t.” He said quietly, making your hairs stand on end, dropping his head to rest on your head, “I just can’t.” He breathed, lips moving along your crown.
“Can’t or won’t?” You mocked him, tears stinging you at the affection while he let out a humorless laugh.
He slid his hands from your wrists to interlace his finger with yours, still holding your hands down in a fierce grip, “Both.” He breathed. You hated your body for wanting to relax against his touch.
“You’re making a mistake.” You admitted solemnly, “You shouldn’t–”
“Enough of that.” He snarled, stunning you silent, “As I was saying,” He continued, pulling back but hovering over you still, “There was a certain Moon Byungjoo in the crowd.” Your uncle’s name made your stomach tighten and you internally begged Jungkook not to notice. The man in question quirked a brow at you, “That name mean anything to you?” You opened your mouth to deny it, but he shook his head, “Just stay quiet if you’re going to lie.” The venom in his tone hit your heart, the pain radiating to your throat.
“That’s not fair.” You whispered, “Like you’ve never lied to me.” You spit out, glaring at him, trying to look anything but how petrified you are.
“I’m not anymore.” He shot back, and you rolled your eyes, but he remained headstrong, “I’ll ask again, does that name mean anything to you?”
A mix of anger and betrayal filled you, “You know the answer already, don’t you?” You hissed and he flashed you that sickening smile again.
“He called you that day I was here, didn’t he?” He asked, and you kept your mouth shut, blinking the tears back as your carefully woven mundane life began to unravel, “Now, I didn’t know what you could possibly have to do with Byungjoo. I even went as far as researching you, and you know what I found?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as he spoke, but his eyes never broke contact with yours, “Nothing.” He sighed, “You basically didn’t exist until you enrolled in school.”
“That wasn’t fair.” You whimpered, trying to keep your tears in, “We promised we would stay out of each other’s business–”
“I can’t lose you.” He quickly interjected, his shield cracking for a moment to show you the desperation in his gaze, “So I did what I had to do, for us.”
You swallowed thickly, “What us, Kook?”You hissed, trying to hurt him even if it tore you down too, “We’re just friends is all.” You fixed a cold gaze on him, “Just study buddies who stuck around too long.” However, his grip only tightened on your hands.
“Friends?” He spit the word bitterly. He gave you an incredulous look, “Be honest with yourself for once, and then try to tell me that again.” He breathed, mere inches from your face now, and you had nowhere to sink into any further.
You wanted to protest again, tell him that he was being crazy. You wanted to say that he was looking for more in the relationship you shared than what was there, but he was no fool. It didn't take a genius to know that the feelings you held, the bond you both shared, the feelings you had wasn't mere friendship. The trouble was you didn't know what the hell it was. It was the deepest connection you'd ever had and yet, you had no idea where to place it.
He sighed, eyes cast down for a moment, “I didn’t want to do that, you know?” He admitted, pulling back a little, “When the guys found out I made a friend they insisted on doing a full background check, a week of tailing, and even random bout of tailing, but I told them to stay out of it.” He admitted, and your body shivered at his protective tone, “Our relationship was too important to jeopardize.” This made you grind your teeth in frustration. Maybe he should've let them dig into you or drive you away, save you both this grief.
“And now?” You pressed.
“Now,” He echoed, “It’s too important to lose.” You didn't get it. You knew why Jungkook’s friendship was so important to you, he was essentially all you had, but he had much more than you.
“What if it’s lost already?” You glared at him, but he didn’t seem shaken.
“It’s not.” He affirmed, and you didn't get how he was so sure, “We can rebuild, stronger than ever.”
You shook your head. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Something had to be wrong with him with the way he was talking like your relationship was so profound and… Your own lies tasted bitter on your tongue. It was hard to think clearly with him this close and with this much fear coursing through your veins, but even with all that, you knew. You knew he was right, and it made you sick to your stomach.
“I searched and I searched for any connection to Byungjoo and you and then…” You started squirming, wanting a head start before being viciously hunted, but he only pressed his arms into your legs, hands still holding yours, “Did you know that the first record of you started almost exactly five years ago?” He trailed off, eyes scrutinizing yours, “And I mean actual record, not the fake ones that were made also exactly five years ago.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was over. Truly, madly, deeply, over, “You know what five-year anniversary is coming up?” He asked and you tried to stand, tried to run, but it was no use. None of it was ever any use, and you knew it.
In the blink of an eye you were pinned to the floor, his legs locking yours in place as his hands stay intertwined with yours, “Don’t do this!” You cried, and the tears finally fell, “You don’t understand–”
"I couldn't believe it at first." His face was stone as you tried to look away from him, unable to face him now that he knew who you really were, "My y/n? The girl who I had to teach sarcasm to? The girl who needed me to show her how to use a coffee maker?" You struggled against him, wanting more than anything to cover your ears and just fade away, “Originally I thought you were amish or something, but a cold-blooded killer? A child progidy asassin?” His words were like fire, and you wanted to be swallowed whole by it, “How could that be when you were scared of your ice maker for almost a year?” What was once funny memories turned into stark reminders that this life had never really been yours to begin with. Your life would never be your own.
"Stop it, please." You sobbed, embarrassment crushing your chest as you squeezed your eyes shut. In your childhood it was all about the mission, and any other knowledge would just get in the way. You didn't learn how to properly write until you were a teenager, let alone interact with people your age. It was Jungkook who painstakingly helped you learn the most basic tasks and subtle inflections. He never once got frustrated or gave up on you and here he was, his palms pressing against yours as he tore your walls to shreds.
“And then… he said your name.” Your whole body froze, your thrashing coming to an end, but the tears never stopped. “He said it to me, and only me, but it’ll be no time before the other guys question him.” He explained, eyes still unbelievably cold as he regarded you. Byungjoo, that fucking rat. You should’ve known, but what made it worse was that if you never befriended Jungkook, your name wouldn't matter that much. They wouldn't know your birthday or your address or anything, but you put a target on your back the moment you let him into your apartment all those years ago.
"I'm dead." Tears kept falling, but your body was stone now, and it would be soon. All those years of trying to survive and be somebody outside of your father, would be for nothing. You couldn’t outrun your past, and you felt stupid for ever trying.
He ignored your words, but you felt him squeeze your hands a bit harder, “At first I thought you were playing me," He grit his teeth, making you shiver. You wanted to protest, but he just pressed on, "but then I understood.” You finally looked at him, confusion filling your eyes with the tears as his gaze softened. He leaned down to your ear, “It was fate.” The way he said it nearly made you teares freeze on your face. Something about it sounded almost sinister, but what was worse is you could tell he genuinely meant it.
“What?” You squeaked out, and he chuckled darkly. You could hardly recognize him like this, and you wondered if the Jungkook you knew was nothing but a facade or if this was just another part of him.
“Come on, two mafia darlings finding each other against all odds and genuinedly not knowing who the other was.” He pulled back to look at you, eyes transparent now as his pupils dilated, “We’re perfect.” He breathed. You could see he wasn’t angry, but you couldn’t recognize that look in his eyes, “No more running, green girl.” The nickname made your body tremble beneath him.
“Just let me–”
He quickly cut in, “I’’ll protect you.” He kissed softly at the tear running down your cheek.
You shook harder, “They’ll kill me.” You cried softly, “I don’t have anything to offer. I don’t know where my father is and–”
“Shh, shh.” He soothed you, but it did little to help, “I won’t let them kill you.” He promised, and you weren’t sure how much he could keep the promise, “If they do, I’m going with you.” Your eyes bulged at this.
“You can’t mean that.” You tried to reason with him, but he simply shook his head.
“I mean everything I say to you.” He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in deeply, “You’d do well to remember that, okay?” He pressed another kiss to your forehead, “I’m gonna go talk to them in a bit.” He sighed, not looking forward to it.
“T-Tonight?” You asked.
He hummed in agreement, “No time like the present, huh?” He sat up, finally releasing your hands, but keeping your legs still as he sent you a sharp look, “No running, okay?”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You ruefully responded, nerves running on overdrive.
“Oh come on, I know Eunhwa worked for your father.” He tsked, and you flinched, not noticing the way he softened at your fear.
“Not even she is willing to risk her life to help me right now.” You snapped,looking away from him in shame. You had no one, no one except him. Even if you did try to run on your own, it would be two seconds before a bounty the size of Seoul was on your head. You’d be found by someone else, but you couldn’t help but feel like Jungkook would stop at nothing to find you first regardless, “We originally agreed to wait a few weeks since anniversary week is kind of…”
He snorted, already knowing the situation. He was one of the men that helped craft it. Nothing involving your family happened during that time, which made you all so hard to find, but obviously not hard enough, “Lucky me then.” He finally released your legs and you scrambled away from him. A flash of hurt came and was gone from his pupils before he extended his hand to you, “I never wanted to do any of this.” He reminded you, finally sounding like the Jungkook you knew but it did nothing to ease you, “I never wanted to scare you like that, but it was the only way to–”
You hugged your knees curling into yourself, "But you did." You sighed, feeling so unbelievably empty, as you struggled to take in a breath, “Just go.” Your voice cracked, and he recognied the tone immediately.
“No, I’m not going to leave you like–” He tried to offer to help but you just covered your ears as you cried into your knees.
“Leave, please!” You rasped, and that’s when it hit him. Regardless of the affection you both felt for each other, your relationship was fundamentally changed. You were no longer each other’s escape, you were the grizzly reality.
“No.” He seethed before crumbling down next to you. Despair washed over him at the reality of your relationship, but not even that could get in the way of his need to be close to you. What he had with you transcended wrong and right. You were tattooed into his psyche.
“Haven’t you done enough?” You croaked before his body covered yours. Even if you had the energy, you weren’t planning to fight his embrace, not when your traitorous body managed to relax as his mahogany and rain scented cologne invaded your senses, allowing you to take your first real breath since this whole ordeal.
“I won’t leave you like this.” His voice was muffled as he pressed his palms over yours to quiet the outside world, “Even if it’s my fault.” His breath hit your forehead as he kissed the skin, “Even if it makes you hate me.” He promised, “I’ll never leave you like this.” He began his rhythmic tapping, just like he always did, and the familiarity brought you both comfort, even if just for a moment.
“I hate this.” He let out a small sigh of relief when your hate wasn’t explicitly directed at him, “I’m scared, and I never wanted to be that girl again.” For the first time, Jungkook found himself wondering what exactly happened those five years ago. He wanted to know every little thing about your life before him. He wanted to know why you were alone, if you were loved, if someone hurt you, and most importantly, he wanted to know who, “I’m dead.” You cried into his chest.
“No, you’re not.” He all but promised, “I won’t let them.” He pressed a too-sweet kiss to your forehead.
“Why?” You asked again, even though you knew you weren’t ready for the answer.
“Because…” He trailed off, trying to think of what to say, never letting up on his taps, “You’re mine.” He mused, and you succumbed to your despair even further as your body shook violently.
“And what do I have then?” You sobbed, “What’s mine then?” Your life had never been yours, and you suddenly felt so foolish to think it ever would be. Made to be a puppet and cursed to never cut the strings.
“I am.” He immediately responded and you shook your head, but he only held you tighter, “Don’t be scared.” He breathed, “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.” He promised, and it broke your heart that the notion both scared and eased you. You simply nodded as you both stayed that way and then once your breathing stabilized, he let you be alone.
“I don’t know how I’m going to forgive you for this.” You admitted, the both of you hurting from your statement.
“I know.” He looked to you with a soft smile, “But you will eventually, and that’s all I care about.”
He set his jaw before taking his leave, and he could hear your breathing trying to steady even as he closed the door. He leaned against the wood, sighing as he closed his eyes. It was just a rough patch. You just couldn’t see how good this was for both of you. Even if he had to rebuild your relationship all by himself, he would. He’d do anything if it meant keeping you. Maybe he was an addict down to his core, trading one vice for another. He didn’t care either way.
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#bts mafia au#bts fanfic#bts series#bts poly au#ot7 x reader#yandere bts#yandere bts x reader#bts x reader#mafia bts#yandere mafia bts
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Held through the darkness - Hannibal x reader.
A/N: Hello!! its bee a while. truthfully, im not doing so hot at the moment and this was written basically as a form of therapy but hey i felt like sharing. Enjoy!!
