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rise-my-angel · 7 months ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

55 - Fear Overtakes a Night

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.7k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, disturbing imagery, blood and violence, character death, suicidal ideation, mentions of kidnapping

Notes: Takes place immediately after the events of the past chapter. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It was not often Jon Snow could say he felt too overwhelmed. If nothing else, he would rather be surrounded on all sides in battle then this. Having to trust solely in forces he could not at all control as you were out there without him. Each sound which was not an answer to where you were, was too much. The crackle of the fire beside him, the feet pacing somewhat beside him and the muffled sounds of speaking both inside the room and out in the courtyard.

He knew why you did it, only a few seconds was there between any of you to figure something out and you took the hardest one for Jon to accept. So close to Castle Black and you could survive the way back but for once you forced his hand. Dropping to the freezing waters below and risking where it took you to wind up in order to get the wights as far from him and the baby as possible. You hadn't been willing to risk anything else coming in the encroaching nights too.

You knew Jon wouldn't accept the most drastic choice but it was the one with the least risk for the most people and you for once, didn't let Jon choose. You trusted in your instincts, and he had to trust in it as well but now he was here and he felt wrong for not going back out there. But starting another argument over it wasn't worth it, but if Jon looked to his right he would see Meera still pacing back and forth knowing she was just as frustrated.

Now that the baby would be safe inside, Jon wanted to go get you and the moment it was said he needed to be here for the baby if you couldn't then Meera said she'd go back out there now that Bran was somewhere safe as well. But it was pointed out that Yara was with you, and two direwolves were out there looking for you as well, one of which with the eyes and mind of Bran. Jon had conceded on only one stipulation.

If you were not back by the time the sun went down in barley less then two hours, Jon would go back out there no matter who argued what.

Having moved Bran inside by the fire, across from him was where Jon sat now. His eyes switching consistently between his brother and his son. Bran sitting back, eyes shifting in white painted place since the moment he had warged into Summer to look for you. By Jons feet, a small sort of basket almost was home to a small bundle, now comfortable and asleep as he was warm by a fire inside.

Strange he thought, that this was the first time his son had ever even been out of the cold properly, a week old and still peace had not been found for him. But looking at him, Jon knew there was something else on his mind. If he hadn't really known what to say to his brothers in the Nights Watch about returning with a newborn, what was he going to say to his people? You had asked him almost in a quiet joke, and he gave a joke of an answer but now he had to truly think on it.

Few would've known. Sam knew, Arya knew, and he suspected Maester Wolkan had long since figured it out since the day he came to him asking about how he determined your fertility months before. The three of them wouldn't have spread that around, and being gone six months meant that they would all figure out Jon had left with you already knowing you were pregnant.

So much to do, to be brought up to speed about, so much deciding on what his people needed to know about what had happened out there. What had you and Jon learned? And his answer even before finding Bran again had already been too much. You and Jon had learned too much. There was no doubt in his mind, why you chose the drastic choice to get the wights as far from him and the baby as possible, to the detriment of your own safety. Danger had snapped you out of the dark fog in your head and thrust you into a life or death fight and you made the one choice you knew Jon would never do.

That if it came down to you, or Jon and the baby, you'd never choose to risk them. Not before, and certainly not now. But that same truth was why Jon was so angry when being told to trust in who was out there to find you already. Because to some degree, his Uncle Benjen seemed to know too and insisted Jon not needlessly risk himself out there in the dark.

It was the first time in over five years did the men here learn that Benjen Stark was alive, and within those first minutes here, did they also witness the degree of anger brewing between uncle and nephew, until they nearly shouted at each other out in the middle of the courtyard.

Jon had left Castle Black with you and Ghost alone, and returned half a year later without you, without Ghost, with a newborn, with two teenagers and Benjen Stark. He left with a stern confidence in what you were both doing, and had returned in the middle of a disorganized disaster. Meera had been the one to suggest getting Bran and the baby inside and Jon spared no more time in gently getting her to carry the baby as he picked his brother up himself, trying not to jostle him in case he pulled him out of Summers mind at a dangerous time.

He had only vaguely heard a comment from Edd as he and Meera left the spectacle outside. “To think, we could've had those two screaming at each other for entertainment years ago.”

Meera piped up suddenly from the quiet behind the crackling fire. “Can I ask?” Jon only somewhat turning his head to look at her with a question in his own gaze, forcing her to clarify. “Out there, before we found you two. Why were you all the way out there?”

Brows furrowing a little bit, Jon contemplated that very question himself in moments like now. But with a rough low tone, he could only throw the same question back. “What were you all doing out there?”

Her face fell, if only for a moment before shaking it out of her expression. Arms crossing over her chest, she joined in the small area by the fire with a hesitation in the slow manner she sat down. Head hanging a bit, Jon did not rush her. Logic pointed him in a direction he knew was agony to retread in one's mind. Glancing up to look at the white eyed Bran, she sighed deeply before finally speaking. Only just loud enough no one would hear unless mere feet away. “It was my brother. He had these visions.” Your name coming from her mouth and Jon willed his heart to not scream at him once more. “Similar to the ones she has. He had gotten them for years, but only recently did they start to change. Get more..intense. He'd spend hours in his chambers writing down what he saw trying to make sense of it all. I finally asked him about it one day, and he said he was having these dreams of a Three Eyed Crow.”

Pushing up a bit, his forearms across his knee, a hand bracing in the same spot as one could only prey he looked as impassive as he was attempting to be. “Your father told her it's called the Sight.”

Meera nodded, her tone attempting to be as even has Jons attempt in his heart once more. “That's what the First Men called it, the Children of the Forest say they call it something else-” Jon interrupted her with a more striking confusion, repeating in question of the Children and her eyes closed the length it took to sigh out in something defeated. “We..met one. There's not many of them left, but..one helped us when we..”

Fading out, Jon recognized the look hiding behind her gaze as the one he would hide himself. A strangling grief of watching something happen before your eyes and feeling that haunt of failing them. Jon if he allowed himself, and certainly did he swallow it back down to not do so, might still have been able to feel the way he could almost feel Rickons hand grasping his. Jon didn't need specifics to gather the remains of what happened to her brother out there, and he pushed passed it for her sake.

Leaning a big more towards her with his only sliver of comfort existing in his tense nerves. “So, your brother has visions of this crow, where does Bran come into that?” He wanted to ask where you came into that as well, but he had a feeling that answer she did not have.

Both Jon and Meera's heads turned to look at him, the white eyes out somewhere in the northern cold doing what the wolf within him was raging to do himself. The man still in his blood forced to listen to his own questions answer before the other side of him was overpowered again. “The Three Eyed Crow, he said it was a being, a person not just something in his dreams. And he was showing him things, visions of the future and somewhere in there Bran was apart of that. It took him some time to put it together, but he realized one day, that whoever this Three Eyed Crow was, he was summoning Jojen to come forth and bring Bran all the way to him.”

“Why?”

Swallowing rough enough Jon could see the motion moving against her tense muscles, she looked at his brother once more with something distantly wide eyed of her own pain, different though from before. “To train him. To be like him. To be him one day.” Head moving back, Jon should have felt stunned and yet only more confusion washed over him. “He needed someone with power as strong as Brans to become him, and he was right..”

Eeiry yet innocent Bran looked to Jon. Just a boy of fourteen, still a child. “So the Three Eyed Crow is a man,” Meera nodded. “And he wanted my little brother to risk going all across the far North to find him, how would he even know who he was?”

The confusion he felt was not found to be fixed by Meera, her frustration radiated off of her to match what came off of Jon all the same. “He said he had watched us our entire lives. I don't know why. I wasn't there to learn, I was only there to help get Bran there. And back now. I don't know much of how it works, I only know what I was told.”

Had he allowed it, Jon knew what her tone was falling into. A sense of failure, falling up short and doubting her importance in a world far bigger then her alone, and he leaned forward closer to where she sat with a voice as careful as his expression hoped to not be so stern. “You kept my brother safe, Meera.” Reaching a hand forward, he let it grip firmly against her shoulder with a slight jostle to emphasize his words. “Anything could have killed him out there, but you kept him safe. Bran won't forget that, and neither will I.”

He didn't bring up Jojen, and if her smile begging to be as small as it was watering, she appreciated it. Jon knew both what it was like to watch his brother die, and to not have even a scrap of him to bury in the family crypt. She had it both in one brother, whereas Jons pain was spread across many. He could only count what little blessings he's ever held, that Rickon was safe in his home buried beside their father.

Cautious he felt about asking anything else, murmuring her name gently, she sniffed before letting her head shoot up and wipe away the tears not yet fallen. The mask hardly in place, but put up all the same and Jon could only keep a comforting hand right where it stayed as long as Meera so clearly felt the need to fall apart. She was still only a girl, that pain was not easy to square away at such an age.

Later, Jon told himself. Ask about the rest later. He wasn't here to ambush her at her most vulnerable for answers. He could ask his uncle, but Jon felt that anger still not yet simmered in his gut about the rest of it. He loved his Uncle Benjen, but he had not a clue what Jon felt sitting here while you were out there. He could never understand the shaking in his blood howling to go out there right now and protect you.

Scold you for doing what you did before wrapping you up something warm, and bringing you and the baby home before he did a single other thing. And instead of doing that as he sat there, Benjen was forcing Jon to wait to let Bran handle it, to give you a chance to get here on your own instead of rushing back out when it was getting dark. Benjen was pleading reason to Jon man to man.

But part of Jon returned to life something different. And that part of him felt a blazing fire within him for not going out there to rescue you. Jon could tell himself with reason all he wished, that he was not a wolf. But his blood screamed otherwise. That meant you were his mate, the one who travelled across a frozen wasteland carrying his pup inside of you to follow him to the end of the Northern lands for answers to the darkness.

And when he finally got you out of such lands, he had been apart from you twice. Once by force, and now by your own choice to protect him and the baby. But you were just as important as the baby. Eddard was part of him as much as he was part of you. You delivered him into this world together, only you two together. You took up such a space in his mind, his heart and soul that asking him to be patient about being apart from you was as good as torturing him.

It wasn't his uncle's fault he didn't understand that, but it made the wolf within the darker parts of Jon now, angry all the same. Nothing could happen to you. Jon had a whole future he wanted nothing more then to share with you. He promised everything would be alright. He promised he would get the four of you home. And you had given him promises too. You had promised Jon a daughter. He had promised you a son and now you had that, you needed to return to him to fulfill your end of such a deal. He needed to give you a daughter, to bring her down to his mother in the crypts and tell her that her granddaughter has her name. That he refused to let her memory be shoved down or forgotten ever again and she still lives on in Jon, with you and with the children Jon wanted to have together with you.

Jon needed you back. He needed to share the life with you and his son, that his mother never even had a choice in getting. Jon was conceived out of violence and force, his son nothing but love and want. He needed you back to raise him together, so his mother didn’t die for his life in vain.

A strange time to think it he knew, but as Jon sat there part of him wondered. He always would ask himself growing up if he thought his mother would like him, but now Jon had another question he was sure of the answer of. Was he right in thinking too that his mother would like you?

See you as family the way Ned Stark did? You had been half raised in Winterfell, his little brothers and sisters considered you a big sister long before you joined their House through marriage. He never had a chance to see you and his father once you became a Stark, but Jon imagined that he treated you exactly like he’d treat Arya or Sansa. Before he understood they were real, he’d think he was imagining you and his father in what he thought he imagined as well was Kings Landing.

Always by each others side, you both had been arrested together. His father injured, it would’ve hurt to leave the girls behind but it no doubt broke your heart knowing you too had to leave Ned Stark behind when you escaped. Should Jon for whatever reason ever meet Ser Barristan Selmy, Jon had more then just a thank you to offer him though.

His father confessed to a treason he did not commit to protect his children, and Joffery murdered him anyways. But you? You wouldn’t ever have broken. Certainly not then. You’d have died without giving a final word too, or even wanting one. The world took so much away from Jons family, then took you, and now that you two had each other it still tried taking you away time after time. A test Jon could not stop facing, and now he was being asked to sit here and let you take that test yourself without him to protect you the way he promised you he would.

But the minutes ticked away, Jon and Meera in the quiet together. Bran's eyes far from here, and his son sleeping soundly next to him. Jon would join his brother here and now, but his son needed him too.

Suddenly, Edds jokes about being surprised Jon and you hadn't even had one child yet months ago, was no longer a funny memory between jesting brothers. Jon had walked through that gate into the courtyard of Castle Black with a baby in his arms and no longer was a single bit of it funny when you hadn't come in beside him.

And nothing would be right to Jon until you were.

“Is it possible for you to explain to me what is going on here, exactly?” Yara's tone was far more aggravating in your ear the more your knee shot pain down with each step you limped. Eyes peeling over to the still very human eyes within Summer, it seemed Bran was not leaving his direwolf's mind until you reached safety, but is also at the least meant that even in silence you had someone who understood even part of your anger.

Swallowing roughly with a sound akin to clearing your throat, your tone was cracked a little from withholding another wince at a rough step. “Those things that attacked us, those are wights. People who have died and were brought back with some form of power.” Asking in what you detected was a mocking tone if it was like you, and your expression flattened without ever deterring from watching forward where you could see Ghost scouting ahead. “No. These are different. I- I'm not even sure how human they are anymore. They're mostly meat for an army.”

