on-my-vigilante-sht

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

"You're Okay"

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After Aaron and his agent are saved from captivity, she grapples with returning to her regular life with her husband when the only person she wants to be around is Aaron.

Warning: no use of y/n, traumatized!reader, angst, heavily implied SA, kidnapping, probably psychological torture, panic attacks, emotional infidelity,

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist

As the plane fell still and the engines died down, a new sound emerged. Cheering. I couldn’t see outside thanks to all the windows being shut per my request but that didn't prevent the fact that I was being forced into a pap walk by the Director of the FBI. I looked down at my lap finding shaking fingers that were only stilled by clasping my hands together.

I could feel the rest of my team look at me, pitying me, afraid to upset me. I tried to force myself up off my seat but I just couldn’t. The idea of being put on display, of being heralded as strong, made me sick.

I only looked up from my lap when a figure appeared by my side. Looking up, I found JJ giving me that pitying look I knew would linger on everyone else’s face out there. “I know you don’t want to but we have to go out.”

I nodded, convinced if I opened my mouth I’d puke. With trembling hands I grasped the armrests beside me, using them to stand up. I looked at my entire team for the first time since I was rescued finding them looking at me with those sad looks in their eyes. All of them except my boss, Aaron, whose expression held stern reassurance as he nodded at me. I returned it, stepping into the aisle and towards the now opened plane door.

I didn’t remember the shaky steps until I was suddenly confronted by blinding light as I emerged outside onto the platform of the air stair. I couldn’t tell if I had caused it or if it was just being outside but I swear the cheers grew louder. But they didn’t make me feel good, rather, I felt like a fraud undeserving of their applause.

The cheers grew somehow louder as my fellow prisoner emerged onto the platform with me. My inclination to pass out was subsided my Aaron Hotchner’s mere presence. He had been my rock, my comfort, my everything when we had been held by a group of unsubs.

Still, I could not find it in me to make my way down the steps until I felt the lightest trace of his comforting fingers on my arm. A little bit more grounded and taking his cue, I hesitantly moved one step forward, pausing just before the first stair. Hotch must have noticed my hesitant unsteadiness because his arm slotted under mine as he urged me forward.

The closer and closer we got to the ground the more I felt like I was going to pass out but Hotch’s grasp kept me anchored until we finally reached the bottom. His grasp lingered as I was first greeted by the Director of the FBI. Truthfully I never wanted him to let go but he did. After shaking the director’s hand he ceased contact with me as the next person I was greeted with was my husband.

I had hardly even met his gaze before he was slamming into me, pulling me into his embrace. As he clutched me I wanted nothing more than to be let go. My tenure in the hands of now dead men flashed in my mind as I tried not to give away my panic. I wanted to break down sobbing and beg him to let me go but I just kept repeating a mantra in my head I had prepared. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you. I could hear the cameras flashing, capturing what was supposed to be the new V-J Day in Times Square photo. I wasn’t sure what exactly they were capturing but the small part of me that wrote that mantra for these moments hoped I didn’t look too panicked.

I was only saved from my oncoming panic attack by Aaron’s voice. “James,” he greeted my husband who fortunately let go.

“Aaron,” he returned. Whilst his crushing grip on me was released, he maintained a hand on my back that may as well have been a collar. He went to go shake his hand but was interrupted by a cry from behind.

“Daddy!” came the sweet voice of Jack as he dashed from the larger crowd before us.

Aaron’s attention was immediately diverted from my husband to his son as he stooped down. Jack launched himself into his father’s arms as Aaron stood, lifting him from the ground and holding him tight, as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Which he no doubt was. When Aaron wasn’t comforting me, I was comforting him about his son.

The cameras flashed wildly and I knew that they would be the featured photo. Seeing Aaron hold his son was to see a true expression of love, one that couldn’t be captured with James and I.

By now the rest of the team had descended onto solid ground. I should have felt comforted by their presence like I was when it was just us on the plane. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I got from James’ icy grip, keeping me firmly cemented in his presence.

After a moment of waving to the cameras, he finally began steering us to one of the awaiting SUVs parked on the tarmac. But as we walked past the crowd, I could hear the reporter speaking to the camera positioned to capture us as well.

“And there you have it. After nearly a month of being held captive by a group of serial kidnappers and murderers, the two FBI agents are reunited with their families. One can only imagine the horrors…”

I was never more grateful for a car door to shut then in that moment. The idea of being made to relive it through everyone’s speculation made me want to be swallowed up into the earth. Never to be heard from or thought of or speculated about again.

As James slid into his seat on the other side of the car, intertwining his fingers with mine, I somehow never felt more alone. Like a part of me was missing. I knew exactly where that part was: in another SUV with his son and former sister-in-law, probably feeling like he was whole again.

~

Looking away from the Director, Aaron found his subordinate, his confidant, the woman who, for a moment there, was his everything in captivity. But she was in the arms of her husband, her high school sweetheart, who she had been through nearly everything with.

He hated that he wanted nothing more than to rip them apart from one another. After everything that had happened, some selfish part of him thought that he might be the only man she felt comfortable being touched by. He knew it was selfish, but the idea of just abandoning their closeness from them was unbearable to him. It was like some twisted version of Stockholm syndrome, where he needed his fellow prisoner to survive.

“James,” the name left his mouth before he could think. The bureaucrat looked at him, unwrapping from his wife and extending a hand to shake. Aaron moved to return it when a voice he missed more than anything emerged from the crowd.

“Daddy!” his son’s voice cut through the sounds of the tarmac.

Immediately pulling his attention from the man in front of him, he found his son’s blond hair glinting in the son as he ran towards him. The suit that the Director no doubt orchestrated for him to wear looked ridiculous flapping in the wind as he ran. But Aaron didn’t care, no one cared as they observed father and son reunite, each of them only having each other.

As his son fell into his arms, the ache and longing Aaron had previously felt disappeared as he held his son for the first time in over a month. He could hear the cameras flashing and the applause from the crowd but he couldn’t have cared less. He had his son back and that’s all that mattered.

A soft hand on his back reminded him of where he was. Looking up from Jack, he found Jessica looking at him with a smile, tears of joy pricking her eyes. “Welcome home.”

Still holding his son, Aaron nodded. “Thank you. For everything.” He truly could not thank her enough. He turned to find the woman he had spent the last month protecting, intent to bring her into his own reunion but she was gone, and with her disappearance went his sense of wholeness. Looking further down the tarmac, he found her already in front of an SUV, her husband’s arm around her as he opened the door, letting her in before cutting her off from the rest of the world. Unwilling to show or feel his disappointment, he just held Jack tighter, heading to his own awaiting SUV.

As they approached the vehicle, he could hear the words of a reporter. “While the FBI has yet to speak in detail about what occurred, it is widely speculated that Agent Shaw was assaulted in captivity. Her husband, James Shaw, is expected-”

The reporter’s voice was silenced by the car door shutting, much to Aaron’s relief. Looking across the front seats of the car, through the windshield he could see the car that held his agent and her husband. No doubt she was relieved to be with him again, to feel safe and be able to trust another man again. He felt… ungrateful and dirty longing for someone when he had been reunited with the person he cherished most in the world. All of his attention should be on his son and not the married woman in the car in front of him.

~

“We’re home,” James said softly as he opened the door to our home. Walking in should have been a breath of fresh air. I should have finally been able to relax but I couldn’t. I couldn’t decide why but somehow this place felt haunted.

Turning, I looked at James’ hopeful face. I could tell he had sensed something was off during the very tense drive. And that all his hopes were riding on me going back to normal once we got home. I forced a smile, walking further into the house.

Walking through the foyer and past the living room I expected to find it a mess of scattered things and discarded plates but it was actually quite tidy. Continuing to the kitchen I expected at least the sink to overflowing but it wasn’t. Pausing in the room, my eyes fell to the backyard. In the time I had been away the color of autumn was gone. Before I left the leaves were still green, with just a few beginning to yellow. But now, they all laid in a dead brown mess on the grass, leaving bare branches, only illuminated by the cold white lights coming from our back porch.

As I heard footsteps enter behind me, I instinctively turned, pressing my back into the counter. As James came into view, I expected relief to come but it never did. It’s just James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you, played in my mind.

He smiled as he looked at me, holding his arms wide, gesturing to the kitchen. “See?” he began proudly. “You always say I can never keep the house clean. But look!”

I forced a smile, trying to look pleased. I studied behavior extensively, I was a good actress for it. I knew I should observe all of his “hard work” like an adoring wife, it’s what he was waiting for. But I just couldn’t take my eyes off of him, waiting for any sign that he would advance. No, I reprimanded myself. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you. “It’s great,” was all I managed to muster.

With an even wider grin, he approached me. It took all of my self control to not stiffen further as he gently rested his hands on my hips, slotting his face against mine so our noses brushed, our lips hardly a centimeter apart. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed, finally connecting our lips.

At the somewhat forced intimacy I wanted to cry. All of my self defense instincts kicked in but I pushed them down, willing myself to not push him away. But after a moment or so of feeling my stiff lack of reciprocity, he pulled away, a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just tired. I think I want to go to bed,” I claimed, trying to subtly slip out from in between him and the counter, trying to escape the feeling of being trapped.

I could see the flash of hurt cross his face as he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be up soon.” I just nodded, quickly heading upstairs, desperate to escape his disappointment.

As I entered our bedroom I immediately went to the ensuite bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to return myself to earth, I immediately regretted it as I looked in the mirror. The water had removed the cheap makeup the bureau had provided for me, removing the coverage and the layer of protection it had provided me. Now, I stared at the dark circles, bruised cheekbones, and bruised neck that seemed to accentuate the hollow look in my eye.

I found myself just staring at the image in front of me, trying to make sense of it for god knows how long when i was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Darling? Are you okay?” James’ concerned voice reverberated through the door.

“I’m fine,” I called. “Be out in a minute.” I tried to calm myself down for another several moments before deciding that it would only cause unnecessary questions if I showed him the marks on me. After a quick application of my makeup, careful to make it look as if I weren’t wearing anything, I emerged from the bathroom.

I paused in the doorway, finding James sat on the bed, stripped down to only his boxers. He turned his gaze from the tv, sending me a soft smile. I just halted seeing himself in his undressed state. “Erm, bathroom’s yours if you want it,” I said, heading over to my dresser to find more comfortable clothes for bed.

“I’m alright,” he said.

I just nodded, quickly grabbing the first set of clothing I could find. Clutching them, I moved to head back into the bathroom but was interrupted by James’ soft laugh. It was not mocking or even all that humorous, more so just a soft release of tension. “Where are you going? You can change in front of me.”

A weight was added to my heart as I looked between him and the clothes. “I-I know. I just…” the words died on my tongue as I found myself at a loss for an explanation without telling him what was bothering me. That I didn’t want him to see the scratches and bruises that littered my body. That I didn’t want him or any other man to look at my body ever again. That the only person I could feel remotely comfortable naked with was my boss.

So I just disappeared into the bathroom, no doubt leaving him with more disappointment and questions. I didn’t even bother looking at myself in the mirror this time, knowing I’d burst into tears looking at the marks on my body, ruining the makeup I had just put on.

As I exited the bathroom, I immediately got under the covers and turned my bedside lamp off, hardly even looking at my husband in the process. I didn’t hear a sigh behind me but I could practically sense it as he turned off the light and the tv as well, slumping under the covers.

“I love you,” came his soft voice, turned away from me despite my knowing that he wanted to face me.

“I love you too,” I returned, although I doubt my voice was convincing.

~

We were trapped in a motherfucking metal box of a room. No windows, no weaknesses, no way out. The only remote chance of freedom was a metal reinforced door that looked more like the hatch to a bank safe than a door.

Looking down at my feet, I found Aaron’s loafer enclosed toes a mere inch from mine. My gaze drifted up, finding my boss’ gaze as he stared contemplatively at the ground.

We had been sitting in silence for the better part of an hour, having already exhausted out strategies for escape. “Listen,” he hesitantly broke the silence. “You and I both know the profile. Their female victims were…” the words died in his throat, unwilling to even utter the possibility of that kind of an assault on his subordinate.

“I know,” I interrupted, my head hitting the wall. “I know.”

“I’m gonna protect you as best as I can,” he swore, moving from his wall to sit next to me.

I wanted to tell him no, to think of protecting himself, to tell him not to antagonize our captors while we were unarmed. But instead, I found myself crumbling. I leaned against him, tears slipping down my face as I remembered all the horrid things they did to the poor girls who had been in this room before me. His arm wrapped around me pulling me to him so I was crying into his shoulder rather than being as strong as I thought I was.

He wrapped both arms around me as if they alone could protect me from whatever would walk through that door, pulling me closer so I was practically in his lap. “No matter what happens, you’re gonna be okay,” he tried to assure me. “No matter what they do, don’t let them break you. We’ll get out of here, the team will find us.”

After who knows how long of crying, the door finally opened. Aaron let go of me in order to stand. He stood in front of me as four masked men entered the room. They didn’t say a word as three advanced. Aaron moved into a fighting position but he was no match for three of them. Two quickly subdued him as one grabbed at me. I screamed as he got his arms around me, dragging me from the corner and towards the door. “Aaron!” I heard myself scream.

“Aaron!” I cried. I blinked, finding only darkness for a moment before I managed to see outlines.

But beside me, I sensed James. He sat up with me, quickly turning on the lamp and momentarily blinding me. “It’s okay,” he was quick to assure.

As my mind caught up, I found my breath becoming more shallow and tears welling up in my eyes. As I desperately tried to suck in a sustaining breath, James tried to comfort me.

“Shh,” he hushed, his hand falling onto my shoulder. “You’re alright,” he dismissed, already turning to turn the lamp off. As he laid down again, his hand found my shoulder again as he tried to ease me down. I knew his touch was meant to be comforting but it just felt dismissive.

Reluctantly I settled down as best I could, focusing on being able to breathe. But after several moments of short breath, I did the only thing I could think of. Grabbing my phone, I headed downstairs. Already sifting through my contacts, I found what I was looking for as I slipped on my shoes.

“Hello?” came a tired voice after only the first ring.

“Hey,” I began, my voice cracking immediately as tears welled in my eyes.

“Hey,” his voice returned, sounding more alert with a touch of concern. ��Is everything okay?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “Can I come over? James is asleep.” Sobs now openly shook my voice.

“Of course,” Aaron’s voice became increasingly steadier. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

“No,” I refused, already heading towards the garage. “I’ll uh, see you in fifteen.”

“Okay,” his voice came. “Be safe.”

“I will,” I agreed.

Throwing the car in reverse, I backed out of the driveway into the empty street. The entire drive to Aaron’s was a blur as I raced through the streets the best my hazy vision would let me. Until I finally pulled up to the Hotchner house, finding the porch light and living room light on. By the time I got out of the car, Aaron was already standing in the doorway on the porch waiting for me.

Without even stopping to lock the car I ran towards my boss. I didn’t care if it looked ridiculous, I threw myself into his arms to which he gladly welcomed me. Immediately sobs shook me as I broke down in his comfortable embrace.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured softly as he led me gently. I walked with him long enough for the both of us to settle on the couch. “What happened?” he asked.

I sniffled, trying to pull myself together. “I had a dream about when we were there and…” Sobs choked me. “And James… I- he… he just doesn’t get it. He’s trying to be there for me in the way he knows how but… he doesn’t even know I’m here right now. But I have this mantra to remind me that he won’t hurt me but honestly…”

Aaron leaned closer, his eyebrow quirked. “What?” he asked.

I looked at him and for the first time since being apart from him I didn’t feel the need to pull away from another person. “The only person I feel comfortable around it you,” I confessed.

Aaron nodded, unsure of how to react. He couldn’t smile, rejoicing in another man’s loss aside, he wasn’t in a place to smile. But the knowledge that the woman in front of him only felt a sense of calm and security with him brought him a strange sense of satisfaction that he felt guilty for. So doing the only thing that seemed right to the both of him, he just wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he assured. “I’m here for you

Masterlist

A/N This was kind of an abstract idea that popped into my head so if it was shit I'm sorry!

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

The Wall

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: When Cregan is forced to bring his wife to the Wall, he tries to ensure her protection but does not hesitate to defend her honor when necessary.

Warnings: no use of y/n, canon level violence and language, crude language, slight sexual assault, slight smut, men being disgusting, misogyny, cregan being protective, death, killing

Word Count: 8k oops

Masterlist

Rays of warm sun streamed across the Lord and Lady of Winterfell’s chambers, a rare sight in the North so near to winter. An equally rare sight was the lord and lady lounging in bed past sunrise. Typically, the Warden of the North was out of bed before or along with the sunrise. However, longing for his wife of only six months' embrace, he had allotted himself extra time to just be with her.

The two lay, just facing each other for several moments, basking in the warmth and intimacy. Cregan broke the comfortable silence, his hand reaching up to cup his wife’s face. “I am going to miss this sight.”

The girl quirked a brow but smiled nonetheless. “Miss?” she questioned. “Where are you going?” It then occurred to Cregan that his wife was not Northern. She was unaccustomed to the Lord of Winterfell’s duties at the Wall at the beginning of winter, dragging him from the warm embrace of Winterfell.

Slipping a hand down from her face, his fingers found her shoulder, rubbing against the bare skin. “The Wall,” he informed gently. “I forgot you were not raised with our customs. At the beginning of every winter, the Lord of Winterfell must go to the Wall for a few months.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “A few months?” she repeated incredulously. “And I am not to come?”

Cregan shook his head, keeping his calm facade so as to not ruin the soothing atmosphere. However, inside he was incredulous that she’d suggest such a thing. The Wall was no place for a woman, especially one as lovely as his wife. “No, my love, you cannot. It is too dangerous.”

She laughed softly. Her chuckle was not mocking, although dismissive. “I believe I can handle the cold.”

Cregan laughed as well, neither mocking nor dismissive, more so endeared. “As much as I believe you could, it is far colder on the Wall than it is here. But that is not even the concern. You know the Night’s Watch? How a man faced with prison or death may choose the guard the Wall instead?” His wife nodded, her expression slowly being overcome with concern. “Well, that makes them…” he paused, trying to think how to put this delicately, “not the best group of men. Now, when a man joins the Night’s Watch their past is forgotten and forgiven. However, part of being a brother of the Night’s Watch means giving some things up. Including the companionship of women. Now, they are my men,” he assured, “I fight with and for them, but they are not my friends. I do not trust them with the most precious thing to me,” he explained, his hand briefly leaving her arm to cup her face for a moment.

Despite the disheartening answer and explanation, his wife could not help but blush at his adorations. “Should I be concerned with you going there?” she asked, her concern thinly veiled by a laugh.

“No,” he assured. “I trust them in battle with my life. My law gives them another chance at life.”

His wife nodded, still unconvinced. “When do you leave?”

“A fortnight,” he answered, satisfied that the matter of her wanting to go was laid to rest. “And I should like to savor every moment of being home,” he said, his voice gaining a teasing lilt as he leaned over to kiss her. She laughed as his arm encircled her waist, allowing him to pull her body on top of his.

~

Cregan did not think about their conversation again, considering the matter to be done. His wife did not bring up the topic again for a week. Until she strolled into his study lazily one day.

Cregan looked up from the documents on his desk, a smile gracing his face as he saw who the intruder was. “What are you doing here?” he asked pleasantly. Her visits were not uncommon as she sometimes just stopped by when she missed him so he did not expect much of a response from her.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said with a smile, buttering him up. She took a seat across the desk from him, eliciting a furrowed brow from her husband.

“Why are you sitting there?” he asked, feigning offense. “Come,” he waved her over. She complied, rounding the desk. As soon as she was in reach, Cregan grabbed her arm, practically yanking her into his lap. She fell into him with a laugh, allowing herself to settle into him. “There, I much prefer this.”

She laughed again before her expression fell. “Oh, I am going to miss you so much,” she professed, reaching up to cup his jaw.

Cregan’s own expression softened. “I know,” he conceded. “But it is only for three moons.”

Her eyes widened. “But that is half our marriage!” she cried.

Cregan sighed. “I’m afraid I do not know how to comfort you, my love.”

“You could always bring me with you,” she suggested coyly, to which her husband’s expression morphed into disapproval.

“My love, you know I cannot bring you with me.”

“But they are my people too. Or am I not also the Lady of Winterfell as much as you are the Lord?” she challenged.

“You are!” Cregan agreed. “But there are some responsibilities that are mine alone.”

Before anyone could argue further, there was a knock on the door. The lady attempted to stand from her husband’s lap for the sake of whoever wanted to enter. But a firm arm around her waist kept her planted. “Enter,” Cregan called, his grip on his wife’s waist still tight.

As the door opened, revealing Maester Kennet, he paused for a moment at the sight that greeted them. All of Winterfell knew how affectionate their lord and lady were, but he had not expected to enter to find this. After clearing his throat, the man greeted them. “My lord, my lady,” he began. “I’m afraid I bring you regretful news. Maester Alden of the Wall has passed. The Lord Commander is requesting you bring a healer to the Wall with you. He has already requested a new Maester from their Order, but it will be several months until one is sent from Oldtown.”

Cregan sighed, letting go of his wife’s waist to rub his eyes. It seemed there was always a problem. There were no other maesters that he could summon from the north. He could not imagine the uproar he’d receive for pulling a maester or healer from a village no matter how small. And Winterfell could not lose Maester Kennet who had yet to take on an apprentice. The closest thing he had to one was the woman sitting on Cregan’s lap.

The woman in question perked up. “I could go,” she immediately offered.

“No,” Cregan was quick to dismiss.

“My lord, if I may,” Kennet began simultaneously, “your wife is an excellent healer.” Being born a Hightower she was raised under the tutelage of the Order of Maesters who occupied The Hightower alongside the noble family.

“She is not going to the Wall,” he rebuffed, speaking as if she weren’t there yet grasping her waist even tighter than before. He sighed, before looking at the woman in his lap. “I have to speak with Maester Kennet alone,” he said softly.

Despite her wanting to argue she just nodded, seeing just how stressed her husband was. She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before freeing herself from his grasp. As she stood, she nodded to Kennet before taking her leave, both men watching her go.

“Cregan,” the older man began, “I know what you are thinking but she is your only option. I cannot leave Winterfell, especially with you away. And with winter coming no one can afford to lose their healers. Nor could one be expected to travel between villages in the heard of winter.”

“I know,” Cregan mused. “But you have been to the Wall. It is no place for a woman.”

“You entrust her with the guards of Winterfell and bring many of them to the Wall as well. If she is not with you she can always be with them. Besides, the brothers of the Night’s Watch respect and fear you. I am confident they wouldn’t dare hurt her under your watch, or the watch of the guards.”

“But that is precisely my concern. What if she is left alone? You of all in Winterfell know she hates being shackled to someone, a guard or myself.”

“If you tell her protection is the condition of her going to the Wall I trust she will obey your wishes. I know she enjoys breaking the rules occasionally but if you express the importance to you she will listen to them.”

Cregan considered the older man’s words for a moment. He hated having his hand forced, especially when it became personal. The idea of bringing his wife to the Wall made it personal despite the lack of someone to blame. Still, he could not shake the image of the members of the Night’s Watch laying their eyes on his wife, the first woman that many would have seen in years. Gods, he could already predict their thoughts if he were in their shoes and they were not kind. They were the thoughts that only he should have as her husband.

“I will have an answer for the Lord Commander by the end of tomorrow. If I am unable to find another healer, Lady Stark may come,” he conceded. He let out a deep sigh. “Do you think there are any eunuchs that may be able to watch her?” he asked sarcastically.

~

Cregan reluctantly trudged down the hall to his wife’s study. He had spent all day wracking his brain for another healer that could make it to Winterfell in a week but there were none. And no one could even temporarily replace a village healer before the new one for the Wall would arrive. So he found himself reluctantly knocking at her door.

“Enter,” her voice came.

Entering the warm office that she had really just turned into a library, Cregan was greeted with his wife sitting by the fireplace. She turned to see who had knocked, a smile breaking out on her face when she was greeted with her husband. But that smile quickly faded when she saw his tired expression. “What is wrong?” she asked, turning in her plush seat to face him.

Her husband did not answer as he took a seat on the chair across from her, just looking in the fire. “I cannot find a healer to bring to the Wall,” he began reluctantly, the flames dancing in his tired eyes. Across from him, the flames seemed to make the light growing in his wife’s eyes dance. “So, you will come with us.” The lady gasped in excitement at his words but Cregan snapped his head to look at her. “But,” he dampened her excitement slightly, “there are some rules that you must follow if you are to come.”

“Cregan-”

“Don’t protest,” he reprimanded. “I love you, I could never forgive myself if you were harmed by anyone or anything on the Wall. Especially by the men who are sworn to me.”

The lady took a breath, finding the sincerity in her husband’s eyes. She could see just how scared he was of this, just how much the thought of her getting hurt scared him. And she could empathize, as she could not bear the thought of being without him for three moons. Much less that she now understood how dangerous the Wall could be. “Okay, I will obey your rules,” she conceded.

Cregan nodded, “Thank you. I do not intend to scare you but you should know these things. First, that there will be many men of Winterfell coming with us. If you are not with me or in our chambers, you are to be with one of them.” He paused, waiting for a response to which she just nodded in agreement. “Next, you will act as a healer so you will likely operate out of Maester Alden’s turret. Alden was an… experimental healer so do not touch anything unless you are absolutely sure you know what it is. And the Wall is cold, far colder than even here so ensure you bring clothes to keep you dry and warm. If you become too ill to care for yourself then all my men on the Wall are at risk.”

She quirked a brow at him. “Are you truly telling me to bring a cloak to the Wall?” she questioned.

“Well you brought practically nothing here,” he retorted lightly.

His wife just sent him a playful glare before he continued. “And finally, you are not to be in the common areas with the brothers. That includes places such as the dining halls, the practice yard, the brothers’ quarters, the stables, any place where they congregate. And, of course, you may not go beyond the Wall. Is that clear?”

“Cregan, you needn’t treat me like a child,” she chided lightly. But her soft smile wavered seeing his stony expression. “I understand,” she conceded. “I will be careful and stay with those you trust.”

“Good,” Cregan nodded. “I know you think me too protective. But it is my job to protect you, I swore an oath to the gods to it.”

“I know,” she acknowledged.

~~

Cregan grew more and more nervous as the Stark party drew closer to the Wall. Sending a glance to his wife, he found her just behind him, sitting side saddle wrapped in furs and cloaks. Despite the long, arduous journey to the Wall she had not complained once. It got to the point that Cregan was concerned something was wrong. She just dismissed his concerns as not wanting to be sent back to Winterfell.

“Are you alright?” he asked, checking in on her as he often did.

“Yes,” she agreed with a teasing rolled eye.

Cregan nodded, her amusement doing nothing to quell his nerves. “We are approaching Castle Black. Remember, many of these men have not even seen a woman in years. Stick close to me.” The amusement left her features as she nodded. Cregan looked over to one of the guards in front of him. “Garrat, ride ahead. Let the Lord Commander know we are an hour out.”

“Aye, my lord,” the man agreed, not even turning on his horse before taking off.

The rest of the trip was led in relative silence. The only person who had been remotely excited to go to the Wall was Lady Stark but that excitement had been quelled by the numerous grave warnings she had received from her husband and the men who had been.

Soon enough, she was staring up at the peaks of Castle Black as they approached the gates. She observed the fabled Wall she had heard so much about. In stories from her childhood and in preparation of this trip. To say she was underwhelmed was an understatement. She had heard fabled stories of a seven hundred foot wall made of ancient ice. Rather, guarding the fortress that monitored this Wall, were indeed ice walls, but they looked to be maybe fifty feet high at their peaks, along with some man constructed walls that served similarly to the walls of Winterfell, containing the fortress. She would have expressed her disappointment in a jest to her husband but did not for the sake of appearance.

As the gates of the fortress opened she felt just like when she had entered the gates of Winterfell. Compared to Oldtown in the south, Winterfell felt cold and cruel, with the local Northerners’ hard gazes making her skin crawl. But she had found a comfortable home there and made friends with many of the fortress’ occupants. Compared to Winterfell, the Wall was like the seventh circle of hells. Whilst the cold initially felt biting in Winterfell, she had grown accustomed to it. Here, it felt as if the cold was sinking into her bones as the gates closed behind them. She had thought Winterfell to be dirty and barbaric as if it was made for war and war alone. But here, she felt as if she had actually entered a war camp and was now trapped in by its walls and the miles of snow between here and her home. And when she had first felt the curious gazes of the Northern folk upon entering her husband’s home, she had taken them as hungry, sending chills through her body. Now she truly knew what it felt like to be looked at with hunger as their group approached a welcome party of men dressed in black. The lady resisted the urge to pull her hood up to cover her hair that gave her away, but doing so now would look weak.

Instead, she looked to the four men stood in the middle of the courtyard, separate from the rest of them. Whilst three of them kept flickering their gazes towards her, the man who seemed to lead them stepped forward, only looking to Cregan.

“Lord Stark,” the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch greeted him as he dismounted from his horse.

“Carron Vander,” Cregan greeted the man with a smile, shaking his hand.

“We appreciate you bringing your wife,” Lord Commander Vander said in a lowered tone. “Trust that I have told the brothers exactly what will happen to them if they harm her.”

Cregan thanked the man. “Might I get my wife inside? She was born a Hightower after all,” he laughed.

Vander let out a booming laugh, observing the girl wrapped in furs for a moment. “Of course,” he agreed. “You know where your chambers are,” he gestured to the Commander’s house.

Cregan nodded, going over to his wife who was still sat upon the horse. She was sure that if she jumped from this height, with her feet so cold, her toes would break off. Without a word, Cregan grabbed her waist, sliding her off the horse. A movement that for a reason that could only make sense in the minds of sex-deprived men, elicited several murmurs from the men. Cregan gave no indication that he noticed it but his wife’s eyes nervously flickered around the courtyard full of men.

Holding her close, Cregan whispered, “Come, let’s get you inside.” As the couple and their men were ushered in, the brothers of the Night’s Watch received pointed glares from their Lord Commander, First Ranger, First Steward, and First Builder.

As the shivering woman was quickly ushered into the chambers of the Lord of Winterfell, she let the warmth melt the cold from her body. She took a moment to observe the room, finding it constructed of stone with wood furniture and more than enough fur and cloth to keep her warm for the winter. Along with a crackling hearth that made the room warm enough for her to begin stripping off layers. “No windows?” she mused.

“No,” Cregan answered, also shedding his cloak. “The buildings were designed to hold as much warmth in as possible. Windows just allow the cold in.” She nodded, observing the room. Cregan could not help the sigh that left him as his wife wrapped her arms around herself. Going over to her, he wrapped his own arms around her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his chin resting on top of her head.

“Yes,” she dismissed. “Just a bit cold.”

Cregan still held her, unconvinced. “If anyone makes you uncomfortable please come to me or Vander, Weaver, Graen, or Staelle.”

“Who are they?” she asked.

Before Cregan could answer, there was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, he pulled away from his wife to answer the door. Opening it, he revealed the four men that had greeted them outside. The short door made all the men look huge, especially Cregan who stood taller than all four.

“My lady,” they all greeted, bowing their heads as they entered. She could not tell if that was out of respect or so they would not hit their heads on the low doorway.