Warnings: None
Word count: 1781
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You sat and stared out at the empty world ahead of you. Well technically it wasn’t empty. It was bustling with life. You could see an endless row of headlights, streetlamps making the city below you glow. You thought about how there were thousands, if not more, people down there right now. Each with their own individual lives; with their own families, friends, lovers, exes. Each having their own background, a place they came from, a life they’ve lived. Every single person so full with complex emotions and thoughts from every walk of life. So why did you feel so alone? So utterly and painfully abandoned. Your chest felt hollow. There was a gaping whole where something once lived. It had been so long you couldn’t even recall what used to inhabit it. But whatever it was had been robbed from you, leaving you as an empty shell condemned to drift through life in search of a feeling you weren’t even sure existed anymore.
You didn’t feel sad. You didn’t feel anything. Just incomplete. Your mind raced with thoughts, scanning through your memories in search of something to fulfil you once more as you stared blankly ahead of you.
“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay here much longer” A voice came from behind you.
You swirled round, seeing the last person you expected to be in your home.
“Doctor Lecter? What are you doing here?” You queried as the man stood in the doorway that led from your balcony back into your apartment.
“I told you I would come to check on you. After that call we had, I didn’t trust that you were okay. Even if you tried to convince me you were” He stated, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he looked at you.
Your brow furrowed. You had called him? When? The last time you remember speaking to him was around 3 weeks ago where you decided to end your sessions with him. Not because you thought you were getting any better, quiet the opposite. But you just couldn’t bare to face him with it. Or anyone for that matter. You’d completely drawn away from the people in your life recently, not knowing how to function around them with such a weight on your soul.
“I called you earlier today, after Will said he saw you at the supermarket. He said you looked distressed, burn out.” He explained, sensing your confusion.
It came back to you as he spoke.
“Yes I remember, sorry. My head just feels a bit…foggy at the moment.” You replied, turning back to face the city in front of you.
The doctor took a few steps, coming to stand beside you.
“You are not okay y/n”
“I’m alive aren’t I?” You joked dryly.
“Being alive is not equivalent to living. You’re simply existing.” His words made your stomach drop, your throat feeling a little tighter than it was before.
“Tell me. What is on your mind?”
Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t want to talk. You just wanted to rot away into nothing.
“I’m fine. Just tired. I’m sorry you drove all the way here for nothing.” The lack of energy behind your voice made it impossible to convince yourself, let alone convince him.
“Don’t lie to me. I can tell when you’re being honest and when you’re not.” His voice was stern, but with a layer of concern weaved in.
“Y/N”
He placed his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Your eyes dropped as to avoid his gaze. You’ d grown rather fond of Doctor Lecter in your time of being his patient. You found yourself craving his approval, craving his comfort and affection more than you probably should. The thought of him seeing you like this, seeing the lack of life left in you filled you with shame.
“Why did you even come here? I’m not your patient anymore” You muttered, his hand still gently resting on your shoulder.
“I care about you. Regardless of if you’re my patient or not, I want to make sure you are okay”
Your gaze finally met his, sincerity swimming in his eyes. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to accept his words and bare your soul to him. But you just couldn’t. There was a constant nagging in your head that he was only here because he felt he needed to be, out of professional curiosity. Nothing else.
“I am okay. Like I said, I’m just tired. I should probably go to sleep.”
“y/n-“
“thank you for checking up on me Doctor Lecter. You can go now” You turned to walk away from him, heading back inside.
“No” He said firmly, causing you to stop in your tracks.
You turned once more to face him. “No?”
“No I am not going to leave.”
You were slightly taken aback by his words. “What? Look respectfully, this is my home. And I really just want to sleep so please can you just leave?”
“No.” He replied, taking a step towards you. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. It is more than evident you’re struggling, and I’m not going to let you drown in this.”
His words were too kind, too caring. It hit you in your chest, sinking down through your stomach. You couldn’t handle this. You need him to go.
“Just leave.” You mumbled, trying to keep your emotions down.
“Talk to me and I will.”
You could feel your anger rising. You weren’t angry at him; you were angry at the world.
“I don’t want you here” You snapped.
“I don’t care” He stepped closer to you once again.
“Get the fuck out of my house Hannibal”
“Tell me what’s wrong”
“EVERYTHING” You shouted, throwing your hands in the air. “Everything is fucking wrong. I am so sick of everything. Waking up every fucking day with this crushing desolate feeling that completely weighs me down. No matter what I do nothing fills it. And if I find something that numbs it for a while, its only every temporary. I am so fucking tired. I am broken and there is nothing I can do to fix it.”
Tears began to flow freely as you continued to rant, your hands threading through your hair.
“I feel like I am going insane every moment of the day. I am so relentlessly burnt out and yet I have no reason to be because I don’t do anything. I can’t do anything. I just want it all to stop, I just-“
You were cut off as a sob escaped your throat. You fell to your knees, crying harder than you ever had before. Months of pent-up emotion, of fighting down every urge you had came bursting out of you. Your lungs were on fire and your head pounded but you just couldn’t stop. You hadn’t noticed Hannibal sitting next to you until you felt his arms wrap around you, pulling your body against his. Your head crashed into his chest, your hands clinging to his shirt as if it was the only thing keep you afloat. He held you tightly, his hand rubbing gentle patterns across your back as he spoke softly.
“You’re going to be okay. I’m here. Let it out”
You had no idea how long the two of you stayed like that, curled up on the floor of your balcony sobbing into him. You cried until there was nothing left, and your eyes were dry. When you eventually calmed down, Hannibal pulled away from you gently cupping your face to meet your eyes
“I want you to listen to me y/n. Can you do that for me?”
You nodded stiffly as you gazed at him.
“What you’re feeling is real. It is too much for one person to carry alone. I won’t lie to you and tell you there’s an easy quick fix, that will take time. But you need to allow yourself to seek help. You need to share this burden, to allow someone in to guide you through this. It is so easy to let yourself get wrapped up, until your blind to everything except the pain. But my darling, there is so much more. And if you let me, I will be by your side walking with you through it all. Until you see just how fulfilling you can make your life. You will never be alone in this, not as long as I’m around.” His thumb gently caressed your face, the other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
The earnest expression his face held, along with the genuine care laced into his tone was enough to make you want to cry all over again. No one had ever expressed such a care for you before. You never realised how much you needed it.
“Why do you care so much? I’m nothing but an ex-patient of yours” Your voice was quiet, if not hoarse from all the crying.
A small smile appeared on his face as his eyes scanned yours, as if he was trying to memorise every detail.
“You are so much more than that to me. Over the time I’ve gotten to know you, you have become a beacon in my life. You make me feel a way I have never felt before. I admire you more than you know. I care for you so deeply my darling. I won’t say its love, because truthfully this is all new to me, but it is most definitely close to it. All I know is that I want to be with you, I want to be the person you come to with everything – whether you’re happy, angry, or feeling the way you do now. I want to be the person you share yourself with. If you’ll allow it.”
Your heart swelled at his confession. For the first time in a while, you felt a genuine smile on your face.
“I don’t want anyone else Hannibal. Only you.” You leant forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him close to you.
His arms wrapped securely around your waist, one of his hands threading their way into your hair as he gently massaged your scalp. You melted into his touch, feeling relaxed for once.
“Aš niekada neleisiu tau jaustis vienišam, man brangioji.” He whispered against your hair.
You knew this wouldn’t be easy; even now with Hannibal by your side, this was going to be a hard journey to pull through. But for once, as you sat here cradled in him arms under the night sky, you felt a small glimmer of hope.
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i hope you enjoyed, sorry for the depressing return to posting<3
#x reader#nbc hannibal#hannibal#hannibal nbc#hannibal lecter#hannibal x reader#mads mikkelsen#mads mikkleson
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1825 days
Kate Bishop x Reader
gif is not mine
Summary: Kate fell in love with you as soon as she met you. However, the vast age difference between you always let her know that nothing would ever happen. But what happens when those seven years of difference suddenly become two?
Word count: 3.774 || Pronouns: not used
Warnings: none
A/N: Well, today was a very boring day for me so here's a short story for you guys. Enjoy!
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
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It was yet another one of the many fancy parties Kate’s mother would drag her to, claiming it was important to Bishop Security’s business that the company's legatee attended all relevant events.
That didn’t make the brunette like them any better.
Eleanor would have to spend weeks insisting, urging her daughter to participate - and moreover, to behave appropriately for her position. Kate didn’t even know what that really meant, if she were being honest. She had no intention of finding out either. And, to be even more sincere, her mother’s speech was very little effective.
What really made her show up at all of those boring parties had a name, and the most beautiful face - that was scattered all over her bedroom walls from pictures she took over the years.
Kate Bishop loved martial arts, and archery, and adrenaline. But the thing she loved the most - and the one that was the most surprising of all, at least to herself - was you.
Your mother worked very closely with Eleanor, they were both partners on some matter that Kate had absolutely no interest in. The only part of this partnership that the brunette really cared about was the fact that you’d always be at the events her mother put together.
And, over these few years, Kate has learned a few things about you. You like blue, you always have some blue item on your clothes, even if discreetly - she always wondered if you liked her eyes as well.
Unlike her, you really want to take over your family’s company one day, and you work really hard to do it, even though your parents are still young and don’t plan on retiring any time soon. She really admires you for that.
You love seeing animal pictures on your phone when you’re bored, and the brunette felt her heart warm every time you sent her dog pictures because you know she’s a dog person.
And, the apparently only detail of yours that bothers her: you are older than her. Seven years older, to be exact.
If she were being honest, Kate didn’t care about that age gap one bit. She truly likes you and the way her heart skips a beat every time you’re around should overcome any age difference that two people may have.
But she knows that the fact that she’s sixteen and you’re twenty-three was clearly an issue for you. Especially since you didn't seem to have feelings for her at all.
And the worst part is that she knows you know, because everybody knows. People talk about it, making funny comments and jokes that made Kate’s cheeks warm up so hard she’s sure she’d get a third-degree burn. You always noticed her embarrassment, deflecting the subject to take the focus off of her. That only made her like you painfully more.
“I noticed you’re copying my style.” The voice she loves the most sounds right behind her, and an ear-to-ear grin took over her lips even before she spun on her heels. “Hi!” The brunette greets excitedly, throwing her arms around your neck, and you giggle as you hug her around the waist.
“Hey, Bishop.” You say against her ear, and the sound this time so close to her made Kate’s body shiver in a way she probably shouldn’t, so she pulls away. She keeps her eyes on yours as she does, though, admiring mesmerized as you smile at her expectantly.
The silence grows longer for a moment, and it takes the brunette another two seconds to remember you had made a comment in the first place, blinking a few times to pull herself together. Looking down at her own body, Kate lets out a short laugh. “Er-Yeah! I am, yeah. My mom finally let me wear a suit.”
“It looks good on you.” You comment wholeheartedly, admiring the set of clothing before taking your eyes back to Kate’s face, which is on fire at this point. “It looks better on you, though.” The brunette bites her tongue as soon as the comment fails to be contained by her short-circuited system, her eyes widening slightly. But you just giggle softly in response, making her forget about anything at all.
“I have to greet the other guests, but I’ll come back to you in an instant, yeah?” You comment a moment later, glancing at a point ahead of the party, where your mother beckons you to join her. “Sure, I’ll be waiting.” The brunette answers in a nervous grumble, and you give her a brief smile before rushing to where you were supposed to be, leaving behind a rather flustered Kate Bishop.
The next few minutes are somehow worse than the previous ones before your arrival, because the brunette decided to sit at one of the empty tables at the back of the salon, waiting for you to come back with a swinging leg.
Kate didn’t know exactly how long had passed - 23 minutes and 45 seconds, but who would ever count such a thing? -, but you eventually joined her again, two glasses in your hand and a soft smile on your face. The brunette reciprocates it with a shy one, murmuring a low ‘thank you’ as you hand her the glass of soda, sitting by her side as you sip on your champagne.
The silence grows longer as the two of you stay there in silence, watching the party getting more and more crowded. And although Kate didn’t mind just being by your side quietly, her anxious brain fought in search of something to say or do.
“I got my driver's license this weekend.” She lets out the first thing that came to her mind, and you turn to her with an excited smile. “No way! That’s awesome!” You reply wholeheartedly, making Kate’s cheeks flush as you place your glass over the fancy tablecloth. “I remember when I got mine, I was so nervous.”