You could feel her glance at you, a trepidation that told she seemed to have seen something that did not make you sound entirely out of your mind right away, but spoke around it. “And whose army are they for?”

To phrase it, you'd have to sift through too much you knew and too little you could comprehend alone, and so you phrased it the way it was to you that first horrible day in Castle Black. “I presume you know the story of the Long Night?” Yara was silent, but a glance partially to your side told you she gave a small nod once she noticed your head turn. “It's true, all of it. And once the worst of winter hits Westeros, they will come with it. They send wights out to hunt for people and kill them so the Others can come in the aftermath and bring them to life of their own to hunt for more people. Jon brought all of the remaining Free Folk south of the wall to protect them, but with no one around anymore I think they've started to spread out to find anyone.”

Low and a surprising understanding Yara held beside you. “They're getting desperate.” That time you were the one to give the only nod, and she followed herself up. “You seemed quick to give yourself up to them.”

Not a moment had passed long enough for a single breath did it take for you to snap with a sternness sharp on your tongue. “I did what I did to protect the others. They attacked me, so that means it was my responsibility to ensure they didn't attack the rest. Or let them stay long enough in case more were to follow.” She said nothing for a moment before you filled the air again. “Why did you not just let me go? You had the opportunity, there was every reason to think I'd land in the river all the same. Why not stay and get to Castle Black?”

Part of you wished to not care for whatever conflict was tied within her, but much to the impatience the exhaustion and pain were forcing you into feeling, you did not lack the compassion of knowing that despite the confrontation nearly an hour ago by now, she still had gone with you and it was not simple letting go of that fact. Yara did not have to jump with you.

Not demanding any response, the only sounds around were the moving of feet and paws by along the snowy ground when she was quiet. The head of Summer tilting slightly from where he walked beside you to listen, indicating still, Bran had not left. “I'm not stupid.” Your brows furrowed, nearly allowing the still lingering of childish anger in you to claim you hadn't said that but chose far more maturely to remain quiet. “I've heard the stories. You were a prisoner of the Boltons while Theon was in the Dreadfort. You were there the night I tried to come for him. Which means without even realizing it, you already knew that I had abandoned him. And I know when by brother finally escaped, he helped you escape with him. I left him behind, but he didn't leave you behind.”

Strange such events all occurred in your time in a dungeon cell in such imposing darkness. Only a few torchlight's along the corridor wall was light for your eyes but in those days you were hardly alive to notice. You recalled hearing the muffle of bells above, but feverish and delirious you were not aware of what was happening and what was mocking you from your previous life. By the time the Boltons had taken you with them to Winterfell, you hadn't realized you would wish to go back to the months down in that cell instead.

Yara at the least, took your silence as the respect you meant it with. Giving her time to process whatever her own point was coming towards.

“But you were right. I don't know what happened to him. Not really. Ramsay sent me and my father a box with my brothers severed cock in it, and I defied his orders to go rescue what of him was left. And I left him there because I'm selfish. Because I didn't want to risk my life trying to drag Theon with me by force when he was so out of his mind.” Everything mixing with the pain in your body already, you did not wish to add that gut churning horror to it.

There was a very short list of people who knew about that, and even fewer who knew the story of how it happened at all. That list previously was only two, you and Theon alone. You had never spoken of it since he said it, though if you were being honest with yourself, if you didn't care so much about him, maybe you would've told her. Considering what he ended up telling Jon about what Ramsay had- you cut that thought off just as both direwolves looked to you as if picking up the distress. So you shoved it back down, shaking your head slightly at Bran in particular.

He didn't know any of these things either until now.

Fair was fair however, and Yara had been honest with you. So you gave her an honest to put it into perspective where you stood with your anger. “The night we escaped I was going to end my life. I couldn't take the torture they put us through anymore and I needed it to stop. So he got me out. Everything felt like a blur around me, so Theon, despite being as weak as I was by that point, just grabbed me. Practically picked me up and jumped from the battlements to the ground.”

The eyes on you that time meant nothing, your own wide and lost in the memory. The way he grabbed your arms to force you to listen to him, because he needed you as you needed him. Your voice as far away as your gaze continued. “Once we were outside the walls, he grabbed my hand and we just ran into the woods. Never letting go because even though I was surely slowing him down, he refused to leave me there. After everything we had been through, and everything since..it's difficult to remember the fact that I was right alongside Robb when ordering Theon be brought to us to execute.”

Summers eyes were narrow, but Yaras were wide and those were the ones you met. Her face twisted into something full of both doubt and guilt, the former it seemed not directed to you though. “I sent him two ravens after our father died. I wanted him to come home. He's my brother and he was alive, I wanted him to come back to his home, his family.”

Her head dropped a bit, brows furrowing as she struggled to say it at all. But before you had any other words for her, she found a memory in her mind, the last true time she saw Theon before leaving him to a fate worse then death. Her men all at a dining hall in Winterfell as he came storming up to her, angry that she was bringing him home, and how he had refused to agree to leave. Sending her men all away, Yara tried to convince Theon not to die alone there, but he had insisted he didn't intend to die. She had stepped back, and in truth, it was the last thing she really ever said to him that mattered.

“You were a terrible baby, do you know that? Bawling all the time, never sleeping. And one night, you just wouldn't shut up, screaming like a dying pig. I walked over to your crib, I looked down at you. I wanted to strangle you. And you looked up at me and you stopped screaming. You smiled at me. Don’t die so far from the sea.”

You would never speak for Theon without knowing what he really felt, not with the way you two left things. You could though, speak for yourself. Never had you had a real brother. Four intended to be, and all four were gone before birth. Bran and Rickon knew you their entire lives, and you had always treated them as much as your little brothers that you had treated Sansa and Arya as your sisters. You had a personal guard growing up on Dragonstone, and in his own way, somewhere out there a man by the name of Allard Seaworth was like an older brother to you. Even more so, in their own even more bizarre fashions, Olly and Gendry were something like brothers to you as well.

But none of them felt like a real brother the way Theon did. No words could describe what being forced to endure as both of you had in trauma could do to bond you both together. Which meant, it was reason to suspect that some of the hostility here was far less complicated then you previously thought. That maybe Yara hated you, because you were more of a sister to her brother without being bound by blood.

The point of where this had all started, had gotten lost. You asked why she did not save herself and let you fall to the waters alone. In a roundabout way, she had, but you wondered if she was working through it herself, the why. She abandoned her real brother, and this time she chose not to abandon the person her brother had more of a sister in then her. It would not make better leaving him to Ramsay, but it made sense.

The looks between you two were silent, hers finally showing a scrap of humanity through a guilty insecurity, and you in an understanding without judgment any longer. You had no right to guilt someone else for trying to work through redeeming the worst things they'd ever done. Your eyes met Summer's though, and just as human there was more conflict you knew was deeper then hers. The direwolf tall enough even hung partially into Yaras supporting side, you could reach out to gently brush your fingers through his fur.

Just enough for Bran to sense, and just enough to tell him that his own pain wasn't alone either. Whatever he had been through since you last saw him all those years ago, it would take time getting through that. Time you suspect Bran didn't really have to cope with the pain and losses along the way.

Most of you hadn't had that for a long time.

It was getting closer. From where Jon leaned against the wooden railing, his eyes narrowed as he watched the sun ready to disappear beyond the horizon as his hands tensed. Were the gloves not in the way he had no doubt he'd be digging them into the wood to the point splinters would pierce into his skin. It felt strange in a whole new way, as did most of Jons life since he came back.

Watching his brothers around without being right down in the trenches with them, and not being the one overseeing them in command. Being King in the North did not give Jon the right to take command of what was now Edd's men, just because he used to be Lord Commander. It was also the most people he's even been around since the day he, you and Ghost set off.

Six months Jon had you to himself every single day. Even in the frozen beyond, it was still you always at his side. Never for a second did he leave you anything close to alone there, and if the past week was any indicator, Jon knew he was going to have a very serious struggle coming his way to accept that going back to Winterfell meant accepting you couldn't be at his side every hour of the day.

But Jon continued to wait. He hadn't given himself a second to breathe since arriving, ready to go right back out there the moment it was too dark for you to be out there on your own. He hadn't known where his Uncle Benjen went. Their argument about Jon going back out there to get you had gotten out of hand within minutes of the gates closing behind them all.

Imagining whatever time it was taking Jon to adjust being back here, it was even stranger for him. Being out there for years. But even through his anger, Jon felt relieved. He had always known he was out there. Jon refused to accept his uncle was dead. He had asked Lord Commander Mormont about Qhorin Halfhand on their way up to the Fist of the First Men. Hearing that he had been north of the Skirling Pass when last winter had hit, and had to wait for the thaw before coming back.

Jon had asked, and perhaps it sounded as if it were about himself but it never was. “So it is possible? For someone to survive out here on their own?” The Old Bear had joked that it was possible for the Halfhand, but now Jon knew. His own uncle had survived out there. What he was doing and why, he still did not know. But as angry as Jon was and still felt, he refused to let that push his uncle away. Jon knew he wasn't a Stark in name, but even by blood he knew all the Starks needed to be together now more then ever.

Which was why he suspected, he remained still and collected in place as he heard the approaching boots before a figure with longer black hair appeared to match his position. Forearms leaning against the railing, only his eyes on Jon instead of the melting horizon. Though, he had still let him speak first.

Benjen was calm though, as if nothing of residual frustration remained. “You wouldn't know this, but when we all went to find you out there I was the one who decided to go on my own to protect her. Bran could only give me an idea of where to go, and I was off. Didn't hesitate to rescue her from the Ironborn.”

No, Jon thought, he certainly did not know that. In fact, he hadn't thought much at all of how his uncle came across you once Benjen told him you were alive and with him. Jaw clenched somewhat, he felt himself trying to take a steadying breath before continuing. His voice just as low but with a heavy weight far more ripe with a pain riddled burden. “Assuming you aren't going to tell me how Bran knew to come find us, you're saying that you could travel quickly on your own. It makes sense you were the one to go to her.”

Nodding, Jon partially caught the sight with a slight flicker of his eyes to the side. “That was one of the reasons. But not the only one.” Jon said nothing, and yet was still blind sighted to what was about to come out of his uncle's mouth. “The main reason, was that I didn't want what happened to my sister to happen to her.” The weight now was rough with tension behind his Uncle's words, an anger long since pushed back. “Men kidnapping her to bring her far away from her family in a place she can't escape from on her own. All for one monsters selfish gain, doing gods knows what to her until shes the one who dies covered in her own blood.”

The feeling of anger was sickening in Jons throat. He couldn't do this again, it already happened to you with Ramsay and it was close to happening again with someone else? The world desperately wanted Jon to repeat the horror of what killed his mother but to happen to the woman he loves.

“I was only a boy when they took Lyanna. I couldn't do anything. But I could this time. Find her and stop it before we get there too late, and all that's left to bring home is a body. And a baby.”

If Jons heart could pound faster in his chest while remaining as still as he was, he may have gotten lightheaded. Even so, a flashing wave of something like a shock rippled through him as no doubt Benjen could read Jons reaction as good as if he spoke a single word. With no one around, Jon barley managed to let his voice scrape out “My father told-”

Interrupting, his uncle leaned closer to Jons side. “He never told me a thing. But Lyanna was my sister too. Only a few years older then me she was one of the biggest parts of my life growing up. I don't blame Ned for not thinking of it, but I don't know how I was supposed to spend so much time around you and not notice.”

His only resolve, was to stick of one side of it. Don't look beyond to the other half of this story, Jon told himself. Repeated to himself. Stick to his mother alone and maybe he could get through this conversation with his heart still partially in tact. It was coping he knew, as if he could deny it with any confidence, but Jon tried anyways. “Father said Arya looked like her, that doesn't mean-”

Benjen however had thought through whatever Jon was about to say long before he said it. “Aye, Arya looks like her. But not the way you do. You're older now then she ever was, and still it's like seeing into the past looking at you.” The laugh was more of a breathy huff, but it was genuine. “I have no idea what my brother was thinking when he assumed I had no idea. As if I wasn't going to look at you one day and not notice that you look exactly like her in every way. Well, a tad more hairy obviously.”

The fact that any form of a laugh came from Jon at all felt like a miracle the way his everything else was incredibly tense. Pushing up Jon looked around before dropping his head and tone down as if still trying to ensure the no people listening, still couldn't hear. “You know. You know I'm scared of what happened to my mother happening to my wife and you still argued against me going back out there?” Only affirming he did, Jon asked more shortly. “Why?”

“You both risked your lives trying to get back to each other once, you didn't have any choice. Too far from the Wall and a baby with you, you had to find each other. But she isn't Lyanna, and she didn't come up with that plan hoping you'd come back for her. She needs you to trust her to do it on her own.”

Eyes closing shut, Jon took much deeper breaths to will himself to come down to earth. “You don't understand what that's asking me, Uncle. No one does.” His turn to ask why, Jons hands clenched more. Pushing himself up off the railing to brace his palms on it hoping standing straighter would will the dizzy feeling growing in his head from growing stronger. “She's more then just the woman I love. I need her. More then I've never needed or wanted anything in my life, I need her. And asking me to stay here and trust she will come back on her own is asking me to to go against every single instinct I have.”