“This is Lord Commander Carron Vander,” Cregan introduced the first man. Vander stepped forward, reaching for her hand to press a delicate kiss on her knuckles. He was tall, just like the others, with greying hair and a black beard littered with silver. “The First Ranger, Adian Weaver,” he introduced a slightly younger man who repeated the actions of Vander. His hair was cropped short unlike the rest of the men, but his beard was full and held no silver. “He leads the rangers who go beyond the wall. This is the First Builder, Karron Graen, he is responsible for maintaining the wall.” A man with purely white hair stepped up, taking her hand as well, his beard was so long the wispy tip reached where presumably his navel was. “And this is the First Steward, Myle Staelle, he is responsible for keeping this place operating,” Cregan introduced the final man who had no hair but a great bushy brown beard, and repeated the movements of the other men.

“Lovely to meet you all,” the Lady of Winterfell greeted, feeling a bit intimidated. “Thank you for welcoming me. I know you do not typically have women here.”

“We appreciate you coming. Without a healer we are only as strong as our ill,” Vander commended.

“If you need anything do not hesitate to approach any one of us,” Weaver welcomed.

“Thank you. Winterfell truly appreciates all you do. The entire realm does, although I regret that they don’t show their regard.” The men all laughed at her joke. “Although, I must say, I had thought the wall was larger. I never thought it was actually seven hundred feet but-” Her words were cut off by a resounding laugh. “What?” she questioned as the booming laughter died for a moment.

“That wasn’t the Wall you saw as we entered, my love,” Cregan said. “We are on the Wall as we speak. And it is in fact seven hundred feet.” He could not help but be endeared by her confused expression.

Despite the dedication of the four men from the Night’s Watch to their oaths, they could not help but also be endeared by her cute expression. Nevertheless, they pushed their feelings down as their lord turned to them, his arm slung across his wife’s shoulder. “Should we show her the Wall?” he asked.

“Aye,” they all agreed. This woman’s presence was by far the most amusing thing to happen here in a long time.

Throwing his wolf fur coat over his wife, Cregan eagerly steered her out of their chambers. She did not say a word as he led her out of the house, back into the courtyard. Fortunately, most of the men had dispersed, leaving only a few working in the yard. The group led her to a wooden structure that looked to be some sort of tower against the ice wall that formed the back wall of the fortress. Pushing her onto the platform, Graen uttered some words to a few men standing at some sort of crank.

“Lord Husband, what ar-” she began to question when the men started pushing the great pieces of wood. Her worlds halted as they were slowly hoisted into the air. She could only look at the slowly disappearing ground as they were lifted higher and higher into the air.

“This is the lift, my lady. There is one on the other side of the wall. It is how we get up and down it,” Graen explained.

She just nodded, looking at the horizon in awe. It was nothing but the white and green of the snow and the trees. But it became hazier the higher they were lifted. She did not even care about the cold as the wind whipped around them, too entranced by the magnificent scenery.

Cregan could not help but smile adoringly at his wife as she stared in awe at seemingly the entire North. But as the lift stopped, his smile grew wider as he suddenly turned her around, greeting her with the sight of beyond the wall. He actually quite preferred the sight of the North, but seeing just how high up they were would surely shock her mind. And he was not disappointed as she took in the incredible sight, the white of the snow stretching for miles contrasted against the brilliant blue of the sky. But the most impressive sight was just how high they were above the snow.

“Holy…” her awestruck voice came, eliciting chuckles from all the men as her eyes shone with the light reflected from the ice beneath them.

“Seven hundred feet, my lady,” Graen confirmed with a smirk. “It is a grueling trip up and down,” he gestured to a structure that peaked up from a slightly lower edge.

As the lady stepped forward to observe better, her husband kept firm hands on both her shoulders, ensuring she did not get too close and plummet down the wall. “So you do actually climb up and down this wall?” she asked in astonishment.

“Aye, my lady,” the man smirked proudly.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Come,” Cregan said, pulling his wife back to the lift to return, “let’s get you settled in the maester’s turret. That is, after all, why you are here.”

Heading back down the lift and through the courtyards, they all headed to the maseter’s turret. It was in a tower connected to the dining hall and Cregan made a point of steering the in through the main entrance rather than through the hall.

“This was Maester Alden’s workshop,” Staelle explained, glancing around the room. Upon entering the rooms held by the old maester, Lady Stark could not help but wonder what was in the various bottles lining the shelves. She’d have to explore them further without Cregan there. “I’ll show you to the sickroom where you will be treating the brothers,” he explained, gesturing to a door housing a hallway.

Still holding his wife close, Cregan nudged her in that direction, leading them through the hall to a door and through to another room. It was large, made entirely of cold stone with two fireplaces on either end of the room working to keep it warm. There were a dozen or so beds lining the walls for men to rest after injury. But most alarmingly was the Winterfell guard suddenly standing up as the group entered.

“My Lord, my Lady, Lord Commander,” he greeted the three most senior in the room.

“Karden will be here in the infirmary at all times. And Drommen will always be outside this door as it leads to the dining hall,” Cregan explained. They were her two primary guards in Winterfell, always stationed outside their chambers or her study.

“Karden, I am so glad you will be with me,” the lady could not help but be overjoyed at seeing a familiar face. She knew they would be coming with them but it was nice to know that one of her most trusted guards was nearly always with her.

“I’m glad I can be of comfort, my lady,” he returned.

The atmosphere was then interrupted by a knock at the door. Drommen opened it without waiting, much to his regret as his eyes opened wide upon seeing his lord, lady, and the commanders of the Night’s Watch all before them. “Oh, my apologies. I had not realized you entered, my lady.”

“No apologies necessary,” she was quick to dismiss. “What is the matter?”

He opened the door wider, revealing a strange man of the Night’s Watch. “My apologies, my lords but I need a healer. You see, my—and I don’t mean to be crass—balls are quite sore and I think I might have an infection or something because my cock is leaking. My lady, if you don’t mind, as the healer, rubbing it to make the pain go away?” he dissolved into laughter.

Vander let out a growl, going over to the younger man, planting a large hand on the man’s head and pushing him out of the room. He then slammed the door shut just as the lady glimpsed Drommen dragging him away from the door. “My apologies, Lady Stark,” Vander began, turning to face her with a tired voice. “Trust that he will be dealt with.”

Cregan’s grip on her shoulder became impossibly tighter as she resisted the urge to shrink into his side. “It is alr-” she prepared to absolve Vander of responsibility.

“It is not alright,” her husband cut her off. “Stay here,” he said to her softly. “I am going to deal with him personally,” he declared, finally letting go of his wife. She just watched as he and the other men of the Night’s Watch all left through the same door Drommen guarded, leaving her with Karden.

She just turned to him slowly, clutching Cregan’s far too large cloak closer to her. Her guard watched her with concern. “Are you alright, my lady?”

She nodded, taking a breath to compose herself. “Yes, just a strange place, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” he agreed. “My first trip to the wall was two winters ago. I admit I did not enjoy it at first but you get used to it.” She just nodded, hoping that by the end of three months she would not be quite so eager to return to Winterfell.

~

At dinner, the brothers of the Night’s Watch all observed their lord sat at the head table. “Fuck, they bring Lord Stark to eat with us so we feel better about being on the Wall but not Lady Stark?” Kerith, one of the brothers of the Night’s Watch cursed.

“You really think they’d let her eat with you lot?” one of the Winterfell guards scoffed. “Especially after that one guy said to her in front of Lord Stark and all of them,” he gestured up to the head table.

“Yeah, well he’s an idiot,” another of the men answered.

“Tell us, what’s she look like under all those layers?” Kerith asked the guard. He just rolled his eyes, continuing to eat. “C’mon,” he begged. “You realize I haven’t even seen a woman in five years right? Tell me, has she got big tits?”

The man from Winterfell just sent a glare to all the horny boys listening in eagerly. “I’ll answer that if you are okay with me telling the Lord Commander you asked such a question.” All the boys just grumbled going back to their meals.

~

The Lady Stark had been up to her elbows in wounds all day. It seemed that ever since Maester Alden died, all training had ceased. And it seemed that, according to her patients, sparring and training was part of what kept the brotherhood of the Night’s Watch going. After weeks of no outlet for conflict, combined with the sudden influx of Winterfell guards who operated by different rules, and the presence of a woman—unbeknownst to the woman in question—things had become quite heated. With several scuffles breaking out in the training yard and the Lord Commander allowing them to occur as a form of catharsis.

Lady Stark had even made Karden into an assistant as he worked to bandage less severe wounds and run interference against the boys who simply wanted to come see a woman.

Venturing over to a bed held by a younger boy, just barely six and ten, she approached him with a kind smile. He had come in so sheepishly, clutching an arm to his chest and looking at her like an angel. “How are you feeling Clarreth?” she asked.

“Better, my lady,” he practically beamed up at her. He had not been at the wall long but it seemed the lack of women had gotten to him as his eyes never left her as she worked through all the beds of legitimately wounded men.

“That’s good,” she smiled, the boy practically melting under its warmth. “Do you feel well enough to return to the barracks? I’m afraid I’ll need this bed for one of the other men.”

Clarreth practically deflated at the suggestion. “But I’m still a bit sore.”

The woman could not help but contain her smile, the situation reminding her when her nephew was not even four years and had developed an affection for her. Yes, this boy was old enough to understand the boundaries he was breaching but at least he was not being disgusting about it as many of the other men had been. Plus, his round face and wide eyes made him look harmless.

She sunk down beside his bed, speaking to him as if he were a child despite being only three years younger. “Clarreth, someone else needs that bed.”

He sighed. “Fine,” he conceded, reluctantly getting out of bed.

He began reluctantly heading to the door just as a large figure entered. Lady Stark’s face visibly lit up as her husband entered the infirmary. “What are you doing here?” the joy clear in her voice.

All the injured members of the Night’s Watch could not resist glaring at their lord as he passed, jealous of his wife’s favor towards him. The only glare that Cregan noticed was Clarreth, but seeing that the boy was so young and unassuming, he did not bother to address it with him. “I thought I should check in on you,” he answered, settling a hand on her waist. “Who was that?” he asked, nodding over to the boy’s retreating form.

“Oh, that’s Clarreth. He was knocked over during sparring and insisted on having a bed. I think he holds some affection for me.”

“My love, all the men here hold some affection for you. Even the Lord Commander,” Cregan stated bluntly. His wife just blushed, especially as he absentmindedly tugged her fichu up, maintaining her modesty. “Well, I can see that you are busy and I am in the mood for some sparring. I will see you at dinner,” he bid, pressing a chaste kiss to her hairline before backing away from her, a grin on his face.

She just stood there, smiling after him for a moment. Her trance was only broken by repeated attempts to get her attention from wounded soldiers.

“My lady! My lady! Lady Stark!” a voice finally caught her attention. Surprised, she whirled around to find a man who she had previously treated lying holding his arm. “I believe my stitches tore.”

“Oh!” she cried, grabbing a rag to begin putting pressure on the wound. She held the man’s upper arm firmly. “Karden, come hold pressure,” she shouted across the room. The guard came running over immediately.

“Are you sure?” the man questioned. “I much prefer you to hold my arm,” he flirted.

The lady just rolled her eyes as she moved to grab some thread and the needle she had used earlier. Crouching by the bed she observed his arm, finding the first three stitches missing rather than torn. With a brow furrowed in confusion, she found bloody clumps of thread on the bed along with the man’s bloody fingers. Her jaw fell slack with disgust and surprise. “Di- did you rip out your own stitches?” she gasped.

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?” he smiled.

The woman looked at him like he had three heads. She took a breath, gritting her teeth. “I will stitch you up one more time and if you rip them out again, or even accidentally tear them, I will leave you to bleed. Is that clear?” she demanded.

The man only smirked. “Understood, my lady,” he smiled before settling back against the bed.

Reluctantly, the woman began stitching before looking to the new injury that stumbled into the room. Quirking a brow, she observed two men entering, one clearly not well as his arm was slung over the shoulder of another man, looking like he was near unconsciousness.

“Take him to bed three,” the healer directed. The man holding him complied, staggering under the weight of his friend. “What happened?”

“Said he wanted to spar with Lord Stark. He got him onto his knees and knocked him out with the hilt of his sword.”

“Mother,” the woman breathed, observing the large welt forming on the man’s hairline. “Here,” she said, grabbing a rag from a freezing bucket of water. “Can you have him hold this against his injury? Get it cold again as it warms but just keep him awake,” she asked.

“Of course,” the uninjured man agreed.

She thanked him before moving to check on the other wounded men occupying the beds. “Karden,” she called over her guard.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can you bandage him up and kick him out?” she asked, nodding over to the man who had ripped out his stitches. But as she looked at him he winked, blowing her a kiss.

“Of course, my lady. Would you like me to report him to Lord Stark as well?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head, heading over to one of the beds that held a bleeding member of the Night’s Watch, checking on his bandages. She made her rounds as Karden removed the man from the infirmary. Fortunately, he didn’t make too much of a fuss, just a few angry remarks before walking himself out.

After another hour of bandaging up injuries, many of them reportedly coming from Cregan as he seemingly sparred with every member of the Night’s Watch, Lady Stark was exhausted. But it seemed she had settled most of her patients. The men stopped coming as often and those who truly needed to stay in the infirmary were all resting, the rest having been sent back to their duties or the barracks.

Taking a seat at the desk set up in the infirmary, she took another moment to breathe. The door then opened again, revealing the side of Drommen as he allowed another man in. Reluctantly Lady Stark looked up at him with a polite smile. “What may I help you with?” she asked.

Feigning the best hoarse voice he could, Kerith spoke. “I was in the training yard and got knocked down and something feels wrong in my chest,” he rasped, holding his chest.

Genuine concern drew over the healer’s face as she stood. “Go over to one of the empty beds and remove your furs and tunic. I will come check on you in a moment,” she directed. The man nodded before going over to the furthest bed.

After giving him a moment to undress, the lady went over. “Okay, lie back,” she instructed. “I am going to listen to your breathing.” The man complied as she stooped down, placing an ear against his bare chest. “Take several deep breaths for me.”

Kerith did as instructed, his breathing sounding perfectly normal. Confused, the woman moved to his other lung, listening again, but before she could pull away, the man grabbed her head, pushing her down. She let out a yelp of surprise as he shoved her face into his fortunately still clothed crotch. But as she tried to pull away, his fingers grabbed a fist full of her hair, shoving her face further into his body.

Hearing the scream, Karden immediately ran over, a hand on his sword as he grabbed the man’s hand. “Let Lady Stark go,” he demanded. But Kerith just ignored him, savoring the feeling of something other than his own hand touching his cock. Unsheathing his sword, Karden brought it to the man’s throat. “Unhand her or I will kill you right here,” he threatened.

Reluctantly, Kerith let go, releasing the now crying woman who slumped down onto the floor next to the bed. Karden wasted no time yanking the man from the bed, his torso still bare, and marching him out of the infirmary.

Meanwhile, Drommen was rushing over to his lady’s side as the conscious men watched on from their beds. “Are you alright, my lady?” he asked, kneeling beside the weeping woman. She did not answer as she tried to make the tears stop but they just kept coming as she found her breath becoming shallow. “Come, I will bring you to Lord Stark,” he told her, helping her up.

Outside, Karden found his lord in the training yard, standing with the Lord Commander and First Ranger, observing a fight. Knowing that the Warden of the North would not let this transgression pass, he shouted across the training yard, “Lord Stark!”

The crowd fell silent, even the fighters ceasing as the Winterfell guard marched the half naked member of the Night’s Watch to his lord, throwing the man at his feet. “My lord,” Karden began, “this brother of the Night’s Watch has committed a transgression against you and your wife that I will not let go unreported,” he practically spat. “Whilst Lady Stark was attempting to help this man, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her face into his crotch.”

The yard was deathly quiet, no man daring to speak as the Lord of the North processed his loyal guard’s words. Inside, fury burned within Cregan as he stared down at the man like he was scum on his boot. He gifted these men with the thing most cherished by him and they disrespected him in such an egregious way? He could not allow that.

Beside him, the Lord Commander took a step forward to look at his man. “Is this true?” he questioned.

Kerith sat up on his knees, angrily spitting the dirt from his mouth. “Aye. Just because he is the Lord of the North, why should he get to bring a toy just to parade it under our noses?”

By now, Lady Stark had entered the training yard, under the arm of Drommen. Cregan observed his wife’s tear-stricken face, the rage inside him burning brighter but the words dying on his tongue as he looked at her across the yard.

“That is your liege lady,” Vander spat.

“Fuck her titles,” the man spat. “She’s meant to fuck. A man was meant to have the pleasures of a woman and well, she’s the only one around. I say, whoever beats her husband gets to fuck her.”

Several murmurs erupted from the crowd, with a few of Winterfell’s guards stepping forward to detain him. But Cregan just held up a hand, a cruel smile finding its way onto his lips. Stooping down, he got close to Kerith’s face. “You want to fight me for the right to fuck my wife?” he repeated incredulously. “Is that really your proposal?” he dared.

“Aye,” Kerith agreed. “I know we give up women when we take the oath but the way I see it, if I best the Warden of the North, then I am released from the oath and gifted his wife.”

Cregan wanted nothing more than to shove the measly little worm before him back into the dirt but kept his composure. The cruel smile once again graced his features as he stood. “Fine,” he agreed, releasing his cloak from around his shoulders and grasping his greatsword, Ice. “Someone get him a sword,” he called, his eyes never leaving Kerith. “I’ve been making quick work of your brothers all day.”

The murmurs among the crowd returned, louder this time. Next to Drommen and a few other Winterfell guards who had noticed their lady, Cregan’s wife let out a whimper. She moved to step forward but Drommen’s firm grasp halted her. “Don’t,” he warned.

In the center of the yard Kerith stood determinedly, a sword in hand. He had bested nearly every ranger here, surely the lord who spent his days cooped up in a cozy castle was slow and clumsy with a sword as large as Ice.

Cregan circled the man calmly, waiting for him to make the first move. It seemed he was quite slow as Kerith did not strike until Cregan had nearly completed the circle around him. But the Lord of the North saw it coming as the man’s body tensed in preparation to attack. He dodged the repugnant man easily, the flat of his sword swinging around to slap the man’s back, sending him crashing to the ground. Cregan created some distance between the man and himself, allowing him to recover.

Incensed, Kerith made another wild attack at his lord, to which Cregan met with a surprising defensive force. Bringing his sword up, he held strong against the watchman’s attack, his large frame easily pushing the smaller man back.

At the display of strength Kerith began to appreciate the gravity of the situation. The Lord of Winterfell was strong and trained in combat by the best swordsmasters the North had to offer. Perhaps a more erratic approach would throw the large lord off enough to earn him a victory.

So he approached the lord wildly, swinging his sword as if he were merely a boy again swinging a wooden sword. Cregan met it surprisingly well, managing to block all the man’s blows. Whilst he had merely been toying with the watchman before, as he came at him with a new ferocity, Cregan was ready to end the man that had so egregiously violated and dishonored his wife.

He met Kerith’s attacks with ferocity, finally putting his opponent on the defense. That was, until he got in close, giving advantage to the man with a shorter sword that allowed him to barely swipe the blade against his side. It was hardly a slice but a slice nonetheless. But ever the experienced fighter, Cregan did not let it hinder him, rather the rage that this man could defile his wife and then wound him fueled the lord. Drawing his arm down, his elbow knocked into his opponent’s blade before striking up again, his greatsword plunging into the man’s abdomen so far the Valyrian steel emerged from his back.

Cregan watched with cruelty in his eyes as the vanquished man’s eyes grew wide before his legs gave out, sending him crashing to the ground, his body coming free from the blade. The lord looked away from the dead man at his feet towards the men surrounding him. “Would anyone else like a go for my wife’s hand?” he shouted with such ferocity that even if he hadn’t just killed a man, the rest of them would be too frightened to approach.

After several beats of silence, the Lord Commander spoke. “Everyone back to your duties. Go!” his voice boomed across the yard. The men needed no reminder as they all quickly and quietly headed to various buildings.

Finally, Drommen relaxed his grip enough so his lady could reach her husband. She wasted no time ripping out of her arms and going to her husband’s large form, immediately placing a tender hand against his side, careful not to hurt his wound.

“Cregan, oh my gods,” she cried.

Disregarding her gentleness, he wrapped his strong arms around her, crushing her into his side but she was quick to pull away, far more concerned about her husband’s wound than he was. Turning, she found the guards that had surrounded her still standing there, “Prepare Lord Stark a warm bath in our chambers,” she requested before turning back to her husband again.

Cregan practically melted looking at her teary, concerned eyes. “I am alright, I have suffered worse,” he assured. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, although her sniffle was unconvincing. “I am. Come, let’s get you stitched up and in the bath,” she said, pressing herself against his uninjured side, meaning to support him but Cregan just walked with ease like the war tested hero he was.

Once in their chambers, they found a steaming tub of water. “Sit there,” she directed him towards a short stool that had been left.

Cregan complied as he watched his wife fretfully go over to her trunk, pulling out a sewing kit. As she came back over to him, kneeling next to him, he noticed her trembling hands and her distraught face. “Hey,” he stopped her, grabbing her shaking hands in his large, still ones. “Take a breath,” he advised her. She listened, letting out a shuddering breath. “There,” he praised softly, his hand running down her arm. “I do not mean to offend, my love, but I’d prefer if you weren’t shaking when you stitched me up.”

Fortunately she laughed at his teasing, nodding in agreement as she took shuddering breaths to compose herself. Reaching over, she grabbed a fistful of his tunic’s hem, pressing it up. Her husband took the hint, helping her to remove it. She then pressed on his shoulder so he would rest his back against the wall, stretching the wound so he would not be restricted with his stitches. But before he would let her begin, he tapped his fingers against her hip, urging her closer to him. He kept pressing, in a silent request, until she had climbed into his lap, but she moved herself to straddle his thighs, careful to keep her skirts away from his wound. She then sent him a teasing glare to his proud smile as she got to work stitching him up. By the end, he hadn’t complained or even moved once. The only indication that he was conscious as she stitched was his firm grip on her hip.

“Okay,” she said, climbing off of him. “I will bandage you after your bath,” she gestured to the still steaming tub that had probably cooled down to an appropriate temperature.

Cregan didn’t say anything as he stripped his clothes, getting into the bath without hesitation while his wife cleaned up. After he settled, she came over with a rag, intending to clean him but a strong yet gentle grip on her wrist stopped her before she could even begin.

Looking up at her husband in confusion she found nothing but pain on his face. “Please forgive me,” he begged quietly.

Shocked confusion ran through her. “What?”

“Forgive me,” he repeated. “For bringing you here where a man, one of my men, tried to take advantage of you and your kindness.”

“Cregan, it is not your fault,” she was quick to assure, pulling away slightly. “It is no one’s fault but his.”

Cregan looked unconvinced but nodded anyways. After a beat of silence he finally let go of her wrist. “Join me?” he asked. She hesitated for a moment making him think the worse. “If you want to,” he added. “I understand if you are uncomfortable wit-”

“No,” his wife was quick to dismiss her concerns. She just nodded, beginning to strip her layers off and untie her dress until she was bare before him. A sight Cregan had missed between all the travel and cold.

Seeing as her husband occupied the entire tub, she settled on his thighs, just below his hips. His fingers found her womanhood, teasing her in the way he knew made her putty in his hands. She let out soft moans as he tried to coax her to rest her chest against his but she just stayed upright, wary of his injuries.

As her husband’s fingers coaxed her closer and closer to the edge, she reached down, finding his already hard cock, her fingers giving it a few strokes before she moved her hips, making Cregan’s fingers pull away as she settled herself sinking down onto his cock. Her whine matched his groan at the intrusion, both missing the other’s body.

“Gods, Cregan,” she whined, her hips already falling into a smooth rhythm. “Tell me I’m yours,” she begged.

Cregan smiled softly, agreeing without any hesitation as his hips met hers. “You’re mine,” he confirmed, wrapping an arm around her to pull her even closer. “You’re mine,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to her temple before burying his face in her hair again.

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[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forgiveness

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Cregan begs for his wife’s forgiveness when he accidentally injures her.

Warning: no use of y/n, dirty talk/mentions of smut, injuries, i'm pretty sure that's it

Word Count: 2.3k

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Cregan sat in his study, buried in letters and decrees that claimed they required the utmost attention. They all said that even if they truly did not require that level of priority. However, everyone wanted their Lord’s approval and signature, leaving him to sort through what was a priority and what could wait. In some ways he missed the war, at least he was fighting and protecting his realm then. He felt like a true lord then. Now, he may as well be a bureaucrat locked in some tower of the Red Keep, imprisoned by his own position.

As he moved on to some sort of land dispute, there was a harsh knock on his door. “Enter,” he called, not even looking up.

The large, heavy door swung open, revealing a guard. “Lady Stark, my lord,” he announced.

Interest piqued, Cregan looked up just in time to see the guard step aside, revealing his lady wife. Without having to be dismissed, the man exited, shutting the door behind him to leave the couple alone.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” his wife explained her presence, approaching his desk.

For the first time that day, the Warden of the North took a break from his work, setting his quill down and leaning back in his seat. Sparing a glance out the window, he realized that it was dark. It had only been mid-afternoon when he sat down to begin his bureaucratic duties. “I suppose you’re right,” he confirmed, recalling that he had gently pressed a kiss against his sleeping wife’s head when he woke before disappearing for the day.

Opening his arms, he invited her to approach. Taking his cue, the lady of the north took a seat on his lap, easily slotting into his body. It was a well known fact that the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were unusually affectionate for a pairing of such high status. Typically, love was reserved for those who did not marry for status, or for extramarital affairs. But it seemed the Stark couple had been quite lucky in their match.

“The day has ended, we should go to bed,” Cregan’s wife asked in a soft voice, her fingers trailing through the hair she swept away from his face.

He smiled, finding his tension soothed by her mere presence. “Aye, I wish that I could but this has to be done,” he sighed, gesturing to his desk still covered in documents.

Observing all the work, the lady sighed, leaning her head against her husband’s for a moment. “But you, my lord, are the Warden of the North. Who is to tell you when things must be done?” she asked suggestively, knowing what calling him ‘my lord,’ did to her husband.

Cregan let out the faintest growl, wanting to dive into his wife right there but he restrained himself. “Why I thought that was your job,” he teased.

Fortunately, she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Cregan want to mark her neck in the way he so loved. “Please,” she dismissed, “I can hardly get my own husband into bed. How can I tell you what to do?”

He chuckled. “Fortunately for no one, my discipline is strong enough to withstand your temptations. Although, I admit they are barely capable. I swear to you,” he began, gently lifting his wife from his lap, “that I will be in our chambers within the next hour,” he said, eyes flickering to the candle on his desk that was nearly at its end. “I expect you to be ready for me,” he uttered darkly.

His wife blushed like it was their wedding night again, despite hearing far more vulgar things from her husband. “And how shall you expect me?” she asked teasingly.

Cregan bit his lip. As adorable as he found his wife when she was shy and coy at the mere inclination of sex, he loved when she was daring and teasing. He thought for a moment, staying silent for longer than necessary only to create an illusion for his wife. “Naked. On our bed. With your fingers between your legs.”

~

Once again Cregan found himself locked away in his office, buried in endless paperwork. He was deeply entrenched in some matter of land disputes when the door suddenly burst open. Cregan looked up in astonishment, his mouth open to reprimand them for their dismissal of protocol.

“My apologies, my lord,” the out of breath guard interrupted. “But a wildling has attempted to enter Winterfell. Says he wants to be a southerner, like us.”

Cregan quirked a brow, utterly confused as to why this required so much urgency and why someone had dared call him a southerner. “And why does this require so much urgency that you have broken protocol?”

“The gatesmaster believes this may be some sort of ruse to breach the walls of Winterfell.”

Cregan nodded, standing up. As he exited his office, he found a group of guards standing outside, seemingly waiting to follow them outside. He did not say anything about the waste of manpower at his door but headed outside. “Which gate was it?” he asked.

“The north gate,” his guard answered.

Nodding, the Warden of the North headed out to the northern courtyard. As he exited the walls of the keep, he intended to greet the gatesmaster who stood talking to another sentry. But catching sight of the supposed wildling made him freeze. Standing there by the gate was a disheveled man, looking as if he had spent his entire life in the woods. And talking to him, unguarded, was the Lady of Winterfell.

Cregan abandoned his path towards his gatemaster to get his wife away from the wildling. Who would have possibly thought it would be wise to leave both the wildling and his wife unguarded, even more so to let them meet? He was not thinking clearly as he reached the pair, grabbing his wife’s arm to wrench her away from the vile man before her. He must have pulled harder than intended because she let out a yelp as he did so. Still, he did not comprehend it as he whirled around to face his men, still clutching her arm.

“Who left them unguarded?” he demanded, his voice booming so loud it silenced the entire courtyard. He watched in rage as the crowd of men all sent glances to one another.

The spell was only broken by his wife’s cry. “Cregan, you’re hurting me,” he heard his wife whimper. Finally looking at her, he realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. He relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on tight enough to push her so she stood in front of him, making himself a barrier between her and the wildling. She let out another cry as he jerked her, her free hand reaching for the hand clutched around her arm. She grabbed his wrist in a futile attempt to get him to let go. “Cregan, let go,” she cried again.

Seeing his wife’s face twisted in pain, the Lord of Winterfell realized what he had done. Quickly, he released his grasp, her arm falling into her own grasp. The cold air that whipped through Winterfell became biting as Cregan watched his wife cradle her arm against her chest, backing away from him as if he were the threat. As she backed up toward a guard, gesturing for him to escort her away, Cregan’s heart broke as he realized that in that moment, she felt safer with a guard than with him.

His jaw clenched as he leveled a glare to the men that had followed him, realizing that they had all run to tell him what was happening rather than do their actual jobs. He turned to his gatesmaster who had approached them by now, the few guards who had remained now taking hold of the wildling. “Take him to the dungeons I will deal with him later,” he gestured to the potential threat. “As to this lot, see to it they have nights watch for the next week.” He leveled one last glare at the group of men before heading back inside, intent on finding his wife.

Cregan was already planning his apology to his wife as he reached the hall that housed their chambers. As he walked down the hall, the guard that had escorted her earlier exited his chambers before taking his post just outside the door, sparking some level of unfounded jealousy.

As Cregan walked up to the door, the guard gave him a slight bow. “My lord,” he greeted. He did not reply, simply continuing toward the door, waiting for the guard to open it. But rather, he just spoke again, “The lady has asked me to inform you that she wishes to be left alone.”

Cregan stopped, looking incredulously at the guard. His words stung to hear. He had sworn an oath to protect his wife and had promised her parents that he would be a good husband and never hurt her. Yet here he stood, being barred from his wife by her own wish, with a man of his employ guarding her against him. The sentry looked deeply uncomfortable under his lord’s glare. He truly wanted to honor the wishes of his liege lady but her husband’s orders came first. Reluctantly he reached over, opening the door for the Lord of Winterfell.

Satisfied with his influence, Cregan strolled into his chambers, intending to begin the apology when he stopped short upon seeing the room empty. He turned to look at the guard as if to ask where his wife was. “Some maids escorted her to the maesters,” he informed nervously.

Cregan leveled yet another glare at the man before clenching his jaw and exiting the room, storming towards the maester. As the lord of Winterfell left, his guard briefly considered alternative employment.

Although Cregan had stormed towards the maester’s turret throughout Winterfell, he slowed as he approached the structure. Despite the guards posted outside holding the door open for him, he paused before the building, taking a breath. His wife’s scared expression flashed through his mind and that was a sight he never wanted to see again, yet he knew he would never forget it. The image made all the rage evaporate from him as he slowly entered the turret.