“Yeah, I was a bit nervous too.” The brunette agrees with a giggle, finding it hard to keep her eyes on you and not on her lap. You offer her a sweet smile, and Kate ignores the fast beats of her heart to smile back.
“But don’t worry about it, it will get easier over the years.” You assure then, and the brunette only murmurs in understanding, being once again reminded of your obstructive age difference. “I'd love to get a ride with you sometime, Bishop. Maybe I can give you a few tips.” You add, playfully nudging her arm with your elbow, and the brunette widens her eyes.
“Sure! I-I’d love that!” Kate agrees perhaps too excitedly, but the sound of your giggle fills the air between you soon after, and she doesn’t find it in herself to care, an ear-to-ear grin on her lips. “Cool! We can do it on Friday afternoon if you’re not busy.”
“I’m not, Friday afternoon would be awesome.” She lets you know, and you smile as you nod your head in confirmation. The next moment, however, a noise caught your attention, and you turn your gaze to a spot ahead at the party.
Smiling with amusement, you nod for Kate to follow your gaze, and the girl giggles softly at seeing one of the richest men at the party apologizing for knocking wine onto the jacket of a boy Kate had only seen a few times, the former's cheeks almost as red as the drink stain.
And as she looked at the scene, the brunette watched you out of the corner of her eye. With a smile on her lips at the thought of meeting you in a few days, Kate had no way of knowing that, after this night, she would not see you again for another five years.
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Today is as chaotic as it was five years ago.
However, instead of painful and sorrowful and herwreaking, this one was exciting and hopeful and overwhelming in the best possible way.
Kate knew the world would need a long time to adapt to this huge change - she wondered if having half the population coming back out of nowhere would be more challenging than having the same amount of people disappearing overnight.
But the social, economic, political, and environmental problems were the last thing on the brunette’s mind, because fifteen minutes ago she got a phone call from her mother telling her that you were at your parent’s house.
You were back.
After losing her father, Kate thought nothing could hurt that much. But you went and proved her wrong. Seeing people vanish into thin air in the middle of her classroom was frightening, but it was nothing compared to the horror of receiving the news that you were one of those who had been turned to dust by Thano’s snap.
During those five years, the brunette had felt so alone, a kind of loneliness she didn’t even know could exist. Living her life on autopilot, every single minute wishing she could talk to you again, tell you about her day and the things she’d done, craving to hear your giggle again, the sound that was slowly fading out of her memory.
But all those bad thoughts all vanished at once the instant your father invited her into his house, being replaced by pure excitement. When she walked through the marble doorway dividing the kitchen and living room, the brunette’s brain stopped working all at once at the sight of you, sitting on the couch by your mother’s side.
The gasp that left her mouth must have been loud, because as soon as it does, you raise your eyes to where she is, and Kate can’t help but feel her vision blurring with tears when they meet hers.
“Y/n!” The brunette lets out as she runs towards you, and you barely have time to stand up from the couch before she crashes into you, her arms around your neck. “Hey, Bishop.” You greet her in the same way you always did, and the sound of your voice in the real world, outside of her memory or the videos on her phone, makes her cry even more.
Your arms hug her tighter around the waist as her body begins to shake with sobs, and Kate doesn’t know how she feels about it all. It is so familiar and heartwarming to have you back, the same perfume, the same way you run your fingers gently on her back. But it was also new, the way your bodies fit completely differently against each other’s.
But regardless of whether it was familiar or new, it was good, so Kate makes no mention of letting go at any time soon. Much to the brunette's satisfaction, you let her be the first to pull away. After a few minutes, she does.
“You’re back.” Kate comments with teary eyes, sniffing softly. “I am.” You confirm with a smile. “And you’re… So different from the last time I saw you.” You add as you let your eyes roam over her figure, head to toe before coming up to her eyes again, your expression too hard to decipher.
“Well, that was five years ago.” The brunette comments with a giggle and rosy cheeks, and you laugh through your nose at the banter. “I’m pretty sure it was yesterday.” You hit back with humor, but the thought makes Kate’s eyes fill with tears again, and she can’t help hugging you once more. “I missed you so much.”
“Y/n,” your mother’s voice calls you softly, and only now do the two of you remember your parents’ presence in the room, pulling away to look at the older woman, “your father and I need to go back to the company now.”
“Things are very chaotic with everyone coming back.” The man adds the explanation as he approaches you and Kate. “Sure, of course.” You answer with an understanding smile, and your family smiles back in appreciation.
“We’ll see you for dinner though.” Your mother promises with a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, and your father nods in confirmation before turning her gaze to the brunette beside you. “I’m sure Kate here will love to keep you company in the meantime.”
“Absolutely.” She answers promptly, glancing at you for a brief moment before looking back at your parents.
And so the four of you are exchanging goodbyes, and your parents hug you tighter than usual before walking towards the door. Kate watches them leave until they disappear through the door, and the moment she looks back at you, she sees your eyes already on her.
“What?” The brunette asks amidst a giggle, a hint of amusement in her curious tone. But you just stare at her in silence for a while, and she doesn’t press you to speak. “It’s been five years.” You answer finally, your hands in your pockets. “You look so different, it’s… weird.”
Kate’s brows furrow slightly as she looks down at her own figure, and only then do you realize what you had just said, widening your eyes. “No- Not that you look weird! It just is weird. You look nice.” You explain yourself clumsily, your cheeks burning, and the brunette slightly narrows her eyes at you.
It’s the first time Kate has ever seen you like that. You’re usually so confident and chill, you’ve never been shy or flustered, much less stuttering. At least not in her presence, certainly not with her. She wonders what has changed, and then she remembers. Five years have changed.
“Thank you.” She chooses her answer, still intrigued by the slightly pink in your cheeks. “So,” you start, looking away as you sit on the couch, “what happened while I was gone?” You decide to change the subject, and Kate smiles, taking the seat across from yours. “Oh, so much. I’m gonna tell you everything.”
She did, indeed, tell you about everything. About her last years in high school, about all the awards she’s gotten from archery and martial arts tournaments. She tells you about her friends, about her new apartment in Manhattan, and about her favorite establishments in the city, many of them having been opened after the snap.
“[...] There are so many places I wanna show you!” The brunette commented excitedly and, feeling her throat dry, she finally realized how much she has been talking since you asked.
But for the first time, she doesn’t care about talking too much, because she missed you more than she was able to bear these last five years, and you look at her as if you were more than willing to hear everything she has to say, so she didn’t hold back.
“Well, you still owe me a car ride.” You say with humor, referring to the conversation you had had that night at the party, yesterday for you but so many years ago for her. The memory was still fresh on Kate’s mind, however, and she lets out a happy giggle as she agrees.
“I’m afraid I don’t need your tips anymore, though.” The brunette hits back playfully, and you narrow your eyes at her as you murmur a “we’ll see about that” that makes her giggle.
Then the two of you are walking side by side towards the front door and Kate casts you a brief glance, smiling at having you back.
⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅
You and Kate see each other every day now.
As she promised on the first day, she takes you to all the places she likes that she knows you’ve never been to, telling you about all the things that have changed during the time you’ve been gone.
But the change that strikes you the most is Kate herself.
Ever since you met her, the brunette had always been the shy girl that always got flustered whenever you were around, stuttering at her own words as she tried to say to you the simplest of sentences.
This Kate Bishop beside you was completely different from that sheepish girl in the corner. She was funny and confident, and clumsy in a surprisingly charming kind of way. She was also beautiful and - every now and then - flirtatious, often turning you into a flustered mess.
The conflicting feelings grew inside of you, becoming more and more overwhelming every time you saw her smiling or you heard her laughing. The moment it all became very clear to you, however, was during a night out at a bar.
Kate was telling you about this pub downtown with colorful lights and live music, and you would accept going out with her even if it was to eat hot dogs on the street, so you said yes immediately.
The place was indeed cozy, and you didn’t mind when she dragged you towards the bar by the hand. The night was pleasant and the alcohol in your veins was about to make you do something stupid if she kept smiling at you like that.
But not before long, a random guy approached, ignoring you completely as he flirted with Kate bluntly. He was charming and seemed like a nice guy, but the jealous feeling inside you was so strong and unexpected that you weren’t able to stop yourself from aggressively telling the man to fuck off.
And then the guy suddenly didn't seem so nice anymore, and the discussion ended up with the two of you being requested to leave the bar.
“I’m sorry for ruining the night.” You comment shily as you walk down the street, your voice a bit slurred from the strong liquor you had. “Oh, you didn’t. That was actually really fun to watch.” Kate replies with humor, making you smile as you look at the floor.
“Have you been seeing anyone?” You ask before you’re able to hold back, and as you look at her expectantly, the brunette turns her gaze to you with slightly wide eyes. “What? Oh, no. I’ve been busy.”
That was a lie. In fact, a very bad one. But, fortunately for her, you were busy kicking a pebble to notice. “Although I… I had a huge crush on you.” Kate adds a few minutes later with a shy giggle, making you smile. “I’m aware.”
“I know you are.” The brunette grumbles in response, feeling her cheeks heating up as she looks away. But you let out a soft laugh at her reaction, and soon she’s smiling again. It would always be a mystery to her the effect you had on her.
The two of you fall back onto a comfortable silence, walking together around New York as you think of something else to do. But then you stop suddenly, and Kate mimics your action a second later, a furrow between her brows as she watches you with confusion.
You don’t say anything however, and the brunette follows your gaze with her, her sight landing on a light-up billboard advertising a play with the date of the next weekend highlighted.
“Can you believe it’s been five years?” You comment slowly, your expression thoughtful, and Kate sighs, looking at you briefly before looking back at the advertiser. “Honestly, it doesn’t feel like a lot when you put it like that.”
“What do you mean?” You sound as curious as your expression and, feeling your gaze on her, Kate looks back at you again. “Like, five is such a small number, isn’t it?” She says, “I prefer counting it in days, it feels more real.”
You only look at her in silence, the furrow between your eyebrows letting you know you didn’t really understand what she meant. “Every day I would mark another day being over in my calendar, and I would think of how much time has passed since the day you were gone.” She explains, swallowing the lump in her throat to add, “1825 days.”
“That’s a lot.” You comment under your breath, and the brunette nods with a sad smile on her lips. “I know.” She agrees quietly, tears building up in the corner of her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve been missing you for five years. But it sure as hell feels like I’ve been missing you for 1825 fucking days.”
You only stare at her in silence, your eyes shining with so many emotions Kate can’t even start to count. But she wouldn’t be able to even if she tried, cause the next moment you are taking a step closer to her, making the brunette take a step back in reflex.
“And what about your feelings?” You ask in a low voice, your eyes descending to her lips. “What?” Kate asks affectedly, her brain completely short-circuited at this point. “What happened to your feelings in these 1825 days?” You ask again as you take another step forward, and this time the brunette hits her back against the wall of the building behind her, making her gasp softly.
“They haven’t gone anywhere.” She replies finally, finding it hard to keep her eyes on yours as she can feel your breathing against her lips. “I’ve been loving you for all of these 1825 days. I think that’s what hurt the most.” Her confession makes you smile, and you take your eyes to her blue ones one last time before descending them again.
“Well, good thing the pain is over, then.” You whisper against her lips, and any coherent thought is sent far away from Kate's mind when your mouth meets hers, eliciting a heavy sigh from her.
Your lips fit perfectly against hers, as do her hands in your hair and yours on her waist. As your tongue begs for passage, the brunette feels a funny sensation beneath her belly, and she's quick to grant it to you.
And as you deepened the kiss against that concrete wall, you had no way of knowing that 1825 days from now you and Kate would be sharing an apartment in the outskirts of New York, the brunette being one of the newest superheroes while you took care of your newborn Y/l/n-Bishop.
And within those 1825 days, there wouldn't be a single day that Kate wasn't scared of losing you again, the same way you were terrified of losing her on some dangerous Avengers mission. But everything was fine, because you would always come back to her after a long day at work, and Kate would always come back to you after saving the world.
And from 1825 days to 1825 days, the two of you would build your life together, unhurriedly, one day at a time.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
#kate bishop x reader#kate bishop imagine#kate bishop#hawkeye#hailee steinfeld x reader#hailee steinfield x reader#marvel x reader#marvel imagines#marvel imagine#hawkeye fanfic
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Wedding date: Part 3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 4
Villain’s determination is close to failing as the ceremony nears its end. They could feel the gazes directed at them the moment they walked into the church with their ‘date’. They were lucky the bride was about to walk down the aisle, so no one made any comments. The looks, however, said it all.