Jon knew even a sliver of this wasn't a side of his nephew Benjen had ever seen before, but there was no hiding it. “I'll love and protect him no matter what, but I don't know how I'm supposed to raise my son without her. I don't want to raise him without her. I can't give him the life I had, he deserves more then that. He needs her as much as I do.”

“If she doesn't get here by dark, I'll go with you. But she wants you to trust her. So until that happens, trust her. You've always tried going out of your way to rescue her, let her prove that she can can do the same. For you and Eddard both. As much as I know you hate it.” Jon closed his eyes with a small shake of his head, almost exhausted by how much he did hate it.

When you were unconscious in bed, Jon had jested to Selyse that loving you was a tiring thing. But at least he thought to himself, the two wolves still there watching for when it became dark, that you were nothing if not consistent in that matter.

You had no idea where the Greyjoys found their ability to never be fed up with the sounds of their own voice.

But at least in the ones you've known, it was highly consistent to the worst degree. “I'm surprised.” Not responding at all, you knew she'd continue regardless. “The way you were acting, I'd have thought you'd strap your baby to your chest with a few rocks and jump in on your own.”

A rush of something red and burning flew through you, teeth gritting as if trying to hold it at bay from seeping through but only in a short few choice words. “Fuck you.”

The fact that she laughed made you wish your leg was not screaming at you, so you could turn to her on the spot and slam her head into the nearest tree. “What? As if newborn mothers have never done anything dangerous to their children before? You act distant and depressed for days and expect me to believe you weren't considering doing anything drastic?”

Impressive it was, that you had not raised your voice back to to her, but you also did not have the energy for that anymore too. Instead choosing to remain with a seething glare spat her way as you hissed through your words. “I don't know what sort of people you've known, but it's incredibly insulting to have a person assume I'd ever do anything to harm my son.”

“Apologies for being concerned.”

She could hear you exhaling with a forceful shake to rid yourself of your ire, and she also no doubt could feel in the way you held onto her for support that you had not exhaled any of the tension in your muscles. “You tried to kill Jon, kidnap me, and sell me off to a horrid man, all within the span of three hours after giving birth. In what world would I conceive you are in any way concerned for his safety now when you weren't then?” Yara mocked back with a true audacity if all you two were going to do was argue in a circle. “Then why are you still talking?”

Barking grew in the distance, only for the large white figure of Ghost appear from where the disappeared beyond a hill. Looking to Summer, still eyes human following without leaving. Knowing, or theorizing perhaps, that if he was there this whole time, he could return to his own mind and warn everyone if something happened or was happening the moment it occurred.

Yara getting you up to the hill where Ghost turned as if to gesture when you nearly dropped from a relief you never thought before. There were very few you suspected who looked upon the Wall with such an emotion. Both wolves caught your eyes, Ghost finding enough in him in front of Yara to turn to gently nudge at your abdomen as if prompting your hand to reach up to run through his fur around his ears. Starting to move much quicker, the hope reaching all of you as you were so close you could..

But, if it were so close, why couldn't you sense the wolves anymore nor why Yara stopped holding you up? But then you looked down to yourself. Standing upright on two feet, and the sight in front of you was not the Wall.

It was far away, surrounded by cold and mountains. A great Weirwood stood before you, but it was not quite in the same state you had known it before. Smouldering and black, as if it had been set ablaze no signs of life around it. Stepping forward, you could see the tattered remains of what looked like an entrance below surrounded by roots just as burned.

Dread built with each step, no birds nor caws filled the air this time. Slow you were until you came to where it stood. But too, something felt missing. As if there should be a force here to prevent you from just walking inside as if all were welcome, but there was none. Only burned remains of something deeply connected in roots under the ground.

A winding maze it was, each and every direction was burned and lifeless as your feet disappeared in the thick fog covering the ground. The smoke of the bark and leaves did not transfer here, but it still smelled as such a thing happened to it. Turning down one pathway, your eyes looked all over for life but found none until coming to a large room with what looked like the base of the tree forming almost something of a chair.

But where your mind felt as if there would be an old man, white hair, red eyes with a mark down his face like that of a raven, was the one whose name you finally knew. Wherever this was, Euron Greyjoy had pulled you into his vision of it, as he sat in that seat within the tree, a terrifying glint in his eye.

You had nearly made it south of the Wall, when he forced your mind to his before you could cross it.

Silent as ever, you did not know what now he could possibly expect from you, but each step you took crossing somewhat into the clearing did he not jump into such aggression as he had come so close to more then once in this state. His voice was not as loud and demanding either, nearly the most normal which his cadence had ever been.

“Tell me, how many times does a man need to make the same mistake before he finally learns his lesson? Two? Three?” Blinking not a single time, you only watched with a narrowed gaze as you contemplated something which scared you suddenly. “If you're me, at least three it seems. You kill the men bringing you to me including one of my bastards, then you kill one another of mine trying to finish the job, and your King in the North kills the other. I didn't trust my blood the first time, and yet I tried the second time to no avail.”

Nothing was more filling you of fear then asking how did you leave here, if he was the one who forced your minds into this place? How do you escape when you cannot control how to leave?

He spoke happily without your assistance, moving not once from his seated position. “I almost considered coming for you myself, I certainly knew where you were most of the time.” You knew not if he could see behind your eyes as you, but you heard the cawing of an eagle as you saw him in such moments. High above your and Jons head, jokes traded of what to do with it and its eyes watching you bathe as if something human was creeping behind it.

Someone had been watching you through the birds eyes, but Jon was wrong about the who, nor did you know the how.

Looking up and around your eyes followed, wide and in as much confusion as you were unsettled as he both explained yet left you wholey in the dark. “But, I had things to attend do.” His laugh was the worst you'd ever heard, if because only it came from him. “Strange, I thought if he were gone, then I would become what he is. A thousand eyes and one. But I didn't. He is gone and his powers elude me, and you. But if there is no one, then whose eyes watch?”

Riddles he played, but you did not join in. You kept calm as long as he did, and not before.

Knelt down in the snow, white eyes painted over, you had nearly taken Yara down with you as soon as you stopped suddenly. The weakness of your injured knee buckling under the pressure now placed onto it evenly before you nearly fell. Yara had narrowly managed to catch you to move you to the ground easier just as loud barking came barrelling from behind her.

Of the two large wolves, the white one had come right up to you with a whine. Looking you over before his head turned to the other wolf much calmer as he circled around to where Yara was knelt by your side. More then once she tried calling your name but nothing, no indication you were even still in there but she had no idea what to do. She didn't even know what this was. She had not believed Euron when he claimed you had some power he wanted by his side but she could not grasp what this could be to grant the blood caused by trying to bring you to him.

The other wolf they had been calling Summer, but you had seen him this time again and called him Bran, as if the wolf was magically also the Stark boy. Coming to your front, he sat down intently as if trying to stare into your white eyes, but then so were the wolf's in an instant. As if they had rolled into the back of his skull and exposed just the white behind. The white one didn't do the same, but seemed distressed and unable to sit still watching you and the other wolf both. Her mouth parted in a rather befuddled agape, she looked with a raised brow to the wolf with something shivering in her throat. “I don't suppose asking you to carry her and your brother there to the Wall is a possibility.”

But she was not the only one shivering. The darkness around was setting in as the already cold air was dropping further the more the remaining sun left the sky. Clothes all still soaked from the freezing river as they knelt there, you had begun to shiver as well. Yara knew she couldn't just leave to get help and come back.

Stark would soon rather hang her for abandoning you in this state then be grateful, nor did sending this wolf beside her make sense. He wouldn't even able to convey what was wrong, nor did he seem comfortable at all with the idea of leaving you out here. Instead so close to the wall as darkness set in around her, she had to stay there kneeling beside you as you both begun to let the cold seep dangerously into your skin.

“I can help, you know I can handle myself out there.”

At least the pack Jon was preparing this time was significantly less large and heavy then the ones he last left beyond the Wall with. Knelt more by the ground Jon looked up to Meera with a more sincere look pleading her to listen. “I don't doubt that, but I need you here. I need someone I trust to watch the baby, and someone to take care of Bran while I'm out there.”

Coming more up to Jons side she knelt down with an urgency in them that unbeknownst to her, had the single glance Jon shot up behind her to Benjen, pause his preparing for a moment now watching the two of them play whatever the debate result out would be.

An attempt to keep her composure was made, but Jon could read the vulnerability bleed out onto the floor as if she had failed to hide it completely. “Bran and I were out there and found you last time, I want to help you find her this time. I don't want to sit here and do nothing.”

Jon knew his uncle could sense his hesitation, but looking at her, Jon couldn't help but partially blame Arya for this weakness. They were around the same age, and had such a similar passion for jumping into the fray to protect and fight for the people they care about. And he already had difficulty saying no to his own sister. But too though, it was dangerous out there at night and he wasn't willing to so easily send a girl back out into what she just returned from after years. “You know how dangerous it is out there at night, Meera. And I need someone here that I trust to watch him, both of them.”

Glancing to Bran and where the still blissfully unaware sleeping baby was, Meera turned back with a drop of her head. There was more of a fight in her that Jon could see, and as much as he trusted many of his brothers here, there were less then a few people he'd feel even a fraction comfortable to know how to take care of his son.

Coming up behind her though, Benjen found a solution easier then Jon did trying to placate her about his own. “I'll stay with the boys.” Meera turning in place to look up at him as Jons expression fell into something held back but relieved as his uncle elaborated. “We both know you can take care of yourself out there, and it gives me an excuse to spend time with my great nephew here.” Nodding towards the sleeping bundle with a brightness Jon had so rarely ever seen on the man.

Her head turning back to Jons with hope, and he nodded. “Get your things ready now, as soon as I talk with Edd I want to move out right away.” Benjen took her place as she got up with a dutiful nod, resting a hand on Jons shoulder as he finished his previous task at hand. It was quiet, but he knew his uncle could hear the genuinity in it. “Thank you.”

Benjen though only smiled, moving around to where on a table pushed close to the fire had the small wooden carrier being used as a makeshift cradle of sorts. “She's a good kid. Been through more then her fair share of nightmares these past years, giving her something to focus on keeps that all from coming up to fast to handle.” A hand reaching out to rush gently over the baby's front covered still heavily by a mixture of your clothes and a fresh blanket with a smile. “I'm willing to bet some of the brothers aren't happy about you going back out there alone either.”

Jon only muttered under his breath as he finally stood. “Far from the first time they've hated one of my decisions.”

Laughing more freely, Jon turned to his uncle with most of the tension from hours ago as gone as the warmth of summer. “You know, I'm coming around on the whole you leaving the Nights Watch issue.” Asking why, that time Benjens response made Jon laugh with him. “Imagine being at the Wall for decades, only to disappear ranging for years and coming back suddenly having to take orders from my own nephew of all people.”

Shrugging a shoulder, Jon could only think of it in fairly matter of fact terms by now. “You could feel what you liked about it, as long as it didn't end with you and a bunch of others stabbing me in the courtyard over it.”

Benjen though stopped him the moment Jon even begun to think of turning to walk out of the room. “Who did it?” Jons eyes wide, his lack of response louder then anything he could've said. As if even now wanting to protect the memories of people his uncle had known and respected for years. As if it all sounded rash and unreasonable so removed from that day. “You told me what, and why. But not who. Who did that to you?”

The protectiveness was thick in his uncle's tone, an anger hiding within it. Jon though, kept it far easier then the detailed truth. The only names that mattered were the ones wielding the knives, and only three of those four were truly guilty.

Inhaling, Jon knew he looked rather passive about it in contrast to his uncle's sudden tense posture and dark eyes. “I hanged Bowen and Marsh the day I came back, and Ser Alliser's head was taken the day before, for planning it all.”

Jon did not expect his uncle to process that in front of him, and his taken back expression of shock only further cemented that such information was about to take time before truly setting in. Only one confusion drew forth a clarification. “The day before? How'd you behead a man before you came back from the dead?”

Once more the passiveness was long beyond his energy to be angry over any of it. Your name leaving Jon mouth. “I didn't. She did. She got here in the morning looking for me, and by evening she had all of the brothers on her side, and they dragged Ser Alliser out to the block themselves for her.”

Jon walked from the room without further interruption. He had long come to accept that night, those next days, but he knew it would take more time then Jon currently had right now, for his uncle to even grasp such a harsh betrayal of one of his blood against another.

By the time Jon and Meera were ready to leave, they stood up on one of the higher decks with Edd as Jon felt more tense then ever wanting to leave for you then and there.

Then someone on the Wall blew the horn.

“He can't see or hear me, don't react.” The world around you felt like a shiver came over you as a voice spoke beside you closely, despite their words the tone was a low whisper as if you were not to be spooked. But the voice kept speaking, as your silence struggled to place them in the fog of what seemed to be trapped in Eurons vision. “I can't get you out while you're on the opposite side of the Wall. The powers in it are too strong and hes seeing through the whats left of the Three Eyed Crows Weirwood roots. You need to escape on your own, and as soon as you do, run for the gate as fast as you can.”

You could ask no questions nor nod or reply. He had not attacked, nor made a move to do so, as if for whatever reason you were dragged here he wished for you to see it not be tormented within it. Why, you did not understand but he played games and so you would have to as well.