Ascending the stairs, he reached the healing room that he had often visited as a boy. Always having his training injuries and general wounds of boyhood treated here. Sat on the bench in only her shift and skirts was Cregan’s wife, having her arm bandaged in a way that held it to her chest, just as she had chosen to hold it.

Maester Kennet noticed the lord first, slowly halting his movements to look at the man. His wife turned to see the reason for the maester’s pause. She turned, finding her husband standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hollow version of himself. His face looked crestfallen as if he were informing them of a death.

Before she could snub him with a turned gaze, Cregan fell to a knee, his head bowed. “My lady, I truly do wish to apologize to you. I truly never meant to harm you,” he began, his voice dripping with a desire to be believed. “I swore an oath to protect you, as that was all I was trying to do. But instead, I hurt you, and that is a failure I will carry with me until my grave. I understand if you are unable to forgive me, I was being brash and absentminded. But all I ask is that I may be near you.” He looked up slowly, meeting his wife’s gaze. He could not read anything from it aside from pain.

Cregan had felt the pain of wounds of war before, but nothing hurt more than when his wife turned to look at Maester Kennet. But she only whispered a dismissal before looking back to her husband again. Cregan stood eagerly as the man’s hands gently left his wife’s shoulder before he approached his lord. The aging man paused beside Cregan, patting his shoulder momentarily before continuing down the stairs, leaving the couple in privacy.

Cautiously, Cregan approached his lady, once again crouching before her. “I truly am sorry,” he repeated. His wife said nothing as her gaze fell to her lap. But she turned her non-bound hand over in her lap, inviting his hand in hers. Cregan took it eagerly, his other hand going to her face to brush her hair aside as he gently grasped it. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too,” she cried, falling into him. Cregan caught her, careful of her shoulder as he held her close, even pressing a kiss to the injured area as if promising to care for her.

He continued to hold her and continued to apologize. “I truly did not intend to harm you. I just saw you standing with that wildling, unguarded and all I knew was that I had to get you away from him.”

A comforting hand in his hair soothed him, halting his words. “I know,” she assured. “Maester Kennet explained why you were so upset. I apologize for not being more cautious. I just felt he was being treated unjustly.”

Cregan pulled away only enough to look at his wife, nodding in understanding. “You have a large heart,” he commended. “And it is my job to protect it. Sometimes I get carried away with it.”

The lady smiled, “Well I don’t suppose I can fault you for that.”

Cregan smiled at her forgiveness, once again holding her close. With all forgiven, he gained a teasing lilt to his voice. “Did you send that guard to our chambers to intentionally mislead me?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, the teasing lilt finding her voice as well. But she attempted to distract from it with a stroke against his back. “I was quite irritated with you.” Cregan just chucked, the rumble of his laugh soothing his wife as they fell back into normalcy.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

If you don’t like x reader then stop tagging your shit as x reader !

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Wrong Person (College AU!)

Hockey player!Cregan Stark x Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond's girlfriend has a group project with the man he hates the most, Cregan Stark.

Warning: abuse, domestic violence, alcohol consumption, implied smut, implied fighting, smoking, angst; characters generations/ages don't quite make sense but basically everyone is 20 in this

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

A/N Hey guys, I know its been a while. Some of you may have figured out I stop posting as much when school picks up but here’s something I’ve been slowly piecing together

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on Aemond’s door. Softly, but not so soft he would miss it. Immediately the door swung open and I was met with Aemond’s eternally neutral expression. I felt my own heart sink as he yet again didn’t greet me with a smile. “Hey,” I greeted shyly, feeling my lips quirk up into a smile despite how disappointed I repeatedly found myself.

“Hey,” he greeted in return, stepping aside to let me through. I walked past him, finding his dorm just as I always did. It was surprisingly clean for a guy’s college dorm but Aemond was pretty tidy. Coming up behind me, he gently lifted my bag off my shoulder, placing it on the desk chair before moving me towards his bed.

I suddenly found myself wishing Criston, his roommate, was here. “Oh I actually need my-”

“What?” Aemond snapped, cutting me off.

I stared up at him for a second, trying to register just how angry he was. Finding no real, threatening anger I decided to answer him. “It’s just, I, uh I have to wrap up something quick for that project. Cregan just-”

Aemond scoffed, rolling his eyes. He walked around me, flopping onto his bed with an annoyed expression. “All I fucking hear is about Cregan fucking Stark and your project. You’ve been doing this project for like two months.”

I found my arms wrapping around myself but stopped. Aemond hated when I did that. “Stop acting like I’m gonna hurt you!” he’d say. “I’m sorry but it’s a semester long project,” I explained for the hundredth time.

“I don’t see why you had to partner with him,” Aemond grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

“I know, but there were no other seats.” We repeated the same conversation we’ve had dozens of times throughout this semester.

Walking into Tyrell Hall, I checked my phone. One minute until class started. Cursing, I rushed up to the second floor, quickly locating classroom 221B. Entering the room, I let out a huff seeing that every seat was filled. Scanning the room for a glimpse of an open seat, I observed my classmates. I waved to the few I knew, girls from my freshman year residence hall, some people who ran in Aemond’s circle, a few I didn’t know, and then the hockey team. They all sat in the rear corner of the room, with the only seat left being right next to their captain, Cregan Stark. Glancing at the professor, I found her looking at me expectantly so I reluctantly headed to the back of the room, trying to disappear into my hair as I walked past the hockey team.

“Now that we’re all here,” the professor started, “make sure to get to know your desk partner. You’ll be working with them all semester.” Shit.

I looked to my left, finding Cregan already giving me a shit eating grin. “Oh this is gonna be fun,” he smiled, knowing how much Aemond hated the athletes.

Aemond just got quiet, biting his lip as he looked down at his crossed arms. “C’mon, don’t be mad,” I begged, getting up on the bed. I no longer thought about it. We had been through this routine so many times I just acted. I laid on his bed, practically on top of him as I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest. “I hate it too but it’s only for one semester.”

Aemond huffed, uncrossing his arms so he could lay one across my shoulder, nestling me further into his chest. He didn’t say a word, rather he just looked at me. His expression wasn’t expectant but I knew what he wanted. Pushing my body up, I connected my lips to his. He immediately escalated it, turning so he could place one hand on my jaw, the other on my waist as he moved to be on top of me.

Managing to pull away slightly, I looked up at him, his lips still so close I could feel his labored breath. “Aemond, I want to, I really do,” I tried to keep him from getting mad, “but I have-”

“Is this about your project?” he interrupted me, still so close I could feel the sharpness of his breath as he got angrier.

“No,” I assured quickly. “I have a history assignment. Besides, doesn’t Criston get back from class soon?”

“I don’t care,” he said, brushing his nose against mine. “Here,” he said, leaning over me to his bedside table to grab his phone. He typed out a quick message, only briefly showing it to me before tossing it back onto his bedside table. “You can do your work tomorrow morning before class.” His words phrased as a suggestion but holding the weight of a command. He connected his lips to mine again, wasting no time slipping his hand up my shirt.

~

Sitting in class, I tried my best to ignore Cregan. The first half of class was always dedicated to lecture, with the second half going to working on our project. I was keenly aware of Cregan’s eyes flickering toward me every few moments as well as Aemond’s friends a few rows ahead. I just kept my gaze firmly on my notes and the professor’s slides.

Finally, the professor reached the end of her slides. “Okay, that wraps up today’s lecture. Turn to your partner and continue working on your projects. Remember: you should be submitting an outline to me by Monday.”

As I turned towards Cregan, making sure to keep my hair covering my neck, I caught a glimpse of Aegon’s watchful eye. Remembering Aemond, I turned to Cregan’s wolfish grin, refusing to return it. Undeterred, he leaned closer to me. “Hey, I saw you were working on the doc at five a.m. What were you doing up at that hour?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Oh, I couldn’t get to it last night so I woke up early to work on it,” I shrugged. I tried my best not to dwell on the fact that he had noticed that. And judging by his furrowed brows, I tried to ignore the fact that he was concerned about me. “Why were you up at that hour?” I returned, immediately feeling guilty for engaging him.

Cregan’s smile widened. “I was up for hockey practice and got the notifications. Speaking of which, are you coming to the game tonight?”

I sent him a look. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Cregan’s lips fell into a pout. He actually pouted at me like a dog. “C’mon, I want the girl who’s carrying me through this project there.” I just let out a breathy laugh, trying to dismiss his insistence, but thoughtlessly moved my hair, exposing the hickies Aemond had made a point to leave. Beside me, Cregan’s eyes widened. “Woah,” he exclaimed. I felt embarrassment consume me and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole in that moment as I quickly replaced my hair back where it was. “Wow, someone wants everyone to know you have a boyfriend,” Cregan chuckled.

“Cregan,” I began, ready to tell him off. The mortification must have been written all over my face because his expression morphed into silent sympathy as I looked at him.

He cleared his throat, looking down at his notes for a second before turning his attention to my laptop screen. “So where are we on the outline?” he asked. He looked back up, meeting my gaze and I gave him a soft smile of thanks before returning to the project.

~~

Cregan looked up at the stands full of students. Peering in the student section, he was disappointed but unsurprised to find the stands void of his health sciences partner.

“C’mon man, you had to know she wasn’t coming,” Benjicot Blackwood, Cregan’s best friend, interrupted his thoughts. “You know Aemond would never let her come.”

Cregan shrugged. “He’s not in charge of her. She could come.”

“Cregan,” Benji stopped his best friend, becoming very serious for once. “You know he basically controls her every move right? You had to have noticed. She basically hasn’t talked to anyone except Aemond and his friends since like October last year.”

Cregan stopped to think. Now that he thought about it, he realized that she had used to be one of the most well liked people at the university. But now, she really only had a reputation for being Aemond fucking Targaryen's girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that she of all people even looked at that silver haired prick twice.

Seeing his best friend’s dismay, Benji felt bad knowing that Cregan had had a crush on the girl since he first saw her freshman year. “Hey,” he caught his friend’s attention. “Larys told me Aemond and his little cult are going to Phi Gamma Delta tonight. Even if she isn’t there you could ‘accidentally’ spill some beer on Aemond.”

Cregan sent a mischievous look to his friend, a small smile quirking on his lips.

~

“So where are we going?” I asked Alicent as she curls my hair.

“Phi Gamma Delta,” she explained, putting down the hot wand and spraying hair spray all over me.

“Are the guys coming with us?” I asked, turning to her as she took the curling wand to her own hair.

“Yeah, Harwin is going to let the guys in,” Alicent explained, flawlessly curling her brown locks.

I stood up from her bed, going to my bag to grab my outfit. But as soon as I pulled it out, Alicent turned toward me with wide eyes. “Oh no, I already have something for you to wear so we can match,” she came up with on the spot.

“Thanks but I haven’t gotten to wear this since like first semester sophomore year,” I said, holding up the backless top. I didn’t say the quiet part out loud, I hadn’t worn it since Aemond and I got together.

“Yeah but I’m wearing a long sleeve,” Alicent said, standing up from her desk and holding up her sheer top.

“Another time,” I promised her. Grabbing my clothes, I headed for her bathroom, quickly changing into the top and my black jeans that I had cleaned beer off of so many times.

Entering the room again, Alicent had a slightly sour attitude as she finished off her hair. But I just ignored it, determined to have a good night as I got started on my makeup. Once the both of us were ready, we headed to Aemond’s room where all the guys were waiting for us.

I knocked, being louder this time so as to overcome the music that was already blasting. The door swung open, revealing Criston. “Hey!” he greeted the two of us excitedly. “The girls are here,” he announced to the very crowded dorm room.

Aemond pushed his way to the front of the room, a beer fueled smile on his face. But it dropped as soon as he saw me. My heart immediately sunk seeing his expression but he just grabbed my arm, dragging me into the dorm somewhat harshly. Before I could even speak, he was already barking orders at me. “Go grab a drink, I’ll talk to you in a second,” he spat. Disheartened and slightly scared, I went over to Criston’s desk which was lined with booze.

Aemond turned his attention to Alicent, seething. “I thought she was wearing that one long sleeve top,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, I tried to make her take it but she wouldn’t,” she defended. “I could’ve told her it was you insisting she wear it,” she threw back with a quirked brow.

Aemond just sent her a glare before going back to his girlfriend. “Hey,” he greeted, an arm slipping around my waist to bring me to face him. “Look, I’m sorry I got mad earlier its just… this top,” he said, tugging at the fabric, “is… well its basically a rectangle of fabric held together by one string,” he explained. His fingers now finding the back of my top, tugging at the string to where it almost came untied to make his point.

I averted my eyes, gaze flickered down, shame coursing through me. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I loved this top.”

“I know, baby. And I’m not trying to control what you wear just, keep close to me tonight. Not all the guys there will respect you,” he said, giving another tug to the string of my top before stepping away towards his friends.

Feeling slightly disoriented and embarrassed, I headed to the bathroom in order to fix the top before returning to the pregame, trying to forget the earlier conversation with cheap booze.

After a few more moments, Aemond had declared that it was time for us to all go to the frat. As we all headed over, Aemond had his arm slung across my shoulder. By the time we reached the house, I was shivering thanks to all my exposed skin, and slightly wishing I had listened to Alicent.

As soon as we entered, Alicent grabbed my hand, dragging me to the dance floor as the DJ started to play Super Bass. It wasn’t long after we had been jumping around on the dance floor that Aemond found me again, moving to stand behind me with one hand around my waist and the other holding a beer.

After a couple songs, I felt Aemond’s fingers tap on my hip before his lips came up behind my ear. “I’m gonna go out back for a smoke. Be safe,” he advised before taking his leave, a few of the guys following him upstairs out of the basement.

I just turned back to Alicent who seemed to relieved to not have anyone hovering around her so she could let loose. I laughed as her dancing became more wild and sloppy. That was until her eyes went wide and she was looking at the staircase leading out of the basement. Confused, I turned to find the entire hockey team filling the stairway, with Cregan Stark standing at the top of the staircase.

He looked around for a moment as he descended the stairs, before his eyes settled on me and a smile broke across his face. It was as if Aemond’s training kicked in or something because I had the sudden urge to go find him but something in me kept me firmly rooted to the ground. Maybe it was the beer and god knows what other sticky substances keeping my shoes on the floor of this frat basement.

Either way, it was too late to leave because Cregan was pushing his way through the crowd towards me until he towered over me. The dancing bodies of other students being no match for his hulking frame. He stooped down, bringing his lips closer to my ear. “Hi,” he greeted, pulling away with a bright smile.

“Hi,” I returned, not even bothering to try to reach up to reach his ear.

“Where’s your owner?” he asked sarcastically.

I sent him a look when he pulled away. He just laughed, bringing his lips to my ear again. “I kid. But seriously, I’m surprised he’s not attached to your hip making sure someone like me isn’t talking to you,” he teased.

This time he didn’t immediately stand up, allowing me to talk in his ear to answer. “He’s in the backyard. He’ll be out soon,” I answered.

“Well then I guess I have to make due with the time I have,” Cregan smiled. Before I could protest, his hand found mine, tugging me towards him. His grip was tight enough to move me, but not so tight that I couldn’t slip out if I wanted to.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help but move with Cregan, finding laughs building in my chest as I watched him dance. We were having a good time until all of a sudden Cregan got a serious expression on his face, standing straight up and looking toward the staircase. I didn’t even have time to follow his gaze before he grabbed my arm tugging me behind him.

“Hey! Wha-” I began to protest as I was whirled around but the words died in my throat as I realized why Cregan had gotten serious.

Currently pushing through the crowd was a murderous looking Aemond. Rather than rush to calm him like I probably should, I found myself cowering behind the hockey captain, clinging to his arm. “Stark!” Aemond barked across the crowded room, so loud everyone managed to hear it. “What the hell are you doing with my girlfriend?” he spat, getting in Cregan���s face.

“Nothing, we were just dancing,” he answered coolly. “Then you came down here looking like you wanted to murder someone.”

Aemond rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe don’t dance with another guy’s girlfriend next time.” He turned his gaze to me, holding out his hand expectantly. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

The fear coursing through me was screaming at me to take his hand but something wouldn’t let my body move. Cregan sent a glance back towards me before turning to Aemond. “She doesn’t wanna go with you.”

“Stay out of this,” Aemond seethed. “This is none of your business.” He then looked at me expectantly again. “We’re going,” he spat.

By now the music had died down and everyone was looking at us. Glancing around, I saw both the hockey team and Aemond’s friends coming towards us, prepared to back up their guys. “Nah, I’m not letting her go with you,” Cregan declared. “Not until you calm down.”

That just seemed to ignite a fury in Aemond. “She’s my girlfriend, Stark,” he spat through gritted teeth. “She’s perfectly fine with me and I sure as hell am not leaving my girlfriend with any of you,” he nodded to the hockey team.

“Then why does she look terrified of you right now?” Benji interjected.

“Shut up, Blackwood,” Criston spat.

All of the guys started arguing, yelling at the others to shut up. Still behind Cregan, I snapped my head behind me as I felt a gentle hand brush against mine. Turning, I found Rhaenyra looking at me with a concerned, gentle look. I just stared at her for a moment before Alicent’s voice brought me back to the conflict.

“Enough!” she got in between Cregan and Aemond. “I’m taking her back to her dorm unless all of you,” she pointed at the guys on both sides, “want to leave.”

There were some grumbles but no one protested. “I’ll go with her too,” Rhaenyra offered.

Not letting the boys fight it out even more, I spoke up. “Yeah, we’re going home,” I agreed. Stepping away from Cregan, I shakily approached Aemond. He was looking at me like I had committed some serious sin against him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. I tried to move past him but he grabbed my waist, pulling me into an aggressive kiss. I could taste the beer and smoke on his lips as he forced his lips into mine. And I had a sneaking suspicion his eyes were locked onto Cregan’s.

When he released me, I let out a shuddered breath as his hand rested on my hip. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” his voice was grave. But his hand came off my waist, as if giving me permission to walk away.

Nothing was really said as I left the frat with Alicent and Rhaenyra on my heels. They both tried to ask me multiple times if I was okay, to which I just nodded in agreement. My mind was too consumed playing out what had just happened. But as soon as we were within ten minutes of my dorm, I stopped walking and turned to the two girls behind me. “I’m good here if you guys wanna head home or back to the party. I appreciate you coming with me but I think I just need to be alone right now.”

They both sent each other a glance. “We’re not letting you walk alone at night,” Rhaenyra protested.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

They both looked at each other reluctantly before looking toward me. “Okay but, call someone if you start to feel freaked out,” Alicent said.

“I will,” I agreed, before turning on my heel and walking away.

Immediately, I pulled out my phone, afraid to see what was on there. Opening it, I was first confronted with a text from Cregan.

Hey sorry about tn If he tries anything with you let me know and I’ll handle it

My heart melted reading his messages. I wanted to cry at how sweet he had been lately, mostly because Aemond had been anything but.

Going to our messages, I found nothing. I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. I’m sure my refusal to move would come up some way or another.

I swiped out of my messages with Aemond, going back to Cregan. Reluctantly, I held down on the message until the option to delete it popped up. My finger hesitated over the delete button before I hit it. Just like I had deleted all his flirty texts. Leaving nothing but the texts about our project.

~

The next morning, I was woken up by incessant banging on my door. Glancing quickly at the clock, I saw that it read eight a.m. Rushing to the door, I opened it without checking who it was because deep down, I already knew.

As the door flew open I immediately took a step back, finding Aemond practically glowing with fury. “What the hell was that last night?” he spat, storming into my room.

I backed up as he entered, the door slamming shut behind him. For the first time, I cursed the fact that my roommate went home every weekend. “Aemond, I’m-”

My words were cut off as he lunged forward, his hand coming to close around my throat. “You’re what?” he spat. “Sorry? Sorry for humiliating me? Making me look like an awful person?” But I hardly heard a word, too busy trying to process the fact that he had actually grabbed me by the throat and was choking me. But it seemed my silence angered him more as his fist became tighter and he pressed me up against the wall. My vision was beginning to fade as he crushed my windpipe even tighter. “You cowered away from your boyfriend behind Cregan fucking Stark! Do you know how that makes me look? This,” he said, referring to his hand around my throat, “is because of you. You make me out to be some abuser, fine. It can be that way,” he spat before dragging me to the floor.

I coughed and sputtered as I hit the ground. Hard. “I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp out through tears and desperate gulps of air. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Aemond stood over me, bending down to get in my face. “You’re damn right you weren’t thinking straight. I’ll see you Monday and you better have fixed this attitude by then,” he said before marching out of my room.

~

That entire weekend I just flipped between numbly trying to wrap my head around what happened and sobbing violently. Every time I caught a glimpse of my bruised neck in the mirror—Aemond’s fingers clearly marked in my skin—or thought about the feeling of his hand around my throat.

I stood in the bathroom, my skin blotchy from the tears and black and blue covering my neck. I had only just managed to start being able to look at myself without immediately dissolving into sobs when my phone rang. Hesitantly, I picked it up, finding Cregan’s name scrawled across my screen. After another moment of hesitation, I answered the call. “Hello?” I answered, immediately cringing at the hoarseness of my voice.

“Hey,” Cregan’s voice came over the phone, his concern apparent. “Are you okay?” His heart was racing as he heard the scratchiness in her voice.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to clear my throat but it was no use. Between the choking and nearly two days worth of sobbing, my voice was fried. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, I’m coming over,” Cregan informed, already getting up from his bed.

“Cregan,” I began to protest.

“You’re still in Benjen Hall 514, right?” Cregan asked.

I opened my mouth to protest but the words wouldn’t fall. So instead, I gave a reluctant confirmation.

“I’ll be over in five.”

I hung up the phone, going over to my bed and slinking onto it. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I should try to clean myself up and hide the hand print on my neck. But if I hod it, what life was I resigning myself to?

I didn’t have much time to act because there was a knock at my door. I found myself rushing to open the door, despite my resistance to being seen by anyone. But either way, I opened the door, quickly ushering Cregan inside before letting it shut again, once again hiding Aemond’s act from the world.

After observing my room for a moment, Cregan turned to me. “So what’s wrong?” he asked.

I realized I was looking at the ground, effectively hiding my face and neck. After a second of hesitation, I looked up, letting him see the bruises and tear stains. His eyes widened, his jaw even dropping as he saw my state. He just stared at me for a moment before he spoke hesitantly. “Did- did Aemond do that?” he asked, horror lacing his voice. I only nodded reluctantly.

I watched the shock turn to sympathy, to hurt, to finally anger. His jaw locked and his fists curled as he took a step away from me. “That little-” he couldn’t even finish his insult he was so angry. “Did you get my text? Why didn’t you call?”

“I-” I began but I was cut off my my cringe at the sound of my own voice. “I don’t know. The past few days have just been a blur.”

Cregan stepped towards me. I flinched as he came towards me to which he immediately stopped. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he swore. He took another hesitant step forward until he was gently grasping my shoulders. “I am however, gonna beat the shit out of that deadbeat boyfriend of yours. Or should I say, ex-boyfriend.”

“Cregan,” I began, my hands finding his chest. “I-” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just broke down into sobs as I fell into his chest. In response, he just hugged me tightly, running his fingers through my hair.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he hushed me. “I swear I’ll be right back.”

~~

Cregan cringed as he knocked on room 514. His knuckles were bloody but he didn’t care. Immediately the door swung open, revealing his health sciences partner. She immediately threw herself into his arms, much to the hockey player’s joy. He hugged her tighter as her legs came to wrap around his hips. Entering the threshold of the room, he let the door fall shut behind him as her feet fell back down onto the ground. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again,” Cregan swore, his forehead resting against hers. “I promise you.”

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

The Godswood

Robb Stark x reader

Summary: When the newest Lady of the North is chased into the woods, the lords of the north search for Robb Stark's wife

Warning: canon-level violence, no use of y/n, wildlings, nudity (but no smut), not beta-d (I literally typed this on my phone and posted it), deviation from canon (just pretend the godswood is outside winterfell)

Word Count: 2.8K

Masterlist

“Robb?” the new Lady of the North’s voice rang through their chambers. “I thought I should go to the Godswood to pray,” she relayed her plans for the day.

Robb immediately exited the washroom of their chambers. “Is it necessary for you to pray in the Godswood? There is a perfectly good sept near the Great Hall.”

“I know but even you say you feel more inclined towards the nature of the north when you pray at the Heart Tree,” she shrugged.

Robb sighed. “But I am unable to bring you today. You know I have that meeting with my father and the bannermen,” the young lord argued.

“Robb, I will be perfectly alright,” she insisted, giving him a loving yet exasperated look. “If it makes you feel better I will bring guards with me but I am telling you I will be okay in the few minutes it will take me to wish for the health of your family.”

Robb looked reluctant still but grumbled out an agreement. “Fine,” he agreed, moving closer to his wife so as to press a kiss to her temple. “But do not stray from your guards. The Godswood can be dangerous.”

“I won’t,” she complied, calling after him as he returned to the washroom to continue shaving and she exited their chambers. Making her way to her father-in-law’s office, she was already shivering through the drafty hallways of the Stark family’s residence within Winterfell. Not being from the north had made residing here difficult in terms of becoming accustomed to the weather. But her husband was always willing to warm her up. And her mother-in-law, another northerner by marriage only, had given her tips of how to prepare for the cold.

Finally making it to the Warden of the North’s chambers, the guards allowed her to enter after announcing her presence in Lord Stark’s office.

Entering, she found that the first of the bannermen had already arrived. “Lord Karstark, Lord Amber,” she greeted the men. “My apologies, my lords, I did not realized your meeting had started.”

“Nonsense,” Lord Stark dismissed his daughter-in-law’s concerns, always happy to see the girl that seemed to brighten his son’s life. Lord Stark considered himself to have made a few very good decisions in his life. One of them being his decision to marry Cat. But another one was orchestrating his eldest son’s marriage to the girl that stood before him. “The lords here were just telling me about their lands before the true meetings began. Is my son ready?”

“No,” she answered. “You know how particular he gets about his hair.”

The men erupted into laughter. “Wow,” Lord Karstark began, still recovering from his laughter. “Wish I had her for a daughter-in-law. My son refuses to even neaten his beard.”

“Yes, well, my son finds her input very valuable,” Lord Stark chuckled. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“I had just hoped you would assign me a guard. Robb insisted I take one into the Godswood.”

“He is smart to do so,” his father commended. “I will send you with two. Just to be safe.”

She gave her father-in-law a bashful smile. “Thank you,” she bid, exiting the office.

“Come,” the guard waiting outside the office bid. “I will assign your guards.” She followed him out of Ned Stark’s chambers to the hall where several had already been waiting for assignments. He looked to two of them, giving them orders to take her to the Weirwood tree.

“Aye,” both agreed in sync before breaking from the rest of the group. The pair then stepped up to their charge for the day. “My lady,” they both greeted.

She nodded to them in acknowledgement. “Well seeing as the assignment was already explained to you, let us go,” she explained, trying to relieve any awkwardness. She truly loathed to have guards follow her around wherever she went. In her childhood, guards were only ever needed when she left her family’s lands. But Robb had insisted on her either being with him or with armed sentries whenever she even left the Stark residence. Even just to visit the stables or library he insisted she have some sort of protection. Claiming that technically Winterfell was a fortress that could be under attack at any time.

Not much was said as the trio made their way out of the walls of Winterfell and into the forests surrounding the fortress. As she went, she could not help but shiver as the cold winds nipped at her neck and face. She dreaded the day winter actually descended upon Westeros as apparently the northerners considered this more “mild” chill to be summer as well.

Finally reaching the Heart Tree, adorned with a carved face, the new Lady Stark fell before the long reaching branches. Just as her face fell to her interlocked hands, a snapping twig broke her thoughts. Looking up, she found a wildling fifty feet or so away from her. She stumbled back, falling from her knees and onto her rear, her hands catching in the dirt.

The guard posted nearest to the wildling immediately came between her and the wild looking man. Her heart hammered in her chest as she observed his tangled hair and overworn clothes.

A yell from her other side drew her attention to the other guard who was now brandishing his sword against another wildling man holding a spear. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she moved closer to the Weirwood as if it’s branches would swat away any threats to her. Looking around frantically, she found three more wildlings creeping out of the trees.

“My lady, run!” one of the guards shouted as one of the wildlings jumped to attack him.

Scared beyond belief, she obeyed, rounding the Heart Tree to run away from the grizzled men. She had no idea where to go, she just prayed there weren’t more waiting for her behind the tree. As she sprinted through the forest, she spotted none but she was not naive enough to believe her two guards could hold five of them off. She wept as she ran, holding up her dress as she ran so it would not trip her or snag on any stray branches.

She had no idea how far she ran until she truly could not breathe. Taking a moment to rest against the trunk of a tree, she caught her breath. But it soon evaded her again as she was overcome by sobs. Her guards were surely dead now. And by the time anyone noticed she was lost the men who killed them would likely have caught up with her or she would be so lost she would never be found. Completely rattled by the idea of falling into those men’s clutches, she continued on, this time at a walking pace. Remembering that these wildlings would surely be skilled trackers, she did her best to disturb the flora as little as possible whilst taking an erratic path.

~

The guards who held the western gate of Winterfell looked in reluctant astonishment at the two bleeding guards before them. “Evander,” a sentry addressed his bleeding friend. “What happened?”

“We were ambushed by wildlings. Get Lord Stark and the bannermen, Lady Stark is still out there. We told her to run.”

A guard who overheard wasted no time, running to the Great Hall as fast as he could. He relayed the message to all the guards standing outside of their Lords’ meetings and they immediately parted to let the man through.

“Forgive me, my lords,” the guard announced his presence as he burst through the doors. “Wildlings attacked Lady Stark in the Godswood. Some of the wildlings were slain but she is still out there,” he breathed heavily.

Robb was the first to stand, doing it so fast his chair fell behind him. “Saddle my horse,” he ordered, already moving to exit the room.

Behind him, his father also stood. He looked at the still seated, mildly shocked men. “You want more titles and lands? The first man to find my daughter-in-law will have the moors.” Each man immediately stood, barking orders at the advisors who accompanied them to prepare for the search.

Eddard followed after his son who had already made it outside and was saddling his horse. “Son,” he called, catching the young man’s attention. “Just wait a moment so we may organize the search.”

Robb’s eyes flashed with worry at the prospect. “Father, just three harvests ago wildlings slaughtered the Farlands. I have to at least begin a preliminary search.”

Before the Lord of Winterfell could disagree, the commander of his guard ran up. “My lord, we have a dozen or so men prepared. Would you like us to begin a preliminary search?” he asked. Everyone in the North who had dealt with wildlings knew just how dire the situation was. They almost certainly knew the terrain better than the newest Lady of the North.

“Yes,” Robb immediately agreed, pulling himself onto his horse. His father nodded to the commander, and the initial search party saddled their horses and rode for the western gate. In their company was one of the guards who had initially gone to the Heart Tree. The other, too injured to accompany them, laid in the maester’s chambers having his wounds dressed.

Once the group made it to the Heart Tree, they found remnants of the attack. Two wildlings laid dead in the brush. “As far as I know there are three more, my lord,” the initial sentry informed Robb as he dismounted from his horse. “I had told your wife to run and she went to the opposite of the tree,” he said, pointing west. “They attacked us and we managed to fend the five of them off but once they realized she was getting away, three of them followed after her.”