The only people smiling from ear to ear were the bride and Hero. And if the bride's smile was understandable and expected, Hero was simply an idiot. An idiot with a survival instinct nonexistent in their system.
“Jesus, read the room, Hero,” Villain whispers, tilting their head to the side so no one can see their lips. Their jaw is tense, lips barely parting as they speak.
“What is it, honey?“ Their archnemesis is unfazed, still grinning like the Cheshire cat. Villain can’t decide if they’re oblivious, overly confident or plain dense. “Your grandmother seems nice - she winked at me when we walked in.”
“God, are you serious?” Exasperation laces Villain’s voice. They pinch the bridge of their nose with ice-cold fingers before speaking through gritted teeth. “Don’t let your guard down, Hero.“
“Aw, don’t worry about me,” Hero is serene as if they’re not surrounded by their rival’s entire family. This was a mistake, Villain thinks. Their hands flex anxiously, and Hero can’t help the fond smile tagging at the corners of their lips. “I’m your enemy, not theirs, remember? You’re the only Villain I ever battle.”
That’s news to Villain. News that makes something inside them flutter with joy. They suppress a growl of protest, closing their eyes for a short moment to calm the insects inside their stomach.
When Villain finally speaks, their voice is small as they utter the only phrase that comes to mind. “Excuse me?”
“All I’m saying is I’ll be fine as long as you don’t cause a riot, love,” Hero’s comment puzzles Villain further as they force their attention back to the ceremony, clapping along as the couple walks past them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Villain can’t even remember who’s getting married at this point. The perspiration covers their forehead. What the hell is going on?
“We should move,” Hero prompts, nodding towards the exit. Villain’s eyes roam over the faces in the crowd as they pass them, searching for any hostility towards their date, but no one dares to look them in the eye.
The reception hall is quite large, but the dim lighting creates a cosy ambience. Villain swirls the wine in their glass, trying hard to focus their attention on anything other than Hero’s palm spread on their thigh. The wedding’s been going smoothly so far, with only a few strange glances from their family members. So far, Hero’s managed to charm their way into every single conversation around their table of siblings and cousins. Disgusting. Cute.
Ugh, I hate you.
Villain would sooner die than admit that having Hero next to them felt painfully natural. They were starting to understand why the city loved this bright-eyed puppy of a hero so much. Sunshine personified. Probably why they are the hero. Villain would very much like to slap that cheerful grin off. Probably why they are the villain.
Deep in thought, Villain fails to notice that Hero has left their side and someone else has taken the place.
“When I said fuck Hero, I didn’t mean it that way.” Villain chokes on their wine, head whipping around and eyes wide with terror.
Then dawns the recognition. “Grandma!“
“But you do you, I guess...” Their grandmother ignores the plea completely, shaking her head with the slyest smile possible. “Or should I say, you do them?”
“Grandma, please,” covering their face in embarrassment, Villain presses their palms against their burning cheeks. Why is it so hot in here?
Villain wishes the ground to open up and swallow them whole. Or a bolt of lightning to strike them dead. Or a goddamn comet to crush the venue. Anything, really.
“I’m kidding, darling,” Grandma chuckles, pleased with the effect. “I’m glad you found someone who cares about you.”
“You think they care about me?” Villain can’t help the hopeful intonation, but they pray their grandma won’t notice. She does, of course, smiling from ear to ear and winking at someone behind Villain’s back.
“Can’t you see how their eyes light up when they look at you?" Grandmother doesn’t wait for an answer, standing up and placing a hand on her grandchild’s rigid shoulder. "Especially in battle."
Villain blinks, their gaze absent as they turn in slow motion. The ringing in their ears blocks the music, leaving them in a strange vacuum-like state. “Gran, you know who they are, right?”
“Hero, yes. So what?” Grandma asks, offering them a knowing smile. Villain’s concerns must be evident on their face since she continues almost immediately. “When did you ever follow the conventional ways, darling?”
She pats Villain’s shoulder before walking away and leaving them in the deafening silence of their thoughts. Villain can feel nothing but their heart beating hard against their temples and the walls of their throat. They take several deep breaths and squeeze their eyes shut to ground themselves, only to be reeled off into panic upon opening them and noticing Hero waltzing towards them.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 4
Masterlist
#writing#creative writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#villain x hero#hero and villain#hero x villain#heroes and villains#villain#hero#villain and hero#wedding#date#wedding date#fake relationship#is it fake though?#part 4 coming up soon#i swear it will be the last one#valentines day#special?#kinda#women writers#female writers#sunnynwanda#requests open
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hii, I was thinking for the 1k followers event (congrats btw☆) at number 10 with Mikey. maybe his s/o is a foreign(hope I wrote it right :/) that has to go back to their country for a couple years and they promise eachother to get back together once they meet again?? 🛐 jfdjfjwk
[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ it hurts because it isn’t fair. it hurts even more because you’re tired of being selfless. this is your moment to be selfish.
[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ hellooooooo!!!! here it is! i know it took a lot of time, but i really liked this idea since i first got the ask🤭 hope you like it! prompt no. 10 “remember me” + mikey ;
tw: kind of a breakdown?
TOKYO HEART CLUB
“it’s all righ— “
“no it’s not! don’t tell me it’s alright when it isn’t, mikey! does it look alright to you?”
mikey pushes your head even harder into his shoulder. his already dirty toman uniform is dirtied even harder with your cries and he feels his heart shattering at the sound of your off-chord symphonies.
“i worked my ass off, and you know that!” you raise your head and yell at him, as if it’s any of his fault, “i studied japanese alone, i bought all my books and study materials, i got here on my own, with no one’s help! i won the shadowing residency at UTokyo and i did all i could so i could be top of my class and stay here! and how do i get rewarded? i’m being sent away because some snot-nosed, rich kids want to come to japan to fool around and they had to bribe admissions!”
mikey looks in your eyes with a look so comforting, yet annoying. it’s the looks that means ‘i know, you deserve none of this”, but that very look pains you because you know it too. perhaps it’d have been easier if you would have convinced yourself it was you who did something wrong, but you really were a picture-perfect student: highest grades, always respectful and attention-paying in class, never got into fights that the study abroad agency heard of, you did everything to a t. and yet they still want to send you away? because of what? rich kids that’ll do nothing but get low grades, won’t even bother studying japanese and most likely get arrested for doing dumb shit, sooner or later? everything you have, they don’t, and they’re still sending you away? and not just you, all of your friends, kids who put in just as much effort as you to get where they were. and now, all of their dreams are shattered.
you look in his eyes and in their reflection plays a painfully beautiful movie of memories. your eyes start to water even harder and you just can’t take it anymore.
“don’t let me leave, mikey!” you grab onto his shirt and with fists full of white cotton you pull on it, as if you’re pulling your own hair out, “i love you, i love being here with you, you’re my sec— screw that, you are my family! i don’t want to lose you, you know? and i don’t want you to forget me, please don’t forget me! always remeber me, mikey! i still want to be your girlfriend and i still want to patch you up after you come home all beat up after gang fights! i want to be there on the sides to take care of you and your team, i still want to be toman’s chief of medical assistance and hear you guys laugh about my title! i — i — “
his soft palm meets your quivering mouth and he eyes you down. his soft lips part and his eyes widen.
“what do you mean, you still want to be my girlfriend, y/n? do you think you moving away for one year, hell, even less, is going to strip you of that title? do you think you’re not gonna be the queen of toman anymore, the angel of death that patches up fifty guys at once and does so with the utmost elegance? you’ll be my girlfriend till the end of the world, you’ll be toman’s chief of medical assistance until no toman member lives anymore, you’ll come here, first thing you do after graduating, and you’ll become not only toman’s lead and only doctor, but UTokyo’s as well. and we’re all gonna be waiting here for you. i’ll never forget you, not even when i’m dead.”
he pulls you close and shakes his head in a disapproving manner, “sometimes many dumb things happen in this smart thing, “ he cups your face and kisses your forehead, “let’s go to the meeting, y/n-sensei, toman’s chief of medical assistance, what do you say?”
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers imagines#tokyo revengers scenarios#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers mikey#sano manjiro x reader#sano manjiro#mikey x reader#sano manjito fluff#sano manjiro angst#sano manjiro headcanons#mikey headcanon#mikey imagines#sano manjiro imagines#mikey tokyo revengers#mikey x you#sano manjiro x you#manjiro sano#manjiro sano x reader#manjiro sano headcanons#manjiro sano imagines
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in the dirt in the dark - #4
What are you going to do now?
If your clothes weren’t already ruined from the dirt and the rain and the blood and the sharp wood of your coffin, they are certainly ruined now. Dust and blood that isn’t yours and torn open in places from climbing out through the shattered front window of the car belonging to the stranger you killed.
You didn’t kill anyone.
You did though, you did, you remember pulling the wheel off to the side, the violent swerve of the car as you guided it straight off the road. Crunching metal and shattering glass, and screaming. He was definitely screaming.
You didn’t kill him, he was already bleeding to death, you didn’t—
What does it even matter.
You caused the crash.
Still.
He hit you first.
Turnabout is fair play.
Murder isn’t.
It’s not murder, don’t be melodramatic.
It’s…
…
Breakfast.
The thought doesn’t turn your stomach like you think it should.
Very little is happening the way you think it should at the moment.
So you just keep walking. Sparse streetlights. The ocassional house. You don’t stop. You’re more than a little afraid of what might happen if you do. So why push your luck. Keep walking. Look for a highway sign and hope you recognize it.
How is it you can get hit by a car and barely feel it, but walking is making your feet ache?
What is your plan once you know where you are?
Go home?
Your apartment, your friends, your family—
Fuck.
You haven’t actually taken time to think since accepting you are not asleep. To actually think about the implications of waking up in the ground. About clawing your way from the earth. You… you were dead. You must have been dead. You…are? Actually dead? Walking and talking and breathing when you remember to, and bleeding when you’re cut, and… and still no heartbeat.
You are as dead as the dirt you crawled out of.
Which is to say, not very, but you sure do exhibit all the signs.
Oh, and you can drink blood, you want to drink blood. That’s also a thing you’re experiencing.
No, it’s not.
Right. And you didn’t kill a man earlier for hitting you with his car.
What are you going to do when you see the people who love you?
Did they bury you?
Did someone else?
Do they even know you’re gone?
How long have you been gone?
What is the last thing you remember?
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Fuzz and television static and pure dark.
Don’t bother.
You won’t find any answers there.
Keep walking.
You’re in town proper now. Town? City? You’ve always felt like the cities here are too small to really justify calling them such. You think you recognize a few buildings and then—ah, yes, there’s no mistaking the gold-capped white and sprawling lawn of the state house. You’re in the capitol.
Bienvenue! Welcome to Montpelier. You picture the little welcome sign on the interstate.
Okay, that’s a start.
Not exactly close, but it’s a start. You’ll need a car or a bus or even a bike if you want to get home proper. But maybe you can use the library here to call someone in the morning, have them come get you.
And then you can get them.
No.
You won’t be entertaining that particular thought process.
You need somewhere to sleep. Just to pass the time, as you aren’t exactly tired. Yes, your feet ache and your legs are doing that fun tingly-warm-itchy thing they do when you walk for a long time (how are they doing that? How is any of your circulatory system working right now?) but you are painfully awake and aware.
Still.
Sleeping will pass the time until it’s a reasonable hour, and then you can go to the library, use their phone, call one of your friends and get a ride back to your apartment. Provided nobody knows you’re dead. There had been no name, no dates, no flowers on the grave. Nobody must know. So nobody will be shocked when you come back.
Right?
Right.
You’ve never been so glad for New England’s habit of a church on every corner, and some of them have two. The first few are locked, or maybe the doors are just really heavy. You’ve never tried to open the giant doors. Usually there’s a side door for people to enter during services (not that you’ve been to a church service other than a funeral and a wedding or two since childhood) or else the giant ones are propped open. Or sometimes, your favorite, there is a smaller door cut into the larger doors—which do not actually open—and the smaller door is the functional part. The rest is all for aesthetics.