How though, you knew not a way to control this. Each time you were awoken or dragged from a dream or vision by another. Never had you left out of your own doing, and when another shiver ran down your spine did that idea come to you. You had not done it yourself, but you did know how. You had to tell yourself though, don't be afraid of it.

The longer you were here, the more time Euron had to have someone, anyone come after you and take you while he had you too trapped here to fight back out there. And so your eyes drifted to look at him, almost taking in as if he seemed exasperated before and the facade of a sinister grin was fading now that you had not tried to run. Where he thought your gaze drifted was up to him, and thus he took his chance at a guess.

The sword strapped to his side dripped in endless blood, but he held an immaculate one across his lap before lifting it up with a raise of his eyebrow. “Is this what catches your eye? Everything around you and yet it's this you look to?” Holding it up by its hilt, from his seated position he mindlessly waved it as your eyes followed.

A seething in your soul not present in the curiosity forced onto your eyes. Euron took no care to your silence in response, the blanks filled in by his own mind. “Slender thing, made for a woman no doubt. Long has it been since I've laid eyes on it, and then I was nothing to who I am now.”

The hilt of the sword switched between a dark grey and a gold like fire at two ends. The pommel was the golden red carved of its metal into that like fire, a smooth dark silver down it's way as it was winded by a thin layer of metal atop it like a snake. More of that gold sat across it at the hilt in waves no doubt of fire and one more small bit hanging into the blade itself as if to represent a smaller sword all of its own. Dead centre in the middle was a precious jem, red which against the red and gold, looked like blood on top of fire.

“Not many women find fascination in simple steel, all of the rest enjoy the dainty and pretty or the dark and elaborate of spectacle. I cannot imagine your Great Wolf could even dream of bestowing such a marvel to yourself. Castle forged steel is no gift for a Queen.” He stood from his perch and you did not flinch, you would not allow yourself too. Even blinking was no longer welcome as your eyes were toward his person.

Twisting it in his grip, he turned the hilt out to you, not stepping further nor did you reach out. Whatever question in your sharp gaze was answered with but another grin. “If you were to try anything again, you'd have done it by now. Killers like us do not bide our time wastefully.”

Your head turning slightly to the side almost in a suspicion, but you reached out to grasp it. The hilt of it was cold in this place, and Euron watched as you placed one end of it to rest on your other palm looking it over closer up. The fourth sword of Valyrian Steel you had known and held. The metal impressive for what it could do that other swords could not, but for no other reason. If not for the white cold, all swords were the same if not with meaning to the wielder personally. But it did confirm to you, that your assumption so many months ago was correct.

One man had disappeared ranging beyond the Wall and was never seen again. And here, in the ruined home of the Three Eyed Crow was this blade took with him. Euron stepped closer, his own eyes as watchful on you as you pretended yours were on the blade alone. “Not a blade any have heard about in fifty years. Lost to time they all thought-”

“Dark Sister.”

Your voice was a whisper as he nodded. “Indeed. The last blade from the remains of House Targaryean, and now it's mine. But it could be yours.” Eyes flickering up to him, your mostly silent self seemed to be a trick for a man who talked so much. “As I said, it was a womans blade once, and it could be once more. Dark Sister was made for nobler tasks then sitting in the frozen waste at the edge of the world. She has a thirst for blood. She needs one to wield it who knows what shedding that blood with their bare hands feels like. Someone who understands it.”

Was that you though? Many things you had done that this blade was forged for and from. Fire and blood, you had devastated with both. But you could feel every time you sunk a sword or dagger deep into flesh and that feeling would never be washed away from you no matter what. And never would you forget the screaming of men as you were no better then the monsters your family overthrew. You could see the charred bones of little Hazzea and even in this place you felt the metal of Shireens necklace sat on you as it still did out there.

All this man offered was fire and blood. He was no better then those you fought to be better then. But in your own way, you need not hide from that. Not here. Flipping your hand over, you let the sharpness of Dark Sister slice across your right palm with no effort. Eurons voice following as if his dark greed was finding you. “Sharper then anything you've ever used, girl.”

But he was wrong. Many times you had been the one to hold the furs encasing the Stark blade of Ice for Lord Stark. You had given Jon the only justice you could by taking Ser Alliser's head with Jons own sword Longclaw. And you had feebly cut men down in an attack meant to lure you out to your death with the Tarly blade called Heartsbane.

Dark Sister wasn't just as special as any of them. It was nothing to you. Not a scrap of meaning being gifted it by the hands of a monster such as him. So your palm turned into the blade somewhat and you had one final consideration. Swinging it upwards into position in your left, Euron only smiled. “So she wishes to play, doesn't she?” Pulling his own blood soaked one free, he stood taller and stronger then you in a space as small as could be for two long swords. “Alright then, show me what it takes for a girl like you to strike me down.”

He toyed with you, blocking strikes as you slowly moved around the fog filled space burned still all around. Euron still did not see, but the voice before now sat where he did in the space of the tree but a boy now waking unseen behind him with watchful eyes.

Euron could push you off with his strength with ease, but light on your feet in this place you used such momentum to find yourself around or behind as he could only block, you moving to him quick. The last proper fight you had been in, neither of you had spoken beyond that night to anyone, that the others intentions had been to kill.

But here, Euron thought you aimed the same intent. But you didn't. Cutting across an open spot not hidden away by the ornate armour, blood splattered across the blackened roots. Head turning to you, an anger existed in him as did something much too close to what Ramsay would look to you like before violence of his own. “Little girl prefers it rough, does she? Fine. I can be more then rough.”

Even here though, with each blow did the air feel tighter more and more as if it were an hourglass ticking the sand away until it was time. And just as the air ran dry in your lungs, did as Euron intend it seemed to push back what you were clearly blocking from his attack, did you shift.

You had felt worse then this when such a scar was carved into you. This was nothing in comparison to that. In the final second before metal clashed you swung your arm out straight to your side and just as his sword found your flesh did your hand drop Dark Sister to the ground.

Something shocked came over Euron as he watched you in a confusion. Falling to your knees as he yanked the blade from you did your eyes shine with a knowing he didn't have and nearly something faint like a smile nearly grace your lips. When you fought those who already knew death themselves, you never could know how to expect them to truly fight and Euron was not the exception.

His almost desperate realization that you were to slip from his grasp, tried to take hold of you but in a second you no longer were there. But gasping in a pain on the snowy ground in the dark. Somewhere in the far cold, an angry yell shouted so loud it scared away any bird within a mile from him.

Yara grabbing your arms to steady you, and Ghost and Summer both similar in their relief and worry. But you forced yourself up with an overpowering wince. “We need to run.” Head jolting back Yara looked at you as if insane stating that you could barley stand. But your voice only shouted the word, “Now.”

The horn blew and the first gate opened as Ghost and Summer ran in first as if to grab attention when the inner gate would open. The tunnel dark and cold, and your pain rising to a point your vision felt blurry unwilling to focus any longer in the dark. The sounds were so loud around, more then you remembered but you had not been desperate the last as now.

Figures rushed to the pair of you, but it was as someone all but yanked you from Yara did their warmth register. Your hands bracing themselves at his shoulders as he cupped your cheeks with a rough mutter almost tied between relieved and at his wits end. “If you think I'm ever letting you out of my sight again.” Pulling you close to firmly press a kiss to your forehead before pulling you back to look you over. “Can you walk?” When you said yes at the same instance you could hear Yara shouting no, Jon made your choice for you. Only fitting you knew that was, moving you out of the tunnel to sit you down closer by as a crowed gathered.

Your self beside Yara freezing as you could hear Edd in the tone you always knew, “Someone give them something warm for fuck sake.” Furs came about your shoulders as Jon took over, wrapping yours firmly around as he was crouched in front of you. “What happened out there?”

The shivering still strong you found yourself trying to speak through gritting teeth. “Wights snuck up on us, maybe three of them. Couldn't kill them, and they were..”

Yara looking to you and picking up the mantle as a wince of pain directed your attention and Jons focus down to your knee, part of the material below it dyed in blood. “Our best chance was to let ourselves fall into the river and hope we reached the end of it before we froze to death. Nothing followed us though, we got here alone.” She didn't include anything else, not give any indication of the explosive tempers let out between you both, and you didn't point it out either.

As you were brought inside, it was Benjen who approached her now standing unsure in the yard. The look you gave to her almost in question, she only returned in as much silence back with acceptance. She knew what would happen when she got you here, but chose to do so anyways. The second time that made it, that a child of Balon Greyjoy risked their safety and life to get you to refuge to Jon at Castle Black.

It felt odd to say, but being indoors was foreign by now.

Four walls, a warm fire burning close to where you sat, and the sheer fact that Castle Black could be considered comfortable against the last six months of your life was a testament of how little you survived on.

Almost impatiently, Jon had been the one to insist he'd tend to your knee, eyes glancing up consistently with something unhappy painted over his eyes each time he expected you to pull back in pain, but you wouldn't do more then a small flinch at the sensation. The room was sparse of who was in it, currently of those who came back only Benjen and Yara weren't there. But you suspected she wasn't simply roaming free right outside any longer once you had left her.

Meera was perched by Bran across from you with wide eyes as you had tried to explain what had happened beyond the events already told. “You said you couldn't help me on different sides of the Wall.”

Bran nodded, overwhelmed behind his eyes pretending to be calm and brave. Only a boy still and you expected far more was laid on his shoulders then he ever deserved. “The Wall is build with protective magic, almost like it was blocking me from being able to do what I needed to do.” Meera bringing up that it was supposed to only be for the Others but you had an answer to that.

“It might be any kind. Queen Alyssane, she tried riding her dragon past the Wall at least twice. Each time Silverwing refused to go. If the Wall is protected against one kind of strong power, it might be there to protect either side from both. Limiting what you could do.” All eyes glanced between each other aside from Jon gently still tending to what seemed to be many more injuries along your leg then you previously thought.

“What did you do to get away from him?” Meera changing the subject back, only you and Bran had a silent discussion. Of what to say about it, but you were honest. Lying about these things had never helped you thus far.

Looking to Jon for a moment, you turned back to Meera as matter of fact as you could manage. “I tricked him into running me through with his sword.” You ignored whatever Jons reaction was no doubt, keeping only to the events. “If I escaped by doing it to myself instead of him, it would take him long enough to try and find me once more the it would to make it to the gate.” Asking what did he say to you, or what he wanted and that time you didn't really know the answer. Learning who the stranger was, caused it all to make less sense.

Knowing the stranger was Euron Greyjoy, did not provide a single answer but further confusion. Your sigh and shake of your head indicated as such, and Bran didn't have one either. Still, Jon was silent as he finished wrapping your leg up. Not so much you couldn't walk on it, but certainly enough that he had to gently move it down to the floor from where he had it raised up to work, stiff more then before.

Your eyes met his, wide and bright with a concern to his silence and yet he matched that brightness but with a worry of his own that felt much more knowing then you. The door opened as Benjen and Edd both walked in. Edd looked at you for a moment before turning to Jon and nodding back up to indicate you. “Is it against the law to say a Queen looks like shit?”

Before Jon could speak you let it slip out. “Only if it isn't true. Which means you're free of all charges.”

Jon was still painfully silent as the two caught the rest of up to speed. Benjen was to stay here for now and settle the dust on the years his disappearance had left, the plan to ride to Winterfell some time later for his own unfinished business in his old home as well. Suspecting you did, that perhaps years of being gone had not hardened the Stark beyond repair. Very likely you knew Benjen would be found down in the crypts for some time.

Asking about Yara, she was to stay here as a prisoner for now and Benjen would bring her when he rides for Winterfell in due time. The spectacle of returning home did not need a prisoner lost in the middle of it. But it seemed Jon had already talked it over to them even before you got back. Theons sister or no, her crime wasn't one Jon took to lightly no matter if he was grateful she helped you return back.

Leaving at first light there wouldn't be much in the way of sleeping for any one of you. It didn't come easy for most the past week and you did not at all find any appeal in whatever dreams would find you after tonight. Edd at least, was somewhat used to who he was dealing with though. “Hobb said he'd be happy to make you all something. If you can find a way for these two down the steps, that is.” Gesturing between you and Bran.

Benjen came closer without much thought on the matter. “I don't think I've had a meal that wasn't partially frozen solid in years.” He picked Bran up with as much ease as Jon did. Once more did the strength of the Starks endlessly fascinate you.

Meera stood to follow before turning back, Jons voice seemingly answering her silent question with a nod to the door. “I need a minute alone with her first.”

Staying crouched until he watched the door closed, eyes narrow until he was sure of the click indicating he had the privacy. As it remained only three of you in the room, did Jon interrupt the very second sound even left your mouth to speak. Cupping your cheeks as he desperately pressed his lips to yours.

Leaning up, he had no need to force you from leaving his kiss as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and back of his neck instantly. Lips soft, but not rough in demand only harsh as he was urgent as frustration poured into your mouth from his. Deepening it without second thought, a whine wished to crawl its way into your throat melting into his touch. Were your leg not in a noticeable amount of pain you'd have found the temptation to move down to his level properly in his lap to keep him close.

Hands tightening on your cheek, Jon had to all but tear himself from your lips to part ways. Moving you to lean down even more to press a kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours. His voice a rasping sound that was more comforting then the fire beside you. “I've never met anyone who makes me feel this mad other then you.”