Robb wanted to demand to know why they had not chased after his wife but he held his tongue. He just prayed for their sakes they were right in their judgement to return for reinforcements. “Everyone head west and spread out. She’ll know to have put as much distance between her and the wildlings as possible. And search for tracks, if she was concealing hers, the wildlings won’t have bothered.” A chorus of agreements rang out as each man took off.

~

The search had been on for hours. By now nearly every man within five miles of Winterfell had been out to search.

It was painful for Ned to watch his son slowly lose hope as the hours wore on and it became increasingly darker. Riding over to Robb, he spoke, “We will find her, son.”

Robb only nodded, holding his jaw clenched tightly. He was reluctant to admit that his wife of only two moons may already be gone. She was not of the north, she had no idea how to navigate the woods. And she would be perfectly defenseless running across any wildlings or creatures.

“I should have never let her even leave Winterfell,” he lamented.

“You cannot blame yourself,” Ned lectured. “Son, if you are going to become the Warden of the North, you cannot take every loss as personal.”

“I know, but this is my wife. The first person I am supposed to protect. If I cannot even find her in my own lands how can I lead them?”

“It will come with experience,” Ned assured. “And you did nothing wrong, you protected her as well as anyone could have.”

Before Robb could further degrade himself and argue, several calls rang out through the forests. Finally, they came near enough to be clear. “We found her!” echoed through the seemingly empty forest. Robb let out a shuddered cry of relief as he took off toward the voices, leaving his father behind.

As he rode he spotted more and more of his men, each time becoming more and more eager that they were the one who had found her. But each time they just ushered him on, pointing him further and further north. He continued on until he found several men gathered, lit only by their torches and the moonlight. They all turned to see their heir, immediately parting to reveal his wife sitting upon a fallen trunk.

“Robb!” she cried as she saw his horse approach. Her voice was broken with tears. As soon a he reached the clearing, he dismounted, immediately clambering to his wife. He had not even embraced her yet before he was throwing his fur cloak over her quivering shoulders, surely shivering from the chill that had by now reached her bones.

He immediately pulled her into his embrace, holding her tighter than he ever had before. He cared little for decorum as she buried her face into the warmth of his neck and sobbed. He himself wanted to cry in relief but held it in. When he finally pulled away only to look at her, he found several scratches on her face and mud adorning her dress. “What…” he began softly as he reached a hand up to her face.

“Just the scratch of the branches,” she assured, gently grasping his wrist in her icy hands as he continued to hold her face. “And I admit I did fall down a hill in my haste,” she explained sheepishly. Robb was sure that if she were not so incredibly cold he would feel the warmth of her blush through his gloves.

Finally Eddard Stark arrived, finding Robb holding his wife as if she were the most precious thing in the world. He let out a private sigh of relief seeing the girl relatively unharmed. Given his son’s level of depression just at the mere idea of his wife being lost to him, he was reluctant to even imagine what Robb would do had they found evidence of his wife’s death.

“It’s dark, the lady needs to warm up and rest. Let us go back to Winterfell. My lords,” he addressed the men who helped in the search, “you may spend the night in the guesthouses. Word of the day’s events have already been sent to your families.”

Robb stood from his crouched position, pulling his wife up with him as if he were afraid she’d slip between his fingers. “Come,” he bid, “you will ride with me.” She only nodded, her chattering teeth providing the answer she could not. She held Robb’s hand and with the other she clutched Robb’s cloak around her shoulders. He helped her onto his horse, moving her so she sat sidesaddle so he could sit behind her. With both arms around her to take the reins, she immediately took refuge in the warmth of his arms.

As they made the journey back through the woods, Robb wrestled with his thoughts. He wanted to scold her and tell her this is exactly why he did not want her out of Winterfell but the other part did not want to add to her distress. Similarly he wanted to ask about the wildlings but at the risk of being told something he was not ready to hear and stressing her out more, he elected to stay quiet.

But it was her who broke the silence. “I’m sorry for questioning your judgment and going. And for endangering your guards,” she apologized meekly, her voice heavy with guilt.

Robb immediately hushed her. “It’s no concern. I am just glad you’re okay,” he said with a kiss to the top of her head.

Once they reached Winterfell, Robb was quick to usher his wife past all the guards and lords, eager to get her into a warm building. As soon as the couple entered the Keep, she felt as if the biting cold was melting from her bones. Robb once again ushered her to their chambers.

His wife immediately went to the fireplace, standing in front of it trying to warm her hands. Behind her, Robb softly grasped her shoulders, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. “I sent ahead for a bath to be prepared to warm you.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, still feeling the harsh cold of her skin. He released her only enough so she could head to the washroom where she found the tub full of steaming water.

Robb, as gently and cautiously as possible, slowly stripped her of her clothes. Mere weeks ago she would have shied away from his gaze but his constant praise and affection had emboldened her to kiss him deeply even when she stood nude against his completely clothed frame. “Bathe with me,” she asked, stepping away to slip into the water.

Never one to decline his wife’s attentions, Robb quickly disrobed before sliding in the tub behind her. He wrapped his arms around around her, pulling her into his chest as they soaked in the warmth of the water and each other.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Favoritism

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: Captain Levi wouldn't let his feelings for a scout under him get in the way of his professionalism, right?

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N, Levi being a dick to others, implied smut, making out, nudity, titan deaths, drinking.

Word Count: 2.5K

Masterlist

Y/N sat in the conference room, tapping her foot nervously. It was time for assessment of the newest scouts and she was the last to go. Every single one of them had come out of Captain Levi’s office either looking dejected, shaken up, or outright crying. She had no clue what he could possibly be saying to everyone to elicit such reactions. Everyone had been nervous and she had no idea why. Captain Levi had been nothing but decent to her but her former classmates didn’t seem to share her view. In contrast, she wasn’t nervous for her meeting until she saw everyone else’s reactions.

As the door opened across the hall, she could hear quiet sobs followed by footsteps running down the hall. After a couple minutes, Captain Levi appeared in the door frame. “L/N?” he called before turning on his heel and walking back into his office. She followed after him quickly, stepping into his office as he held the door for her. Once she was inside, he shut the door behind her and gestured for her to sit. She complied as her captain took a seat across from her behind the desk. He took a moment to look through some papers before speaking. “So going over what your instructors had said when you were a cadet I’m not at all surprised you’re doing so well. You work well with the team and communicate. You’ve shown just how skilled you are in titan combat and you’re very professional in the workplace.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“My only suggestion is to stop taking such big risks. Your actions have never risked anyone else’s safety so I’ve never felt the need to say anything. But for your sake, make sure you’re not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger.”

“Understood, sir.”

“And with that in mind, I’d like to offer you a spot on the Special Operations Squad. We could use someone like you,” he said with the slightest ghost of a smile.

Her breath hitched and she was pretty sure her eyes widened. A spot on Captain Levi’s team? The Levi Squad, as it had been dubbed, was the best and most exclusive unit in all of the Scouts Regiment. “I’d love to, sir. Thank you.”

His shadow of a smile grew into a small one as he sat back in his seat. “Good. Seeing as I have nothing else to complain about, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to embarrass herself out of joy and excitement, she hurried out of the office. That was the meeting that had sent the rest of her teammates off crying? She didn’t dwell on it as she walked back towards her living quarters. As she walked through the hall, she could hear faint sobs and hushed, angry whispers coming through the doors. She ignored them until suddenly one of her classmates left her room with slightly red eyes. “Oh, Y/N,” Zelma greeted. “How was your meeting with the captain?” she asked, pity already creeping into her expression.

The newest member of the Special Operations Squad froze. Did she tell people? It would seem like she was rubbing it in everyone else’s faces. But they’d all find out eventually, right? Still, there was still time for her to tell them. It didn’t have to come on the heels of everyone else’s tears. “It was fine. He just chewed me out a bit for taking risky moves.”

“Yeah, well you got the best of it then. Mandel got chewed out for a full ten minutes about writing the date on his documents incorrectly.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to see if Rose is okay,” Zelma said, brushing past her. As she continued onto her room, she thought about her interactions with Captain Levi. Nothing about him seemed like he’d do that to a person. When she first started, she screwed up about ten pages of reports but rather than scream at her, he had spent the whole night helping her fix them.

“What’s this?” a deep voice rang through the nearly empty office. Her head snapped up towards the door, finding easily the most feared man in all of the Survey Corps… scarier than Commander Erwin Smith.

“Uh… hello, sir,” she stuttered out as she tried to covertly cover up the paperwork she had messed up and was trying to redo.

He said nothing as he approached her desk. Before even looking at her piles of paper, he lit the candle on her desk, making her realize just how late it was and how dark it had gotten. He then observed her papers, easily identifying what she tried to cover up. Wordlessly, he pulled up a chair to sit on the side of her desk, grabbing half of her pile. She looked at him perplexed until he finally explained. “I’ll do this half so we finish quicker.”

“Oh… uh… thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he replied, the phrase seeming too casual for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. “I’ve made these mistakes before.” No he hadn’t. But he wanted to make her feel better.

~

A week later, the Levi Squad was heading out on a mission to reclaim the Scout Regiment’s old headquarters outside Wall Rose. This would be her first time fighting since her cadet class had attempted to retake Shiganshina.

“You ready, brat?” a deep voice asked, coming up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, finding Captain Levi approaching her.

“Yes, sir,” she agreed, standing up straight and turning to face him.

The Captain stopped in front of her, taking a moment to observe her. A slight frown adorned his face as he stepped closer. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the straps wrapped around her thighs. Unable to find her voice, she just nodded. He knelt down, grabbing the strap wrapped around her left leg first. He tugged at it, finding that it was a bit too loose, as well as throwing the wearer off balance. She fell forward, catching herself on Levi’s shoulder. She immediately moved to steady herself but another tug seemed to bring her closer.

Levi kept his face straight as he moved on to her other leg. He enjoyed the closeness of her. Ever since that night they spent filling out her paperwork, just reveling in each other’s company, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He had justified it in his mind as simply admiring her dedication, enabling him to invite her onto his team. And he couldn’t just let his newest member slip out of her ODM gear, right?

Moving on from the straps around her thighs, his hands wandered up to her waist. He was still kneeling before her but now that he was no longer pulling her leg forward, she stood on her own. He kind of missed her gentle yet firm grip on his shoulder. Nevertheless, he tugged at the straps around her waist, finding them perfectly snug. Satisfied, he finally stood, pulling her attention up with him. “You’re all set.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” she said, slight nervousness creeping into her voice. He just gave her a soft smile before heading over to his own horse.

~~

It had been a long two days. The Special Operations Squad had fought long and hard to clear and secure the Survey Corps’ headquarters but they did it without any casualties. Now, locked safely within the walls of the old castle, they celebrated.

“Oh my god, did you see Ral take down that five meter?” Bozado practically shouted in excitement. “Hell, she tripped the thing and still cut it’s nape.” Everyone cheered on Petra as she blushed.

“Did you see the rookie, here?” Jinn caught everyone’s attention as he nudged her shoulder. She blushed as well as everyone looked at her. “How was your first solo kill?”

She smiled, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Not enough,” she declared, eliciting a cheer from everyone. Across the table she caught Levi’s eye, giving her a smirk and nod of approval, the biggest reaction anyone had gotten out of him.

After a while of celebrating, everyone else was drunk with the exception of her and Levi. Needing a moment of quiet, she slipped out of the room, everyone else too drunk to notice. She made her way to the upper floors until she found a balcony in what was probably the commander’s room. Stepping outside, she just took a moment to breathe in the cool air. Fortunately all the titans had dissolved into nothingness, leaving the view almost beautiful. The only damper was the damage the titans had created.

“Mind if I join?” a low voice came from behind her.

Startled, she jumped, relieved when she saw that it was only Levi. “Oh, you scared me, Captain.”

“Did I?” he said, coming to stand next to her. “Didn’t take you as one to be scared easily. You did just stare down the jaws of a titan today.”

She shrugged, the blush returning to her cheeks. “Yeah well, I’d sooner face a titan than the infamous Captain Levi.”

He chuckled. “You did good,” he praised.

“Thank you, sir. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Your record speaks for itself,” he dismissed.

Turning to face the outside world again, a sudden breeze caught her, sending a chill down her spine. Noticing her movement, Levi unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders before placing it around his newest soldier. “Oh thank you sir but-” He waved his hand, dismissing her before going back to looking over the castle’s grounds, sipping on his tea. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find the words. Clenching her jaw, she pondered all of his actions. Taking a deep swig of the whiskey Jinn had brought, she worked up the courage to speak. “Why do you treat me so well?”

Levi’s blood went cold. It was the question he dreaded and the opening he craved but still never hoped would come. Choosing to deflect, he spoke casually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I treat everyone the same.”

“Sir, with all due respect, no you don’t,” she countered sheepishly. “When others in my class screwed up they were punished, you helped me. You invited me to your squad even though I wasn’t first in my cadet class. You don’t even really interact socially with your squad but you’re out here with me.”

Levi sighed, considering his next words. She had him pinned on this. “You… I…” he took a breath. “You impress me,” was all he said. “More than anyone ever has.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she pressed further.

Levi groaned internally as she kept pushing. Unable to say the words, he decided to show her. Resting his cup on the thick railing of the balcony, he stepped right next to her, grasping her face softly. Her doe like eyes stared up at him innocently until they fluttered closed as Levi leant down, connecting their lips. She parted her lips, granting him access to her mouth, which he took eagerly. His hands fell to her hips, pulling her in eagerly which she took as an invitation to reach for his coat. He helped her shed the clothing before he worked to unbutton his own shirt, still kissing her. Once it was off, he returned his hands to her hips, pushing her into the room and onto the bed. In a flurry of lips and clothes, Levi had her naked underneath him. Pausing for a moment, he pulled away just to observe her. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed before returning his lips to hers.

~~

Laying in the bed that had been prepared for him earlier that day, Levi stroked his newest squad-member’s hair. Her bare skin bathed in the moonlight as she slept peacefully on his chest. He couldn’t help but smile into the top of her head, feeling like a giddy teenager. He couldn’t believe he had finally found the girl of his dreams. In the Underground he had had no time for and therefore no consideration of love. He knew he’d have to keep her a well-guarded secret. Sometimes there were bigger threats than titans.

Continuing to enjoy the weight on his chest and the feeling of her soft hair running through his fingers, Levi stared out into the night. He could get used to this. One day they’d have to kill all the titans, right? Then they could get a nice little house out here in the country. Where it could just be the two of them.

Checking the clock that had been wound to the correct time, he could see that the sun would be rising soon. He hadn’t slept at all but that wasn’t out of the ordinary and he didn’t mind. He had more important things to think about than sleep. A small, irrational part of him worried that someone or something would come snatch her from him in the night right as he finally had her. But for the sake of keeping his reputation, he reluctantly slipped out of bed, gently replacing his chest with a pillow so as to disturb her as little as possible.

~

Given that the balcony doors had been left open, the object of Levi’s affection woke with the sun. With a gentle stretch, she soaked the sun in for a moment, inhaling the scent of her commander on the sheets. Despite wanting to lie in bed all day, she’d much rather avoid someone bursting in and asking her why she was in Levi’s bed so she got up reluctantly. Looking for her clothes, which had been shed on the balcony, she found them folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Smiling to herself, she put them on and fixed her hair before heading down to the kitchen.

Upon entering, she found all of her teammates grabbing food from the counter before sitting at the wooden table in the center. They all grumbled good mornings to her as they served themselves and sat. Still standing in the doorway, she saw her captain standing at the stove in an apron. “More pancakes are coming,” he announced.

There was a quiet cheer from the rest of the team as they were already digging through what had already been made. Sitting down, she helped herself to some of the fruit on the table before a plate full of pancakes appeared in front of her. She looked up, finding Levi sitting down beside her at the head of the table with another plate for himself. She just sent him a smile and said a quiet thanks as she dug in.

Meanwhile the rest of the team stared at the pair in shock. Seeing them first, Levi sent them a glare. “What? She hadn’t gotten a plate. Feed yourselves,” he barked before returning his attention to the woman sitting beside him.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

i can’t find it but i just read a fic where the guy said “go away i’m fucking my future wife in here” and omfg i’ll think about that for forever

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Guard

Reiner Braun x Reader

Summary: When Reiner returns from his ten year long mission, he is assigned to protect the the woman he could never have.

Warnings: (sort of a) royalty!au, AOT inaccuracies [I changed ages (they’re 16 when Reiner leaves), timeline, universe rules (Reiner isn’t about to die)], smut, violence

Word Count: 4.3K

Masterlist

“Y/N, I'm Marleyan now. Just tell your father about us and maybe he’ll let us be together,” the new Armored Titan begged her. Ever since Reiner was a child, he had been trained in the warrior unit alongside the crown princess of Marley. Her father, the king, had insisted she be trained alongside the warriors she would one day lead.

She shook her head regretfully, tears sliding down her cheeks. She hadn’t stopped crying since Reiner had received the Armored Titan, having hoped that someone else would be chosen so he could just become her personal guard. “Reiner, you know that isn’t how it works,” she cried.

“Then tell me how this works. Tell me how we can be together,” he insisted.

She sighed, sparing a few glances around the dimly lit corridor. She had dismissed the night guard but Porco would no doubt be coming around soon. “We couldn’t have been. You know that. You were supposed to become my guard and then we could-”

“We could what? Sneak around behind your future husband’s back? Only see each other in dark corridors like this?” Reiner spat.

“Well, it’s not like we do anything different now!”

“Do you think I want to hide in the shadows for the rest of my life? Y/N, I don’t want to just be your secret lover. I want to be your husband,” he pleaded, reaching up and resting his hand on her jaw. “Please, please, just talk to your father. And then we can be together after my mission,” his hand slid down her neck, pulling her closer so he could rest his forehead on hers.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her face as she melted into her lover’s warmth. She knew it would never work. Her father would never let her marry an Eldian, honorary Marleyan or not. He merely saw them as weapons, otherwise he’d just slaughter all of them. Besides, there were already talks of who she would marry, her father wouldn’t wait for Reiner to get back from his mission regardless of blood. But she appeased him anyway, knowing he’d be gone tomorrow and that it was entirely possible he’d never come back. “Okay, I’ll wait,” she assured, bringing her lips to his.

“Thank you,” Reiner practically cried as he kissed her. He knew that she had wanted him to not receive a titan and just be her guard, but he wanted more than that. He wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up slightly just to carry her into the room to spend one last night together.

~

As Reiner was marched back into Marley for the first time in ten years, he immediately began searching for the royal family. They were perched up on a balcony, surveying the Eldians who had just come back from fighting their war. As he caught sight of his lover, his family found him, pulling him into relieved embraces before he really had the chance to look at her.

He reveled in the comfort of his mother for a moment before his eyes searched the balcony. He found the future queen standing next to her father with a hardened gaze, eyes flickering through the crowd. When she finally found the man she was looking for, it was like Reiner could see the past ten years melt from her face. Her expression softened and suddenly Reiner was sixteen again before he had left for Paradise Island.

Their silent reconnection was interrupted when Y/N moved, being pulled further into the man beside her. Reiner hadn’t even noticed the man, despite the glittering metals indicating that he was the commander of the Marleyan forces. Reiner’s heart sunk as he noticed the man’s grasp around her waist, the golden wedding band seemingly glinting in the sun brighter than anything else, mocking Reiner. The only thing worse was the diamond glittering on Y/N’s finger.

As his family pulled him away, towards their home, all Reiner could do was stare up at her at a loss. Betrayal, confusion, and anger all coursed through him as he realized she didn’t wait. That she had married another, maybe had his children. And to make it worse, her husband looked to be at least twenty years older than her. The harsh lines on his face did not assure Reiner that she was happy or in this marriage willingly. Which brought him just the slightest bit of comfort but made him worry for her even more.

~

“Zeke?” Reiner asked as he opened the door to his family home, the rest of his family within plain view of the door eating dinner. Although they seemed to have forgotten their meal as they watched the two heroes interact.

“We’re being summoned to the capitol,” Zeke explained. “The king wants an audience.”

Reiner hoped he didn’t reveal the pang of hurt in his chest as he nodded, grabbing his coat from beside the door before bidding his family goodnight. “Any clue what this is about?” he asked the War Chief.

“I imagine your former paramour has something to do with this,” Zeke answered casually. Reiner’s eyes widened as he stared at the Beast Titan. Turning to see his comrade’s reaction, a small smirk slipped onto Zeke’s face as he noticed his Vice War Chief’s expression. “Please, you practically stitched yourself to her side since you could fathom what a relationship was.” Reiner burned in embarrassment as he realized that that was true.

Nothing was said further as they made the fairly short walk to the castle. They were let in without issue and led to an office. There stood the king along with his entire family. He greeted the pair warmly, despite the fact that he was the one suppressing them. “Good to see you made it back from that island of devils safely,” the king greeted.

Zeke nodded, speaking for the both of them. “We were happy to procure that intelligence. As well as serve on the front lines both in Paradise and against the Mid-East Alliance.”

“Yes, you’ve both served your nation well. Marley is taking a well deserved break from war before we move in on the Isle of Paradise next year. In the meantime, you and the other titans will act as guards to my family in between your continued training. Braun,” Reiner’s head snapped up hearing his name, “you will act as the crown princess’s personal guard. You go everywhere with her.” The Armored Titan’s attention slid over to her. She made no indication that she cared or even heard her father, just continued to chat quietly with her mother. “I and General Klein agree she needs the most protection.”

That elicited a reaction from her as her head lifted, only sparing Reiner a glance before finding her father. “General Klein,” Reiner greeted, “I don’t believe we met before I left,” he said through gritted teeth, trying not to let his jealousy show.

“Ah yes!” the king interrupted, slapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You and Y/N were only married less than a year ago,” he recalled. A strange sense of comfort washed over Reiner. So she did wait, she waited as long as she could. But that was quickly thwarted by the knowledge that had he just come back a year earlier he wouldn’t have lost out on his chance with her.

“Ah,” Reiner acknowledged, trying to bite back his pain. “Congratulations,” he bid, staring at Y/N. Pain shone in her eyes as she watched the man she loved be forced to respect her husband.

“Thank you,” she uttered, her voice shaking softly. Her family all sent her glances, afraid she’d burst into tears right there. It was a well kept family secret that the future queen could not stand her husband.

“Father, why now?” Y/N protested. She had managed to find a reason to reject each of her suitors for the past nine years but this was the first one her father had pushed back on. “He is twice my age and it is said he beat his last wife.”

The king let out a frustrated sigh. “Y/N, you are twenty-five. You should have been married seven years ago. Klein is a great man. He will provide for you.”

“I will be queen! I will be the one providing.”

“He is the commander of our forces. It is only good practice that he be your husband.”

“Father, I am begging you please don’t do this to me.”

He merely shook his head. “I’m sorry Y/N but there is nothing I can do. Klein wants you as his wife and so you shall be.”

“Braun,” General Klein stepped in between his wife and her guard, reaching to shake the man’s hand. “I’ve heard great things. I’m sure you’ll be a great guard to my wife.”

“Of course, sir,” he agreed, shaking the man’s hand.

~

Creeping out of bed, Y/N made sure not to wake her husband. She sent one last glance at him before she opened the door, making sure he wasn’t stirring. Once she was satisfied he wouldn’t wake, she carefully pried open the doors that led to the main foyer of her living quarters. Crossing the room, she opened the door that led to the hall, finding Reiner standing across the hall, directly in front of the door. He didn’t look at all surprised as the door crept open. Whether that be a product of his training or expectations she wasn’t sure, but upon seeing her face appearing in the cracked door, he left his post, stepping towards the door. He opened it wide enough to fit his body through, neither of them uttering a word as the princess led him to the room opposite where her husband lay, her husband’s study.

Neither of them said anything for a moment as Reiner shut the door behind him. She had retreated to the other side of the room, putting some distance between them. They just stared at each other until Y/N finally spoke. “I’m sorry…” she said in a hallow voice. “I tried to wait. I really did.”

Reiner nodded. “I know you did,” he assured. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

The princess nodded, accepting his unnecessary apology. A beat of awkward silence passed between them. “I haven’t seen Annie.”

“Taken prisoner,” he explained simply in a soft tone.

“Bertolt?” Reiner just shook his head solemnly, remembering watching his friend be practically killed inside his titan. “Marcel?” she tried again, already knowing the answer. Reiner just once again shook his head. “Oh god…” she said in a slightly choked voice, moving to lean against her desk in shock. Sure, she had heard of casualties in the wars and knew of the ships that never returned from Paradise Island but she hadn’t felt those losses. A privilege of her position. But now that she lost friends she realized what all those soldiers and families must have felt. “So you and Zeke are the only ones who made it back?” He nodded again. “Will you ever have to go back?” she asked worriedly.

“Yes, unless you want all that work to have been for nothing,” he tried to joke but given the serious nature of their conversation, it came out harshly. “Sorry,” he apologized, seeing her hurt expression.

“No,” she shook her head, dismissing his apology. “I’m glad you made it home.”

“Me too,” he said with the tiniest smile. “At least I can be your personal guard for the time being. Like you wanted.”

She only nodded, still looking somber. Despite the fact that that was the most she could reasonably ask for, she wished she had listened to Reiner all those years ago and asked her father if she could marry him. She felt dirty even just standing here with him, despite the distance between them. “You were right,” she admitted. “I should have asked. If he said no we should have run.”

Relief flooded Reiner as she indicated her remaining feelings for him. He could only muster a nod of agreement before looking up at her. “Do you love him?” he asked.

“No,” she said, the most confident statement from her he had heard since he got back. “I don’t love him. I cried up until I walked down that aisle and cried even more after,” she admitted. “I rejected dozens of men waiting for you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Crossing the room quickly in a few long strides, he caged her between his body and the heavy desk. He reached for her face, holding her jaw in a firm grasp as he pulled her up to meet his lips. He felt his body warm in happiness as if he had finally come home for real, as she reciprocated. Her hand wrapped around his back, fisting his uniform jacket as the other one cupped the back of his neck. He stepped impossibly further into her, using his muscled legs and hips to pin her to the desk. She let out a soft moan, feeling him harden in his pants against her stomach.

Her hands slipped to his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath before pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Or trying to anyway. His frame was so broad she struggled to get the jacket past his shoulders. But he took the hint, pulling off the coat for her. His hands next found her nightie, which left very little to the imagination already, and tore it from her body. She gasped as she was suddenly exposed to the cool air and surprised by the display of strength. “Comes with the titan,” he explained with a smirk against her lips. He continued kissing her until he pulled away, eliciting a whine from her as he flipped her around, bending her over his desk. He made quick work of her panties before letting his left hand rove her body, feeling her smooth skin and soft curves. “God I missed you,” he whispered gruffly into the crook of her neck as his right hand worked to undo his belt.

Once he was free, he wasted no time sheathing himself in her, eliciting deep moans from both of them. Reiner’s hand immediately clamped over her mouth, silencing her as his other arm came to wrap around her waist, pulling her body flush to him. “God, you’re already soaked,” he grunted, noticing the fact that he didn’t need to prepare her like when they had first fallen in love. His hand slipped down her face, holding the base of her jaw in a gentle yet firm grip.

“‘S been a long time,” she whimpered out. As her moans became louder, he returned his grip to her mouth.

“Yeah, me too,” Reiner agreed. He felt like a teenager all over again, he was so close to finishing. It had been ten years since he had been with anyone. “Bet your husband doesn’t fuck you like I do?” he taunted, pounding impossibly harder into her. She just shook her head no, her moans becoming more frantic despite the muffle. “Does he make you wet like I do?” she once again shook her head no as Reiner picked up the pace. “Does he touch you here?” he asked, his hand slipping down to rub her clit.

That little stimulation was all she needed as she came with a shudder. “Fuck! Reiner!” she moaned into his hand as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm until she felt him release inside of her. Her eyes rolled impossibly far into the back of her head at the feeling.

As he stopped moving inside of her, Reiner’s hands dropped to brace his weight on the desk, still caging the princess between them. His body leaned heavily on hers as she reached an arm back, fingers snaking through his short hair as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. “I love you, Reiner,” she breathed.

“I love you too,” he returned, pressing soft kisses into her neck.

~

Reiner held open the door for the princess, forgetting his military bearing as he continued to chuckle over the conversation they had on their walk. General Klein sent them a sideways glance as they entered. Reiner couldn’t help but feel the General’s scrutinizing gaze. At the very least the General was aware of his feelings for Y/N but he doubted the officer had sussed out their affair. He merely gave the man a short nod before stepping back out of the room.

The princess immediately sobered as she was left alone with her husband. “How was your dress fitting?” he asked.

She just shrugged, going over to her own office. “Fine,” she answered as she absentmindedly shut the door behind her. It only fell closed halfway so the General took advantage of the unconscious window she created.

As he stepped into her office, she looked surprised he had followed her. Nevertheless, she sat down and began on the stack of papers that required her review and signature. “You remember the state dinner tonight, right?” he asked.

She tried not to show her neglect, just continuing to read as she spoke. “Yes, I remembered. That’s why I was at a dress fitting.”

“No, that was a fitting for your cousin’s wedding,” Klein corrected. Y/N’s head snapped up, surprised he knew her schedule so well. As if reading her mind, he answered. “I’ve been getting updates on your location and schedule.”

“Why?” she prodded. The one redeeming factor of her husband was his indifference to her. As long as he got to sit on a throne one day he didn’t care. All of a sudden she was recalling one of her initial protests against him: the rumors that he had beat his last wife.

“I think we misjudged Braun. He’s too attentive to you. To the point that he is no longer effective at his job. He’s distracted.”

Y/N went rigid, hardening her face. It was a tactic they taught her to not show what she was thinking and she was desperately trying not to show how afraid she was. “Braun is fine,” she dismissed, going back to her work.

“Braun is in love with you!”

She just rolled her eyes, giving him an exasperated look. “No he isn’t. Any feelings you may have of him aside, both you and my father picked him because he’s the Armored Titan. He can protect me better than anyone else can. That’s why you got me 24/7 protection.”

“He wants to fuck you!”

“And so what if he does?! He’s Eldian.” It physically hurt her to say that word with so much disgust.

That seemed to satisfy any of her husband’s fears that she might be interested in her guard. But he was still angry so he marched closer, leaning over the desk threateningly. “Fine, but if he tries anything you will tell me. Remember, I am still your husband.”

It took all her self control to not glare at him. “Of course,” she agreed in the most monotonous tone she could muster. He still looked annoyed but stood up nonetheless.

“Good. Get ready.”

~

Y/N sat at the head table, bored out of her mind while her father gave his speech. Everyone in her family, including her husband, was listening to her father attentively. She was tempted to make a snarky joke about him being a brown noser but there was no one close enough to make the joke to. She was keenly aware of Reiner who stood directly behind her but it was not as if she could turn around to whisper a joke to him.

The rest of the night passed largely without incident. By the time it was the crown princess’ turn to give her speech, it was dark and a chill began to wrap through the crowd. As she stood up, she noticed all the officials and officers who had given their coats to their dates. Hell, even her little brother had given his jacket to his betrothed.

But she just smiled through gritted teeth and bore the chilly wind. The crowd applauded for her politely but she began quickly, not giving them much time to applaud. “Thank you,” she began, dismissing them. “Thank you to everyone for being here. I swear the speeches are almost done.” That elicited a round of laughter. “I can’t say anything that hasn’t been said by my father or his many generals and advisors. Including my husband.” There were several claps and cheers but she quickly cut them off. “So I’d like to extend a personal thanks to those who went to Paradise Island. As many of you know, I grew up and trained alongside the warrior candidates. And while I could obviously never serve my country the way my classmates did, I learned a lot from them. This is the first time my friend has been home in ten years. He served his country well and now he is serving me directly. So to the Armored Titan, thank you,” she said, turning to look at Reiner. He only gave her a slight nod and a bow. The crowd only gave a weak clap in response. “And to Zeke Yeager, Marcell Galliard, and Pieck Finger, who went to the Island to rescue their comrades. Thank-”

“Murderers!” someone screamed. “They’re all murderers! For Eldia!” the crazed man now standing in front of the audience screamed before throwing something.