Anyways.
You find a church with an open door.
A breath gives you incense and dust and oiled wood. The flowers hanging off every pillar must be fake then. It’s dark—as dark as anything else is to you right now, which is not particularly dark at all—and quiet inside, your footsteps echoing off stained glass and high ceilings.
You don’t hear anything except your footsteps.
No breathing.
No movement.
Do churches really do this?
Leave doors open in the night.
…What would someone even steal from a church anyways?
You make your way up to the little loft above the altar—if you rack your brain you think you remember that being where the choir stands. There is carpet up here instead of stone tile, and you’d rather sleep on something pretending to be soft. You do manage it, in a more tangible way than you ever managed in the coffin. You drift right off to dreamless sleep, in your ruined clothes, on the floor of this church. No blanket, no pillow. Just carpet and cloth.
You don’t dream.
A part of you is still naively hoping that this is the dream, and you will wake up in bed, with a heartbeat, with lungs that draw breath without telling them to. You’re not quite ready to abandon that shred of hope.
At least until the morning comes.
And come it does.
@flyingbananasaur / @vampireposter / @gewhanaa / @abalonetea / @leopardsnake-stories / @captain-kraken
(want to be on the tag list? click here!)
#writeblr#writeblr community#vampire writeblr#amwriting#writers on tumblr#lsdente#itditd#in the dirt in the dark
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A little rain in every life must fall
Trigger warning themes of depression and themes suicidal
Derek Dagda
In the hospital Alexander was being cared for at Derek sat in a Secluded hallway and thought. Sera tarot reading had no been a clear and undeniable sign that they would succeed he wonted and alexander continuing to worse state was … deeply apparent to derek. Alex is wasting, derek could feel it . Sense a steady waning in for lack of any other Terminologies Alexander’s life force , knew sera and the professor could feel it to in their own strange way as Well. Derek Understood undeniably that the situation was bad but A selfish and unreasonable part of himself felt resentful of Alexander’s family for coming. Their large family have been coming in shifts for the last week. Derek felt it was like they were saying goodbye like they were saying it was already over. it made some Incoherent raging part him want to scream “ ALEX IS NOT DEAD WHY ARE YOU CRYING LIKE ITS OVER , WHY ARE YOU CROUNDING THEM , ALEX DOSENT LIKE BEEING CROWDED”
But…he wouldn’t .Maybe 19 year old Derek Fresh out Of their apprenticeship and angry would have but 28 year old Derek would not. It was the truth that alexander may die soon and their family has the right to be here .
“Needed some space ?” Sera ask as she leaned against next to him
Derek side and nodded”yes , I wanted to think”
“ anything specific” she prodded
“ I don’t know” and A soft sigh was all Derek could muster , there was so much to think about. Their plan to help Alex was still painfully theoretical, Victoria, we’re still out there doing gods know what, alexander’s family had questions that none of them seem to be able to answer satisfactory and then their was Nimbus alexander’s Castform that while they had not been rendered comatose in the greenhouse incident had clearly suffered some kind of damage to their cohesive energy matrix that remained abnormal even weeks after the fact . And then there was. Sara didn’t allow him to finish the thought
“ thinking about the card, Derek ?” Sera asked handing him the The seven of cups
her uncanny ability to hit the nail directly on the head was some thing that used to shock Derek. But after a few years of being friends, with a psychic, the novelty of such things, begins to wear off.
“ it didn’t go unnoticed by me that your face Took the place of the oracle or the lover “ she said “ so i know you two have been a thing for a while bbuuuut I’ve noticed you two have never made it official ?” She said more as a question. Than a statement
“Hmm have you now , didn’t you also say that the images might not be literal , that they may just represent alex imagining the future, not the actual future” derek was deflecting . And he knew it .
“ your going to make me ask, aren’t you” sera said as a statement
“ Someone less nosy wouldn’t ask at all” Derek responded also as a statement
“ Well, Alex and I are best friends and you and I have been friends for the better part of a decade. Also, I’m psychic nosiness comes Prepackaged with all my relationships, unfortunately . So im asking why Aren’t you and alex together ?”sera said
Derek knew the answer “ because alexander doesn’t want to, I’ve asked they said no “ . Sera seam Genuinely shocked by that answer “ they said no ?”
“Not in so many words but it wasn’t yes , Sera “ derek answered “ i dont think alex want that kind of “ he paused Searching for the right words “ i dont think Alexander want a serious romantic relationships anymore ,not after Antonio”
Sera was Silent for a long moment after that and derek wondered if she too remembered the day the Titan slayer killed alexander Five closest friends, and lover , Remember, the weeks that followed when she literally found Alex on the ledge of the starlight tower ready to jump. How when we and their family got them to the Mental health facility ,alex looked so hallow ,so lifeless. Derek knew alexander treatment at that Facility had help them grieve and work through the pain and trauma. help them decide they no longer needed and it was no longer healthy for them to be a Ranger. That it help Bring them to a place where they can feel joy again…but
“ i dont think after Antonio died and Alex stated getting better that they want that kind of relationship again”
“Hmm i had hoped that after four years , that after all this time … that maybe you two would be able to make it work “ sera said
Derek knew because it was sera that her comment was not meant to hurt him or question his Resolve but an actual hope for his and Alex’s happiness. After all, she was one of the few who knew that before there was an Alexander and Antonio, there had almost been a Derek and Alex. But that was along time ago What they had been then in their ranger Apprenticeship days was in the past No matter how much Derek wished it could be his and Alex’s future. Alex would have to want it to and he did not believe Alex Did.
“ you don’t think Alex doesn’t want to because of Antonio do you? . Alex has know that Antonio would’ve wanted them to be happy and to find someone else?” Sera ask
“ I dont know Sera, i think they know logically that Antonio only ever wanted them to be happy . But knowing in your mind and knowing in your heart are not the same thing . Besides alex may just not want or Prioritize that aspect of their life anymore poeple change “ derek said
Sera and Derek stayed silent for long moments in that quit hallway
“Derek i don’t think your face being on the Seven of cups was a coincidence , just like I’m certain our presence on the five of wands wasn’t one . I think your presence in alexander life acts as a nexus of possibilities just like all the other symbols on that card you draw them towards different paths. I think you should tell them when they wake how you feel and what you want and even if alex says no at lest you both will have your Answers and will be able to make choices from there.”
“ but what if they say no?” Derek ask a hint of desperation in his voice
“ then you’ll know alex cant give you what you want and if they cant , you deserve more than an Unfulfilling Situationship with your best friend of over a decade Derek. It’ll suck for a while but it will pass and you both will be better for it.
Derek thought it was terrible to hear unasked for advice that was completely correct , but what did he expect being friends with a Nosy psychic.
#a little rain in every life’s must fall#pokemon#pkmn#alexander’s pokémon adventure#pokemon art#pkmnart#pokeart#pkmn fanart#art#tw sucidal ideation#tw depressing thoughts#cw high stakes pokeblogging#high stakes pokeblogging#high stakes pokereality
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I wrote this for a lovely anon, I hope you like it!
It is a part two to this Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x female!reader imagine.
Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!
Warnings: cursing
Life with Maverick was quite honestly heaven on earth.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this good in anyone else’s company, but if it was up to you you would have only ever stayed by Maverick’s side.
He was charming, funny, daring, loving and so intensely into every moment you shared it was like coming off from a high whenever he had to leave your side.
Nevertheless, the two of you had decided to keep your relationship a secret because your dad would freak out and because Maverick wanted to keep being able to love you, just being the two of you.
You liked it the way it was, it was something beautiful you kept just for yourself, and you felt like you deserved that beauty.
At functions you found the right times to sneak away and Maverick had found the perfect way to sneak into your window at night so none of your family members would notice.
Studying from home had both ups and downs, but you liked sneaking your boyfriend in through your window despite the anxiety.
Maverick was funny and easy to talk to and he was so good in bed, the way he touched you spoke of a lot of practice and experience, but you managed not to let that bother you.
You were always so happy in his embrace after your initial gentle greeting and love making that it was the only time you relaxed completely, your head on his chest and your naked legs intertwined lazily.
It was usually time for casual and quiet conversation, you’d tell each other about your day and what you had experienced when your bedroom door opened and you heard your sister’s voice in the doorway.
“Hey, I know it’s late and I don’t want to bother you but have you seen my…,” Penny peeked her head into your room sheepishly but she fell silent the second she found the man in your bed, her eyes widening.
You were absolutely shocked but you were glad it had been your sister walking in and not your parents, because you knew your father would have killed you.
You sat up quickly, pulling the sheets along with you to cover your naked chest and Pete followed your lead, struggling to pull on his boxers as his eyes were locked on Penny’s.
“Pen, I’m so sorry, but this is exactly what it looks like,” you tried to explain yourself, but your sister didn’t even bat an eye at you.
“Pete?” She asked instead, and confusion began to flood your face.
You knew that they could have met at any Naval function but you also knew Penny and Maverick, and you and Mav had met the exact same way and had ended up in bed as well.
With Maverick’s track record it wasn’t far-fetched that he could have slept with your sister, which shocked and angered you immensely.
You pulled something over your head and up your legs to cover yourself as you heard Maverick exclaim a simple ‘hi, Penny’ that sounded like he was grinning.
You found that stupid smile on his face and your eyelids fluttered with hurt as you sat back down on your bed in a wave of dizziness.
Penny’s face showed nothing but regret as she looked from Maverick to you, and it was painfully obvious that she wasn’t happy about the developments.
“You know each other?” You asked no one in particular, but Penny chose the easy way out.
“I’ll let you two talk,” she whispered before slipping outside and closing the door, leaving the two of you in a rather awkward silence.
“Did you sleep with my sister too?” You asked in a very low voice, your eyes barely daring to look up from the hands you had placed in your lap, but you managed to look at him after a while.
Maverick nodded as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but the hint of reluctance on his face showed that he knew you weren’t feeling well.
“I didn’t think it was important,” he answered, as if that would have solved anything.
“You didn’t think it was important? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” You questioned him, but he just shook his head.
“You slept with my fucking sister!” You exclaimed rather loudly, and Maverick reacted by trying to silence you, his eyes darting to the door to make sure your parents hadn’t heard.
The fact that that was more important to him than your emotional well-being made anger bubble up inside you.
You took a few seconds to think as a thousand thoughts ran through your head.
All you could focus on was that he had a lot of experience that you didn’t, and that just let a wall of doubts build up that was about to be broken down by your anger.
“Pete, she called you Pete,” she whispered, and his face fell slowly.
“That’s my name. Baby, you know that’s my name, I’ve told you that,” he answered quickly, but your brain pulled a blank for a few seconds, not even listening to what he was saying.
“No one calls you Pete,” you whispered, and he nodded.
Goose had previously called him Pete and Penny also knew him from when he was still in flight school, but the fact that him and Penny went way back would have not sat well with you in that moment so he decided against telling you.
“I prefer Maverick,” he answered swiftly, avoiding that bullet for another time.
There was another moment of silence and Maverick tried to approach you, but you vehemently shook your head and he stopped.
“Do you touch me the same way you touched her?” You asked, your eyes finding his and anger boiling inside you, making your breath hitch.
“Is that why you’re so good in bed, because we’re so similar?” You continued asking, but Maverick simply furrowed his brows in a way of denial.
He didn’t say anything, which left you to form another thought that seemed to scream at you inside your head.
“Am I only your replacement because you couldn’t have her?” You finally voiced your fear, but Maverick continued his approach to you.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed next to you only clad in his boxers while you wore his shirt, both your hair in disarray and both of you seeming extremely agitated.
“No, baby, no, definitely not,” he tried to assure you, one hand skimming over your cheek before he let it fall behind you, resting his other hand on your thigh.
“I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t want to be, I really care for you, baby,” he tried to apologize, and it worked in a way.
You definitely felt reassured but that only made your feelings of anger reappear, which meant that rage began to pool into your heart and it seemed like your field of vision grew smaller and a tint of red too.
“Are you fucking serious, Pete?” You asked, stressing your use of his first name, and he quickly pulled his hand away from the place on your thigh it had been sitting on.
“We’ve been going out for months and you haven’t found the time to tell me that you fucked my sister before getting to know me?” You continued, and he winced at the words you chose.
You were usually much kinder and definitely not as angry, which made Maverick fear for getting a visit from your dad.