A small smile graced your lips, and a bright wider one responded in kind on Jons face. Nodding gently you whispered, “At least it's confirmation that I am the best at something in at least in one manner.” You could feel his breath warm against your skill cold skin as he sighed out. Shifting a hand to run down your hair at the back of your head. Your hands still resting gently by his shoulders too afraid they were far too cold to run along what of his skin you could still find. “I wasn't going to risk anything happening to you or him. It was the simplest solution, and I had a short time in which to make it, so I did.”

The hand still on your cheek tilted your head to meet his at a better angle to capturing your lips in a shorter, much more chaste kiss. Jon only pulling back so far he could gently nudge your nose with his. “You promised me this would stop.” Instincts had you trying to pull away to look in confusion, but he kept you there with the hand at your hair gripping a big tightly, while he still ran his nose down the length of yours with a tenderness. “On Dragonstone, you promised me you'd stop throwing yourself at danger. That you'd stop doing things that put your life at risk where I can't protect you.”

Such a strange thought to go back to. He held you all the same just like this but you had yet to even find the bravery to let Jon take you the way he deserved to have at that point. But you could not protest him, he was right. Hoping your rationale did not come off as a petulant excuse. “I was scared of something happening to you or the baby.”

Jon nodded against you, the lecturing tone you expected non existent here. “I'm not going to yell at you, you already know how I feel about this. But I need you to do what I say, darling. I'm not Robb. I can't handle watching you risking your life this way.” It wasn't any judgment towards his brother, just a truth that both handled it very differently.

In Robbs eye, he knew having you on the battlefield with him meant both risk and protecting. Should anything happen, either would be close enough to go to the other to help or stop. You were in enemy territory most of your three years with him, there was no shielding you from danger when it was quite literally all around you. Jon was different though. Jon despised that the life you lived was wrought with bloodshed. He wanted to shield you from it, but neither of you could pretend as if violence had not found you on its very own in front of his eyes.

Murmuring gently, you knew you needed a way to get that across without dismissing what was something very tense within him about you. “I knew I was a strong enough swimmer to handle it, and it would take a good while longer then I'd be out there to freeze to death after.” Whatever protest he had about it, you interrupted him somehow with your quieter tone. “Jon, I'm sorry. For all of it, I truly am and I'll listen to you from now on, but I cannot pretend as if it wasn't the right thing to do at the moment.”

Pulling back to meet each others eyes, only warm was found between you. Once more your lips met in the middle, gentle and pouring of things both struggled to say with words but melted easily into a kiss. From your right, did a small sound interrupt the moment as did the shuffling of blankets shifting around. Parting ways, you both looked down to the baby waking up, neither noticing such easy smiles coming over you both just watching him.

Jon muttered with an adoration behind his tone, moving down to where he lay. “You're lucky, he slept most of the time. Didn't have a chance to miss you before you came back.” Crouching down again, Jon ran a hand over his front. Soft but firm so he could feel him there before sliding up to run over the top of his head. His arms forcing themselves out of the swaddle as if he had been shifting to do so and reached out to grab what his small hands could of Jons. With ease did Jon pick him up, his voice as gentle as could be now directed at the baby. “Go easy on her, she's had a difficult night.”

Prompting you to move over from where you sat enough to make room for Jon beside, passing little Eddard to you, grin bright on your face at how easily he woke up being handed to you. His hands grabbing until you surrendered with a laugh to let him hold onto what he could of your fingers. Head naturally leaning to the side, Jon wrapped an arm around your waist. Pulling you firmly into his side so he could rest his head against yours. Jon watching you and the baby so easily put passed everything that just happened the moment your attention was on him.

You felt Jon press a kiss to your hair, muttering against it. “Come on, you need to eat something proper before you feed him tonight.”

Not there to see it yourself, you felt out of place as such despite it not quite so rare from only a few short years ago. A mother and her newborn baby about Castle Black with a man of the Nights Watch by their side, but the details of said group were far different then when it was Sam and Gilly in this position. Then the strangeness came from both the uniqueness of the situation at all, and who was involved. Sam the Slayer they had all started to call him, a mock that a man large like him had done something with such bravery and importance. And then he returned with Gilly, not just a wildling but one of Crasters daughters with a still very young baby in toe, all three of them bonded in their own soft way.

It was the sheer idea of someone like Sam with a woman and child that you suspected was what made the sight stand out. You were no stranger to the cruelty men and women had on each other, and for men, there was little about being fat seen as anything which could produce a man worthy of respect. So they mocked him to cope that it was not them with something they perhaps wished they had.

The sight now though, was strange for a vast number of different reasons. Every single thing the brothers here knew of Jon Snow, and he returned here after leaving, now being King in the North. The woman who returned him to life, a wife at his side and a very small, very young newborn resting on the table in front of where he had you sat.

Edd had been discussing something with Jon previously when he turned to point to Hobb as he had given you the rather intoxicatingly delicious smelling stew he had made. Something firm on his face and yet the words pulling a great smirk from you. “If I learn you tell her any other embarrassing story about me, I'll put you on latrine duty for a fortnight if you're lucky. Don't go blabbing my life just because you're grateful a beautiful woman compliments your damn cooking.”

Giving you a look all on his own, you put your hands up in a silent defence that you hadn't done anything only for Benjen to mutter with his own passive tone that he knew plenty of stories as well he'd be happy to share for free. You only just barley managed to catch the trail end of discussion the two men returned to having, Jon trying to implore to Edd who was arguing that they needed the proper transportation more them, and to put them on a damn horse. Only to see Jons face twist with a bluntness flat across his expression. “Edd, my little brother's crippled, my wife can barley stand on two feet and I have a newborn. Winterfell isn't that close.”

By the time he joined, easy smirks were shared between them though as if no time between being brothers of the Nights Watch had truly passed in any significant amount.

Across from you where Meera and Bran had sat nearly throwing themselves into the food put in front of them with all the manners two starving teenagers could muster. Benjen sat next to you, as you on Jons right. The makeshift cradle where little Eddard rested in pushed more in front of Jon when he seemed to wish for someones attention now that he was awake. Jon had asked you in a whisper if you wanted to take him, but you shook your head. “I'll have him most hours of the day tomorrow, he needs time with you before he comes sick of so much with me.” Jon muttered only for you to hear as he turned more to the baby that such a thing certainly wouldn't happen, but you elected to ignore him for it.

Multiple times you attempted to eat the food in front of you, but your eyes pulled many times to the sight you felt as if you barley had time to process out in the cold previously. It wasn't new entirely, you had seen Jon with his younger siblings from the time they were born and he always played older brother with such a natural ease. But this time, it wasn't a brother or sister he was spending his time with. But his own child, his own newborn son. Something you knew he never thought he'd be allowed to have.

Speaking quietly to the baby, as to not disrupt the conversations around the rest of the room but his grey eyes so wide and shining with adoration. His smile so handsome coming with ease as he struggled not in any way to interact with his baby. You could only wonder just how much he was going to grow up to be just like his father. The only thing pulling your attention away was the low rumble of Benjen beside you speaking if not quieter then the others were to keep only your focus. “I don't know if he'd even remember it now, but I did try talking him out of joining this place once.”

Turning somewhat suddenly to face him, both of you shifting enough from the table to have your own privacy, your head tilted with brows furrowing in question. “When was this?”

“During the Kings visit in Winterfell, the night of the feast I had just gotten there, and found Jon outside alone in the training yard.” Your own memory of that night felt strange, knowing where Benjen went after and what that all had led to in secrecy, but too the first night you had truly realized what you had was about to be gone. But you listened with a quiet intent as Benjen continued. “He was insistent, knowing if I was the one who went to my brother with the idea, Ned would agree to letting him join the Nights Watch. I didn't want to turn him away, but I never wanted him to jump into this life so soon. I told him, none of us ever will have a family of our own, never father any sons. But he was sure, saying he didn't care about that.”

In another life perhaps, that may have hurt. But you knew too well how he must have been feeling in those weeks and not a second of it seemed like it painted a bright future for him as it was the rest of you. Attempting for Jons sake to keep it vague, you spoke a bit solemnly. “I don't know how much I can blame him for thinking that. Everything that was happening so suddenly and none of it even thought to include some of that supposed bright future for him.”

Nodding, Benjen sighed a little. “I know it. I tried telling him, that maybe if he knew what it meant he wouldn't be so hasty to throw it all away. Told him to go father a few sons of his own before he decides he wants this to be the rest of his life. But he was nothing if not stubborn about it. He didn't want a wife, he didn't want children.” Neither of you looked to the sight behind you to contradict that almost in an amusing degree. “I could sit here all day and go on about the vows he's broken by now, but places like this? They make you swear and swear that eventually any oath your agreeing to starts falling on deaf ears. Maybe it's the outcome that matters more. Because I can tell you, I know for a fact I've never seen my nephew look happier, more at ease then when he's with you two. He looks at you and that baby like that's the only life he's ever needed.”

You hadn't even noticed the degree to which you were biting down on your tongue. Forcing the words out as your head dropped a little, nails mindlessly carving into the wood of the table as if it distracted your thoughts. “I always wanted to respect that it was his choice, but part of me felt as if he was running to it just to leave the rest of it behind.”

“That's what I did.” Your eyes flickering back up to Benjens as he elaborated. “The war ended, my father was dead, my brother was dead, my sister was dead and the only brother I had left came home to a duty he never thought would be his, a wife and two newborn sons. I wasn't much older then Bran when I did exactly what Jon did. Leave everything behind because I thought I didn't have a place there anymore.” At least you thought, the Stark men were consistent in their own unique ways.

Sifting through the louder aspects of your thoughts, you came to the only conclusion you suspected Benjen could hope to ask for at this point. “Well, I'm not asking or telling you what your life should be, but in the Nights Watch or not, there's always room for you in Winterfell.”

A small chuckle left him, prompting you to turn back to the food in front of of you as he did. “I wasn't around for most of he and Robbs early years. Might be nice to see my great nephew more often then not this time.”

Jon only shot you a curious glance, but you gave him just a soft smile in response before turning your attention to the food in front of you. Not that you would've known, but it had been a very long time since that soft little smile had been graced for Jon to see, the one you always saved just for him since the very first day he met you.

Thinking to himself, Jon knew he was doomed from the start to always love you. He had been so quiet and begrudging in meeting you out of embarrassment for being introduced as a Snow to a girl in the royal family, and you had before parting ways for the rest of the day, had given him that exact soft smile you had just graced with him now.

Turning back to his son, Jon only mumbled to him, “I'm beginning to think there was never a chance you wouldn't have been born my son.” Leaning close with a grin to match the one on the babys face. “She cursed me to love her the first time I ever saw her.” But a small kiss to the top of his small head, Jon didn't elaborate. It wasn't a curse, not really.

But even through bloodshed and death, it felt now as if this family you and Jon created together was inevitable. As if any path either of you took, would've led to this moment regardless. His uncle hadn't judged him harshly for what led to it, and Jon only hoped when returning home that the watchful eyes of his father wouldn't either.

For now though, that was days away before Jon would worry about it again.

The bright eyes attached to such a hopeful smile on Bran might have shined more in the morning air then what of the sun was peeking through the clouds. “You're sure?”

Nodding as you shifted him a little more towards the middle where the reigns lay. “You learned how to ride horseback without your legs, this is just like that only more simple. Since we don't need to strap you in to do it.” There was no reason not to let Bran do it, to take control of the horses pulling the small cart, what small necessary things were to return back with you behind. Part of you hoped somewhere there still existed the guide of how the saddle was made for him in the first place. The only good thing thus far, a Lannister had ever done for the Starks was that saddle from Tyrion.

Bran always loved horseback riding, and if judging by the look in his eyes now, was excited that he still did love it. Moving back, Jon gently guided you down to the ground as if he didn't have the baby in one careful hand. “Easy.” His hand drifted up to cup the side of your face, gloved fingers running what he could reach through your still long stands of hair. Leaning forward as his eyes fell over with a seriousness. “If you need me to take him for any reason-”

The smile was faint, but he caught it none the less. “Jon, I'll be sitting down the whole journey. The very least I can do is give you the freedom to focus while you're the one riding.” Almost protesting, you instead let your own hand drift along his neck to the back. Hardly having to pull, Jon did the work to make you meet his lips in the middle.

A long but chaste kiss, as he mumbled against them once hardly moving away. “You promised to listen to me.” Nodding gently, Jon responded to the manner which your lips brushed against his by capturing them in another kiss. “Until I can get you home, and know for sure you're alright, I need you to take it easy. It'll be days before I can get you to Maester Wolkan.”

Both your hands now fount the back of his neck to wrap around, one of Jons own still holding the baby close against his side, his small head relaxing against Jons front. “Most men don't come anywhere near what you did, but if something were wrong we would have known by now.” Jon only muttered he was not willing to risk it. Kissing you once more, Jon barley turned to press a more gentle one to the top of his sons head. His free hand coming up around to press against his back through the blanket.

His rasp loud enough for you to hear as he pulled back to look his son in the eyes with a playful seriousness. “Behave for your mother, will you?” The small babble was as good of an answer as you would get before Jon prompted you to climb in first. Only handing you the baby once you were sat, and leaning over you for a moment to kiss the top of Brans head. “Don't crash it into something.” The jesting glare between brothers almost made you roll your eyes in a fond amusement.