Her eyes widened as she realized it was some sort of explosive. But she was frozen in shock, unable to move as Reiner suddenly appeared in front of her. She then felt this immense heat as the man in front of her transformed, growing larger than should be possible as his skin hardened. She heard herself as she heard a hard explosion, causing the titan holding her to shake with the force of the explosive. Then it was quiet for a moment before the screams started. But Y/N wasn’t even listening. She just looked up shakily, finding herself being held in one of the titan’s massive hands, again it’s even larger chest. She peered up, finding Reiner’s face looking down at her. She had never seen Reiner shift—or any titan for that matter—but she had seen photos. But all the photos she’d seen had been of humanoid monsters, they never had their human’s facial features or hair cut.

Reiner just about stopped breathing when he saw that man stand up and start approaching the stage. And he only just found his breath now that she was staring up at him like he was her whole world. Her wide eyes and heavy breathing made him want to comfort her but he was terrified to break her.

She turned to peer at the ground over his fingers. Also looking down, he saw the dais and the table had been crushed underneath his feet but no one seemed to be harmed. The Eldian Restorationist was currently pinned to the ground being arrested while everyone else stared up in awe at the titan.

Y/N turned her wide gaze back up to him. “Th-thank you.”

Inside the titan, Reiner melted. He desperately wished he had the ability to speak in his titan form. So he made she she was safe in his giant palm before lowering her to the ground slowly and gently. Once she had two feet safely planted on the ground, he pulled himself from his titan, appearing from the nape of its neck.

When Reiner emerged from the back of the Armored Titan’s neck, Y/N audibly gasped seeing what looked like wounds on his face. As he climbed down the steaming titan’s body, she resisted the urge to grasp his face and fret over his wounds.

Fortunately for their secret, the king was running over to his daughter. “Y/N! Are you okay?” he asked, grasping her shoulders. She didn’t even react, just stared at him in mild shock until Reiner pulled his attention from her. “Braun,” he addressed the titan, “thank you.”

“Just doing my job, sir.” Before he or the princess could say anything, General Klein was running over. He immediately began fretting over his wife—his ticket to a throne—bombarding her with questions and statements of worry as he practically dragged her away from everyone else. The rest of the family followed, leaving Reiner to just stare after them.

~

Y/N sighed a breath of relief as she closed her bedroom door. Her husband had not fallen asleep for a long time for once. But as she tried to catch her breath in the foyer of her chambers, she was surprised to see Reiner already standing there. He didn’t say a word, nor did his expression give anything away as he just walked into her husband’s study. She followed them into the room they usually used to talk, concerned.

“Reiner,” she breathed out, finally getting to see him. She went right up to him, grasping his face gently, her thumbs tracing underneath his eyes. She traced where the lines used to be, looking for any indication of the wounds. “Are you okay? Your face was… I was so worried,” she rambled.

“I’m okay,” he assured, grabbing her wrists gently but keeping her hands on his face. “That was normal,” he assured her. He then let go of her wrists, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. He held her tightly, reveling in her closeness and trying to reassure himself that she was ok. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Amnesia

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: When the Levi Squad goes out on a mission with a few rookies, accidents happen

Warnings: Angst, injuries, titans, fighting, jealousy, secret relationship

Work count: 3.9K

Masterlist

As the Levi squad moved through the training forests, their captain couldn’t take his eyes off the girl riding just ahead of him. He knew he should keep an eye on Eren, to see how he faired with the rest of the team but he couldn’t help it. He was painfully aware of the fact that a titan could pop out of the trees and snatch her from him in a second.

So as they continued on, his eyes continuously swept the terrain while also observing her.

Levi truly thought he would never meet someone he could love. Love wasn’t really a concept in the Underground. It was a dark place full of people just trying to survive. Love was nowhere near the top of anyone’s priority list. And when he joined the scouts it wasn’t as if he had time for anything resembling a relationship. Sure there had been fellow soldiers that he noticed had taken a liking to him but he always brushed them off, uninterested. But then Erwin introduced him to the second most recent addition to his squad. Y/N L/N.

He couldn’t quite explain it but his very sudden and unexplained infatuation with her but he had initially told Erwin, privately, that he wouldn’t add her to his team. Something about her made him irrational. She should never see combat, he decided. She was too good for all this bloodshed. But Erwin had insisted that he take her on a practice run so Levi complied. He was astonished by how well she worked with the team, never pushing herself to be in the position of glory but still managing to kill three Titans and assist with many more.

Eight months later here they were, creating an unstoppable duo along with the rest of the team. Of course, they had to keep their relationship a secret from everyone as she was Levi’s subordinate but they had managed so far.

Seeing as the sun was setting and the horses were beginning to tire, Levi called for his squad, along with Eren and a few other new scout members to set up camp in the trees for the night.

As they slowed their horses, Levi slowed his down so he was next to Y/N. “How are you feeling, soldier?” he asked, keeping his gaze up, looking for a good spot to rest for the night, trying not to show his care.

“Good, Captain. I could ride for another few hours,” she answered stiffly. Exactly like a good soldier.

Levi just nodded, proud of her stamina for some inexplicable reason. “I feared the horses would be of no use to us tomorrow if we did not stop.”

Y/N allowed herself a soft laugh. “Yes, I fear that too. Wise call, Captain.”

Levi suppressed a smile. “If you feel so well, soldier, you’ll be on watch tonight with me,” he said in a stern tone. As if to reprimand her. That caught the attention of a few of the other scouts as they began to prepare to set up camp in the trees but they all quickly averted their gazes as Levi turned to glare at them.

“Yes, sir,” Y/N agreed quietly.

~

As the group sat in the largest of the nearby trees, close together for warmth, Levi couldn’t help but glare over at one of the new scouts. Reiner. He was sat next to Y/N, a little too close for his liking. They were engaged in a conversation which didn’t normally bother Levi, he didn’t consider himself the jealous type. But every time she turned her attention away from Reiner to talk to someone else, it was like panic came over his expression as he desperately tried to get her attention back on him. But Levi knew that if he brought it up to her, she’d just dismiss it so he just sat and watched.

It wasn’t much longer before Reiner was pressed up against her, claiming he was cold. Levi sat across from them, staring menacingly whilst holding one of his blades. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t imagining threatening Reiner right now. He hated that he had to keep his relationship a secret. He wanted everyone in the whole damn army to know Y/N was taken. He knew Reiner, nor anyone else, would dare to even look at her if they knew she was dating Captain Levi.

He nearly said something about leaving her alone when Reiner suggested they sleep with each other for warmth that night. As Levi was seeing red and considering the implications of stabbing him right here, Y/N brushed him off. “I’m on watch with Captain Levi,” she informed him. With no hint of regret to lead him on.

Reiner visibly deflated but tried to smile through his disappointment. “M-maybe next time,” he tried to laugh off. Y/N just hummed in acknowledgment, looking to her boyfriend for help.

Levi looked up at the sky, determining that it was dark enough that he could reasonably call for them to go to sleep. “We have another long day tomorrow, get some sleep. L/N, you take first watch.”

“Yes, sir,” she obeyed eagerly, standing up from her spot next to Reiner so fast he nearly fell over.

She brushed past everyone as they began to settle down, jumping up to a higher branch with her ODM gear. Levi followed up after her, bringing his gear so he could set up a makeshift bed the same way the others were. She only spared a glance at him as she looked down at the others, making sure they were going to sleep. A few of them were already snoring, having learned early on to sleep when you can and because it had been a long day.

Levi settled where he knew he couldn’t be seen from below, beckoning Y/N to join him. Once she noticed him she complied, creeping closer to the trunk of the tree. Once she reached him, he extended his hand, which she took, drawing her to sit down, leaning against his chest while he leaned against the tree. “I didn’t like how he was talking to you or touching you,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head.

“I know,” she murmured back, “I didn’t like it either.”

“I wish everyone knew you were taken. Better yet, knew you were mine.” He pressed a soft kiss to her head.

“Captain Levi Ackerman, are you jealous?” she asked teasingly.

“Shut it,” he mumbled, eliciting a laugh from her.

“I wish people could know about us too,” she mused. “I’m worried about this training exercise,” she changed the subject. “Eren’s friends? They’re brand new scouts. They don’t have the instincts or skills for this team.”

“I know but we all start somewhere,” Levi rationalized, being surprisingly understanding. He usually drilled for perfection out of those he trained. Even if he knew he couldn’t expect perfection immediately he never let on. “I had questioned your ability to be on the team initially.”

“Yeah but I’m not an idiot,” Y/N giggled. “And you never gave me an inch of grace. I thought you hated me for the first few weeks I was on the team.”

“I was hard on you because I was worried for you. Look at you now, sharper than any other scout.”

“Even you?”

“Of course not,” Levi teased.

“You were that worried about me? When we had just met?”

Levi briefly deliberated with himself about how much he was willing to admit. “Something about you made me unreasonably protective over you. I was worried that you’d distract me so I told Erwin I wouldn’t take you but he insisted. That’s part of why I trained you so hard. So I could have peace of mind that you’re capable of taking care of yourself so I wouldn’t be distracted.”

“Did you do a good enough job?”

“I could never. I worry about you every time we leave the walls.”

“Well, so far, so good. I’m still here.”

“It better stay that way. Now get some sleep,” Levi insisted, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead.

“But I have first watch?”

“You didn’t think I’d actually make you stay up? I just wanted an excuse to talk to you privately.”

“But when will you sleep? What will we do if our fearless leader is tired?”

Levi smiled at her teasing and worry. “I’ll wake you,” he swore, lying through his teeth.

“Unlikely,” she countered suspiciously. But Levi just hushed her, bidding her to sleep. He kept watch, looking towards the path they had come from for any wandering titans, moving around despite the lack of sunlight. Once he felt Y/N fully relax he allowed himself to observe her peaceful face. He always took these peaceful moments to check on her, ensuring there were no cuts or bruises, even if it was a simple paper cut. Finding none on her exposed skin, Levi held her tighter, continuing to observe her peaceful face and the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

As Levi sat in the quiet, stillness of the night, he let his mind wander. Would it really be such a big deal if people knew about them? It’s not like the Scouts could afford to lose soldiers. Then everyone would know Y/N was taken and people like Reiner would leave her alone.

~

The squad had been looking for Titans to practice with for about an hour. The experienced scouts were getting wary as the sun had been up for an hour, the Titans should be awake and moving.

Levi had allowed them all to slow to a trot so as to save the horses’ energy. “It’s too quiet,” Levi murmured to his second in command, Eld.

“It’s not as if the Titans have the cognitive ability to hide in the trees to gather their numbers and then attack us,” Eld rationalized.

Levi just hummed in agreement. “Still, it feels like something bad is coming.”

They continued on for a little while longer, mostly in silence due to the Levi Squad members being uneasy. Then suddenly a giant hand launched out from between the trees, scattering the scouts. A 10 meter titan with a horrifying grin emerged from the trees, eyeing the meal that had appeared right in front of him.

All the members of the Levi squad immediately deployed their ODM gear, jumping up into the trees to take the titan down as quickly as possible. Levi watched his team begin to surround and confuse the titan. Y/N was poised to go in for the kill. But as she launched herself at the thing’s nape, Reiner swung from out of nowhere, knocking into her.

The force of his body hitting hers disrupted her momentum and she went plummeting towards the ground. Fortunately, her ODM gear was lodged into a tree because it caught her. It completely knocked the wind out of her but it was better than hitting the ground from 15 meters up. But in her shock, she didn’t realize she was in prime grabbing range as a giant fist encompassed her body. The pressure was so great she could feel her ribs crack as her arms were pinned at her sides. In all her shock, terror, and pain she must have blacked out because the last thing she was was the titan’s grin.

Meanwhile, Levi had watched in horror as that idiot swung into her, saving himself by falling into the tree. Levi had a momentary sigh of relief seeing the ODM gear catch her rather than her falling to the ground, surely to her death. But as the titan’s fist appeared, Levi’s life flashed before his eyes. “No!” he heard himself yell. Full of fear and rage that any creature would dare hurt her.

He reacted as quickly as possible, the others still barely registering what was happening. He launched himself towards the titan, cutting at its wrist, forcing it to stop bringing Y/N closer to its mouth. He moved faster than lightning, swinging behind its neck to cut at its nape. Absolutely no mercy as he cut out its crucial chunk of flesh. But as the titan began to fall, Levi realized his mistake, seeing Y/N fall out of the titan’s grasp. Unable to save herself due to her unconscious and wounded state. Then, a flash moved to catch her. Upon landing safely on a branch, Levi nearly sobbed in relief seeing Eren standing there, Y/N safely in his arms.

Levi quickly launched himself over, not giving a damn about appearances as he took Y/N in his arms. He laid her as gently as possible on the branch of the tree, kneeling close to her in order to look for signs of life. He thanked whatever cruel deity was out there upon seeing her chest move up and down with labored breaths. But the sound of her breathing was horrifying. Each breath rattled out of her lungs, an indication of how badly she was wounded internally. “Wake up, Y/N come on,” Levi pleaded, holding her face. He thought that if she would just open her eyes she’d be okay. They could get her back to the wall where she’d receive medical attention. “Come on, you’re not going to die out here,” he insisted, as if he were bargaining with her.

“Captain…” Petra’s hesitant voice spoke up, “she’s not going to wake up here. We have to get back to the wall.”

“We don’t have a cart, she won’t make it on horseback,” Connie said.

“We’re not leaving a wounded soldier,” Levi spat, picking her up in his arms as gently as possible. “We ride straight back to the wall. No stopping. If you see a titan do not engage. Our mission now is to get our comrade back alive.”

~

It was a hard, long journey back. Levi had precariously balanced Y/N on his horse the entire way, only stopping to ensure she kept breathing. But they made it back in only a day. The doctors said that the swiftness of their journey saved her life. She would have drowned in her own blood had they not reached the wall in time.

When the doctors had taken her in, Levi had been left shaking in the center of the barely standing building that had been converted into a hospital. “They’ve got her,” Petra had assured him, dragging him out of the way. The entire squad had tried numerous times to get him to leave the hospital and lie down but Levi refused every time.

After a day of operating and then leaving her alone to heal for a while, the doctors finally let him see her. But not without warning. “She’s in critical condition,” they warned. “She flatlined on the table a few times, meaning her brain was deprived of oxygen for longer than is reasonably safe. She’s also still got a tube breathing for her. We had to repair her lungs and put her in a medically induced coma.” Levi said nothing as they walked down the hall, keeping his face expressionless despite the fear pounding in his heart. He could hardly breathe as they told him everything that was wrong with her. But once they reached the door, the doctor blocked his path for a second. “One last thing: the titan caused massive crush injuries meaning her neck and torso are mostly covered in bruises. I’m just trying to prepare you for what you’ll see.”

Levi just nodded in understanding, not even fully processing her words. As the door finally opened, revealing her fragile body, Levi let out a strangled noise from his throat as he tried not to cry in front of the doctor. He was grateful when she just closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with Y/N. Stepping over to the bed, he took a seat on the chair placed beside it. She looked so fragile he was afraid to touch her so he just sat and stared at her, willing her eyes to open.

But they never did. In the two weeks Levi spent sitting at Y/N’s side her eyes never opened. She never so much as twitched. The only reason he left was when Erwin threatened to discharge him from the Scouts. He almost accepted the discharge except for his team reminding him that they still had a war to win. And if he wasn’t out there protecting humanity, what was to stop a titan from just running through this hospital?

So Levi went back to work. In some ways, he was sloppy and distracted, like neglecting his paperwork. But he more than made up for it in his performance. He took down more Titans in the three months Y/N was asleep than in the few years he had spent as a scout. He had also bullied and beaten the current class of recruits into one of the finest classes yet. He had thrown himself into his work, killing every titan in his path. And when he couldn’t kill, he was taking out his rage on arrogant scouts and recruits alike.

~

“Is that all you got?” Levi asked Dassler. He was one of the recruits that would be graduating in a month. He was a big guy, someone who had won all of his sparring matches simply by being heavier and stronger than his classmates. But he was ill equipped to deal with Levi’s quick agility.

Dassler yelled in frustration, unable to get a grip on the captain. He lunged forward but Levi easily dodged him, swinging his foot down to pin Dassler’s neck on the ground with his boot. As the boy struggled, Levi heard the frantic breathing of Hange as she reached the training yard. “Captain!” she called through labored breathing. “It’s L/N! She’s- she’s awake,” she breathed.

Levi didn’t even process her words fully or let himself feel anything, he just took off running. He ran straight to the hospital, right past the nurses and doctors, and straight up to her room. As soon as he burst in the door, nurses were on him, trying to push him out of the room.

“Sir, you can’t be in here right now,” the insisted multiple times. But Levi wasn’t listening. He was looking over their shoulders frantically calling her name, begging for some sort of confirmation she was okay.

But she never so much as looked at him. He only realized what happened when he heard the doctor asking her questions with more concern ebbing into her voice each time. “Do you know your date of birth?” She shook her head no. “Do you know where you’re from?” Another shake. “Do you know what happened in Shigonshina?” No. “Do you know who he is?” the doctor asked, pointing at him as he continued to struggle with the nurses.

The moment between the doctor’s question and Y/N’s response was the longest moment of Levi’s life. Even the nurses stopped, eager to see if she remembered arguably the most important person in her life. Any deniability they had had about their relationship disappeared when Levi carried her back to the walls.

With another shake of her head, she denied knowing her boyfriend and Levi’s heart shattered. He let out an involuntary strangled cry before the nurses finally got him out of the room before slamming the door in his face.

All he could do was stare at the door in shocked disbelief. This had to have been some sort of weird side effect of the coma. It had to be temporary.

As he began to spiral, Hange showed up with the rest of the squad. “Captain!” she called excitedly from down the hall. But upon noticing his expression, she halted, stopping the rest of the squad behind her. “What happened?” she asked in a grave voice.

“She- she doesn’t remember anything,” he admitted, still staring at the door. He could faintly hear worried murmurs behind him but he didn’t care. He was still so wrapped up in trying to understand what just happened.

Beside him, Hange’s jaw dropped as she tried to process the news. “Oh Levi, I’m so sorry.”

~

It had been a week and Levi had yet to visit his girlfriend. Everyone on the squad had encouraged him to visit, going so far as to suggest that he could miraculously bring her memories back. But all he could see was her blank, confused expression as she shook her head at him. He didn’t think he could handle her giving him that blank expression again.

As he sat in his office, filling out paperwork when he heard a knock on the door. Looking up, he found Erwin standing in the doorway. “Levi,” he greeted, “you need to visit Y/N.”

Rather than tell Erwin to mind his own business, like he had told the rest of his squad, he just continued his work. “She doesn’t remember me. There’s nothing I can do for her.”

“You can be there for her. What will happen when she regains her memories but her boyfriend wasn’t there when she needed him?” Levi stopped writing but still didn’t look up. He was aware that everyone now knew about his relationship but he still didn’t want the commander throwing it in his face. “You haven’t stopped working ever since you came back. I don’t think you’ve left the office since she woke up. Go to her, that’s an order,” he said before turning on his heel and walking out.

Levi clenched his jaw, putting his pen down. With a reluctant sigh, he stood up, grabbing his cloak. He made his way outside, towards the hospital. As he went, more and more people took notice of him, murmuring and whispering as he passed but he just ignored it. He walked straight up to her room, only hesitating when he reached her door. He reached for the handle but stopped for a second. The memory of her confused expression flashed through his mind again and with it came all that initial pain. Shaking it off, he grasped the handle, finding his girlfriend sleeping peacefully.

Careful not to wake her, he went to her bedside. Tracing a finger over her hand, she didn’t stir. Levi smiled as he observed her peaceful expression. He missed her beautiful face more than he’d like to admit to anyone except her. With her peaceful expression, he could almost forget that godforsaken image of her lack of memory. “You don’t remember me now,” he whispered, “but you will someday. And I swear I will be by your side the entire time because I love you,” he promised her, sealing it with a brief kiss on her forehead.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love V

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: John finishes what his brother-in-law started

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence (if it's in the movie it's here), medical stuff

Word Count: 3.7K

Masterlist

When John finally woke, he was tied up in some sort of abandoned building. Although, the scaffolding and lights indicated that maybe it was just under construction. Directly in front of him was an empty chair but flanking that was his wife, bound to another chair with tape covering he mouth. She let out a soft cry that sounded like his name upon seeing him wake. She was breathing heavily and her voice was raw. The tear tracks that stained her face did nothing to assure him that Viggo hadn’t hurt his own daughter.

“Well John,” Viggo’s voice cut through her soft sobs as he came into view. “They sure as fuck broke the mold with you,” he said, sitting down. Two guards followed him, but stopped next to Y/N’s chair. And John could see the two guards on either side of him through his peripheral vision. Viggo laughed as he continued. “You always had a certain… audacity about you, you know. I thought it’d make you a good husband to my daughter and I feared she had softened you too much when you asked to retire. But I can say you’re still very much the John Wick of old.”

“Am I?” he pressed daringly.

Viggo leaned forward as he spoke. “People don’t change. You know that. Times, they do.” He sighed before going to the thing burning in his chest. “Do you know what was in that vault? Artwork, cash, not without it’s worth. But the leverage I had over this city. Evidence, blackmail, audio, photos,” he listed. “It was fucking priceless!” he cursed, standing up in rage. “Priceless!”

“Yeah, I kind of enjoyed that,” John said softly.

Viggo let out a scathing laugh. “Yeah, I know you did.” His laugh became humorous as he got closer to John, sending a punch to his face.

Y/N let out a muffled scream in protest.

Viggo turned his scathing tongue on her now. “Shut up you brat!” he screamed. “I never should have paired you two up. You used to be so obedient, always so eager to please me. But then you two got married,” he said in disgust. “And you corrupted each other.” He turned back to John. “And then you got out by lying to yourself. Telling yourself that the past held no sway over the future. But in the end, a lot of us are rewarded for our misdeeds, which is why I’m going to take your wife.” John lunged at Viggo but his restraints and the guards held fast. “Because you decided to… unleash yourself upon me. I gifted her to you, I have every right to take her back. Fuck, I should’ve taken her back when you asked for retirement but I let you keep her. As a gesture. But then you decided to take it upon yourself to meddle in family matters.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air and echo in John’s brain. “This life follows you. It clings to you, infecting everyone close to you. We are cursed, you and I.”

“On that, we agree,” John said, cursing himself for falling in love.

Viggo sat back, shock written on his face. “Finally, common ground,” he chuckled.

“I have my grievances with you,” John began, “but my real focus is your son. Step aside and give him to me.”

“John Wick,” Viggo mused in disbelief. “Baba Yaga,” he mocked the name he was once so proud to threaten with. He stood up, signaling to his men to get ready to leave. “It was just a spat between siblings.”

“Your son tried to kill my wife!” he yelled. “When we got married you made me promise to protect her. I am because you failed! You led her unstable brother to believe that you would choose her over him and then she almost died for your mistake! And then you protected your son over her. I was just doing what you fucking asked. People keep asking if I’m back. And up until now I haven’t really had an answer. But now? Yeah, I’m thinking I’m back! So you can either hand over your son,” Viggo muttered an order in Russian before turning to leave, “…or you can die screaming alongside him!” John screamed as he stood. The guards grabbed him once again, back into his chair as he watched his wife being carried out behind her traitor father. He continued struggling as they wrapped a bag around his face, trying to suffocate him.

Just as the black started to close in on his vision, he heard the sound of a bullet whizzing. The man to his right went down, blood spattering onto the bag covering his face. The other guard immediately let go, drawing his weapon to find the threat. Marcus. But John didn’t have time to consider his old friend. He wasted no time pulling out of the chair, hands still bound and bag still on his head, body slamming the other man to the ground with so much rage, he managed to make him drop his gun. Baba Yaga pulled his zip-tied hands to the front of his body, tearing off the bag before running at the scrambling mercenary with a yell. Using his bound hands, he got the gun away from him. They began to struggle, John just needed to get his bound arms around the man’s neck. But he had the same idea and two autonomous hands allowing him to pin John to the ground easier, strangling him as he struggled to break from the man’s grasp. He managed to turn his head enough so the man’s thumb was in his mouth, biting down hard. It made the guard loose focus enough that John was able to regain the advantage. He got his zip-tied hands around the mans throat, pulling with all his might until he choked the guard out and was then able to snap his neck. Without even taking a second to catch his breath, John was using a knife from another guard to cut the zip-ties. Pocketing the knife, he ran towards the exit, hoping to catch Viggo before he left. He’d be damned if he let his wife be taken from him right under his nose like that.

On the way out, he spotted a high caliber rifle that was like shooting a mini bazooka. Grabbing it, he burst out the door just in time to see the SUV taking off. Seeing as his gunfire wouldn’t do much good from the rear, he found a route through the alleys that would let him cut them off. He ran through alleyways until he finally reached the main street. He stood in the middle of the street, taking aim at the speeding car. The fact that he couldn’t see his wife in the car gave him a little bit of peace as bullets pelted the SUV, making the driver swerve into a parked car, halting the vehicle.

John immediately had the gun pointed at Viggo. “Cool it, cool it, cool it,” he begged, his hands raised.

“Where is she?” he demanded, shooting a warning shot to the side.

“She’s in the car!” Viggo answered quickly. He reached back, only to open the door. The door flung open on account of the tilted vehicle and the fact that a person had been flung into it. Viggo’s daughter was spilled out onto the ground in a less than graceful manner on account of her bound arms and legs.

“Where’s Iosef?” John demanded next, seeing no bleeding from his wife.

“I have your word that if I tell you where he is, you’ll let me walk away?” he bargained.

“Pull the contract,” John demanded.

“Done,” Viggo agreed, seeing as he had no allies around him. “He’s kept in a safe house in Brooklyn,” Viggo answered. “434 Wallace Place. They know you’re coming.”

“Of course,” John stated, finally lowering his gun. “But it won’t matter.” He rounded Viggo, not caring where he ran off to.

He kneeled down next to his wife, pulling out the knife to cut her own zip-ties before carefully pulling off the tape on her mouth. She let out a hollow sob as she reached up to grab him, arms wrapped around his neck. He wrapped his free arm around her torso, pulling her into him and burring his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. They savored the moment as long as they could until John had to let go. He couldn’t let Viggo warn Iosef and give him the opportunity to move. “Hey,” he began softly. “I’m gonna need you to take a cab to the Continental. Don’t talk to anyone, just head up to the room and wait for me there. I have to go deal with your brother. Then we can go home,” he promised her.

She nodded in understanding, too shaken up to really form word. He helped her stand, pressing some money into her hand for the cab. Before he could take off, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. As she moved to break it, he followed, letting the kiss linger for another moment. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he said before taking off towards Brooklyn.

~

Once again, Y/N found herself pacing the hotel room she had come to loathe. Although she had to commend the cleaners. You would never be able to tell that two high trained assassins had just had a fight in here the night prior. It was only when her husband opened the door that she really breathed for the first time since the attack. It was finally over. They could finally go home and put this behind them so they could continue to live the lives they had built for themselves.

John said nothing, just pulled his wife into his chest and held her tight. “It’s over,” he promised her.

“I love you so much,” she professed in response, pressing soft kisses to the side of his face. He sighed in content, having missed soft moments like this ever since their world had shattered.

“I love you too. C’mon, lets go home.”

They had never packed their bags so quickly, eager to get out of the city. Once they reached the lobby, they went to the front desk to check out. “Thank you,” John said, as he slid the key across the desk.

“Our pleasure, sir,” Charon thanked, placing a set of keys on the desk. John stared at them quizzically. “A parting gift. From management,” he explained. “Compensation for last night’s unfortunate… incident.”

John thanked the man as he took the keys. The pair stepped outside, finding a brand new Dodge Charger sitting out front. John gave the slightest smile upon seeing the new car. He turned to his wife, seeing a small smile creep onto her face as well. They stepped down towards the car, John opening the passenger door for her before rounding the car to the driver’s side. He got in, taking in the car before putting it in drive. Before taking off though, he snaked his hand over to the passenger side, grasping his wife’s hand. “We just have one stop to make before we go home.”

The pair stood looking over the water, right next to the Manhattan bridge. “So what are we waiting for?”

“That would be me,” Marcus’ voice answered her. “Hi Y/N, I don’t think we’ve formally met,” the man smiled, extending her hand. She took it, shaking it as she sent a glance to her husband. *Who was this man? “*I’m the one whose been saving your husband’s ass.”

“I appreciate it,” John chuckled.

“Of course,” Marcus dismissed. “You look terrible,” he remarked, earning a laugh from Y/N.

John sent a teasing glance to his wife. “No, I look retired,” he corrected.

“Retired? You really believe that?” John didn’t answer. “You made a new life. You’ll find your way back to it. It’s time to go home,” he said, slightly ominously. “It was nice to finally meet you,” he bid, looking at his friend’s wife.

“Likewise,” she returned as he walked away. She turned back towards the river, the same as her husband. “You ready?” she asked, extending her hand.

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking it.

~

They were enjoying a peaceful drive home in the new car when John got a call. With a quick check to caller ID, he found Marcus’ name. “This is John,” he answered.

The way John immediately stiffened as Viggo’s voice came over the phone didn’t escape his wife’s notice. She had no idea what was said, but based on her husband’s body language, she could guess who was on the other end. “I appreciate you granting my son a swift death.”

“It was more than he deserved,” John replied, remembering how Iosef had tried to just beat a woman to death.

“And yet you granted him mercy. Unlike what I’m going to do to Marcus. He betrayed me.”

John immediately threw down the phone, spinning the car around so fast it almost went into a tailspin. “John what the fuck!”

“Viggo has Marcus,” he explained, pressing the car to it’s top speed as he raced back into the city. “He couldn’t kill me and he couldn’t kill you. So he’s killing Marcus.”

Her heart sunk, “Oh god,” she whispered. She knew her father did terrible things but she hadn’t really considered them when she wasn’t on the receiving end. John continued speeding through the city as she came to terms with how complicit she had been with others suffering.

When they finally pulled up to her father’s brownstone, John was immediately climbing out of the car. “Stay here,” he said gruffly. She didn’t say anything as she watched her husband go in to grieve the closest thing he had to a best friend. After a few moments John was running back to the car. Before she could assume the worst, he was hopping in and taking off. “Your father is fleeing New York,” he explained. “He practically left you to die and now he’s killed Marcus. He’s not leaving,” he swore.

Not a word was said as they raced towards the only property that Viggo owned that housed a helipad. An old loading dock that had been long forgotten. As they closed in on the two SUVs driving in the same direction, John pressed the car further. “Hold on!” he warned as he started side swiping the SUV until it fell down into one of the pits that used to be used to load shipping containers.

John didn’t even celebrate his victory or stop to consider that Viggo may have been in that car. He just kept driving, going after the remaining SUV. There was no shot he’d let Viggo have any chance of getting away. He kept knocking into the side of the SUV until he pulled back enough to send it into a tailspin, straight into a bollard. The SUV stopped suddenly but John was able to brake before backing up. “Get down!” he yelled, forcing his wife’s head down as he saw Viggo’s men get out of the SUV with guns.