“How many times did you sleep with her?” You asked, your voice ice cold and void of emotion.
Maverick felt his heart beat faster at the question because he couldn’t lie to you, but he also knew that you wouldn’t like the answer.
But he actually liked you, he didn’t want to mess it up.
“I… more times than I’d like to admit,” he answered in defeat, and his honest answer surprised you.
Nevertheless it also angered you further.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” you told him, getting up from your seat only to collect his pants, socks and shoes from the mess on the ground and throw it at him.
He caught all of it more or less effortlessly, which only convinced you that he had experience with that as well.
His face was blank and not understanding but you didn’t want him to see you cry, so you forced him towards your window without even giving him a chance to dress.
“Out, get the fuck out,” you repeated angrily, but Maverick stood his ground.
He turned to face you, whispering your name as if he wanted to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance.
“Out,” you repeated rather loudly, and he winced at that.
Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell climbed out of your window and jumped down onto the ground, hurrying to put on everything but the shirt you were still wearing.
You turned around to rush to your bed and break down onto it, your anger and sadness jolting your body in sobs that were accompanied by the biggest tears you had cried in a long time.
You were absolutely devastated in the moment because you knew you had to tell him that that behavior was unacceptable.
Maverick was inexperienced when it came to being in a relationship.
That meant you had to show him the ropes, and despite your need to be held by him you knew you had to stay strong in the moment, because you needed to make a point.
Your relationship with Maverick wasn’t over, but you didn’t let him treat you lightly.
You were serious, and he had known what that felt like too.
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Last Night on Earth Pt. 3
(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)
Me? Finally posting a chapter? Why, it couldn't be! I hope ya'll enjoy!
Also, lemme know if anyone would like to be tagged in this series!
Warnings/other info: references to injury, grief
Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9
It was cold. The frigid air seeped in through the windows and circulated around the large room. You laid curled up on your bed, knees to your chest. You’d be warmer if you got under the covers, but you didn’t feel like moving. Didn’t feel like showing weakness, which was all you felt the past three days. Weak and helpless.
“Do you know why you’re being punished?”
You turned away from Sister Jude, arms crossed tight against your chest.
“You can be silent all you want. It won’t change the outcome.”
With a huff, you sat up, a glare aimed at the older woman. How could she treat you like this? When it wasn’t even your fault!
You could feel your nose start bleeding again, and you quickly wiped at it. Sister Jude sat on the bed next to you and reached out with a tissue. You slapped her hand away, and she sighed.
“Why must you be so stubborn?”
“I don’t know. Why can’t you punish the jerk that smashed my guitar?”
“Well, maybe it has to do with the fact that he’s currently getting a cast on his arm! Why didn’t you come to me? To any of us?”
You scoffed and stood from the bed, pacing around and throwing your arms out in frustration. “Like you would’ve done anything! All I’d get is another rant from Father O’Neil about ‘being patient’ and ‘forgiveness.’ Screw that!”
“So that means you can just go ahead and start breaking limbs whenever someone upsets you?”
“Like they haven’t done worse to me,” you mumbled under your breath.
She remained for a moment, her eyes searching your face before she sighed and stood from your bed.
“I’ll expect you at confession. If this behavior doesn’t change, you know what will happen.”
When she turned her back, you raised both middle fingers at her and resisted the urge to scream, teeth painfully clenched together. Your eyes stung as you laid back down, hissing in pain and clutching your ribs.
No, you couldn’t tell her about how the other kids dragged you into the bathroom and kicked you until you were bleeding. You couldn’t tell her about the vile and awful things they called you, the notes they stuck on your back when you weren’t looking. Because it would only get worse if you did.
***
“Well, that’s mildly disturbing.”
You’ve seen more than your fair share of disconcerting things while being trapped in your family home. The occasional decapitated limb, the entrails of the hopeless victims your mother stored in the fridge like it was last night's leftovers. Oh, and not to forget the seven foot tall mold monsters brambling around the property.
Surprised to say, “mummified child corpse” was a new one on the ever growing list.
“That’s underselling it I think,” Ethan muttered, and you took a close look at the paper stapled to the lid.
D-Series cranial nerve
D-series peripheral nerve
“What kind of freaky shit is this?
For how long you’ve been trapped, you feel as if you know about as much now as you did when this all first started. You were completely left in the dark, scrambling for answers like a blind, helpless child. The only clue you had was Mia’s hastily scribbled note she left you before she passed out. But she could barely remember her own name most days, let alone what Evie and her minions were all about or where they came from. Was she even a good person if she was involved in all this from the beginning? Did Ethan really know the woman he was married to?
And what the fuck did she bring to your home? Your family?!
The lid slammed with a loud BANG!, shaking the table underneath and the candles meticulously placed around it. You would’ve picked it up and thrown it through the window if the phone hadn’t interrupted your rage induced fit.
You gripped the phone and put the receiver to your ear. “Zoe, I swear on this god given green earth, if you’re not back inside the fucking trailer—”
“Jesus Christ, would you cool it? I’m back. I’m safe.” She sighed on the other end. You could tell she was exhausted. “You found a serum?”
“No. But we found out how to make one. Had to get through Momma and her bugs to fuckin’ get to it.”
“Yeah, could’ve warned me,” Ethan said, raising his voice so Zoe could hear him.
Your sister chuckled as you raised your hand and pushed Ethan back, stilling him with your stare. He raised his hands and shrugged, turning his back.
“We need a D-series head and an arm. Which the creepy factor in this case isn’t surprising at all.”
“A head? I think I got one around here somewhere.”
Your eyes closed, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. “That’s such a comforting and normal thing to say, Zo. Thank you,”
She laughed, and the sound made your lips twitch. It’s been a while since you heard her actually laugh. It was a comfort to know she was still able to.
“Meet me at the trailer once you get it, alright? And don’t get yourself killed.”
You told her to do the same and hung up, relieved to know that your sister was safe. At least for now. With a huff, your back thumped against the wall, and your eyes met Ethan’s. How long has it been since he first got here? Four hours? Five? It felt like an eternity if you were being honest. Time going by at a snail's pace as you both fought tooth and nail to try and stay alive.
This serum better fucking work!
“You alright?”
Your chest heaved with a breath, and you watched Ethan’s hand twitch at his side, like he wanted to reach out to you just to make sure.
“I will be.”
You moved to step away from the wall, but Ethan was in front of you in an instant, the intense concern in his eyes freezing you to your spot. His hand raised, and you instinctively flinched away. You knew rationally that he would never hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type. But that lingering paranoia, that smidgen of fear that remained, it lurked like a cold shadow over your shoulder. A constant presence and reminder of things that once plagued you so many years ago.
Your tensed shoulders slowly fell, a small indication that Ethan could continue, and his fingers gently brushed against the base of your neck. A dull pain throbbed where he touched, and you grimaced at the quick reminder of your mother’s hands around your throat.
Squeezing.
Choking.
Killing.
“Does it look bad?”
His hand came to rest on your shoulder, thumb gently sweeping over your collar bone and catching the chain of your tags. The cool metal dragged against your chest, goosebumps rising on your skin. His touch was so careful. Considerate. Something you haven’t experienced in a long, long time. And maybe you shouldn’t be craving more of it, because by god, this was a married man and you certainly were not some fucking homewrecker. But a part of you ached when he pulled his hand away, missing his warmth and the comfort that accompanied it.
“I think you’ll survive.”
A smirk tugged at his lips, and you tore your eyes away from him before any other intrusive thoughts were planted in your brain. Your hand rubbed at the back of your neck once Ethan stepped away, smothering the heat that spread over your skin.
You hate that you react like this. It makes you want to claw at your skin. To scrub at it until it’s raw and bleeding. You don’t want to feel like you need anything from Ethan, especially something he couldn’t give you.
Shaking your head, you immediately attempt to disperse any remaining inappropriate thought, steeling your expression and turning towards the small set of stairs leading towards an unsearched part of the house.
The cluttered room you step into is almost comforting, homey even. If it weren't for the rotting rat stuffed in the basket at your feet.
Your lips curled downwards in a grimace, casting the sight out of your mind as you gently ran your fingers over the piano keys. They moved into a familiar position, gently pressing down until a few gentle notes clinked through. The sound immediately sent you back to a time more pleasant than what you were facing now. A time of gentleness and care.
"You play?" Ethan wondered from behind you.
You shrugged, turning to him. "Momma did. Taught me how to play a few songs. I don't remember much."
He didn't say anything after that, but he could see the heartache in your eyes at the mention of the person your mother used to be.
You quickly moved on, turning the corner and coming across another lantern and another locked door. You experimentally pushed on it, the solid weight under your palms not even giving an inch. You glanced at the lantern on the uneven scale when it hit you.
Son of a-
"We have to find her."
Ethan's eyes were wide, silently asking you what the hell you were implying. "What?"
"It's the only way to get through. Take the light and find the ingredients. You got me?"
“She’s going to slaughter us!”
“Do you wanna get the serum or not?!”
Ethan sighed in defeat, fingers pressing into his eyes. It wasn’t the smartest option, but it was the only one you could see. That, or stay here for the insects to burrow into your skin and fester.
“I’m not gonna go back to the trailer and lick my wounds when we’ve come this far. You told me we could do this, right?”
Ethan finally looked at you, brows pinched and jaw clenched. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing.
“Then let’s get it done.”
There was a monstrously heavy and bleak presence that loomed over you once you made your way back to the hole in the floor. You could feel it clawing at your back, breathing down your neck. It sent your blood pressure spiking, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you looked down into the soggy pit. The water had drained, leaving mud and squiggling bugs in its wake, and Ethan reluctantly descended the creaky ladder.
You followed once he made it all the way down and cursed when your foot slipped against the wet wood, fingers tightening their grip. But, Ethan was already there before you could fall, hands on your legs to stabilize you.
“You alright?”
Gulping, you nodded. The warmth of his palms through your jeans seared your skin, and his touch only left you once your feet hit solid ground. Muttering a soft ‘thanks,’ you gingerly pulled away and looked down the muddy cavern beside you.
What you saw forced a breath out of your lungs from shock. Your mother was scuttling ahead on all fours, her limbs an abnormally long length like a gangly spider.
“Huh. Well that’s special.”
You glanced at Ethan with raised brows and shook your head. At least he could find humor in the situation.
With your gun raised, you took the lead, Ethan right on your heels with his shotgun clutched tight in his hands. Sweat dripped down your forehead, the thick and musty air clogging your lungs and sticking your shirt to your skin. Once you finally made it out through the manhole, you greedily sucked in the fresh air, your sore throat and burning skin grateful.
“Fucking—” You shoved your pistol aside and gripped one sleeve of your shirt, pulling until you heard the satisfying rip of fabric. Doing the same to the other, your muscles tensed and flexed under the cool air, a pleasant shiver running up your spine as goosebumps covered your skin. Ethan looked on with curious eyes, but you soon had the solid weight of your weapon back in your hands and were already moving on.
The crushing reality that you might just have to kill your mother was finally starting to seep in, and it felt like a cement brick had been dropped right on your chest. You had accepted the reality long ago that your mom died the day Evie infected her, and she was too far along for any cure to work on her. But… this thing. This fucking monster, it wore her face, spoke in her voice.
But she wasn’t your momma. Not anymore.
The decrepit house she took shelter in felt like it was going to collapse any minute, the wooden beams holding it up practically chewed through and the foundation sliding.
“Try not to fall through the floor again, yeah?” you said, ascending the rotten steps.
Ethan spoke up, but he was interrupted when the window in front of you shattered and long limbs stretched out towards you.
“Come on now with me! We’re gonna settle this!” Marguerite screeched.
Ethan reacted faster than you would’ve given him credit for, firing off his shotgun as you pulled the trigger on your pistol. She screamed and crawled back through the window whilst you scrambled to your feet and raced up the rest of the stairs, Ethan hot on your tail.
Boots skidding across the floor, Ethan’s body practically slammed into yours as he tried to dodge your mother’s oncoming attacks. Her hand seized through the floor and gripped his ankle, his gun going flying as she yanked him down.
“Fuck!” He scrambled for you, and your gun went off in your mother’s face.
“Agh! You son of a bitch! I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you hear me?!
“Let. Him. Go!”