Jon and Meera on either side of the cart on their own horses, and the other assuring the other they were ready, Summer thus beside her and Ghost beside Jon, you knew it was strange to feel. That in your own way, you dreaded getting there. Too much had happened, and you were not anywhere near ready for the spectacle of returning to Winterfell with a newborn was going to cause. And as much as he pretended otherwise, you knew Jon wasn't ready for it either.

Six months and every hour of the each day you had with each other and sharing your time now just as you both had before was going to be a struggle you were nowhere near prepared for when getting home.

But it was in said home, that a crowd had gathered.

Northerners and some Free Folk on both sides as in the front of the clearing stood three figures at the front gates to the castle. Selyse on one side, and Theon the other with matching expressions of a seriousness which was as tense as the people all around them. In the middle stood one only feet from another which should have been a reunion of happiness.

If she had come alone then none of this would have turned into the tense situation it had. But the middle figure between Selyse and Theon had not chosen out of spite or petty vengeance to approach the situation this way. It was the figure opposite to them who had forced her hand.

Whatever happiness this reunion should have had, Arya stood there knowing that Sansa had just killed any and all of it's potential, by returning to Winterfell with him at her side.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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zeyris-daydreams · 2 years ago

Text

Three times the charm ! 🐳

[Childe x reader]

In which Childe hunts his highschool sweetheart. Or in which you unknowingly were held captive by a harbinger.

Warnings: mentions of past sex, kidnapping, stalking, threats of murder, no actual murder, use of name Ajax, manipulation

[-------♡-------]

That wasn't the Ajax you used to know, you were certain. The dead sea in his eyes betrayed way more than his words ever could. You knew he changed, it was clearer than any of the expensive crystals he got for you.

Despite his calm tone the tension in the air grew, pushing against your lungs. Suffocating. As if you were drowning in these dead, ocean blue eyes of his, the pressure forcing you to hold in your breath. His face was mere inches away before your brain started to register his words. You knew he looked at you with a look of superiority. He always did, you didn't even have to see it.

"Repeat it. Again."

"I- I said that- that this just.. won't work-"

After he joined the fatui, or rather after he went missing for a few days, he was a completely different person. The shy, quiet boy you knew and liked wasn't there anymore. All that was left was an empty shell of abandoned humanity. It took you too long to realise this man would only get worse. And yet you clung to the idea that, if given enough care, you could have your sweet Ajax back.

Additionally his new.. line of work was only making him more inhumane. It was as if the violence of it all only sparked this insanity further, setting it alight.

"Oh it will!" It was scary whenever he suddenly grinned like that, as if dismissing the situation. Completely belittling you and your worries. "If you're not willing to work with me, I will simply do it mysel!."

His fingers suddenly tightened on your shoulder, his hair covering half of his face as he thought. Before you could reply Ajax already dragged you back into the room, shoving you inside before he shut the doors.

Scrambling to your feet you leaned against the wood, trying to pry it open, only to notice the sound of a metal click. The lock. "Ajax this- isn't funny. You can't keep me here-"

It was never good to try and be firm with him, because you got no reply, only hearing his footsteps as he walked away.

It would've been fine; you thought. You didn't even know where you went wrong in the first place, sliding down the wooden surface. You should've listened to your gut, you should've known not to ignore all these red flags. But it was hard to suddenly regard him as a monster, having known him all your life.

Or most of it. Even your families were friends, so when the news of him missing arrived to you, you truly were in despair. And now here you are, in the similar despair as you were five years ago, your chest feeling tight. You gave him a chance right before he was sent off to the fatui, you should've simply broken up right then.

You should've gone away without telling him about your intentions first, as he kept you in one room because of that, locking it each time. It was hilarious really, if you thought about it too much. No matter your scrambling or whining he just wouldn't let you leave. At first he was rather calm, telling you that hey, it's fine. It's a new stage of your relationship, to make things better.

Surely you only wanted to break it off cause you met someone you deemed.. better? So then, you won't see them!

You won't see anyone but him to be able to appreciate just how good he is. He's the best, one and only for you!

All that self praise of his had you sick each time, the Ajax who always helped everyone now turned into a self centered asshat. Each time you just had to look away and sigh, the situation continued regardless.

Not much has changed aside from the fact that now he had you abducted. Against your will, sure, but he has to show you just how great he is, doesn't he?

With his hands either on your neck whenever you tried to escape, or inside you, he'd always have a way to convince you that you don't really want to leave. If you do then why are you letting him do this?

It didn't help that with his constant disappearing you had more and more time to plot and brainstorm, how to get out you pondered each day. The news of him being a harbinger didn't come to you, given he was mostly kept away from Snezhnaya by no one but his own superiors.

A war machine that could hardly visit his Darling, he had no choice but to make a plan of his own. Ajax was smart, the way you'd cozy up to him, return his affection. All that was to lower his guard, and all it did was make him aware of your plans. Such a silly girl, he always thought. Nonetheless he played it safe and didn't show any sign of suspicion.

More often than not, when he was back in Snezhnaya that is, he'd bring you things. It was hard to remember that Ajax wasn't.. your childhood friend anymore. That monster now always wanted something in exchange for anything he did, so when you were as much as happy about something he gave you, he'd be just as happy to have you repay him.

Of course there were various ways he'd twist his gifts to have you. And whenever he was rougher after getting his "gift" from you, the memory of what he said never left.

His hand was on your throat, suffocating, letting go and squeezing again. It was as if he was trying to brainwash you, murmuring sweet nothings of how he will murder anyone you get close to.

With every single thrust giving you more ideas of how he'd slay any man you kept contact with behind his back. That you were his and he was sufficient for you.

And each time he'd thrust particularly hard he'd emphasize the importance of never leaving this place. Or him.

"H-nHha.. ffu-fuck-" he'd groan, the sign of him being close. And whenever he did he'd make sure to put his mouth close to your ear. "you're mm-mine- got it? Let anyone- Hhha I mmEan anyone be close to you and I'll- shit.." and then he'd slow, just to pick the pace up again, your legs sore.

He was always going to exhaustion, disgracefully like a rabbit. Back and back at it. How could he help himself if he didn't see you for such a long time? "I'll ffucking.. gut them alive- hn.."

He was a sick bastard. You knew well Ajax was getting off to that idea. "Right in front of you- I'll slit their throat sso you kNow I'm the best for you-"

You came to realise this was some personal issue of his as well. Trying to convince himself he was the best for you, all awhile trying to get you to believe it.

With how much he went at it, it was nearly impossible not to come. And then he'd always turn the shame on you, tell you just how filthy you are from coming, just because of what he said.

It was disgusting each time. At some point you really tried to claw his eyes out, but Ajax was stronger, with ease holding your wrists down. It made you feel.. pathetic.

At least he didn't do it that often anymore, as you noticed over the year of your captivity that he often was gone. And more often than not he was only back for a few days before being gone again.

At that point he was better off throwing you away and finding someone he'd travel with, you felt like a collectible doll. Kept on a shelf only to be checked on, but the moment it moved, even without the collector's presence, all the alarms would go off. It was infuriating.

Ajax simply expected you to stay where you were, without trying to get out to contact your family. Even if he said they know, you found yourself not believing it. There was no way your family would let this happen.

Maybe there was, you were too busy thinking of your grand escape. Today it's been a whole year since he officially kidnapped you. You were together before, sure, but that didn't change a thing.

He had no right to do any of this, and you were thankful enough he didn't care about the anniversaries.

One way or another you sneaked past the fatui near the house, in the snow, in the shoes that were too big for you and one of the thick coats. You made sure it was one that Ajax didn't wear often, after all you weren't allowed outside clothes. So when you were finally out the window, running through the forest, you managed to get near the more civilized side of the Snezhnaya.

Forests here were grand, beautiful and eternal. Neverending snow, forever freezing the life and death within itself: it hurt to know your homeland became your prison, so the moment you managed to get in contact with someone you knew way before any of this happened, you were sent off somewhere better.

Somewhere warmer; that place was Liyue. It was weird to go by a transport vehicle all the way there, but you were soon stationed near one of the beaches.

The process was way too stressful for your mind to keep, so the only thing you remembered was your friend, making you promise you won't come back. And so your life in Liyue started, it was like a rebirth. All the memories of Ajax fading each time you looked at the beautiful beaches, or picked starconches. Even the worst ones, where the fear made you want to do nothing but die; it felt.. calm.

And maybe that was what initially set off your panic. After a year of living in survival mode this calmness that went on for a month was worrying. No one came to look for you.

No one asked, no one followed you, no one looked at you weird. Even the girl who was the head of that rather odd funeral parlor took you as a friend. She was an odd one, but it gave you hope.

That all continued for a while, you working for Hu Tao as the errand girl. It wasn't that serious of a job, but it sustained you just enough: Liyue felt like home. A new home.

You met people, you grew, you learned things. Getting used to the culture was difficult, Snezhnaya wasn't known for the spiciest food after all. Xiangling was kind enough to offer you a second job for the weekends at her dad's place.

Admittedly it was weird how fast you took the liking to the man. Barely six months in Liyue, maybe these were your daddy issues speaking. Maybe you were bored. Maybe the man seemed genuinely attractive, the care he had for Xiangling. For people. The passion whenever he explained the ingredients. Maybe your mind looked for trouble, or maybe, just maybe, you were starting to have a normal life.

Of course the man didn't take your advances seriously, he was aware it was simply because of your circumstances. So he treated you kindly like he did Xiangling regardless, and you decided to put your love life aside for the current moment.

You were also fortunate enough to meet Mrs. Zhongli, having been introduced on a random day by your director.

"From Snezhnaya.. I see, this truly is wonderful news. Liyue is a place for anyone, I'm convinced that Morax himself is proud of how strong of a nation he founded."

And so more time passed. Friends, places, it all grew into you. The beaches, the cliffs, the stories of how Liyue was made. Your nation was ruled by a cold blooded tyrant, that's what you regarded her as, and now, Liyue having an archon present like that?

Then again all good things come to an end in your life. Whether it was in your childhood or now, you should've learned happiness isn't destined for fools like you.

Hu Tao was kind enough to send you on an errand one day or another, and while having to deliver a special package to one of the locals, - Hu Tao's special two for one bonus - you noticed something.

Peeking from behind the pillar you saw the familiar colour of ginger locks. The awful laugh and the shake of the hand. And near them stood a blonde haired person, then a floating.. fairy thing?

You completely ignored the other person, sliding behind one of the pillars.

"..let's take it somewhere private. In Liyue walls have ears, you know?"

You were sure the sound of the two people was fading away, peeking out for a moment to notice them walking further. You wanted to feel at ease that he didn't spot you, but the dread overcame you.

Sliding down the stone structure you felt your heart race. He's here, he knows. He must have come here after you and is now discussing your capture to one of the famous travelers. Fatui in Liyue, you shouldn't have put your guard down.

He caught you. Before you knew it your breathing was heavy, and despite that you felt you couldn't get air into your lungs. The feeling of suffocation that Ajax left in you was always present it seemed, fingers shaking as your vision spun.

He was there and he'd catch you. He'd drag you back. You tried to stand to hide somewhere but your legs gave out right after, eyes wide. You looked around and yet saw nothing, the distorted voice of one of the guards barely registering.

The man picked you up to lean you, but you tried to move away, swatting him with your hands to step back. It was over. He had you.

Before you knew it your vision went blank, and just as fast as you passed out you woke up in an unfamiliar room.

A green haired man sat next to you, hand on your forehead before you knew it. Near you stood Hu Tao, arms crossed over her chest.

"Got me worried there! Don't die on me like that without buying the premium service first, please"

She had a humour, but you couldn't bring yourself to laugh this time. You do recall her and the doctor from this area not getting along well. Did she learn what happened and came here?

He paid her to keep an eye on you.

Were you just paranoid? Was it the truth?

"Miss (y/n) seemed to have passed out due to exhaustion. I checked her levels and saw nothing wrong though"

Only then did you see the snake that seemed to nudge the doctor. "I'm Baizhu, you're at the bubu pharmacy."

You really wanted to reply, but your mouth simply hung open, eyes darkened. You couldn't murmur a word.

On Archons. If he knew, he'd kill them. Or were they paid? They were hired, you were sure.

The faint memory of Ajax resurfacing when you saw the worry on Baizhu's face.

"Don't try anything. I'll find you. I will always find you."

With how unresponsive you were, Hu Tao just sighed, sitting on the bed, right near you. "I know we don't usually talk on personal terms, but.. if there's anything that bothers you, I sure hope you trust me enough to share it. Who knows, whatever bothers you may just find itself sent on the other side!"

She was so sweet sometimes, but you just looked down. "I haven't slept that well for a couple of days, I'm sorry for worrying both of you, but I'm fine" then you smiled. They were paid, and if not? And if they weren't?

What if they were people who genuinely worried about your well being? If you worried them and caused them to snoop, then- he'd kill them. He'd slit their throats, he'd hang them, he'd torture them to prove his sick po- "I do not see that to be the case, as a doctor I can see this is no result of lack of sleep" he didn't seem convinced. But Baizhu wasn't allowed to pry further. "If this happens again feel free to come by again. I'm sure we have some herbs that may help."