They shot at the Charger, shattering the back windshield but that didn’t dissuade The Boogeyman in the slightest. He continued backing up until he hit the gunman who went rolling over the car. As he went, John shot up into the ceiling, sending bullets into the man as he rolled off the car. John then shot three more men out of the window, in the process leaning over to his wife’s seat to recline it all the way back. “Lay down flat,” he told her. Given that he was the world’s deadliest assassin, she didn’t question his judgement in that moment.

As Avi fell out of the car and went running, John chased after him, cutting him off. They exchanged a few bullets before John slammed the passenger side of the car into him. It hit him with so much force he broke the window, eliciting a scared shout from the woman laying in the passenger seat, but he quickly slumped to the ground. But before John could finish him off, an incredible force came from his side.

Viggo drove his SUV straight into the Charger, not caring about his daughter or right hand man. He continued driving, gas pedal pressed to the ground as he pushed the car towards the pit. Realizing what was happening, Y/N spoke up. “Out the back windshield! Out the back windshield!” she cried as she crawled backwards. Fortunately John knew what she meant because he also released his seat, crawling out with her and hitting the ground before the car went over the edge.

“Are you okay?” he asked his wife as the rain poured down on them.

“Yeah,” she choked out, the fall knocking the wind out of her. “He’s over there,” she coughed, spying her father heading towards the helicopter. “Go. I’m fine.” She too wanted revenge for all the bullshit he put her husband through.

John took off running towards his father-in-law as she stayed to catch her breath. Climbing into the mostly intact SUV, she clambered around for a gun. She searched frustratedly. There was no way there weren’t at least twenty hidden weapons in a mob boss’ car. She rejoiced as she found one taped under the passenger seat, climbing out of the car just in time to see both John and her father take a seat. Both of them exhausted and heavily injured. She could see them talking but she didn’t give a fuck whatever deal they were making. Her father had only done one good thing for her and that was arrange her marriage to John. And he still tried to use that gift against her until he couldn’t and he decided to kill him. So she took aim, steadying herself before pulling the trigger. Headshot. And this time, she didn’t feel bad about it.

“John!” she called, running over to him. She was terrified he’d succumb to his wounds right there. She stopped running for a brief moment when he stood, so relieved to see him up. She continued sprinting towards him, meeting him gently. She didn’t want to hurt him more but he grasped her wrist, pulling her into him. “You’re okay,” she assured him. “We’re gonna be okay. C’mon,” she said, throwing his arm around his shoulder in order to help him back to the car. Based on the amount of weight he placed on her, he really needed it. She helped him into the passenger side of the beat up SUV. Fortunately the passenger side door was still intact. “We’re going to the hospital,” she told him, getting into the driver’s seat.

“No,” he immediately protested.

“John! You’re hurt.”

“There’s a veterinary hospital just a few blocks south. No one is there at night. We can use their medical supplies.”

“John…” she protested reluctantly, terrified for her husband but heading south anyways.

“I used to go there if I got injured before I retired. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,” he tried to reassure.

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly.

She followed John’s directions until they reached what looked like an abandoned building. The only indication that it was even somewhat in use was the sound of all the dogs barking. John broke through the back door’s window, reaching down to open the door, letting himself in. They went in and Y/N was immediately pushing John to lean against the stainless steel table in the middle of the room. “What do you need?” she asked, going to the medical supplies.

“Gauze, suture kit or staple gun, and something to clean the wound,” he answered, already crouching in from of a pitbull’s cage.

She grabbed everything he needed, going over to him. “Lean back,” she directed him. She kneeled on the ground next to him as she worked as fast as possible. “I still think you should go to the hospital,” she said disapprovingly.

“I’d been through worse before I met you,” he confessed.

“I don’t know how it gets worse than this,” she said, stitching up every major wound she found.

“This dog is gonna be euthanized,” he said, reading the file on the dogs cage. His wife paused only long enough to look at the dog. He pawed at the cage upon meeting her gaze, his big eyes immediately melting her heart.

“We can take him with us when we’re done. But you have to promise me you’ll let me call the doctor to check you out as soon as we’re home.”

“I will,” he swore.

“Was this all an elaborate scheme to make me let you get a dog?” she pressed, only mildly jokingly.

“That was part of it,” John returned the joke.

A small smile crept onto her face as she paused her work once again to look at her husband. “I love you. So much. Please don’t do anything dangerous ever again.”

“I’ll try,” he smiled. “I love you too. I can’t move so you’re gonna have to come here.” She giggled slightly, scooching over to him. Once she got close enough, John grabbed her shirt, bringing her down to meet his lips as he gave her a sweet kiss. Just like on their wedding day except now they weren’t strangers. They had been through more together than they had thought a couple could go through. “I love you,” he repeated, only parting their lips enough to say that.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love IV

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: John returns to his old life just to finish some business

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence (if it's in the movie it's here), medical stuff

Word Count: 5.7K

Masterlist

As the taxi pulled up to John’s home he didn’t suspect that anything was amiss. But as soon as he stepped out onto the gravel driveway, he noticed some haphazard tire marks but he brushed those off as just being from a careless delivery driver. As he went up to the door his alarm bells started going off and started to revert back to assassin mode. The door was left slightly ajar but most horrifyingly was the blood left on the door handle. Without a critical thought, he immediately began to shout his wife’s name, not considering his own safety or the fact that his yelling could give away his position. He just needed his wife right that second.

He opened the door, immediately seeing the crumpled body of his wife lying in the living room with a knife sticking out of her chest. He was immediately running over to her to check her pulse. She had to be alive. No deity would be so cruel to give him something so wonderful only to take it away after just seven years, right? Despite the fear and pain icing his veins, he felt the most relief he had ever felt when he found his wife’s pulse still going. It was weak and erratic but still there. He was immediately pulling out his phone to dial 911 while keeping his fingers on her pulse, making sure it didn’t disappear.

“911 what’s your emergency?” the operator’s voice answered.

“My wife was stabbed, she’s still breathing but it’s bad,” he called into the phone, forgetting all his formal training.

“Okay sir, the ambulance is on the way. What’s the address?”

John gave the operator his information, the entire time trading between gently slapping his wife’s face trying to get her to wake up and making sure she was still breathing. And after only a few minutes, paramedics were bursting through the door. He nearly killed one for pushing him out of the way but he kept himself in check, remembering that they were saving his wife’s life. It was also at that moment that he realized he had been crying.

Seeing as John wasn’t about to let his wife out of his sight and he was in no shape to drive, the paramedics let him ride in the ambulance. He held her hand the entire way to the hospital, only letting her go from his sight when they arrived at the hospital and doctors immediately began surrounding her, bringing her to surgery immediately.

John sat in the waiting room for hours with no updates. He went through a range of feeling absolutely nothing, to fear, to regret, to guilt, to sadness, to absolute blinding rage. It was only after being numb for an entire hour that he decided to call his father-in-law. He figured that even if they weren’t in contact, Viggo would still want to know about this.

“John, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you at all,” Viggo answered.

John didn’t even bother with pleasantries. He was too devastated and exhausted. “Viggo, there’s something you should know. I uh- came home today to find Y/N…” these were the hardest words he ever had to say, “lying in a pool of her own blood with a knife in her chest. She was still breathing and she’s in surgery. She’s been in for a couple hours but no one’s given me an update which I guess is a good thing,” he rambled.

Meanwhile, Viggo was still trying to process his son-in-law’s words. “She was in her own blood? How much?”

“I don’t know. She was also covered in bruises.”

Viggo sighed, the weight of the world weighing on his chest. “I know you’re retired and trying to stay separated from this life but give me an update as soon as you can.”

“Will do. Bye,” John bid before hanging up. Viggo put the phone down, rubbing his face exasperatedly. Sure, his daughter had been essentially dead to him because her husband wanted out but he held no ill will towards them. He never thought this would happen to her though. Not in the crime world and certainly not in her newfound retired lifestyle.

“What was that about?” Iosef asked, having expected to get a call about his sister’s death.

“It seems your sister was attacked,” Viggo answered his son. “She’s alive. She’s in the hospital but-”

“She’s alive?!” Iosef cried in shock. He had stabbed her in the chest and basically broken every bone in her body, how was she alive?

Viggo’s face immediately darkened. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” the boy immediately shrugged off.

“What did you do?!” he demanded again, now standing up. When his son didn’t say anything, just looked like a guilty dog, the mob boss began pacing around angrily. “You idiot. Why would you do that to your sister?”

“Because you were going to pass my birthright onto her!” Iosef defended like a child. “You always gave her stuff to do and me nothing.”

“She is retired!” Viggo cried, wondering how his heir ended up so stupid. “She was never going to take over. I only gave her responsibilities so you’d get your shit together. Now look what you’ve done!”

“What? She’s in the hospital? She’ll recover and learn to stay away.”

“And once she’s recovered she’ll tell her husband—the man they call Baba Yaga—who did this to her. You remember when she was stabbed right? The men behind it took three hours to die. The man who ordered it was made to dig his own eye out.” As Viggo told the stories of The Boogeyman, he stepped towards his son with every word. Iosef continued to back up until he couldn’t anymore as he realized just how deep of shit he was in. “Get out of my sight while I deal with your mistake,” he spat. His son needed no more encouragement as he left the room with his tail between his legs.

Viggo sat down, taking a deep breath before calling Avi in. Once his right hand man was in his office, he got to the point. “Iosef tried to kill my daughter but he couldn’t even finish the job,” he spat. Avi didn’t even have the chance to process his boss’ words because he was already barking orders. “Send twelve of your men to Wick’s house. Once he’s there, eliminate him. Otherwise he’ll drag my son through an even slower death than Alexi Petrov.”

Avi couldn’t believe the words he was about to say. “And your daughter? Should we eliminate her too?”

Viggo thought for a moment. She had been no use to him ever since she retired. Technically, she wasn’t a threat. The only real threat was her husband but he knew John had taught her a thing or two and she always had a slight rebellious streak. “If you must, you better pray you kill her husband first.”

~~

The entire two weeks Y/N had spent recovering at the hospital, John had been there too. The second doctors had wheeled her out of surgery, John quite literally never left her side. The doctors explained that she had had extensive internal bleeding due to crush wounds from blunt force trauma. And that while the stab looked bad, it was no more than a flesh wound because her sternum had kept the knife from doing any real damage.

As for when she woke up, one of the first things John asked her was who did it. And when she responded with her brother’s name, all John could see was red. He wanted to scream a million curses and go rip the idiot’s head off but he kept his cool enough to listen to his wife’s reasoning. And just like him, all she wanted was to be near her spouse.

After two weeks she was released and, miraculously, had mostly healed. She had just had to deal with some residual bruising and a lot of soreness but otherwise was fine. Her brother’s paid friends had managed to crack a few ribs but nothing extensive enough to keep her immobilized for the two weeks. Despite the good news, John was still treating her like she was porcelain. He insisted on helping her in even the smallest tasks. For the first week he wouldn’t even let her feed herself.

“I’ve got you,” he assured, his arm around her waist and her arm pulled over his shoulder.

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, standing up with ease. It was painful but she could do it without assistance.

John backed off, looking at her with guilty eyes. He hadn’t been there for her the day she was attacked so he needed her to know that he’d always be there for her for the rest of time. That he’d always take care of her.

The mood was somber as they drove back to the house. Y/N just stared out the window, watching their once completely safe town pass by. She had thought this was her heaven but her brother tainted that with his paranoia. But she kept those feelings under wraps. She knew it would break John’s heart even more if she voiced her newfound discomfort with this town because he was the one to find it. He thought this would be a safe home for them.

Once he pulled into the garage, he was helping her up into the house. “You want anything? Water? A snack? I can go get food if you want?” he offered, desperate for a way to make this better.

“I’m fine,” she assured. “I’m just gonna lay down.”

“Okay, I’ll be up soon,” he assured. He watched her worriedly as she climbed the stairs. She leaned heavily on the railing but otherwise seemed to be doing okay. He couldn’t believe she survived such a savage beating and was half dead just two weeks ago. The bruises that encompassed her entire body were a sick reminder of that.

Heading down to the basement, he found a sledgehammer. Going over to the slab of concrete that was different from the rest, he brought the sledgehammer down hard. It immediately cracked the concrete, prompting John to take another swing and another until he finally found the cases he was looking for. He hauled them out of the dust covered hole, through the cracked concrete. He opened the first case, finding part of his arsenal and most of his gold. Hi wife had begged him not to retaliate in the hospital but he couldn’t just let this go. Her own brother tried to kill her over a misunderstanding and if Viggo had a single functioning brain cell left, he’d hand his son over.

As he continued going through his things, the phone began to ring. He knew who this was, the only people who had the basement landline’s number were people of his former life and no one would be calling except for his father-in-law. He picked up the phone, not saying a word. “Hello, John,” Viggo’s voice came over the line. “I assume Y/N has told you about her attacker.” John didn’t say anything. The next words out of his mouth better be that Iosef was tied up, waiting for a bullet in his skull. And the fact that he hadn’t called for two weeks didn’t escape his notice either. “John?” the Russian mob boss’ voice called over the phone again upon not hearing a response other than breathing. “Let us not resort to our baser instincts and handle this like civilized men, to move on-” His words halted as John hung up the phone.

He grabbed two pistols and extra magazines as he went upstairs. Based on the phone call, Viggo was prioritizing his son over his daughter and that meant eliminating any threat to Iosef. He went to his room where he found his wife sleeping, the soft noise of his footsteps not waking her. He left one of the guns on the nightstand next to her just in case she needed to use it. Going into the bathroom, he took a shower to wash the sweat and concrete dust off of himself before getting dressed. As he was tying his tie, he saw movement surrounding the house. His in-laws were here. With one last look his wife, still sleeping peacefully in bed, he grabbed his own gun and the key he had kept locked in the basement.

As he stepped out of the bedroom, he could hear them making their way into the house. But first, he turned, locking the door to the bedroom before tucking it in his jacket, right above his heart. They’d have to kill him if they were going to hurt her and he had survived much worse than this.

It was the first shots heard right outside her bedroom door that began to stir Y/N from her sleep. Her exhausted brain managed to ignore them for a moment before she heard the loud thud of bodies hitting the floor. Her brain finally put the pieces together as she realized someone was in her house again. She immediately turned towards her husband’s side of the bed, finding nothing. It looked like hadn’t even gotten into bed. She heard more shots and more bodies falling. How many people could possibly be here? But all she knew is that as long as she continued to hear shots, John was still alive.

She crept towards the door in only her nightie, intent to somehow help her husband. She could just stay out of the way and if she needed to, she could help. There were clearly multiple intruders, eventually they were going to gang up on him. But upon reaching the door, she found it locked or jammed or something. She struggled with the door for a few seconds, trying to force it open before realizing there was definitely a better way to go about this. As she was looking for something heavy to break the handle off with, she found the gun John had left her. Grabbing it, she went over to the door, beating the handle with the butt of the gun but it did nothing. With a grunt of frustration, she took a chance, shooting the handle. The bullet lodged itself in between the door jam and the locking mechanism, surprisingly weakening it enough so she could break it open.

Once she finally got the door open, she was immediately greeted with two bodies on the stair landing just outside her door and another on the stairs. She carefully crept past them, rushing towards the front of the house where she could hear struggling. Her path there was littered with other bodies but she paid them no mind, hurrying towards the entranceway. There, she found a masked man on top of her husband, trying to send a knife into his throat. She did the only thing she could think of, lifting the gun she shot hurriedly. She was by no means a trained gunman so the shot went into his shoulder rather than his head but it was enough of a hinderance to the masked man that John was able to easily flip him onto his back before sending about five bullets into his head.

“John,” she cried as the gunfire stopped. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt a tear drip from her cheek onto her chest.

“Y/N, oh my god,” he returned in an almost broken voice. He was immediately scrambling up, pulling her into his arms. He pressed her body into his, cradling her head against his chest. “Did they get into the room?” he asked.

“No but I heard the gunshots.”

“You should have stayed there,” he reprimanded lightly.

“I know but I wasn’t about to let you get hurt.” John sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, just embracing her for the moment. “Were these my father’s men?” she asked.

“Yes,” John answered reluctantly. How do you take learning that your father chose his other child over you? He couldn’t imagine what his wife was feeling right then. “But no one’s gonna hurt you. I swear.”

“But what about you?” she asked, pulling out of his tight grasp to look at him. “My father didn’t send twelve men to kill me. He sent them to kill you.”

John’s jaw clenched. “Go upstairs and start packing. We’re going to the Continental. You’ll be safe there.”

~

By the time they arrived at the Continental hotel in the heart of New York City it was morning. As the pair pulled up to the hotel, the valet held open the door for her. She thanked him as John rounded the car, carrying both their bags in one hand. He handed the keys off to the valet before taking his wife’s hand, walking into the hotel like a celebrity. As they walked through the entranceway up to the desk, the people idly chatting in the lobby quieted down, looking at the pair. Both of their beat up appearances didn’t escape anyone’s notice but one rumor would start circulating soon. The Wicks were back.

As they approached the desk, the found a woman being checked in by the doorman. They both recognized her from their lives before they retired, both of them having crossed paths with her as individuals. “Good seeing you again,” she greeted the pair like they were casual work acquaintances.

“Perkins,” John replied, nodding in acknowledgement before stepping up to the desk.

“I have you for two nights,” Charon greeted.

“Depending on business, it may be more,” John replied. Beside him, his wife shifted uncomfortably. Two nights of hell, maybe more. John was on the warpath now and nothing she could say could ever stop him.

“Of course, sir.” John then pulled a gold coin out of his pocket before sliding it across the counter to Charon. In return, he passed them a room key. “Room 818.”

“Thank you,” she smiled before grabbing one of the bags before John could take it.

Later that night, after they had eaten and Y/N had attended to her husband’s wounds, John came out of the bathroom, having changed into a new suit. “Stay here,” he told his wife. “I have some people I need to talk to.” But before he could walk out, she caught his hand.

“Hey,” she began, stopping him. “Just, be careful. I know you made my father what he is but he’s still powerful and you’re still human. Just remember your promise to always come back to me,” she made him swear.

“I will,” he swore. “I love you,” he said, pulling her in for a kiss.

“I love you too,” she returned once he had pulled away. As he headed out the door, she watched him go reluctantly.

After a few stressful hours trading between pacing, checking her phone, and trying to watch tv, the door to the room finally opened. “Oh my god,” she gasped, watching the way he limped and held his stomach.

Assuming she was talking about the blood, he was quick to assure her. “Don’t worry it’s not all mine.”

“John… I-” she was at a loss for words of how to deal with her seemingly suicidal husband. “What are the injuries?” she asked as he sat down on one of the chairs.

“Bullet wounds to the vest,” he emphasized the vest part, “so probably some bruising. And a stab in the lower stomach.”

She sighed, checking the stab wound first. “That’s the same place as mine. We should make sure none of your organs were ruptured,” she said, already grabbing the hotel phone. She ignored John’s protests as Charon answered. “Hi, could you send the doctor up to room 818? Thank you.”

“Why would you do that?” John asked. “I’m fine, I don’t need a doctor.”

“Because John fucking Wick is not dying from a fucking kidney infection. And if you’re so intent on revenge you’re getting some pain meds,” she reprimanded.

John looked like he wanted to argue but he suddenly deflated. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re the best wife I could ask for.”

“Yeah well, who else would shoot up The Red Circle for me?” she joked. A knock on the door prompted her to go up to the door, letting the doctor in. “Hi,” she greeted, “he’s at the table.”

The doctor thanked her before going over to the table. “Hello Mr. Wick, nice to see you again,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“You too,” John returned, looking reluctant to exchange the same pleasantries with yet another person. “Just a stab. My wife wanted to make sure it didn’t puncture anything important.”

“Smart woman,” he remarked. The doctor got right to work, inspecting the wound. “Well, good news is it’s just a flesh wound, it didn’t cause any internal damage or bleeding. I’m just gonna have to stich it up.”

“So what sort of movement am I looking at?” John asked the doctor as he worked. His wife’s disapproving look didn’t escape his notice though.

“Well, if you’re looking to heal, then keep it marginal,” he warned sternly. “However, if you still have business to attend to take two of these beforehand,” he advised, handing John a bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” he said, the smallest hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

The doctor only nodded. “The stiches will tear and you’ll bleed. But you’ll still have full function. Do you need anything for the pain?” he asked, getting up.

“No I’m fine,” he assured despite his wife’s worried looks.

“Thanks, doc,” she wished as the man left. Once he was gone, she moved from her place on the bed over to the seat in front of John. “Please, I’m begging you to stop,” she pleaded. “You’ve killed like 40 of my father’s men, is that not enough for you?”

“Y/N, your brother tried to murder you and then your father took his side. How can you be okay just letting them walk free?”

“Because the man I love is avenging me alone,” she said in a strangled voice. “My family has an army protecting them. Forgive me if I have some fear that this will end with you in the back of Charlie’s van and I’ll be left with what? A dead husband and a family that tried to kill me. Can we please just cut our losses and disappear?”

The assassin clenched his jaw. She had a point but he couldn’t just let the people who hurt the only person he cared about go free. It wasn’t right. Besides… “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because your father put a hit out on me. Two million dollars.”

Her heart sunk. “What?” She couldn’t convey the level of hurt or betrayal she felt. Her own father put a hit out on her husband?

John watched her process the information. She was just now starting to understand how he felt. How neither could just let the person that threatened their spouse go. He continued to watch her very rapidly go through his own process of watching his wife practically die in that hospital bed and now, she was getting angry and set of vengeance. “Okay…” she said softly, giving in. “What’s the plan?”

“Right now, we’re going to sleep because this is the only place we’re safe.”

“Right… no business on Continental grounds,” she mused.

“C’mon,” he urged her, standing up only to lay back on the bed. She followed, laying on his uninjured side so she could rest her head on his chest. “You know I’m always gonna protect you, right?” he said into her hair.

“I know. Just wish I could protect you more,” she mused.

“You do,” John assured her. “I don’t know where I’d be if not for you but I can’t imagine anyplace good. And if I die-”

“John!” she cut him off, not wanting to even entertain the thought.

“Just listen, this is important. If I die, come here. Marcus will find you and take care of you,” he promised. She didn’t respond, unsure of what to say. She just cuddled into her husband more, holding him impossibly tighter.

They must have dozed off because suddenly there was a small explosion next to John’s ear. Recognizing the noise as a missed bullet, he immediately rolled over, covering his wife’s body with his. “Wha-” he heard her voice come from underneath him when he heard the glass room divider above the bed shatter, raining glass down on them.

He threw his body off the bed, dragging his wife down with him. The bullets continued flying, shattering the windows at the end of the bed as John practically pushed his wife under the bed. “Stay there!” he ordered.

“Hey John,” a woman’s voice rang out. They both recognized it from their former lives and as the woman in the lobby.

“Perkins?” John called.

“Thought I’d let myself in,” she quipped as she tucked herself against a dividing wall to defend herself from any gunfire. As she rounded the corner to shoot at her target, he used his makeshift arms sling to force the gun out of her hand. He then forced it up to her neck, trying to strangle her with it. “I never knew Ms. Perkins to get out of bed for less than three.”

“Viggo’s giving me four to break hotel rules,” she answered as she broke out of his grip.

Y/N watched in horror as they continued to struggle through the room. She was trying to decide when coming out of her spot would be useful or just a hinderance. Two was better than one but she had absolutely no combat training beyond the basic self-defense John had taught her. If she came out from under the bed, that’d just remind Perkins of her presence and then John would have to worry about both himself and her.

As they tumbled out of sight and she was considering what she should do, the phone rang. Probably a noise complaint. Assassins were surprisingly civilized and expected a certain level of decorum. She crawled out from under the bed just about half-way in order to grab the receiver. “Hello?” she answered.

“I apologize for calling you at this hour,” Charon’s voice came over the phone, “but we have received a number of grievances from your floor concerning the noise.”

“Sorry, we’re uh-” the sound of the door crashing open caught her off guard. “John is dealing with an uninvited guest.”

“Are you in need of a dinner reservation, perhaps?”

She peaked around the dividing wall, finding John with Perkins in a headlock, gun pointed at her head. “Um… maybe. Either I or John will let you know.”

“Okay, have a good evening, Mrs. Wick,” he bid before the line went dead.

She scrambled out from under the bed towards the hallway at the same time as another guest. Except he had his gun pointed at the back of John’s head. Thinking quickly, she found a gun on the ground that must have fallen in the scuffle. She cocked it, pointing it at the back of the man’s head. “Drop it,” she ordered.

Hearing her words, John turned around, finding his wife pointing a gun at an old friend. “Hey, Harry,” he greeted.

“Hi, John,” he returned. Upon seeing the friendly encounter, John’s wife lowered the gun. The man turned to face her. “You must be Mrs. Wick, Viggo’s daughter.” He turned back to John, “I thought you were supposed to be the guard dog.”

“She returns the favor sometimes,” John explained. “Hey, you keen on earning a coin? Babysitting the sleeping one?” he asked, gesturing to the unconscious woman.

“Catch and release?”

“Catch and release,” John confirmed.

They helped Harry get Perkins tied up in his room before they headed towards a lead John had gotten from Perkins.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked.

“Little Russia,” John answered. “The church where your father keeps all his most important assets. I’m gonna lure him out.”

“Okay… what do you want me to do?” They pulled up to the rear side of the church, parking in a back alley a few buildings down. John didn’t answer for a few seconds, seemingly deep in thought. “Go up to that building’s roof,” he pointed at one right across the street from the church. “I’ll give you the sniper rifle. Once I start ambushing them, you can give me cover.” Her eyes widened at the responsibility he bestowed her. He never let her do anything when it came to his work. He tried to keep her from it as far as possible. Seeing her shock, he explained. “I realized that if I was going to make decisions that effect you, then you also have a right to act.”

She sent him a grateful smile. “Thank you, John,” she said, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking over his beard. “No let’s go burn my father’s empire to the ground.”

After thirty minutes of just sitting on the roof, John finally made his move. She watched him gun down a few of her father’s men before anyone could react. She responded by taking aim at one, firing. She missed but shook it off. She was mostly just there to create enough chaos so John could get Viggo alone. She took aim again at another one of her father’s guard. She smiled in success initially as she landed a bullet in his head. But the smile quickly dropped as she realized she had just killed a person. She had ended his life prematurely. What if he had a life outside of his work? What if there was someone waiting for him at home just like she waited for her husband. Hell, she very well could have known the man she killed. He could have been one of the men that had protected her in the past.

She only snapped out of her guilt-ridden haze when she heard a loud crash. Looking down, she found John sprawled on the ground, a few of her father’s men quickly subduing him. “John !” she cried. She had to get down there. Maybe her father would listen to her.

As she started collecting her things, a voice cut her off. “C’mere pretty girl,” the sick voice of one of her former bodyguards came. She scrambled to aim her weapon and managed to pull the trigger but she was too slow. The man had enough time to dodge it and as she tried to aim again, he got in close enough to knock her to the floor. He pushed the rifle away from her as he pinned her to the ground. “Hey, I got her,” she heard him call into a mic. “I’m gonna need backup. No way I’m gonna be able to get her down the fire escape by myself.”

She continued to struggle against him, but he simply rested his bodyweight on her, effectively trapping her. “Let go of me!” she demanded.

“Y’know, I much prefer you before you married Wick. You listened back then.”

“Yeah, well, he taught me a thing or two,” she spat back.

“Please, you’re just a spoiled brat who wants to piss of daddy,” he taunted. “Did you think you could actually just let your husband fight your battles for you and kill all the people who used to protect you without consequences?” He reached a hand out, squeezing her jaw. “This is just a temper tantrum and because of you, your husband will pay the ultimate price.”

“He’s gonna kill you,” she swore. “And if he doesn’t. I will.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

By now, his backup had arrived and she was having her hands and ankles tied up so she could be carried down the fire escape without much of a fuss. When they finally reached the cars, she made sure to send a harsh glare at the man that had put out a contract on her husband. He marched right up to her, sending a smack to her face. “I raised you better than this. Look what you caused,” he gestured to the tainted state of things around them.

“Your son you never bothered to raise caused this,” she spat. “And then you took his side over mine when he tried to kill me.” All of a sudden she was feeling all the hurt and betrayal she hadn’t been letting herself feel for John’s sake. She broke down right there in the parking lot before she heard a faint order from her father to just put her in the car. They laid her down in the rear seat as one of the men got in the driver’s seat and her father sat in the passenger seat. She had no idea where she was and all she wanted was John. Viggo attempted to speak to her a few times but she was crying so hysterically, full of so much pain she had been pushing down, that she couldn’t even hear him. As her world faded to black she put it together that she was in the midst of a panic attack.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love III

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: After an attack on his wife, John decides he needs to retire. But retired life isn't as safe as he thought it was.

Warning: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence (this is where it starts to get actually violent), sibling rivalry, mentions of SA, cursing, betrayal, medical stuff

Word Count: 5.2K

Masterlist

Two years later, the couple found themselves at yet another “charity ball.” Viggo’s daughter had been a regular attendee since she was seventeen and he decided she could handle being him for a night. But for the past two years, John Wick had been regularly added to the guest list as more than just a bodyguard. Of course he still acted like a bodyguard, but now he was more present. Rather than skulk in the shadows, he was practically glued to his wife’s hip, remaining silent and sending glares to all the dangerous people of the crime world who would dare pose a threat to Mrs. Wick.

“Stop scaring people,” she lightly reprimanded her husband. “I have work to do.”

He kept the smile tugging at his lips off his face, still scanning the room. “It’s not my fault they’re intimidated by my presence alone,” he shrugged.

She just rolled her eyes, going back to scouring the crowd for other members of the Russian crime syndicate. Although other Russian families were supposed to be her allies, the Tarasov family had been in a few small turf wars with other branches of their crime syndicate, making Y/N wary. But she didn’t show it. She was Viggo Tarasov’s daughter, this was New York, her turf. And the guard dog behind her made sure everyone knew it.

Spying one of her uncles, Alexi Petrov, who had been a problem over by the East River, she approached with a bright smile on her face. “Дядя,” she greeted.

A smile came over his face as well. “Y/N, how good to see you,” he greeted his niece. “I haven’t seen you since your wedding.”

“Yes, that’s right. And you remember my husband? John Wick?” she introduced, stepping to the side.

John stepped forward, reaching out to shake his hand. He purposely let his suit jacket fall open so the lesser Russian mob boss could see the gun resting inside. Petrov also grabbed John’s arm in an intimidation tactic, but only found a knife tucked into the assassin’s sleeve. “It’s nice to see you again,” John greeted.

“Likewise,” Petrov replied. “How’s your father?” he asked his niece, eager to be the thorn in his older cousin’s side.

“He’s well. Having a little trouble with your cousin out west but it shouldn’t be a problem for us.”

“Yes, well I’d hate if you lost control of your ports,” he said smugly.

“Aw well aren’t you just a doll,” she said sweetly, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waitress. “Just a tip, you may want to give your guys a heads up. Word is, The Boogeyman is after them.” She then leaned up on her toes, giving him a familial peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon,” she smiled before turning, John following after her.

The rest of the night full of thinly veiled threats went smoothly until it didn’t. Suddenly, the lights went out and before John could pull his wife closer, acting as her human shield, a man appeared from the crowd, sending a knife into Y/N Wick’s stomach. The mercenary didn’t even get a chance to tell his boss the job was done because The Boogeyman’s knife was disemboweling him a second later.