You shot again, and she finally released her hold with a scream, crawling off to somewhere you couldn’t see. Ethan pulled his foot out of the floor with a pained hiss, blood soaking his pants and large splinters of wood piercing his skin.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded, limping over to his shotgun, “Let’s go kill that fucking bitch.”
You could make out your mother’s yelling and cursing from the floor below, and you attempted to maneuver the upstairs without falling through the huge gaps in the floor. The smell of gunpowder and smoke was heavy in the air, shots booming and Marguerite’s screams ear piercing. Ethan tried to stay close to you the entire time, whether that be because he was scared or he was trying to protect you, you didn’t know. But you weren’t complaining, either.
The vile cracking and shifting of your mother’s limbs caught your attention, and you watched with horror as she jumped all the way from the bottom floor up to where you stood. She swiped an arm out and caught your side, and your body slammed into the wall before you slumped down against it. Ethan cried out your name, making a beeline for you when Marguerite snatched the back of his shirt and threw him towards the opposite side of the house. He crashed through the wall and landed harshly on the ground, rolling onto his back.
“Ethan! No!”
He wasn’t responsive, lying prone as your mother stomped towards you. Fear gripped at your spine, chest heaving with stuttering breaths and your body so tense it felt like you were made of ice. The monster in front of you breathed heavily, her limbs dangling at her sides and her disgusting, slimy belly peeking through her dress. She looked like something out of your nightmares. A horror story the kids in foster homes would use to torment you.
You tried to stand, bracing your hand against the wall, but your leg and side screamed in pain. She got closer with every long stride, and soon, she was right in front of you, a boney hand clutching your neck and lifting. She dangled you over the giant hole in the second level, your hand coming up to grip at her arm as she bared her disgusting teeth.
“You fucking good for nothing, bitch. I wish I never became your mother!”
She screamed the words, spit landing on your face and mixing with the tears that rolled down your cheeks. There was a quiet click, and cool metal pressed against her forehead.
“My mother—” you gasp for breath, finger squeezing down on the trigger, “is dead!”
BANG!
You were floating. Falling. And then the ground meets your back like a speeding train. Your mouth opens, but you can’t gasp for breath because it’s being forced out of you. Your ears ring, and you can’t hear. Not even when Ethan is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and mouthing something you guess is your name.
Finally, your back arches with a deep intake of air, coughing on it violently before you can manage to breathe again. Ethan is there the whole time, his hands gently holding you and trying to talk you through it. When your head lolls to the side, you see your dead mother’s face right next to you. White crawls over her skin until her whole body is calcified and frozen.
And then she breaks and falls apart.
You can hear her crumbling, her face falling away until you can no longer recognize her. It hurts. More than you thought it would.
She was so beautiful once.
“Hey! Hey, can you hear me?”
Ethan shakes you and you groan out in pain. He immediately apologizes and brushes your hair out of your face.
“Come on, you gotta get up. You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”
There’s desperation in his voice you’ve only heard once before. When he begged you to help him find his wife. And you don’t bother to question why it fills you with a bit of warmth.
You're pretty sure you fractured a rib, and it’s still incredibly hard to breathe, but you sit up anyway with his help, gripping his arm when the pain makes you seize up.
“I’ve got you. You’re alright.”
He’s got you.
Once you feel like you can deal with the pain, you shift onto your knees with a bit of difficulty, and look down at the pile of dust that was once your mom. Your hand slowly sifted through it, grabbing a handful and letting the dust fall between your fingers until a golden band rests in your palm.
She’s gone.
She’s really gone this time.
Your fingers curl around the ring and you hold it to your chest, body wracking with violent sobs. Ethan is next to you in a heartbeat, his arms carefully wrapping around you and tugging until you fall back into him. He mutters apologies and comforts into your ear, and all the while you’re screaming at yourself in your head for you to stop.
Get a grip! She was a monster!
Then why does it hurt so much?
“Hey. I know, okay? But we gotta go,” Ethan muttered, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder.
You knew he was right. You had to leave before something else came looking for you. With a sniffle, Ethan helped you stand to your feet and grabbed the lantern with his other hand, gently shaking the dust off of it. You never felt more hopeless than in that moment, injured and practically falling over if it weren’t for the man next to you. And while you’d normally detest at the idea of someone practically carrying you to safety, you wouldn’t put up much of a fight this time.
Still, you tried not to put all your weight on him, knowing he was hurt too. You leaned away a bit, but the second he felt your weight slightly lean off him, he pulled you right back against his side.
“Ethan, I can—”
“Don’t. I got you.”
“You’re hurt too, asshole. I’m not— Agh! I’m not lettin’ you do all the heavy lifting.”
Ethan chuckled and relented, letting you take a bit of his struggle. “You’re so damn stubborn, you know that?”
You smiled, and it was less painful than you thought it would be. “Is that what you were gonna tell me earlier? Back at the old house?”
“Something along those lines. Maybe a bit meaner.”
“You’ll break my heart by the end o’ this, Winters.”
The hand on your side gave you a light squeeze.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
#Ethan winters x reader#ethan winters#resident evil 7#resident evil biohazard#ethan winters imagine#resident evil fanfiction#resident evil#re7
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SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO? : CHAPTER FOUR
“It's just, sometimes... people don't really say what they're really thinking. But when you capture the right moment, it says more.”
▸ summary: you give a little inside scoop at what the incident was
▸ characters: steve harrington, claudia henderson,
▸ word count: 3,226
▸ warnings: angst, slight flirting, & police (💀)
▸ series masterlist
The night felt like it had gone longer than you thought. For the most part, you spent the majority of it consoling Dustin. Trying your best to think of the right words to say. For years the young boy never really cried much. There was the occasional fall or scary dream when he was younger that brought out the water works. But for the most part Dustin had always been so valiant and snarky.
Even with light teasing from others, he always took it in stride, letting the words fall off his body like water off a duck’s back. So seeing him last night, face red and swollen with sad tears had your heart ache in such an unfamiliar way.
Almost too selfishly did you ignore the desperation him and his friends had on finding Will. You had easily assumed that in a day or two the police would find him and move on. Not once did you figure the crippling reality if he was found dead. At this point, you supposed no one really did.
Eventually, your Aunt Claudia returned home, instantly wrapping her arms around the two of you as she shed tears for the Byers boy. It was strangely cathartic to have her hold and check on you. This type of affection wasn’t necessarily one that you were used to at home. So after returning back a small hug, you excused yourself for the night. Feeling unworthy suddenly of the feelings the family hug brought you.
And when you finally returned into bed, lights off, and blinds closed, you couldn’t help but wonder.
What would the Byers family do next?
The following morning had been just as solemn as the night before. Dustin never came out of his room, and your Aunt quietly reassured you that he’d be more ready come the later part of the day. Thankfully, your Aunt offered to drop you off. Thinking it was not only too chilly for the bike ride, but just so she could be assured you made it to school safely.
It was an odd feeling when walking the halls. Some students were murmuring about Will. Discussing in gross detail how his body must have looked from being in the water. Others were trying to act like it was another normal day. Leaving you confused why you were in a weird middle of wanting to talk about it, and wanting to forget about it.
Despite the anger and hurt you had towards Jonathan Byers, your mind couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. The look in his eyes when he hung up the missing posters was still haunting in your mind. But there was no way you could possibly seek him out now. Not when you remember the type of photos he had taken.
With the day going painfully slow, you almost did a silent prayer when you walked towards your class before lunch. That is, until two of the town’s officers stood outside your classroom door. “Miss Henderson?” the shorter of the two asked. Looking at his tag, you read the name Powell before glancing at his friend.
He cocked his head at you before tapping at his own.‘Callaghan’. The beat of your heart quickened and you wondered what these two could possibly be here for. “Well?” Officer Callahan pushed. “That you?”
You nodded your head slowly, gripping tighter to the strap of your bag.
“We’re gonna need to ask you a couple of questions.”
The bile had not left your throat since the moment you entered inside the empty cafeteria. Which didn’t help with the fact that you had skipped out on eating breakfast today to work on homework.
But now, here you were, sitting across from two officers with your Aunt Claudia. She had been called in as acting guardian so that she could be there for any questions that might be on record. Unfortunately your Father who was a lawyer back home could not come in so easily. Despite wanting to help find out where Barb was, you really didn’t like the idea of talking with the local law enforcement. Especially when one of the officers would not stop staring at you like you were holding the murder weapon.
The whole thing made the air in the room tense. Just how much trouble were you in?
“Ms. Wheeler told us that amongst Steve Harrington and two close friends of his, that you and Barbara Holland were at his house the other night.”
“That’s right.” you answered back. “I was invited to a small hang out. Nothing too crazy.”
“And did you see everyone that’s mentioned here?” Peering down at the paper pushed before you, your eyes scanned over the small list of names before you nodded your head. “Tell me, what time did you leave the party?” Officer Powell asked.
“Around close to midnight.” You glanced over at your Aunt, confirming the time with her. “I got home around close to twelve thirty after I had coffee with Jonathan Byers.”
“Why were you out with Jonathan Byers so late?”
The two leaned in closer on the table now, possibly more curious to have someone like you be around the family of the boy who was just found dead. “I almost ran into him on the way home. He seemed..down so I figured that I could talk with him. After that I went home.”
“And did you speak with Barbara Holland any time before that?”
“Yeah, we were all hanging out. When it was close to ending, I invited her to join me in getting coffee. But she wanted to wait out for her friend. So I left.”
Officer Powell wrote everything down, making sure not to miss a detail. “Did Barbara say if she was going to wait anywhere else or meet up with someone after she took Nancy home?”
The photograph of her waiting by the pool came into your mind. And for a second, something in your stomach told you to tell. But your mouth seemed to have a different idea. “She waited in the house as far as I know..and no. She never mentioned anyone else.”
“We were told that there may have been some drinking involved that night.” You couldn’t stop your body from tensing up. One of the perks of having some sort of record would be a list of things you weren’t allowed to do. Like underage drinking.
“Some of the kids were drinking.”
The taller officer scoffed at the reply, leaning to rest his head on the palm of his hand. “Oh really? Just some? You mean to tell us you were completely sober?”
Suddenly your throat felt so dry. Making it hard to get any words out as you struggled to lie through your teeth. “I was.” you gritted, trying to keep a neutral face. That didn’t stop your heart from beating faster. The thought of judgmental eyes on you again like all those months ago kept creeping in your mind.
Your Aunt seemed to figure out your distress, reaching out to place an arm on yours. “My niece has given you all the answers she’s able to.” she clapped, giving the two a kind smile. “I’m sure if Nancy Wheeler cannot find her friend, that my dear niece wouldn’t either. She’s still new to town, officers. Is there anything else you need to ask from her?”
Officer Callahan did not seem to like that reply, clicking his pen quickly before he turned his attention on you again. “You know, we were given a heads up from your previous town’s Chief. Told us all about you.” he said nonchalantly. “He mailed your whole file over and everything. It’s not like you wouldn’t have a crazy night that you didn’t remember.”
The blood drained from your face and the bile felt harder to hold back. Still, you held yourself together. This guy was a dickhead and only wanted to intimidate you. “Nice to know that I have a fan club at the station. Want me to autograph it?”
The grip on your wrist tightened, a sign of your Aunt trying to calm you down. “I told you everything that happened. Remembered it to a T, actually.” you added with a shrug. “Now, is there any other reason you need me here or can I finish the school day?”
Officer Powell shook his head, reaching into his pocket to pull out business cards. “You both have my number if you remember anything else or see anything suspicious. Thank you for your time today, ladies.”
Faster than they could blink, the two of you bolted from the Cafeteria chairs. The room echoed every step of the heels your shoes had as you pushed opened the heavy doors. You weren’t supposed to get involved in trouble like this. Your parents had made it very clear.
“Honey,” Aunt Claudia called out. “Come with me.” she urged, holding a hand out.
Without a thought, you allowed the women to walk with you towards the front entrance. Rubbing her hand soothingly up and down your back. “What they said wasn’t fair, but they were right.” Your jaw dropped a bit but she held up her hand, asking to finish silently. “If you were drunk, you wouldn’t remember. But you’re my smart girl and I know you wouldn’t make that same mistake, right?”
“Right.” you nodded, needing her to believe you on that much.