You simply groaned. After he checked your temperature and state he finally let you leave, and Hu Tao insisted on walking you home. And so you allowed her to, noticing how she just had a reason to chat through the whole way. Whether it were the new clients or the.. fatui in Liyue.

"I honestly think it's kind of creepy how the fatui keeps digging it's filthy claws in here." She started. "They even sent a harbinger over, you believe that?" For whatever reason, the young director seemed displeased. "is that so?" The harbinger was of no concern to you. You only needed to avoid his subordinate.

"Yeah! It's the youngest one, the eleventh. Childe, funny isn't it? Childe. Child. Cause you know, he's.. a child in comparison. I hope he doesn't bring me more clients than I can handle!"

She.. still had a weird sense of humour. But you knew she meant well, trying to cheer you up with these jokes.

"Childe? That sounds so goofy"

You tried to laugh. But your chest felt tight. The panic never left you. It would never leave.

"Yeah, not only that he's…" she leaned over to your ear as if saying some secret. "Ginger."

At that you went silent, your steps coming to a complete halt as your eyes widened. There he was, at the very far end of the road. Dark clothes, the ginger locks, the cape. That wasn't the outfit he usually wore.

Hu Tao took this as a sign the joke set in. "Gi-ginger?"

"I know right? Like please, a ginger guy can hardly be intimi- oh, that's him actually!"

And so she pointed right at the person you wished you never saw again.

Ajax. The one and only.

It was like time had stopped. Your abductor was a harbinger.

Ajax was a harbinger.

Ajax was.. Childe.

Now all of this made sense, all the times he was gone more and more. The violent impulse- his delusion, one he locked away from you whenever he came over: his vision.

Hu Tao noticed that you really were out of it, fingers snapping in front of your face. "He's not that scary, really. Actually he often plays in the theater here in Liyue, for some reason he seems to enjoy that kinda stuff. "

Before she added more you turned on your heel to sprint away, completely ignoring whatever else she said, her confused expression.

And so you ran straight to the suburban part of Liyue, body feeling faint again. It didn't have to be necessarily true that he knew you were there.

And yet the paranoia set in, and now each turn you made you looked left and right to see if anyone was there. Even the agents that usually walked down the roads looked unsafe. Each step was a struggle for life, you couldn't faint here.

They'd get you and drag you back to your homeland.

"I'll always find you"

The branch you stepped on broke, your house in the distance.

"I'll slit their throat right in front of you"

You ran faster, basically slamming into the doors to open them. The key almost fell from your hand.

"You belong to me, and I take what is mine."

When the doors opened everything went quiet, you slammed them shut, walking in shakily. Straight to your room, almost collapsing by the time you reached it. There was some sort of object on the bed.

Not knowing what it was, your legs already bent, knees feeling soft as you struggled to the furniture, managing to lean against the soft mattress. A picture.

Of you.

In Wangsheng funeral parlor.

You practically fell face flat on the bed, the built up tears finally rolling.

Second time you lost everything.

You couldn't stay here, you were in danger. You brought nothing but demise to anyone who helped you, and after half a minute you finally regained the senses.

Crying was for later. Right then you only began to stuff all your belongings into a suitcase, your adrenaline driven mind not caring about the little things like flowers or pictures, or souvenirs. You only took a necklace with you, the cash you saved.

The dark of the night was too scary, if they snatched you then, no one would see. That's why you set out through the backdoor before the sun could hide away..

You didn't have time to think about the recklessness and impulsiveness of this decision, it being clear your paranoid mind could not come up with a better plan. The run back to Liyue harbour was exhausting, and the moment you crossed the gates, you looked around.

Each step you took towards the center of it all was filled with dread and fear. You didn't feel as scared before, but your mind still suppressed this.. realisation. You would feel way worse later, lucky enough to drag yourself to the port. You briefly explained your last minute booking, of course making an entirely different reason up. But you wouldn't go to Sumeru. That was too predictable.

You took one that was headed to Fontaine, getting aboard to not be seen in Liyue again.

Of course the whole ride was tremendous, the knowledge you were in Liyue for only a year before it went down makes you anxious. If you were in Fontaine surely your chances of survival would be better?

You didn't have the time to think, all you thought of was newfound knowledge you received.

And you couldn't sleep either, safeguarding your belongings, thinking.

The one who kept you a prisoner was.. a harbinger. And knowing how far harbingers go to pursue their goals, how much intel he had- it made you sick.

You didn't necessarily know for sure if someone observed you, but you were too anxious to care. All you wanted to do was to go back to how things were, be with your family.

It was impossible though. And so you landed in Fontaine, this time around having a way harder time adjusting.

Would seem citizens really did dislike outsiders, the atmosphere of Fontaine not something you.. imagined. In a way you considered going to Natlan instead, but given you already had to find some occupation, your money was quickly spent. You were stuck helping with packaging parcels and sending them off.

A Monotonous job with a pay that hardly let you live.

During days like these you truly sat in a chair and cried over Liyue, over what you had. Over what that bastard took from you with these lifeless, cold hands of his.

Over all the friends you lost again, you were tired. Having to start over from scratch, you didn't bother with friends anymore. You were sure he'd find you again, so you already prepared to move further away. Either to Natlan, maybe Monstadt. City of freedom. You were sure if you explained yourself you'd find a shelter, Knights of that area had quite a reputation after all. You were already crying over your life, now to that you cried over the stupid choice of being here. Monstadt was too close to Liyue, but still.

Maybe you'd make it work.

In Liyue you grew used to everything within weeks. In Fontaine it took you too long to adjust to everything, over half a year passing by before you finally befriended a single person. Even so, your days were filled with loneliness, self exploration. You tried to heal a little; taking walks, trying to ignore how ugly the city seemed to you. Even if you were far from the city of Fontaine itself, the surroundings weren't as good as in Liyue.

For some reason the nation made you feel heavy hearted. Sure, you were promoted to putting things inside parcels instead of just wrapping them, but that was hardly enough to be able to afford your life, and to save money.

It was an unfortunate situation, but you didn't dwell in self pity. Now no one was in danger because of you, and given how you heard that the.. harbinger usually stayed in Liyue, you were safe.

Monotonous days passed, monotonous nights followed. The mechanic appeal of Fontaine would never look good. But you learned to cope, learned to adapt; you had to adapt.

Adaptation was what allowed one to survive, and so even when you suddenly found more taxes by your door, more bills to pay, you tried to think well.

All this was means to an end, even if by then you were too short on money to have anything left for another trip to another nation. It was.. unfortunate. And yet, quite convenient for someone that wasn't you.

It was truly your bad luck that the nation had a problem with their Archon who turned to the Fatui for help, and before you knew it, the words of a Harbinger who came to deal with the issue spread. Childe.

Again, Childe this. Childe that. You were sure this time that he really came to deal with the issue of this God, but the more you heard, the more you realised this wasn't the case.

During the first months of this problem you stayed hidden, but even after it ended, the Fatui didn't.. leave.

The amount of agents lessened whenever you took a walk, but you couldn't keep living in fear. Maybe that part was the one that you screwed up. Cicins hardly anywhere to be found either; they were really moving out.

A part of you felt happy, still preparing to leave though. You'd come to Monstadt this time around, enjoying the evening view as you grabbed the herbs from the ground, quickly putting them into the bag, not wanting to stay outside longer than necessary.

Fontaine was really developed, the air hardly ever feeling fresh. That's why it was so hard for you to get your hands on anything fresh, eyes closing for a moment.

It's been a year and the sight of Liyue never left your mind. You stared in an unknowing bliss at one of the bushes, reminiscing. Of how Xiangling and you would gather things for her new dishes.

Or how you'd run errands to get things for Hu Tao's send off rituals. The smell of the food, the homely atmosphere.

Before you knew it, it was dark, your thoughts occupying you for a while. Getting from the ground you gathered the items you've picked, finally heading back home. The path you always took, the sights you always looked at whenever you went over your evening routine. It wasn't that hard to remember the overall terrain here, and once you approached the doors to your home, you took the key to put it into the lock.

Weirdly enough you couldn't turn it, only then noticing the doors opened. You must've left them unlocked, but even when you warily made your way in, you heard nothing.

It was only when you were in the kitchen did you turn the light on, pupils fast to look at the person sitting near the table.

He held a knife in his hand, and a picture, seemingly staring at it as he leaned back in the chair.

"Y/n, y/n, y/n. Fate we are in the same place again, is it not?"

Seeing Ajax made you feel sick, a grin forming on his face. You took a step back. You wished you could say something instead of wanting to take a run for it. But he already stood, his clearly taller frame headed towards you.

"As if destiny itself willed us to meet again" giving him a frown you reached back for your hunting knife, taking in deep breaths. In and out, like you taught yourself to suppress the panic. You're fine.

"It was more something along the lines of you breaking into my house, asshole-" before he was too close the knife was pointed at his chest.

Ajax was like an animal. The moment you showed fear, you lost. That was something that you didn't take too long to learn.

Childe sneered, frowning at you instead. "That's such a wrong way to put it, I merely made myself present."

Maybe it wasn't the right move to show him the knife, as he already snatched it from your hand in a way that was too fast for you to comprehend, it suddenly slammed right next to your skull into the wall. You heard it crack in displeasure and protest, the sharp part of the blade touching your ear.

Only then you realised you had a reason for fear, lips pressed together. It was all too clear that he was annoyed. "you're pathetic if you think I don't know about your endeavours in Liyue."

"So you knew?"

"Of course I did. An idiot like you hardly got out of Snezhnaya, which I also knew about before you could even set off." He scoffed, hand suddenly on your neck. It was dangerous to play that game with him, so you didn't even try to move. He wouldn't kill you, that was for certain by now.

If he did, it would be a waste of time to chase after you earlier.

"I thought, maybe if you have some glimpse of other things that may be sufficient for you. That you, I don't fucking know, might stop being childish about us"

His grip on the knife was tight. You didn't say more. You didn't want to cause further anger.

"But you didn't, of course I also predicted you'd leave Liyue at some point. It wasn't hard to follow your track, honestly you'd be quite naive if you thought you could get away"

It seemed he really was aware of everything, fingers squeezing your throat more so. With his hand on his neck, Ajax made you look up at him, brow raised before he chuckled. "You silly girl. We can do it both ways, alright?"

That condescending tone infuriated you, finger tapping at the skin on your neck. It felt as if he could snap it within moments, Childe was obviously doing this on purpose. Intimidate you into submission.

"You come back with me, willingly, and maybe.. maybe I'll make the punishment a little less severe"

He saw your mouth open in protest, his thumb ending on your bottom lip. "ah, ah, ah. You don't interrupt when I'm speaking. Otherwise I might have to make you come back with me, by force. And the outcome will not be pleasant, hm?"

To you that just sounded like he'd lock you up and leave you without food for maximum a day. Or some physical sort of torture, but instead he gave you a knowing look. "Of course that includes me getting rid of all the people who could look for you. I really don't like people in my business, I hope you understand how troublesome that would be for me. All the issues you caused with these.. useless friendships you made, yeah?"

You were ready to protest truly, but upon hearing that your blood went cold, the feeling made you feel hot actually. Boiling, not from fear, but from anger. Newfound anger, that he quickly took a notice off. "don't give me that look.."

It was scary, how he looked when he enjoyed your intense emotions. Fear, frustration. All the emotions you couldn't express, the helplessness, oh he loved it, eyes closing so he could lean to your face, kissing you. A kiss that wasn't returned, as you passively let yourself be pushed into the wall further. Then again Childe didn't mind if it was one sided, instead kissing you with more intensity, in a way that made you feel out of breath. As if he was purposefully trying to suffocate you and you hardly managed to shove yourself to the side to breathe. Having minimum space between you two, you tried to get out from between him in the wall, only to be grabbed by your waist. "Oh, no you don't"

He said it with some sort of sick cheerfulness, pulling you into another, weakening kiss. It was nowhere near gentle, only dominating and tiring. Weakening, deafening. You were sure you'd pass out by the time he pulled back, a faint smirk visible on his face. The threat set in, you would come back, or he'd drag you there and kill your friends anyway. There was no winning. "So?"

You were silent. The lack of answer made Childe sigh, clicking his tongue as if you were the one who gave him no choice. "Looks like you need more convincing"

"Ffuckingg hell n-no- I'll go- I'll.. I'll go-"

In the end your life was singular in comparison to the lives of many people you met.

You weren't worth enough to let them be killed out of your own pride after all.

Childe grinned sickly. You wanted to puke. "Three times the charm, isn't it? You won't get away this time."

#childe x reader #yandere childe #childe #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere tartaglia smut #yandere tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #yandere ajax x reader #childe smut #Tartaglia smut

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nocturnesanomaly · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 4: I've never been one to let go

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series:The Divine Violence - Chapter 4: I've never been one to let go

Wordcount: 5.9K

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Self-harming behaviours

Description: You share your knowledge with the team, reminding you of darker pasts, while Simon seeks to rekindle his familiarity with you.

A/N: You. Yes you. Go drink water. Right now. Good job :)

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

The meeting room has lost its fresh smell a long time ago. Too many of the early morning hours spent looking over papers and files, that are all entirely useless to you. Paperwork. It had always been the bane of your existence, even back when it truly mattered to your career. Necessary, and all the more frustrating for it.