The lights came back on quickly. Every gun in the room was raised but no shots had been fired. The night’s guests understood why there was a blackout when they saw the mercenary choking on his own blood on the ground, and John Wick clutching his wife’s side desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Suddenly Kirill appeared in the crowd. “We’re tailing Petrov, catch him!” he yelled, taking his charge into his arms. “I’ll get her help.” John nodded, reluctant to leave his wife but he still very much wanted revenge. He ran towards the back exit, gun already drawn, ready to drag his prey practically into hell.

Meanwhile, his wife desperately wanted some comfort as she realized what had happened to her. “John?” she called after him.

“Hey,” Kirill caught her attention, “he’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. The ambulance will be here soon,” he assured. She nodded, seemingly understanding and cooperative. Surrounding them were other employees of the Tarasov family, ushering the crowd away from the injured girl. Which created enough of a clearing that she could see her attacker. She began hyperventilating upon seeing her still alive attacker, groaning in agony with his guts spilled across the floor. Upon noticing her terrified expression, Kirill blocked her view, pushing her head to face in the other direction as he angled his body to block the sight. “Calm down,” he tried to reassure the girl. “You are nowhere near as bad as him, John made sure of that. You’re just gonna get some stitches and you’ll be up and walking in no time.”

She nodded as best as she could, tears streaming down her face as her father’s loyal employee kept her head turned away. Just as her pain became seemingly unbearable, the paramedics arrived, pushing their way through the still clamoring crowd. She couldn’t see much, her vision going hazy, all she could see were many people in uniforms surrounding her, passing medical equipment between each other. She was then jolted into reality by the absolute agony of being lifted onto the gurney. She had sent John to the doctor with stab and bullet wounds so many times, she had no idea how he managed to still be up and moving around. She shortly lost consciousness after being wheeled outside.

~

John had managed to catch Alexi Petrov—the idiot had run on foot with no backup and no getaway driver. He thought he’d be able to run to the Continental and just regroup from there. But John caught him easily, leaving him hog-tied in a Tarasov SUV. “No one touches him until I get back from the hospital. Got it?” he demanded from one of the drivers.

“Of course,” he assured, getting into the car and driving off towards Viggo’s building.

John, in turn, hailed a taxi, getting a ride to the hospital. In the waiting room was a guard. Upon seeing John walk in, the guard stood up. “She’s in room 514,” he told the assassin. He gave a nod of thanks before heading to the elevator.

Once he reached the fifth floor, he went to the door that had yet another guard outside of it. He let John in, no questions asked, leaving John in the room with just Viggo and an empty space where a hospital bed should be. John immediately began to fear the worst: that his wife had died or that Viggo had taken her away from him, deeming him not good enough for his daughter.

“Relax,” the mob boss said, “she’s in surgery. That bastard nicked her kidney so now they have to go in and repair it.”

“Oh…” John said. He had dealt with more than his fair share of stabs. But he had been lucky, they were all flesh wounds.

“I heard you caught Petrov. Good work. I assume he’s tied up in my basement awaiting your arrival?”

“He is,” John agreed. “No one is allowed to touch him until I’m there.”

Viggo nodded. “Sounds about right. He better pray his heart gives out. They said the assassin was still breathing when Charlie went to go pick him up.”

John nodded, considering his next words. “This life isn’t safe for her anymore and you know it.”

“I know,” Viggo agreed, remembering the loss of Iosef’s mother. This world wasn’t kind to women. They were seen as leverage amongst many of the older criminals.

“She won’t be safe as long as I’m still involved.”

“You’re asking for an impossible thing,” Viggo countered. John didn’t say anything, just continued to stare. He needed to get out of this life for her. “An impossible thing requires an impossible task.” Viggo then laid out five names and a time constraint of one night.

“It’ll be done by Sunday night,” John assured. “I just have a few things to take care of beforehand.”

Viggo nodded before standing up, heading for the door. “Good luck, John.” The assassin just watched him go. He wasn’t going to stay for his own daughter?

After another hour, the door finally opened and the orderlies wheeled in his wife’s hospital bed. John stood up as soon as she came in, trying to go to her but the doctor intercepted. “The anesthesia should wear off within the hour but overall, she’ll be fine. We saved her kidney and she should make a full recovery in about a month.”

John thanked the doctor, going over to his wife’s side. He grasped her hand, holding it to his chest as he began to break. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he cried. The guilt weighed heavily on his soul, he had broken his vow to her that he had made right after they were married. “But we’re gonna be safe soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

Just like the doctor promised, an hour later the hand that was intertwined with John’s squeezed his fingers slightly. “Y/N,” he whispered, snapping to attention. His fingers squeezed in return, looking for some sort of assurance that he hadn’t made the movement up. And when her eyes peeled themselves open, John swore he had never been happier. “Oh thank god,” he breathed, his head falling onto the bed in relief.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay,” she assured her husband, her hand pulling out of his embrace so she could thread her fingers through his hair. “The doctors said it was an easy fix.”

The assassin took a few deep breaths before lifting his head up to look at her. “I can’t let anything like this happen ever again,” he swore.

“John, I’m fine. It’s not your fault.”

“I’ve made a lot of enemies. And one of these days it won’t be a random knife attack from a family member you pissed off. One day, someone’s actually going to try to kill you for being my wife.”

“What are you saying?” she demanded, fearing the worst.

Reading her face and the fact that the EKG was beeping faster, John’s face softened as he went to comfort his wife. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m not leaving you,” he assured. “No. I, uh, asked your father for retirement. After I finish one thing.”

“What are you finishing?” she asked. Any relaxation she was feeling after her husband’s assurance was fading away as she conjured up images of what her father could possibly be making John do.

“Don’t worry about it. Caterina is gonna take you home. I’ll be home in a couple days and then we’re gonna get a new place. Away from the city,” John explained calmly, stroking her hair soothingly.

“John, what are you doing?” she demanded, tears beginning to prick her eyes out of fear for her husband.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he assured. “Soon enough we’ll have a house out in the country and we’ll have peace. Together.” He stood up, getting ready to leave. But first, he leaned down to press a kiss to his wife’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she cried. “Please come back to me.”

“I will,” he assured before walking out.

After a miserable rest of the day in the hospital, she was finally released and Caterina finally came to get her. “Oh ягодка,” Caterina exclaimed as she entered the hospital room. Her cousin was already sat up, struggling to lean down enough to get her shoes on despite the fact that she was still only wearing a hospital gown. “I brought you some clothes.”

“Thanks,” she said, standing up. She had no pain standing up or walking given all the pain meds she was on, but any movement in her torso made her feel like her skin was going to be torn open. She took the clothes from her cousin before hobbling into the bathroom. With some creative solution and heavy leaning on the numerous handrails in the bathroom, the heiress has managed to dress herself. She had no idea how people like John managed to suffer through wounds like this and keep going like they weren’t stabbed or shot. “That wasn’t easy,” she said, hobbling out of the bathroom.

Caterina gave her a sympathetic look before standing up with a bright smile. She then pointed to the wheelchair that had been placed by the door. Y/N opened her mouth to argue but Caterina held her finger up like she was shushing a child. “Don’t argue with me. I’m not gonna get stabbed by John just because you tripped and tore open your stiches.”

She didn’t even bother arguing, sitting in the chair with a huff. Caterina gave a triumphant smile, wheeling the chair out of the room before passing her cousin off to an awaiting guard. As Caterina and the guard chatted idly, Y/N was lost in thought, worrying for John. She knew that in order to buy their freedom, John would have to do an impossible thing. Her husband was the best, they called him Baba Yaga—the one you sent to kill the boogeyman. But he was still human, he could still be killed and that was a horrifyingly sober reality.

Once they arrived at Viggo’s main building, they pulled into the ground floor garage. The first floor of a building was a designated garage for his family and employees. But the floor under that was a dungeon of sorts. It’s where Viggo sent his enemies and prisoners to be interrogated, punished, executed, whatever sort of bloody business he had. Viggo’s daughter had never once been down there, but as she was wheeled past the lower level entrance, towards the elevator, she caught sight of the cleaning van. And conveniently, the “cleaners” were carrying up several bags wrapped on multiple layers. “Who was that?” she asked the guard, waiting for the elevator.

“It’s none of your concern, miss,” the guard simply dismissed.

But his lack of cooperation wasn’t a concern because Charlie had come up to the garage level. “Mrs. Wick, it’s good to see you,” he said through a bright smile as he walked over. “I’m glad to see you out of the hospital so soon. Based on what John did to Petrov, I thought you’d be down for at least a week.”

“Uh, no I’m fine,” she stuttered out. “Did you talk to John?” she asked, desperate for some sort of clue of where her husband was.

“Only briefly,” Charlie answered. “I have to go, but I’m glad to see you, Mrs. Wick.” And with that, he headed back to his van while she was pulled into the elevator.

The next twenty-four hours were agonizing for her as she wondered where her husband was or if he was even still alive. Sometimes she sat quietly in her room, waiting to hear the sound of gunfire or sirens wailing but the city seemed silent that night. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. Caterina had tried to keep her distracted for most of the night but eventually gave up, going home to get some much needed sleep. And when Viggo tried to speak to his daughter, she just screamed at him for giving her husband an impossible task that could very well get him killed.

But when John Wick returned in the wee hours of the morning, the first person to see him was his wife. He took the stairs all the way up to their floor of the building, wanting to remain unseen. He first went to the bedroom, finding the sheets disheveled and a few books on the ground—relics of the fight Viggo had with his daughter when she threw several things at him, screaming at him to leave. Next, he went to their sitting room, nothing. Before he checked any of the guest or specialty rooms, he went to the kitchen. There, he found his wife brewing a pot of coffee. He whispered her name softly but it was easily heard in the dark of the night.

“Oh my god, John,” she cried, immediately throwing herself into his arms. She always worried for him when he was working but she had never been this scared.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he assured her, clutching her body to his tightly. “I’m done. I’m out. I’ll always be with you from here on out,” he promised. “There’s a house out in New Jersey I think you’ll like. It’s got big windows and a pool.”

She smiled at his offer. “I’m sure I’ll love it.” She then pulled away, taking the chance to inspect her husband. Even in the dark of the kitchen she could see the blood soaking through his shirt. “Please tell me this isn’t your blood,” she demanded from him.

“Not all of it,” he admitted, slightly sheepishly.

“Here, sit,” she said, directing him to one of the bar stools. He complied as she flipped on the lights and grabbed their borderline surgical first aid kit from one of the cabinet. Unless John knew he actually needed serious surgery, he would just insist that his wife patch him up. She began unbuttoning his shirt, finding his bulletproof vest underneath. “At least you wore your vest,” she said, finding bullet holes in it. She went to push it off his shoulders but gasped when she found a bullet in his shoulder, blood spewing from the wound. “John!”

“I’m fine. It’s close to the surface. You just have to pull it out and stich it up.”

She sent him a slight glare as she carefully pulled the vest off of his body. She had told him to go to the doctor so many times but he always refused so she just stopped arguing. Heading to the opposite side of the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey and rubbing alcohol. She handed the drink to her husband before pouring some of the rubbing alcohol onto some gauze and beginning to clean the wound. He thanked her for the drink as she started sterilizing the other equipment.

“Yeah, well I figured you’d refuse pain meds.”

“I don’t like how they make me feel.”

“Okay tough guy,” she teased, prodding around his wound looking for the bullet. “Is this it?” she asked, feeling a hard lump.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Use the forceps to dig up towards it and grab it. Don’t stop until you get it out no matter what I say.”

“Okay,” she uttered nervously as she grabbed the forceps. Steeling herself, she dug into the wound for a few minutes trying to get a grip on the bullet. The entire time, John stayed still except for letting out a few groans of pain. “I’m sorry,” she apologized every time one of her movements made him cry out.

“It’s okay, keep going,” he assured her, taking a deep swig from the bottle of whiskey.

After a few more moments of struggling, she finally managed to pry it out. She then stitched up his shoulder before moving on. “Any other stab wounds or bullet holes I should know about?” she asked.

“No, just some bruising from the bullets,” he said, getting off the stool.

“Go get in the shower,” she told her husband. “I’ll clean this up and get you something for the bruising.” But before she could walk away, John grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

“Hey, you also have a major wound. Sit down, let me check your stiches,” he told her.

“John I’m fine. The doctors did them.”

“Please?” he begged, wanting to make sure his wife was okay. So she reluctantly sat down, lifting her shirt enough to reveal the bandages covering her stiches. The assassin peeled the bandage up as his wife hissed in pain at the tugging of her still sensitive skin. Once he had removed the bandage, he inspected the stitches. “Yeah, looks like this bandage needed to be changed a couple hours ago.”

“Oh…” she said, her voice hollow. “I kind of lost track of time since you told me what you were doing.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said, wiping down her stiches with rubbing alcohol and prepping more bandages.

“Don’t be. You got us out. And I’ll be grateful for you for forever because of that.”

After he taped down the new bandage, he stood up, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

“Now, about that shower?” he asked suggestively.

“John!” she yelled, lightly smacking his shoulder. “You have a bullet wound and I have a stab wound!”

~~

Five years later, the couple found themselves in a seemingly idyllic life. They had settled in that beautiful home in New Jersey that John had found them. Y/N had taken up a job as a journalist for a small lifestyle magazine. She didn’t need the money, John had made more than enough for them to live on for the rest of their lives, but she wanted something to do other than just lounge around the house all day. Similarly, John had started an informal business of buying beat up, classic cars and restoring them to sell. Beyond a Christmas card from Viggo, they had no connections to their previous lives so nothing could drag them back into the deep.

“Hey,” Y/N said, knocking on the side of the garage as she entered, “I was gonna go to the farmer’s market to get stuff for dinner. Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” John said, standing up while wiping the oil from his hands, “just let me get cleaned up real quick.”

“Okay,” she smiled.

As John walked into the house to wash his hands, he pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead, making sure to keep his greasy hands clear from her. She giggled as she watched him go inside, waiting for him. “We can take the Mustang,” he said, already grabbing the keys. She stepped outside, past the old Chevelle he was working on, towards John’s vintage Mustang. It was his pride and joy. Sometimes she thought he loved it more than he loved her.

Once they arrived, they headed to the stands, looking for the ingredients for their dinner. As they walked through the crowd, John couldn’t help but go back to his roots. Always looking around for a threat, making sure his wife was close to him and safe. While slipping into domestic bliss was easy for her as she had picked up a job and made a few friends, John had struggled. He wasn’t used to people without cruel intentions and not being known as the most dangerous person in the room. But this is what he wanted and in time, he had really came to love his settled life. He even became friendly with a few of the dads in town, most of them eager to see whatever new toy John would fix up and sell next. They continued through the farmer’s market without incident just like their lives had gone for the past five years: completely without incident.

“So, what are you making?” John asked, placing the bags of groceries on the counter.

“Seriously? You couldn’t guess based on the ingredients?” his wife asked, disappointed in her husband’s cooking knowledge.

“No,” he admitted. “Cooking wasn’t one of the classes at assassin school,” he joked.

His wife shook her head and tsked. “When will they learn that even highly trained assassins need life skills?” she joked. “Okay, I am making you barbecue cajun salmon with mango salsa.”

John smiled. One of his favorite things about getting away from the crime world was the discovery that his wife was actually an amazing cook despite the fact that every meal of her life had been prepared for her. “Sounds good. Do you need any help?”

She went to the bag of produce, putting them all into a bowl. “Can you wash and chop these into cubes?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking the food. He went over to the sink, rinsing off all the fruits and vegetables before grabbing the cutting board. While he was doing that, she was preparing the salmon and the glaze to put in the oven. They worked in mostly comfortable silence, just enjoying one another’s company as they prepared their dinner. Occasionally, one would creep up on the other in order to wrap their arms around their partner’s waist and attack the side of their face with kisses.

That night they cuddled on their couch, dinner finished and their dishes sitting in the sink. Her head rested on his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulder to keep her close. “Hey, so I have a buyer out in Pennsylvania for the Chevelle so I’ll be out all day tomorrow,” John told his wife.

“Okay,” she mused, already half asleep listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. “I’ve got a few articles I should catch up on so maybe I can get some work done without you distracting me,” she teased.

John smiled, holding his wife closer and pressing his nose into her hair. “Not my fault you’re distracted by me,” he defended with a laugh, which earned him a light smack against his arm.

~

By dinner time the next day, Y/N had completed all of her articles. She had been right in her assessment, she was way more productive when John wasn’t constantly assaulting her with kisses. Just as she was considering whether she should cook dinner or just order takeout, she heard a window shatter.

All of the self-preservation training John had instilled in her kicked in and she immediately ran to the closet that was in the office. Once she had locked herself in, she realized how dumb she was for not grabbing her phone to call 911. But since this was probably a simple robbery, she decided it’d be safer to stay hidden. The burglars probably assumed no one was in the house and would be in and out as soon as possible. Sure, John would be pissed when he learned someone had broken into their home, but he’d be even more pissed if she tried to intervene and got hurt in the process. She remembered the night she got stabbed all too well. The man who had done it and the man who ordered it both suffered long, agonizing deaths.

As she continued to hide in the closet, she listened for any sign of them leaving. She couldn’t hear anything except for the occasional door opening or something being smashed. When they finally reached the office, she held her breath, just waiting for them to grab her laptop or something in leave. But then the door of the closet opened and her body went cold. It was like her entire body had been drained as she stared up at the man wearing a ski mask. “I found her!” he shouted before dragging her out of the closet.

She immediately began screaming and struggling in protest but these men were clearly trained because he held her in a way that none of her defensive moves could escape. The man dragged her out of the office, into the living room where she found two other men standing, both wearing ski masks and holding baseball bats. She was thrown to their feet, breathing heavily as she looked up at them. “Who are you?” she managed to choke out through terrified sobs. “We have money, just please don’t hurt me.”

The slimmest man, standing to the side began to laugh like a comic book villain. “Trust me, we don’t need your money. I just need you gone,” he said. Before she could ask what he meant, the man pulled off his mask, revealing the face of her half brother.

“Iosef, what are you-” But before she could finish her sentence, he was bringing his baseball bat down onto her. He struck her ribs and she immediately knew he had cracked at least some as pain exploded in her ribs.

“I’m not letting you take what is rightfully mine,” her brother spat as he brought the mask back over his head. The other two then began bringing their bats down on her body, trying to beat her to death. All she could do between the screams and sobs was try to protect her head as they assaulted her body. But the man behind her cracked his bat against the back of her head like a golf club. Her hands took the brunt of the force but it was still incredibly painful to have hear hands smashed in.

She screamed in pain as they continued their assault until she was sure she was going to die right there. Eventually her screams stopped as her lungs felt like they had collapsed in on themselves. She was sure all her ribs were shattered and all her internal organs had ruptured from the blows.

When she stopped screaming they stopped beating her. Iosef had stopped beating her long ago, leaving the work up to his henchmen despite the fact that this had been his idea. Once the beatings stopped, one of Iosef’s friends pushed her so she was now laying on her back. He laughed seeing her bruised, bleeding, and tear stained face. Reaching down to her pants, he began undoing the buttons. She wanted to tell him to stop but she physically couldn’t pull in enough air to form a word. Fortunately for her, Iosef happened to turn back around at that moment.

“No! What are you doing man? That’s my sister,” he cried. Not out of defense of his sister, simply because he was grossed out by it. “C’mon let’s finish the job. Her husband will be home soon.” The prince of the mob then pulled out a large hunting knife, sauntering over to where his sister laid on the floor, coughing and spitting up her own blood. “Sorry to do this,” he said mockingly, leaning down close to her face. “But you leave me no choice. You won’t be inheriting dad’s business now.” And with those final words, he drove the knife into the center of his sister’s chest, leaving the blade impaled in her to send a message. “Let’s go!” he ordered his lackeys as they ran out to the car, shouting in celebration.

Meanwhile, Y/N laid in a puddle of blood on her own living room floor. As she stared up at the ceiling, her vision fading, she began to pray for the first time in her life. She prayed mostly for John. That he’d be okay and he’d be able to continue his life not drowning in grief, revenge, or guilt. She just wanted him to be happy, he deserved to be happy.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love II

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: The newlyweds get to know each other on their honeymoon.

Warning: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence, alcohol, sparring, jealous!john, misogyny, smut, embarrassment, mention of virginity, french people, privilege

Word count: 6.4k

Masterlist

A few days later the newlyweds found themselves in Saint-Tropez for their honeymoon. “You’re on your honeymoon, not working. You should relax and enjoy your vacation,” Y/N told her husband, lounging on a beach chair. “They’ve got it,” she assured, sending glances to the armed guards that scattered the private villa. Despite her protests, both Viggo and John wanted her to be guarded on their honeymoon.

John smiled, “Respectfully, they’re here because I’m supposedly relaxing.”

“So you’re saying that if only you were looking out for me, it’d be the same as the ten of them currently guarding us?” she challenged.

He shrugged, not wanting to come off as too arrogant. “More or less, yeah.”

“Hmm,” she nodded, considering his words. “And what if I said I could handle myself and didn’t need you or anyone else to protect me?”

He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that. “No offense, but I watched you struggle with your carry on. You’re gonna need my protection.”

Fortunately she found his honesty funny. “Fair enough,” she chuckled. “Although, not totally my fault. My father refused to let me be trained. No strength training, no combat training, certainly no weapons training.”

John stared at her in bewilderment. “How does he expect you to run things one day if you can’t even shoot? Much less fight?”

That elicited a genuine laugh from her. “You think my father will let me run his empire? He always says ‘Fighting is not a woman’s place.’ He sure as hell won’t put me in charge. I mean, he’s happy to let me be the face of our family when he needs me to but it’s all going to go to my idiot of a brother. Iosef doesn’t know he’ll inherit it yet though. I think my father is using me to try to scare him into getting his shit together.”

“Still, you live in a dangerous world. You should know how to at least defend yourself.”

A smile crept onto her face as she sat up, swinging her legs off of the chair so now she could fully face the assassin. “So teach me,” she challenged. He sat up in return, a little surprised by her boldness. He had to admit, he had always thought of Viggo’s daughter as just a pretty face to do her father’s bidding. This determination to be independent was surprising. “Teach me how to fight. Or at the very least self-defense.”

“Okay,” John nodded. Finally, a vacation he could get behind. He stood up, taking her hand and leading her further onto the soft sand, away from the chairs. “Okay, first thing’s first. If you can run or hide, that’s always going to be your best bet. Chances are, anyone coming after you is going to be a lot bigger, stronger, and better trained.” She gave him an unimpressed look, having been lectured her entire life to run and hide. “Uh, but on to the real things: punches. So stance wide,” he acted as he spoke, showing her what he meant, “arms up. Make sure you don’t tuck your thumbs into your fist, that’s how you break your thumbs.” She nodded, copying his movements. “Now, you’re going to want to pivot on the ball of your back foot, angling your body towards your opponent as you throw the punch. That’ll give you some power.” She tried to follow his directions but it looked honestly pathetic. The fact that she was only wearing a bikini didn’t help that fact either. He couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle at her attempt. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He stepped around her, going behind her. “Get back into your original stance,” he directed. She complied as John stepped closer, his skin brushing against hers as he pressed his chest to her back, slotting their bodies together. He put his foot against her rear foot, his hands clasping her fists. “Okay,” he began, his lips pressed against her ear, eliciting a shiver down his spine. John held in his groan as her ass moved against his crotch, he just prayed he didn’t get hard as he stood so close to her. “Pick up the heel of your rear foot, standing on the ball of your foot.” She complied as John used his own foot to rotate hers, simultaneously moving her arm forward and forcing her body to rotate. Again she rubbed against him, making him realize he’d have to come up with a better way to teach her because he couldn’t be this distracted. “Uh that was good,” he said in a flustered voice, pulling away from her. “You think you got it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed in an equally flustered voice. She couldn’t deny that every time he touched her, it set her skin on fire. He held her hand to help her onto the plane and that was all she could think about for the seven hour flight.

They continued on for hours until the assassin finally agreed to a sparring match. “If you’re sure you wanna do this,” he agreed hesitantly, getting into a fighting position. “I’ll go easy on you though.”

Y/N laughed, getting into a fighting position too. “If you were anyone else I’d tell you not to but I’d like to at least get one punch in.”

He returned her laugh before throwing out a soft punch. She dodged it easily, returning the favor. Although, her punch was for real but she was so inexperienced her body language was obvious. John dodged it, not letting her get in a victory that easily. He threw another, slightly harder punch which she dodged once again, but she took the opportunity to send a kick to his knee. It actually landed, driving John’s knees to the ground but he was up in no time, launching himself at his wife. He pulled her to the ground, making sure to cushion her fall in the process, but she broke free, scrambling to her feet. She threw another punch but rather than dodge it, John grabbed her wrist and spun her around, pulling her body his. As soon as his crotch made contact with her ass—again—he immediately regretted it. She took him secondary shock to throw an elbow into his cheek, freeing herself. John was proud but he was ready to be done, he had some… stuff to take care of. So as she was setting herself up to send another kick at him, the highly trained assassin simply scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

“John!” she shrieked with laugher as he carried her into the water. He laughed as she began to beg for mercy, not wanting to be thrown in the still cool water. Once he waded in to his hips, he threw her off of his shoulder, dumping her into the water with a laugh. “John,” she cried again as soon she resurfaced. He was laughing so hard it gave her the opportunity to grab the neckline of his shirt, dragging his face into the water too. She laughed as he fell but as soon as he resurfaced, she realized her mistake.

John was on her quickly, scooping her up so her chest was pressed against his. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, making him forget the fact that he was planning on throwing her back into the water. Their eyes locked and suddenly there were no guards watching them and they hadn’t been forced into this marriage.

As Y/N stared into her husband’s deep brown eyes, all she wanted was to kiss him. For real. Not a quick peck or the one forced on them on their wedding day, she wanted this one to mean something. But as she was working up the courage to do it, there was a shout from the beach. “Hey!” one of the guards shouted. “There’s a call from your father!”

John groaned, also having hoped to kiss her in that moment. If he had just manned up a second earlier, he could be kissing his wife right now. And he’d have a better idea of where he stood in her life. The woman in question turned back to face her husband, letting out a soft groan too. She hesitantly unwrapped her legs from his hips, standing on her own and reluctantly pulling her arms from around his neck. But John had to suppress a groan of pleasure as her hands still trailed down his chest before falling to her sides.

As they waded to shore, John sent a slight glare to the man holding out the phone. He looked mildly startled but otherwise didn’t react as he handed his charge the phone. She answered in Russian, only saying a few words before hanging up. She handed the phone back to the guard before turning to face her husband. “You want to just order dinner?” she suggested, tired and not wanting to get ready to go out.

“Sure,” he agreed. “I’ll find a place while you get cleaned up.”

After a much needed shower, the newlyweds were sat in the villa’s breakfast nook, eating takeout from a genuine French restaurant. “So, is it true that my father saw you kill three men with a pencil and that’s why he recruited you?”

He shrugged, afraid to scare off his wife. “More or less,” he agreed, taking a sip of bourbon. Before he could say anything else, she was downing her water and grabbing the bottle of bourbon. “You drink bourbon?” he asked skeptically.

She shrugged as she poured. “Don’t know. My dad caught me stealing a bottle of vodka was I was sixteen. He said that if I even tasted a drop of alcohol before I was ‘ready’—who the fuck knows when that is?—then he’d beat the liquor out of me. But we’re in France, he’s not here, and I’m now a married woman,” she said, making a toast towards her husband before taking a sip. John laughed as she made a face of disgust at the first sip. “Ugh, how do you drink this?”

“It’s an acquired taste,” he chuckled. “Let’s start you with something easier.” He called in one of the guards, telling him to get a bottle of champagne from the wine cellar. “So no alcohol until now?”

She confirmed with a nod. “Surprising, I know. Considering that my father is Russian.”

“Well I can believe it based on the fact that he didn’t want you to learn how to fight,” he said as the champagne and two glasses were brought over. The assassin smoothly grabbed the bottle, opening it like it was nothing before pouring each of them a glass. He held up his glass like he was giving a toast. “To new experiences.”

She returned his toast, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. “This is way better,” she agreed, setting it next to her forgotten bourbon. She slid the shorter glass to the center of the table, leaving the option for John if he wanted it.

“So, what was it like to be raised by Viggo Tarasov?” John asked, trying to get to know his wife. Truthfully, he already knew a lot about her from both observing her at work and based on what the others said but he figured she’d be freaked out if he just started spouting facts off.

“Um actually I can’t really remember my father before the age of twelve. I was mostly raised by maids and tutors since my mom passed when I was young. But I spent my entire life in New York,” she shrugged. “Not much to tell when you’re homeschooled.” John nodded, he honestly had too much to tell but she wasn’t ready to hear about his past just yet. “But not much to complain about when your every want has been met. I hope you don’t think of me as some sort of brat,” she said shyly. She may not know a lot about John’s life but she could tell he’s been through more than his fair share.

“I don’t think you’re a brat,” he assured her. “Your brother however…?”

“Oh don’t even get me started on that idiot. He’s only my half-brother if you didn’t know.” John chuckled at her eagerness to separate herself from him.

About two hours later their plates had been cleared and the drinks were long gone. Y/N had managed to drink over half the bottle of champagne while John had drank nearly the entire bottle of bourbon. “So what are your tattoos?” Y/N finally asked. She had been itching for a clear look ever since she caught a glimpse of them on her wedding night.

“They’re uh… reminders,” John explained. “I can show them to you,” he offered, feeling emboldened by the liquor. His wife only nodded but that was all the confirmation he needed. He stood up, taking her hand before leading her upstairs to the master bedroom. When they had arrived, he insisted on her taking the master bedroom while he took one of the guest rooms.

Upon shutting the door, he took a deep breath before lifting his shirt over his head. He stood tensely, listening for a reaction. He only heard a soft exhale of breath as her footsteps came closer. Her fingers just barely ghosted the inked skin as she took in the top letters. “Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat,” she read. “Fortune favors the bold.” Her fingers then flitted up to the dog on his upper right shoulder. “Got in a little trouble when you were younger?” she guessed.

“A bit,” John chuckled. “How did you know what that meant?”

“I grew up around Russian mercenaries. You pick up on stuff,” she answered dismissively. “More trouble,” she said teasingly as her fingers found the fiery skull. Finally her fingers found the giant cross and praying hands. “Didn’t take you for a man of faith,” she mused.

John shrugged, turning to face his wife. She was taken slightly aback as she was greeted with her husband’s bare chest for the first time. He looked incredible, especially considering his age. “I don’t have faith in the traditional sense,” he answered, catching her attention. She looked up to see him staring at her intently. This was the moment, it was now or never.

She stood up on her toes, reaching John’s lips. He was taken slightly off guard but his arms were eagerly wrapped around her waist in a second. He bent more towards her, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He bit her lower lip softly, encouraging her to open her mouth. She did so, allowing his tongue to slip in gently, eliciting a soft moan from her. Suddenly he wasn’t thinking straight and he was pushing her towards the bed. She eagerly went along with it, tugging on his shirt to bring him down with her as she fell on her back onto her bed. His hands caught him so he didn’t crush her but he wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her up towards the center of the bed so their feet were no longer hanging off.

As they continued to make out, John’s hand slipped up under her top, finding that his wife wasn’t wearing a bra. His fingers immediately began teasing her nipples, causing her to let out soft moans.