“Then that’s all I need to know.” Adjusting her coat, she leaned forward to fix up your hair, giving you a small smile. “Be good, okay? We don’t need anymore kids getting into messes.” Pulling away, she gave a small nod and a promise to pick you up after school. Leaving you back to your thoughts all the way to class.
It isn’t till much later when you’ve ditched the main cafeteria for lunch that you find yourself being pulled in for questioning again, except this time it’s from Steve.
“And what did you say after that?”
“Steve, do we really have to do this?”
“They’re going to ask me questions next and I wanna know what I’m heading into.”
You glanced over at Steve, with a morose expression. “Trust me, they’re not going to grill into you.”
That answer seemed to make the boy more frustrated as he placed his hands on his hips. Looking more like an upset parent than an anxious teenager. “You can’t be serious. They know we drank! They’re going to give me the third degree and my ass is grass the moment the old man finds out.”
For about ten minutes now, Steve and you had been hidden behind the back of the gym, going over the questions that the two officers had asked you. Despite being brief and short about it, Steve didn’t seem to understand your hesitance to really talk about it.
“Carol said you looked pissed off by the time you came back into class. So obviously there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, learning to speak quietly. “Are you having your friends report on me? Carol isn’t even in my class.” Steve’s eyes narrowed a bit at the accusation before he shook his head quickly.
“Okay, so it was Nicole who reported to Carol who came and told me. But only because she’s freaked out too!”
Moving to stand in your line of vision again, Steve reached out to place his hands on your shoulders, leaning close with big eyes as he asked the same question again. “What did you say? Please?”
Growing frustrated you can’t help but glare a little at Steve. “Look, it’s safe to say they’re aware of some of us drinking. I don’t know what Nancy told them but they know.” Picking up your bag, you point over at him. “If you blab to them about just who was drinking, be sure to leave me out of it!”
You didn’t make it an inch forward before Steve grabbed you by the shoulders, spinning you back around to face him again. “Are you okay?”
“Okay? I’m peachy fucking keen.”
His eyes went wide and he held up his hands defensively. “Whoa, chill out there spitfire. I’m just checking if you’re alright.”
It bothered you how genuine his words came off. You wanted to stay out of any future drama including crushes on boys. Especially boys who were unavailable. But with Steve it seemed he really did want to look out for you. Making your outbursts create an anxious ache in your stomach.
“I didn’t mean to get mad.” You sighed, looking down at the ground instead of his concerned dark eyes. “It’s just hard dealing with people like the cops when you have them know your history.”
“Know your history?”
Well, there’s no going back now.
“Remember at your party? Tommy asked why I’m here and not back home? Well I wasn’t lying when I said I was sent here to behave better.”
All Steve could do was stare at you expectantly, not wanting to interrupt what you might say next.
“Earlier this year, one of my friends got the keys to their dad’s beach house. Since the weather was still nice, we decided to go out for the weekend. Stay for the weekend.” Suddenly you felt so insecure about something you had been confident about months ago. But you figured this story wasn’t ever gonna come off right.
“I had to lie to my parents about it. Said I was just staying at the house with my friends. But really it was them, their boyfriends,..and mine.”
“You stayed a whole weekend with your boyfriend?!” He looked a lot more perplexed hearing about that than anything else so far.
“Well, ex-boyfriend now.”
“Oh,” he sighed, nodding a bit. “Go on.”
“The first night went by fine. Mostly us just setting up on Friday. Then the next day was the party and the Sunday for cleaning up. It was fool proof.”
“Until?”
You couldn’t help but frown at all the memories coming back to you. “Until my douchebag ex boyfriend decided to ruin it by cheating on me.” The image of catching him in the act was still burned in your mind. “All damn day he fought with me, it took tooth and nail to get him to even stay long enough for the party and he ditched me halfway just to go find Darcy fucking Morris and screw her up in our bedroom.”
Steve again watched with wide eyes as you pushed yourself off the wall to pace before him. “So of course, I have to be the one who walks in on them, and instead of just calling a cab home and getting my ass out of there, I stick around. I get so drunk that I don’t even remember where I’m at.”
“So just because you were really drunk one night that’s why you’re worried about the cops?”
“There’s more..” You stopped walking and turned to look at Steve’s eyes, ready almost for the judgment that’s most likely to come. “My friends really goaded me into getting back at him. Trying to tell me to find some lucky guy and do the same with him.”
Steve crossed his arms, seemingly invested in the story as he leaned forward with anticipation.
“Instead of that, I went for his jacket, took his keys and went for his car.”
“Shit,” Steve sighed, closing his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“That’s the funny part.. I don’t remember any of it.”
The memory had always gone hazy once you left the house. Whether it be from your own mind holding down the truth or the alcohol having consumed it in a drunk blur. “Once I had stepped out, my ex dashed out of the house, arguing that I’m crazy if I thought I could take off with his car. There’s this big yelling match and then it’s all dark.”
There were also flashes of the street lights blurring together, making it all hard to remember if it was any place special. “Next thing I know, I’m waking up in the driver’s seat. My boyfriend is nowhere and I crashed into a parked car in some neighborhood four blocks away from the party.”
Steve stayed quiet, hand covering the bottom of his face as he looked down at the ground. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No.”
A sigh of relief fell past his lips and he returned his gaze from the floor to back at you. “What happened after that?”
“Dad’s a lawyer. Took him only fifteen minutes and a pay off to the owner of the car. Got off without a misdemeanor but had to do community service for a bit. After that my parents told me they were tired of my crap and made plans to send me here.”
“Shit.” he cursed again. “So what did the officers say today that upset you.”
“Well they were apparently still given a heads up about me and my incident regardless if it was taken care of or not. So, after Barb’s disappearance and the knowledge of me being at your party, I’m sort of on their radar.”
Steve surprises you next when he reaches out to pull you in for a hug. It’s innocent enough that passing students wouldn’t think much but still have your heart fluttering. The scent of his rich cologne flooded your senses and you struggled with not taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said after a minute. “I didn’t know that any of this would happen.”
You were battling between hugging him back and pushing away from him. There was no reason for your crush on Steve to grow into anything other than a fleeting infatuation. But even as he pulled back from you, you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to flicker up to his brown ones.
“Why is it that when I’m around you a mess seems to follow?” you joked, feeling like there was too much tension.
“I wish I could say I knew.” he chuckled, looking down your face until he stopped at your lips. “You’re trouble, that’s for sure.”
“Come on, that’s not fair. You literally just found out my story.”
He shrugged his shoulders, smirking down at you now. “Sorry, if you get to tease me for embarrassing myself, I get to call you trouble.”
Punching his arm playfully, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder before nodding to go back in the direction of the school. He picked up his step and followed after you, nudging you with his shoulder as he led you to your next class.
“Promise me something.”
“What?”
Looking up at him, you give a small pout. “Please don’t tell anyone else my story? It’s..it’s not my finest moment. I just want to move past it.”
Steve crossed his finger over his heart, nodding his head quickly. “Promise. As long as you don’t tell anyone just how freaked out I was about being questioned next.”Holding out his hand, he extends his pinky out, raising a brow for you to take it.
Sighing, you grinned down at his hand and wrapped your pinky around his.
“Can’t believe I’m saying this but I actually feel a little bit better after talking to you.”
“What did I tell you, trouble? I’m a pretty great guy.”
A/N: This chapter is a bit short but it’s to help give a bit of the backstory. Kids, don’t drink and drive. EVER
TAGGED REQUESTS:
@m-rae23, @teeacooper (won’t let me tag), @ally-holmes, @namesaretomainstream , @lilygreennn,
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#sisosig
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the daughter of an archangel pt.4
The man came in once she left, and set down a bunch of books, and a strange electronic thing that folded. “hello phoenix, my name is mark. Im just going to ask you some questions to figure out where you’re at academically.” oh! I know what academics are! That is my favorite thing! My face visibly lit up at the prospect. The man began with painfully simple math equations “134+23” and “33x11” they progressively got harder, and I continuously got them gorrect. The man seemed astonished I knew all that I knew all this stuff. Trigonometry is where I got confused. He noted that on his clipboard. Then came science, which I was again, above average. Then history, I didn’t know much, because the stuff I was taught was purely propaganda. Then came literature, which I was average in. And finally, foreign languages. The man was obviously shocked when he realized I was fluent in 53 languages.
I later met with a psychiatrist, and spoke for nearly four hours. I explained my childhood, and past, and she listened intently, asking some questions, and recording the conversation. I had several preliminary diagnoses, but she wanted to meet in a few weeks to see where I was at. By the end of the day, I was tired, but I stayed awake because I knew I would be punished if I fell asleep. I sat on the edge of the bed until tony came in “hey phoenix, how’re you doiung? Pepper told me how well you did today. Im going to get you some tutors so you can get an education. Is that okay?” I nodded “great. Then, there was something else we needed to talk about.” I looked up at him “you are not a prisoner here. You can explore as you please, you can eat whatever you feel like, and do watever you need to. You don’t need to ask. For an example, if you wanted to shower, you can. If you wanted to sleep, you can. Eat? Of course. Drink? Yes ma’am.” I was looking at him quizically, confused as to why I was allowed to do these rhings. I was definitely not complaining. “but, I think it would be best for you to stay here, in the house. Of course you can go outside if you want, but stay close. Its not safe for you out there yet.” he finished. “take care kiddo.” he ruffled my hair and walked out of the room. I laid down on the bed and slept.
After a months of living with tony, I finally began to gain weight, I was finally gaining confidence, my face began to fill with color, and my academics took off. I was getting more confident, and happy. Actually happy. For the first time in my life. I still had times when I felt terrible for leaving bucky; How could I not? He saved me. I was having frequent flashbacks. After meeting with the psychiatrist again, I was diagnosed with PTSD. I refused the medications they offered, vividly remembering the various drugs hydra expiramented on me with.
Everything was going good, until one day, a black man came with an eyepatch. Tony explained he was here to help, and he called him because of me expressing my desire to help the world after all the damage I'd done. We sat at the patio table, tony giving us privacy. “so, I hear your name is pheonix stark?” he sort of questioned “yes sir, that’s me” “good. But I know that you don’t have any official family- yet. I wanted to talk about tony adopting you. He has already agreed, but has made it expressly clear that its off if you don’t want him to. This way, you can become an official citizen of the united states, and you can go to a real school. How does this sound, phoenix?” I waited a moment “good. It sounds good, but tony said that you were here to talk about me helping the world?” he chuckled “straight to the point. I like that. Yes, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Im the head of an organisation called SHEILD. I know you are relatively familiar with us?” my eyes widened in fear when he mentioned SHEILD. “y-yes. You know me, what ive done. Why would you want me there?” I asked in a small voice “we want you because you would be an excellent addition to our organization. HYDRA controlled you, we all know you didn’t have a choice. We want to help you learn to control your powers, and how to fight. We want to train you to be excellent. And make no mistake, you are not forced to, you will not be harmed by us, and you don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want-” I cut him off in excitement “i’ll do it” I was beaming with joy not showing in my voice. “we will also send you on some missions when you’re ready. Nothing like what you did at HYDRA, you would be saving people, not hurting them.” I nodded “this may seem like a lot, phoenix, but I think this would be a good thing for you.” “i want to do it. All of it. I want to be adopted by tony, and I want to join SHEILD. This will be my opportunity to make amends for the things ive done. Thank you.” just then, tony come out of the door. I ran to hug him – an astronomical improvement from when I arrived; afraid to even talk. “thank you.” I murmured “thank you kid. Phoenix Stark has nice ring to it, huh?” I nodded, beaming with excitement.
After that day, we signed a LOT of paperwork for the adoption. I found it hilarious that we had to sign hundreds of papers, quite a change from what I was used to. and I became an official U.S. citizen! I had never felt so much like a person, rather then a machine. I struggled with terrible nightmares of the punishments I endured, and the missions I partook in. I couldn’t stop thinking about the sacrifice bucky made for me. I hated HYDRA for it, well I hated them for a lot of things, but especially that.
i saw you like the other 3 parts, so tagging you in this one :)
@breadhead19
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader#female reader#smut#avengers#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#catws#dom!reader#marvel cinematic universe#marvel#mcu#marvel mcu#thanos#james bucky barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#winter soldier#captain america#steve rogers#sam wilson#tony stark#tony tony chopper#tony speaks#tony dalton#endgame#tony perry#nova#mcu gif#pietro maximoff
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