When he pulled away to take her top off, she took the opportunity to speak up. “John, wait. You should know something,” she began. He looked concerned and halted his movement, resting his hand on her stomach and placing his weight on his other arm so he could look at her fully. “I wanna do this. I really do,” she assured. She couldn’t possibly convey how much she wanted her husband right then. “But you should know… I’m a virgin,” she admitted almost shamefully.

Shit, was all that ran through John’s mind. He should have put that together given her lack of life experience but he hadn’t been thinking critically in his mildly inebriated state. He pulled further away from his wife, much to her dismay. “We shouldn’t do this right now then.”

“What?” was all she managed to choke out. She was married to him. Who was she supposed to lose her virginity to if not for him?

“I want you, believe me,” he tried to assure her. She couldn’t possibly comprehend how much willpower this was taking. “But you’re drunk—for the first time too,” he added. “You shouldn’t be losing your virginity drunk. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

She didn’t even argue with him, too embarrassed to say anything. She just pulled her legs into her chest, clearly uncomfortable and feeling vulnerable. He felt bad, but he’d feel worse if she ever had any regrets about their first time together. So he just took his leave, frustrated with himself too.

~

At breakfast John tried to catch his wife’s eye but she refused to even look at him. Every time he spoke she’d either let out a noncommittal hum or outright ignore him. She only stayed in the kitchen long enough to eat her food before retreating upstairs to her room.

John had to admit he was hurt by her reclusion. He had done the right thing last night so why did he feel bad? The only reason he didn’t try to force her to get over last night was because he knew her behavior was a result of shame, not anger. She wasn’t lashing out at him because she didn’t get what she wanted, she was embarrassed. So he decided to give her space to cool off before giving her a fun night out.

Right before dinner time he finally knocked on the master bedroom’s door. After a moment it finally opened, revealing Y/N. She hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas today but as she answered, he could tell she was trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Get dressed,” he told her. “We have dinner reservations.”

“Oh John thank you, but I don’t-”

“No,” he cut her off. “I need to make up for last night. So we’re gonna have a fun night and get over this little rough patch,” he said in a light tone, trying not to come across like he was ordering her around.

“You don’t have to make up for anything,” she assured. “You did the right thing. It’s just a little embarrassing to be rejected by your own husband,” she let out an awkward laugh. “I’ll uh meet you downstairs in 15,” she said before shutting the door.

Before she stepped away to go get changed, she listened for John’s footsteps. Once she was sure he was gone she went to her suitcase, looking for something suitable to wear. She found a white sundress with blue floral patterns that reached mid-thigh. Putting it on, she paired it with sandals and natural makeup. Just before exiting the room she spotted her engagement and wedding rings. John had been wearing his wedding band the entire time they were married but she hadn’t worn hers since the wedding. She didn’t have anything against John or the marriage (really only against her father for forcing so many things on her) but she mostly just didn’t like wearing such a massive diamond. When she had brought up concerns that the ring could break, John just said he’d get her a new one like it was no big deal. So, seeing as it seemed like he wanted her to wear it, she put the rings on before heading downstairs. There, she found John sitting in the foyer wearing a suit.

When he saw her, he stood up, giving a genuine smile. The rings on her finger didn’t escape his notice, giving him hope she wouldn’t try to leave him. He reached out to take her hand but hesitated, remembering that her wounds were still fresh from their encounter last night.

She returned his smile, albeit a bit forced. The movement of his hand didn’t escape her notice either but she ignored it, walking past him towards the door. She opened it, walking out but still held the door open for him.

The pair strolled down the street, tension between them. All was forgiven on both parts but it was still incredibly awkward. To pass the time, Y/N looked around, spotting her guards popping up every once in a while. John was doing the same but rather than looking for guards, he was looking for threats that slipped through their security detail. Technically he wasn’t working. He was supposed to be relaxing on his honeymoon. But he had assumed the role of commander of the detail following him around. He knew about everything that was happening. Every single person that walked by their temporary home and every boat that passed by their private beach. John already found himself incredibly concerned for his wife’s safety. Sure, when he was tasked with watching her in the past he took his job seriously, but now she was more than a job.

“This is it,” John ended the silence as they reached a very busy restaurant. The heiress had honestly mistaken it for a club at first because of the line of people waiting to get in. “C’mon, we have reservations,” he said, answering her unasked question. He extended his hand, more confidently this time, which she took, following him up to the hostess’ stand.

“Hi, do you have a reservation?” she greeted.

“Yes, two for Wick.”

“Okay, I have you right here. Follow me, Mr. and Mrs. Wick,” she smiled. She led them through the crowded restaurant to a secluded table on the balcony, right over the water. “Enjoy,” she bid them as they sat.

“Mrs. Wick, haven’t heard that one yet,” Y/N said once the hostess left. It was a little unnerving hearing it for the first time.

John kept his cool facade but internally was freaking out. Did she not like his last name? Did she not want to be attached to him? Or did she just prefer to keep her own name? That’d be fine with him but they were already in such a delicate position right now and he didn’t want to make her anymore uncomfortable. Fortunately he didn’t have to say anything because the waiter came up to them.

“Bonjour, how are we this evening?” he asked the pair. The waiter honestly looked more like he was from California than France. He had tan skin and sunny blonde hair with beachy waves. As if he had spent every day of his life surfing.

“We’re good,” John answered, not missing the way the waiter’s gaze lingered on his wife’s chest. “We’ll take a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.”

The waiter gave a strained smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll be right back.”

John turned to look back at his wife but she was staring down into the ocean, holding herself tightly. He could see the goosebumps starting to form on her arms from the breeze. “Cold?” he asked.

That seemed to snap her out of whatever daze she was in. “Hm? Oh no I'm fine,” she assured even though she was rubbing her arms. John wordlessly stood up, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around his wife. “Thanks,” she smiled sheepishly, pulling the jacket closer as John retook his seat.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you freezing to death,” he joked. But honestly, he’d do anything to get more clothes on her and keep her out of that waiter’s gaze. Speaking of…

“Your Cabernet,” the waiter introduced as he set down the wine glasses. As he poured he finally took the chance to introduce himself. “My name is Theo and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you with any appetizers?” he asked, the entire time ignoring John’s presence.

“We’ll just start with Cervelle de Canut,” John answered, forcing the waiter’s attention to him.

Theo gave another forced smile. “Of course,” he agreed, leaving the couple again.

They returned to their slightly awkward silence, Y/N now unconsciously fiddling with her ring on top of the table. “Does it need to be resized?” John asked.

“Oh, no,” she answered, pulling her hands back to her lap. “Just not used to wearing such a big ring. I’m entirely convinced I'm going to lose it,” she said, staring at the 10 carat diamond. “And if that happens my father will murder me.”

“Why? He didn’t buy it.”

Her jaw dropped open at that admission. “John I-” she didn’t know what to say. “You shouldn’t have. This is way too expensive.”

He just waved his hand dismissively, amused by her reaction. “I may not be as rich as your father but that doesn’t mean I can’t afford nice things.”

“I know that. I just… you don’t seem like the type to spend so much on material things. Especially a ring for a girl you barely know.”

“I wanted to,” he assured. “Remember, I already knew a lot about you from when I worked with you.”

“You mean when you were creeping in the shadows watching me?” she teased.

“You make me sound like a creep when you phrase it like that!” That got a genuine laugh from her. John couldn’t help but smile in response. He liked her laugh.

Their night continued smoothly for the most part. The pair was really clicking except for whenever that waiter came over. But John just tried to ignore him. As they were eating dessert, John got a call. He groaned, reluctant to let his date be cut short. But a glance at the caller id told him he had to get it. “Sorry,” he said to his wife as he answered the phone. “This is Wick,” he answered.

“John, we’ve got a minor situation,” Kirill’s voice came over the phone. “This guy tried to break into the house. He won’t say anything but I don’t think he’s associated with anyone dangerous.”

John sighed. “Give me a second,” he called into the phone. Pulling it away from his mouth, he looked at his wife. “This’ll just take a minute,” he assured her, getting up.

She nodded as he walked away, searching for some sense of privacy. Meanwhile, Theo had been watching the pair, waiting for the wife to be alone for a second. As John walked past him, he made a beeline for the secluded table. “Can I help you with anything else, madame?”

“Oh, no I'm alright. Just the cheque please.” But rather than go get the check or simply place it on the table, Theo sat in John’s seat. “Uh…”

“Are you okay?” he asked seriously. “You didn’t exactly look happy when you came in and I couldn’t help but notice that your husband is so much older.”

“Oh, well thank you for your concern but we’re perfectly fine,” she replied, maybe a bit more forceful than necessary.

“Are you sure? Because if you’re in trouble we can help you. There’s an American embassy right down the street.”

“I’m fine, seriously,” she assured. “My husband makes me very happy.”

Theo sat back, seemingly satisfied his customer wasn’t being trafficked but he still had one goal he wanted to accomplish. “I find it hard to believe an old man like him could satisfy such a pretty thing like you,” he flirted smugly. His tone went from genuine concern to arrogant flirting, like he was casually picking up a girl in a bar.

“Uh…” she had no idea what to say in this situation.

“C’mon, you can’t honestly be telling me that you’d rather fuck grandpa over me?”

As Y/N was looking around for help, she finally spotted John approaching and based on the murderous look on his face, he had heard what the waiter said.

“What’d you just call me?” he shouted, catching everyone’s attention and silencing the balcony.

Apparently Theo was stupid because he stood up to face the assassin. “You heard me old man. Although I’m surprised you can hear at all.”

John looked like he wanted to punch the boy but he restrained himself. Instead, he just walked around Theo to where his wife already stood, waiting for him. She took his hand, still wearing his jacket as they headed to the exit.

John angrily stormed out into the street but was stopped by a shout behind them. “Mr. Wick!” a slightly disheveled looking man called.

John looked back at the man who had stopped in the doorway. He turned back to his wife. “Go with Damien,” he nodded over to one of the guards standing on the curb nonchalantly. Sensing that this was about more than just a rude server, she complied, going to stand next to one of the many mercenaries that worked for her father. John walked back over to the owner, another member of the Russian mob who was all too familiar with the reputation of John Wick.

“I’m very sorry for what happened,” he apologized, shaking John’s hand. In it was a gold coin as gratitude for not causing a bigger scene. “I assure you that the boy will be dealt with properly. He didn’t know better.”

John didn’t say anything, just nodded and tucked the gold coin into his pocket as he went back to his wife. She took his hand once again as they headed back towards the villa. “Are you okay?” he asked as he stormed down the sidewalk.

“Yeah, are you?” she asked, concern lacing her voice. She spent her entire life around violent men but had never seen someone get this angry over something so small.

“I’m fine,” he insisted as they reached the house. He continued pulling her behind him, even once they got inside. But once they got inside the foyer, Y/N stopped walking.

“John what is the matter with you?” she asked. “Yeah he was being a dick but he was harmless.”

John took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to admit out loud that he reacted so harshly because he was jealous. Because he is John Wick, The Boogeyman, Baba Yaga, and no one should ever even look twice at what’s his. So instead of admitting his feelings with words, he decided to show her. He marched right over to his wife, grasping her face and pressing a burning kiss to her lips. She immediately melted into his arms, now understanding what was going on.

His hands moved south, under her ass to her upper thighs. He tapped the back of her thighs, urging her to jump. She did, wrapping her legs around his waist so he could carry her upstairs. Upon reaching the master bedroom, their lips only parted so she could remove John’s shirt and tie. As she laid, sprawled out on the bed, looking slightly disheveled, the assassin took the moment to admire her. Her lip gloss was almost all gone, her hair messy, and the neckline of her dress had been pulled way down. He leaned down on the bed to kiss her again, this time much more gentle. As he kissed her sweetly, his hand crept up under her dress until he found her most intimate parts. Through her lace panties, John rubbed his fingers against her core until he found her clit, eliciting a moan from her lips. John only pulled away from her lips enough to say, “You like that, huh?” To which she only let out pathetic whimpers.

After toying with her for a few minutes, his hand moved up to the waistband of her panties, ripping them off her body. But once they were off, John couldn’t wait anymore, he just wanted his wife to feel good. So without warning, he fell to his knees in front of her, throwing her legs over his shoulders and lifting her skirt so he could reach her core. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “And so wet for me.” His face then moved closer to her core, kissing up her thighs as he went. She could already feel the coil in her stomach tightening in anticipation. John started with small licks to her clit and she nearly whined but she suppressed the noises. But when his tongue delved inside of her, she couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up, grasping her husband’s long hair. He let out a soft groan of pleasure as she grasped his hair, beginning to grind herself against his face, anxious for her own undoing. But when he returned his tongue to her clit and brought two fingers inside of her, pumping and curling them, the coil snapped and she came on his face.

“John,” she moaned, desperate.

“Yes?” he asked with a satisfied smirk on his face. She was still breathing heavily from her first orgasm, unable to answer. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked with a knowing smirk. She only nodded desperately. His smirk widened into a smile as he stood up, looming over his wife. She crawled further up the bed, bringing her body from the edge as she laid her head against the pillows. John stood, removing his trousers. His cock immediately springing up, already hard. He pulled a condom out of his pants pocked, putting it on before he then kneeled in between her legs on the bed, her pussy still dripping. He leaned over her body, kissing her, one of his hands finding her still clothed breast, rubbing circles around it, occasionally brushing over it. “Take it off,” he said in a gruff voice, going back to kissing her once he finished speaking. She didn’t have to be told twice, hands reaching down to pull the dress up. John helped her get it over her head, leaving her body bare to him for the first time. Sure, they had been close to each other before, but bare, they their bodies truly fit together like puzzle pieces.

She moaned, letting his mouth muffle the noise. John then moved from her lips, kissing down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, straight down her stomach, before kissing her clit again. He then moved back up, kissing her again so she could taste herself. “Are you ready,” he whispered, lips ghosting over hers. She nodded emphatically, brushing their noses together accidentally. “I need you to say it,” he insisted. He needed a full green light from her before he took her virginity.

“Yes John,” she breathed. “Fuck me, make me yours.” With another kiss John thrust himself inside of her, slow and gentle. He had to restrain himself from jackhammering her into the bed and abusing her pussy. She let out a moan too loud at the intrusion, her husband’s hand quickly clamping over her mouth to silence her. “Wouldn’t want the guards to know what I’m doing to you,” he grunted into her ear.

She just moaned softer, her fingers finding his back. One arm grasped where his neck connected to his shoulder, holding on for dear life. While the other arm was clutching his lower back, careful to avoid his tattoos, nails digging into the skin as she urged him to go faster. Fortunately, he got the message because he began to pick up the pace, soft groans filling her ears. Eventually he pulled away from her, going up on his knees, bringing her hips with him. She nearly screamed as he hit a new spot inside of her but his look kept her quiet. But when the coil snapped again and she came all over his cock, she bit her lip to keep her screams at bay. John continued fucking into her until his hips began to stutter and he came.

Once he finished, he pulled out of her, making her whine at the loss of his fullness. A smile crept on his face as he mode to lay on his side, his head propped on his arm. Meanwhile, she turned onto her side to face him. “God, that was… you were incredible.”

John chuckled, his free hand brushing the hair out of her face and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before his hand slid down to rest on her hip. “Not bad for an older guy?” he joked, now able to look back and laugh about the night’s earlier incident.

“You’re not old,” she insisted. “Sorry about your back,” she apologized, remembering how she had dug her nails in.

“Trust me, I’ve been through worse,” he assured, pressing another kiss to her forehead. He couldn’t get enough of her. “C’mon,” he said, getting up, “let’s get you cleaned up.” He led her to the ensuite bathroom, immediately pushing her to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He then wasted no time turning the shower on, letting it warm up quickly. As the water warmed up, John grabbed a washcloth, wetting it before bringing it over. He kneeled in front of his wife once again, gently nudging her legs apart so he could clean all the slick from between her thighs. She shivered as the cool cloth touched her hot skin, and she grasped his shoulder for stability.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Of course,” he returned with a soft smile. That night they just held each other, soaking in one another’s warmth.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love I

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: An awkward meeting leads to an awkward wedding leads to an awkward night.

Warning: Minimal use of Y/N, forced marriage, awkwardness, canon level violence, cursing, mentions of childbirth.

Word Count: 4k

Masterlist

“Y/N? Your father wants to see you,” one of the maids informed her as she laid in the sun, absorbing the warmth.

“Where is he?” the heiress asked, turning to look at the maid with a squint despite her sunglasses already blocking the sun.

“His study,” the maid answered with a kind smile. “He told me he has a meeting in half-an-hour so you should hurry.”

“Thank you,” the girl said, dismissing her as she threw a sundress over her body to cover up. She quickly walked into the penthouse of the New York skyscraper, intent to find her father. When Viggo Tarasov requested your presence, you went to him. Especially if you were his family. His daughter was eternally at his beck and call, doing everything he wanted, no matter what. Mostly making appearances when he couldn’t and when they were too complicated or important for her stupid brother. She paced the familiar path to her father’s study on the top floor, considering what he needed. There weren’t any events that she knew of that she’d have to attend in his place. Maybe it was a slightly more informal dinner.

Her questions ceased as she finally reached her father’s study, knocking on the door to be let in. Once her father granted access, she softly opened the door to enter, closing it behind her. “You wanted to see me, oтец?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, beckoning her closer. She sat across from his desk in an uncomfortably sleek chair, concern starting to set in. He looked stressed, as if afraid to tell her something. “I have some news,” he began nervously, delaying the inevitable. “You’re getting married,” he blurted out.

His daughter just stared at him, blinking rapidly. “What?” Arranged marriages in the mob weren’t unheard of but they were usually more of a suggestion than force. She was also blindsided by the fact that she was being pushed to be married so young, having thought she had earned enough of her father’s respect to not just be forced into the wife role. “Do I at least get a say in this?”

“Доча, the needs of the family come before us as individuals. Our family needs you to get married.”

“To who?” she demanded.

The nervous look came over Viggo’s face again. He sat back in his chair, fiddling with his pen as he considered his next words. “One of my men. I’ve sensed that he’s slipping and I need to keep him loyal. He’s too invaluable to me to let go and if he’s married to my daughter, then we’ll be family. He’s an honorable man, he won’t betray family.”

“If he’s slipping will he even want to marry me?” she prodded against her father’s plan, doubting it’s validity.

“Every man that has ever worked for me would kill to be the one to marry you,” Viggo told his daughter. She uncomfortably pulled the hem of her sundress down, suddenly feeling self conscious of all the times she had walked around her own home scantily clad.

“Then who is it?” she asked the most dreaded question.

Viggo sighed before answering. “John Wick.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “As in Baba Yaga?” she asked. She had heard of her father’s favorite assassin’s brutality. Rumor had it, her father had decided to hire him after he murdered three men with a pencil in a bar fight.

“Yes,” her father confirmed. “But don’t fear. He is an honorable man. He will protect you. He has been the one to watch you when I didn’t need him for another task.”

The heiress’ eyes opened impossibly wider. She knew of the regular security that surrounded her whenever she was working for her father, but not of the deadliest assassin.

“Come,” Viggo began, standing up. “You can meet him,” he said, taking advantage of her shocked state. She followed obediently, too surprised to really argue. He led her to the door, simply opening it to reveal The Boogeyman sitting on a sofa in the foyer of the top floor. Upon noticing the door open, John stood to greet his boss and fiancée.

“Доча, I want you to meet John Wick, your fiancé,” Viggo smiled, introducing his daughter to his best assassin. John felt wrong looking down at the twenty-year old girl. Her eyes were wide with poorly disguised fear. She was clearly informed of his role in her father’s mob and was afraid of him—rightfully so. Given her current reaction, in the past she had had no idea of his presence when he was tasked with her safety. Now, as her husband, he would be her bodyguard 24/7.

The assassin strode up to her confidently, extending his hand, trying his best to not seem like a threat. She reacted, placing her hand in his, allowing him to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Y/N,” he greeted with the slightest nod. He had to admit, a part of him felt lucky to marry Viggo Tarasov’s daughter. There were no shortage of inappropriate comments made about her passed among Viggo’s men. Although, John ultimately felt pity, knowing that she was more than likely being forced into this.

“Mr. Wick,” she greeted slightly awkwardly, unsure how to behave in this situation.

John chuckled slightly, endeared by her nervousness. “Call me John,” he insisted. “You will be my wife within the month. I think we can be on a first name basis,” he tried to put her at ease. But instead she tensed up again, turning to her father.

“We’ll be married within the month?”

Both Viggo’s assassin and daughter could see his guilt despite his efforts to remain in control in front of his employee. “Yes,” he confirmed once again. “Best to get it over with. Neither I nor John have the time for you to plan a wedding. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he dismissed himself, quickly retreating back into his study.

The newfound couple watched him go, unimpressed with the way he just shut himself up in his office, waiting for his blindsided daughter to go away. John turned to his bride, admiring her furrowed brows and locked jaw. When he was told of him impending marriage he had been afraid that he’d just be locked further into his contract with Viggo. But that tiny display of defiance gave him hope that he could love Tarasov’s daughter, and that maybe one day she’d love him back.

~

Y/N found herself standing in front of the chapel doors in a plain white dress, clutching a bouquet of flowers that didn’t match with the colors of the flowers dotting what she could see of the venue.

“Stop fussing,” her father reprimanded, tired of her fidgeting. She immediately halted, resisting the urge to tap her fingers against the bouquet or tap her foot.

Eventually the music changed and the doors swung open. The bride didn’t even process the slow trek down the aisle until she was being handed off to her soon to be husband. And even then she didn’t hear any of the officiant’s words, all she could focus on were John’s large, rough, warm hands holding hers. And then all of a sudden those hands were on her jaw, giving her a brief yet sweet kiss.

It wasn’t until they had reached one of the private rooms away from the crowd that the bride felt herself breathe for the first time that day. “Are you ok?” John asked his new wife, having noticed her blank yet anxious stare as soon as he had lifted the veil over her head.

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

John nodded, noticing a pitcher of water and some glasses that had been set aside for them on a table. He grabbed it, pouring his bride a glass of water before bringing it over to her. He handed it to her wordlessly while gently guiding her to a loveseat. She took a seat as he sat next to her, watching her as she focused intently on the glass in her hand.

The assassin took a deep breath, preparing to say the words he needed to get out before everyone came looking for the newlyweds. “Look, I know you didn’t choose this and I'm sorry. I know I scare you given the stories you hear and what I do for your father but I swear to you that I will be a good husband. No one will ever hurt you, I’ll make sure of that. And I will be whatever you want or need. I can be your husband, your friend, or I can just hide in the shadows and we’ll only see each other at thanksgiving and Christmas,” he offered, eliciting a light chuckle. “Whatever you want I'm there for you. But no matter what life you choose—leaving this all behind or running the whole mob yourself—I will always protect you.”

The bride’s gaze flickered down, finding his hand resting on his thigh. She reached out, grasping it in her smaller hand. “Thank you,” she said. John nodded gratefully but he was more grateful for her voluntary touch. “I know this wasn’t your choice either so don’t feel obligated to stay.”

“I want to,” he assured her, their gazes locked. But hearing footsteps approaching the door, John’s gaze flicked up just as the door opened. Viggo came in along with his lawyer, the officiant, Iosef, and a few other members of the Tarasov family.

“Отец,” Y/N greeted, standing up.

“You did good,” Viggo praised his daughter, pressing a kiss to each cheek. “Before we get all the paperwork started, I’d like to give you my gift,” he smiled as John came to stand next to his bride.

“That’s not necessary, sir,” John insisted like he was supposed to. “You’ve already done too much.” Like pay for my loyalty with your child and a wedding no one asked for.

“I insist. Anything for my daughter and new son-in-law,” the mob boss smiled. He then pulled an envelope from his pocket, handing it to his daughter.

She opened it, eyes widening when she saw two tickets to France along with a few other payments. “Отец! Thank you but you didn’t have to.”

Viggo’s smile grew wider, noticing the way John seemed to squirm. They both knew what was happening. Every “gift” the mob boss gave to the assassin and his daughter was another nail in the coffin for John. He’d be indebted to Tarasov family forever. “Like I said, anything for my daughter and son-in-law. Now let’s get the boring stuff out of the way so we can get the party started.”

The couple smiled nervously at the mob boss, each taking a seat at the table where several documents had been laid out. They signed the standard marriage documents quickly but when it came to the mob’s documents, they took longer. John meticulously read over each one, looking mildly conflicted before signing each one. No one spoke as they progressed through the mountain of papers. Each one slid over to the bride was only there for enough time for her to sign, before either John or the lawyer took it away from her. Once she was done, her bridesmaid was let into the room, ushering her back to the bridal suite while the men continued to sign documents and make snide comments.

Eventually the couple was reunited in order to enter their reception and have their first dance. “Sorry about the lifetime of mind games you’re about to endure,” Y/N murmured.

John kept his face stern, observing his wife’s entire family over her head. “Don’t apologize, I’ve been playing these games all my life.”

She just let out a soft hum as her husband spun her around the dance floor. “What was on those documents no one would let me read? You can tell me, I’ve handled more unsavory deals for my father.”

John considered her words. “It was mostly just stuff about my loyalty to the Tarasovs. Those contracts are air tight. We can never get divorced.”

“Oh,” was all she said. Her response hung in the air between them like a wedge. In their very brief time together, Y/N had decided she didn’t want to divorce John. She thought he felt the same based on their earlier conversation but she must have misinterpreted.

“They also tried to sneak in a clause about producing an heir,” he added casually.

“What?” she said, her voice louder than intended. She also froze where she stood, completely taken aback by the news. But John tugged her along the dance floor anyways, trying to cover up her slight blunder.

“Relax,” he urged, feeling how tense she had become. “I had them take it out once you left.” The bride relaxed slightly, relieved. “It said we had to have a child each year until we had a son but I made them remove any mention of us having a child.”

She shuddered at the thought of being so carefully watched but was extremely grateful for John’s protection. “Thanks for that. I… uh…” she didn’t even know what to say. She didn’t want to have a baby so young. She especially didn’t want to be forced to have one every year until she had a boy. What was this? the 15th century?

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her as the song ended.

There were a few cheers from the crowd as the couple walked over to their table before being served. Despite spending practically the whole night in their seats, they hardly ate. The bride was having her attention constantly pulled towards other relatives while the groom was keeping a constant eye out for any threats. This was supposed to be his now family, he had worked with them for years. But given the amount of paperwork he just had to sign, Viggo Tarasov didn’t trust him and in return, John didn’t trust his father-in-law one bit.

Eventually the couple was able to retire to their suite for the night, both giving them a chance to breathe and to answer the most awkward question of the night: would they consummate their marriage?

As John opened the door, allowing his wife to step in, she froze as soon as she entered. The room was lavish. There was a gold dish piled with strawberries next to a bottle of iced champagne. Rose petals and candles littered the room, surrounding the plush looking bed that had rose petals forming a heart. But most horrifyingly, there was a set of white lingerie in the center of the heart. But before she could do anything about it, John was snatching the lace up, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry, I told them not to do all of this,” he apologized, turning to his wife.

She just wrapped her arms around herself, feeling incredibly vulnerable. “Guess they still really want us to have a son,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Her husband gave her a smile, going over to grab their bags that had been placed by the door. “You can take the bed, I’ll take the floor,” he offered.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that,” she insisted, feeling bad. “The bed is more than big enough. We can share. No strings attached,” she offered.

He nodded before grabbing some things out of his bag and locking himself into the en-suite bathroom. She immediately took the opportunity mess up the petals on the bed before turning on the tv to have some background noise. Seeing as John was in the bathroom and she was beginning to get uncomfortable in the dress, she went to her bag to grab the pajamas she had packed. But instead was met by even more lingerie having replaced the comfy sweatpants and tshirt she packed. She let out a frustrated groan. What did they expect her to wear tomorrow if they had taken all her clothes? Grabbing her phone from out of her bag, she frustratedly called her cousin who acted as her maid of honor.

“Caterina,” she whisper-yelled through the phone, “where the hell are all my clothes.”

A few giggles could be heard over the phone and she had a feeling she was on speaker phone with all the other bridesmaids too. “So I see you thought you could get away with not making love to your husband tonight,” Caterina teased.

“How-,” she disregarded her own question. “Gross, don’t phrase it that way.”

“Well it’s true. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Second, you wouldn’t even know your clothes were missing if you hadn’t disregarded the bridal set on the bed.”

“Well what am I supposed to wear tomorrow then? Did you even consider that?”

“Yes I did,” she stated smugly. “Your clothes will be delivered in the morning but in the meantime try on a few sets.” More giggles came over the phone.

“I hate you,” the embarrassed bride said before hanging up the phone.

She turned, trying to work up the nerve to ask her husband to borrow some clothes when the door to the bathroom swung open. He was now dressed in only a white tank top still tucked into his tux pants. In his hand was a pile of folded clothes which he held out to her before placing them on the bed. “I heard your conversation,” he explained.

“Thanks,” she said, relieved. “Just one thing. Can you… um… help me?” she asked sheepishly, pointing to the back of her dress. It was held in place by several buttons running down her back and it had taken two of her bridesmaids buttoning to get it on in a timely manner.

“Sure,” he said, stepping closer as she turned around. When she moved to pull her hair out of the way, she found her husband’s fingers already doing it for her, ghosting over her neck before returning to her back. She thanked him again as his fingers worked intently to unfasten her dress. With each released button, more of her skin was exposed to the assassin’s, allowing his fingers to brush against her bare back, igniting a spark that both felt. But both ignored it as John progressed down until he undid the final button at her lower back.

He stepped back as she turned to face him, clutching the dress to her body. “Thank you,” she said, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t about to drop the dress while he was still there. He just nodded before turning, returning to the bathroom, allowing her to get a peek of the tattoos decorating his back. But before she could make out anything distinct, the bathroom door was closed again. Instead of dwelling on it, she just quickly changed into the shirt he provided. It smelled like cigarettes and cedar—surprisingly comforting. She took a look at the sweatpants he had offered but decided they were too big and wouldn’t be comfortable since she’d be so preoccupied with keeping them on. So instead she just opted to wear one of the many pairs of panties she was given, letting the t-shirt just fall to her mid-thighs.

By the time John came out of the bathroom, showered wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, he found his wife sat on the edge of the bed watching the news. His eyes fell to her exposed legs, the shirt he had leant her riding dangerously high due to her sitting position. He tried his best to ignore it, sitting at the head of the bed but not getting in just yet. Upon feeling the bed dip, his wife turned, giving him a slight smile before getting up and heading into the bathroom. He once again averted his gaze as she walked, the shirt coming up higher with every step. Once she disappeared into the bathroom, John put a gun under his pillow. Just in case.

Soon enough she exited the bathroom, rounding the bed to her side before getting in. John followed suit, slipping under the covers and shutting off the tv. “Goodnight,” he bid before rolling to his side, facing away from her.

“Goodnight,” she bid her husband in return.

Masterlist

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love Masterlist

John Wick x Reader ~ Completed

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with his boss' daughter.

Warning: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence, smut, jealous!john, weapons, inaccurate medical descriptions, injuries, mentions of SA, cursing, alcohol, I'm sure some other stuff I'm forgetting.

Main Masterlist

Part I

An awkward meeting leads to an awkward wedding leads to an awkward night.

Part II

The newlyweds get to know each other on their honeymoon.

Part III

After an attack on his wife, John decides he needs to retire. But retired life isn't as safe as he thought it was.

Part IV

John returns to his old life just to finish some business.

Part V

John finishes what his brother-in-law started.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

me literally in the middle of writing smut: i should check my march madness bracket