The morning sun had already arisen to be at the perfect angle, right where its shine hits you in the eyes when you bend down to read. It had no business being that sharp in this season. It provided so little heat in the late November days, and tended to become more of a hindrance than anything.

Every file on the table listed people of interest, cities, landmarks, field reports from past agents. You flip another one over, trying your best to ignore the file that lays at the edge of the table. The list of casualties. All the crimes of the cult wrapped up into one set of clipped documents. You didn't dare look, to see how many of the names and faces you'd recognize.

"Auness, Backfield, Springview..." Gaz lists off the cities on his document, "I haven't even heard about half of these."

Soap leans over the table from across him. He snatches the paper out of his hand, despite the little protesting sounds Gaz let's out. "Ah, think I’ve been to Springview once...lovely neighbourhood," Soap says with a grin on his face.

"They're all small communities, some were only truly fostered to life after the cult's influence," you inform them. The document in your hand lists off a field report from years ago, a group of soldiers passing by Backfield only to be met with hostility. There had been 10 when they went in, 2 came out. That had been the true start of it back then, when things really derailed.

It had been all over the news for a time. It's incredible how quickly the world forgets.

"All done by the dishonourable... Michael Wilder..." Gaz picks up the document that had been placed in the middle of the table. The only person that ever took any responsibility for it all. Though never suffering the consequences for his crimes, he let it be known he was the one that stood behind it all.

"Ah expected his name to sound different....well...anything other than Michael..." Soap makes a distasteful face, leaning back in his chair. "What kind of cult leader is named Michael, it's not a very intimidating name." Rich coming from a guy named Soap, you think, but the comment never leaves your mind.

"I think that's the point," Gaz corrects, to which you can only nod.

He did have another name once upon a time, but you can scarcely remember it now. Perhaps even before you truly got to know all the things he's done. Maybe he had a nicer side once, that was lost to some tragic event from bad people. It didn't do any good to dwell on it. Who he is now is your problem.

"Murder, Torture, Arson, Kidnapping, Rural crimes...bloody hell, what hasn't this guy done," Gaz says exasperated. There’re many things that man hasn't done that he wanted to; you don't doubt that he would've done a lot worse if there hadn't been a collapse in management. He was building something grand.

"Speculative all of them...can't connect him to all of it, but there's nobody else that could have possible been responsible, the cult is a collective." You can still remember what it was like the first time you walked amongst these cultists. The clear admiration, the shock and awe, the forsaken faith in a brighter future. They might have been misguided, but they truly believed in what they were doing, there was no deceit from them.

"Shit, even something as small as vandalism, who'd have thought" Soap points to it on the list.

"He burnt down a chapel."

Both of them turn their heads to you in an instant, the surprise on their face shows most of their thought process to you. There's not much to explain, the whole ordeal was pretty straight forward. The only crime you personally had physical evidence of still.

"Ah thought they were supposed to be a religious cult..."

"They are. And still he set fire to the chapel, watched it burn down along with the surrounding forest."

You don't feel like their open mouth in awe reaction is warranted. The cult has been responsible for far worse, is planning far worse, is doing far worse as you all speak for all you know. There's only one true problem with the retelling, you're not about to bore them with the details.

"Were there people inside? Any get out?" Gaz asks carefully.

"Twenty-two, none recovered."

The silence stretches out to an uncomfortable extent. You've already made it awkward. That's got to be a record for you by now, how long has it been? Not even 30 minutes. Despite how much you want to refute your words, they are true. There is nothing remotely funny about the group of people you're after.

"There's been more documented causalities, everything is accounted for," you try to sound reassuring, but it comes out as uncertain. The two men either don't care or don't seem to notice.

A chill runs through you, unexpected, a subtle reminder of the eyes on you. Once upon a time you'd be worried about sharing too much information with the wrong kinds of people, the reminder had been helpful then, now it was a nuisance.

"At least we finally have a good shot at getting to these guys," Gaz speaks up and tries to break the uncomfortable atmosphere you've created. "This is extensive work," he nods to you and gestures to the entire table, "impressive."

Soap nods to agree, and you follow the motion idly without thinking. A little too late, you let out a rushed, "thank you."

You block out the rest of their conversation, only perking up your head when anything of relevance was shared. The two kept a good flow of idle chatter and gossip. Nothing you paid any mind to, gossip wasn't why you were here, you reminded yourself.

"So have ye ever actually spoken with any of them?" Soap asks.

"Wha..what?" You stutter. The question came seemingly out of nowhere. You almost drop the pen in your hand. It would have made an annoying clattering sound if you did. The thought makes you tighten your grip.

"They seem like a nasty bunch, preaching all of that with no remorse," Soap continues in an attempt to explain himself, "have ye met with them? Spoken to Michael?"

You want to snap at him. It's a dumb question you want to say, inappropriate and entirely irrelevant to the investigation. Except it's not.

You want to shut him down just as badly regardless.

"Uh... I..." *Fuck me* "Yeah...he's not pleasant...listen I need to get a few of these files scanned in, so I can send them over to Laswell, you two just keep at it, and I'll be back." It's an obvious lie to everyone in the room, a bad attempt at getting out for fresh air. Neither of them comments on it, and within a flash you're gone.

Opening the front door is a dreaded action. You can already imagine the battlefield you'll be entering; the feint mumble of raised voices can already be heard from your position. The minefields are always planted carefully, specific spots that you don't expect unless you've been traversing those dirts for years at a time.

It's never specific, never the same thing.

One wrong step, and you've got someone screaming down your face.

That battlefield was your home.

Opening the door only makes the feint screaming louder to your ears. You quickly locate it to be the kitchen, easy enough to avoid. Just have to kick off your shoes, place them neatly, tiptoe past the little opening and through the living room, to the stairs and your room. All without being noticed.

"Deus spes nostra, my child."

You stop abruptly. The only reason you don't let out a loud squeak of surprise, is the hand you slapped across your mouth. Your head whips towards the couch, gone are all thoughts of the perfect view into the kitchen you're right in the middle of.

Your expression falls when you realize who it is. An old friend of your father's from his military days. He sat on the couch with his usual poise and striking manner. He'd been staying here for the last two months, something about vacation, something about deployment, something about no money, something about too much money.

You had tried asking your father several times, whenever he was in the mood for your presence. Each time you got a different answer, and there was no way you'd find yourself asking the actual man himself.

In no way did you dislike him. He'd always been nice to you, making conversation in the silence, giving you gifts when you were upset. He'd almost been a part of the family since you were young, but he'd been gone for several years, and now you felt like a different person to back then.

"What?"

A grin breaks across his face. His form relaxing into the cushions behind him as he regards you just long enough that you're about to repeat yourself.

"Did your father never teach how to properly respond?"

He runs a hand over smooth blond hair, bleached you'd say, but you have no doubt he'd disagree. Ever since he had come back, he tried to make conversation with you, foster a friendship with you, trying to become some type of adult figure in your life. You don't know what you actually see him as. A man, your father’s friend, a stranger mostly.

"Respond to what?"

"Deus spes nostra, you respond with Deus lux mea est." His stare is a piercing blue, spikes digging into your soul and setting hooks in flesh and meat.

"Why," you ask sceptically.

"It's an affirmation of our faith, an identifier, so to speak." He sees the way you stare quizzically, the way your brain is picking up on the small things, learning the minor details that you haven't even realized yet.

A loud bang can be heard from the kitchen, the split and shatter of glass, and then silence. Your mind panics at the implication, old defence mechanisms going into place. You flinch and move quickly to the nearest couch, curl up on it, making yourself seem as small and unnoticeable as possible. Every fibre in your body told you to end the conversation and go to your room, but the man didn't feel like letting you go just yet.

"Easy, my child, nothing will happen to you as long as you stay with me." He speaks soft words of comfort. It does nothing to ease you.

You try to combat the tremble in your voice, you put on a fierce look, one of strength and deep hidden anger.

"I'm not a child."

He chuckles at that. Two breaths, dry, not believing.

"Oh sure, you do seem very mature for your age."

He's mocking you. It's nothing you haven't heard before, despite the truth of the statement, you were still deemed a kid by most adults in your life. You felt like you had grown faster than the others, you acted with more care, more knowledge, and somehow you still feel behind in every aspect.

"I guess...people have told me that a lot" You look towards the opening to the kitchen. All it would take was for the conversation to become too loud, to bring attention upon yourself. It would be so easy to bring on the wrath of your father or the disgust of your mother. You had the marks to count for it.

"You're a special one, your father tells me as much. I can still remember when you were younger, always a bit peculiar." That would be a head turner if you've ever heard one. There’s no part of you that actually believes his words, yet he says them with such conviction.

Any word that comes out of your father’s mouth about you has never been in a positive light. Occasionally he'll drop a hint of satisfaction whenever you do something for him, but that's as good as it's gonna get. Being called special or peculiar by your father must be more of an insult.

The man reaches out and places an unwelcome hand on your knee. He seems to notice the change in your expression. An uncertain frown settling on your lips. "Not in a bad way, dear, you've got something others don't, a potential that others can't see, but I do," he says.

That doesn't reassure you in the slightest, but the little flame in your heart is already lit.

"You're turning eightteen soon, isn't that right? Next year?" He asks and pulls back again. He takes note in the way you seem to release the tension in your shoulders. There's no longer any noise from the kitchen. You don't hear it.

"Yeah..."

He smiles.

"Have you ever thought about enlisting? Serving with your brother and sisters in arms, I'm sure it'd make your father very proud." He seems too sure, and perhaps he was right. Your father's time in the military had always been described with honour and respect. A time of his life where he did something worthwhile, it made him the man he is today.

"Uh...I...No...I haven't"

You never want to be anything like him.

"You can't be serious, Simon!" Your voice echoes throughout the graveyard. A few of the crows in the trees fly off into the sunset. Simon knew you'd react like this. He thought himself prepared for your outrage, ready to comfort you and make you understand. Your emotions are intense and renders him silent.

"You can't go! What about everything we have going on here, we had a plan you know! You can't just bail on that."

The plan had always been a fantasy, he thought you knew that. Something you would whisper aloud in the quiet of the night. Dreams of running away, of scraping enough money to get a small flat together, of helping each other through the adult years of your life, at least until you both got stable.

He had seen it for what it was, a childish fantasy. It wasn't a reliable solution.

"God, and even just listening to the stories from my dad, it's awful there, why would you want to be a part of that!"

The graveyard feels ice-cold. The spider lilies are dead. There's no warmth to gain from the lowering sun, painting the sky in gold and orange. You've never looked more beautiful than this. Emotion so evident in your eyes, and the sun's glow reflecting it. He doesn't fail to notice the tears lining your eyes, the breaths you hold in an attempt to not cry.

You look divine, an angel on earth.

The last thing he wants is to see you plunged into darkness. Something he fears will happen when he takes his departure alone. He adores you, he always has deep down, but he needs to prioritize himself, get himself out before this place kills him completely.

"I thought we were in this together! I thought you cared for us, for me, for all this!"

Your words are chipping away at his patience. Your inability to understand his side of things, the unwilling part of you that won't even try. He understands as far as it allows him to. He knows you're afraid of what will happen if you're separated. You've always struggled with believing in yourself.

He knew you'd be fine. He knew you'd find your own way out, that you could be reunited in a few years somewhere better, healthier and safer.

"We are!" he yells back, "I care so much for you, for what we have even when it's here."

"Then why won't you-"

"But I can't stay here spider, it's killing me" he cuts you off. The words leave a sour taste on his tongue, it's the bare-bones truth that can be applied to both of you. Your own childhood homes weren't safe for neither of you. Mentally nor physically.

"I get that...but...what about me..."

"Spider, not everything is about you!" he regrets his words just as quick as they leave his mouth. He can see the look of betrayal on your face, it matches the dread he feels in his stomach. You take a retreating step backwards. "Wait-" he calls your name; he reaches for you, but you don't let him touch you.

"You have to understand, this is the only way out for me. In the military, I might actually be able to do some good," he tries to explain to you.

You're not having any of it.

"Fine, go then! Get yourself killed" you shout, turning on your heel before he can stop you. His brain screams at him to follow you, to comfort you, to get you to understand so you won't be mad at him, but he doesn't.

After years and years of searching, Simon has found that roaming the halls aimlessly has become an adequate stress relief. There are certain times of the day when the halls are completely deserted. Each step echoes and bounce off the walls around him. A rare occurrence when he doesn't care to make his steps featherlight, he let’s people hear he's coming.

It makes for a good trance of thought. He disliked most of the walks outside around base, the frost biting at his covered skin, and damp boots seeping water into his socks, but the hallways were dry and quiet. Most of the time.

He's solved a lot of internal problems this way. Stomping through the hallways deep in thought and looking as intimidating as ever. Back when he and Johnny were new and uncertain, he used to avoid him this way. One easy way to avoid someone who was always looking for you, was to always be on the move.

Of course, it hadn't worked forever, Johnny eventually found him, and made him confront his own feelings despite how uncomfortable it made him.

This time around, his thoughts drift to you. They always drift to you these days. Like a disease you've infested his thoughts, reminded him of things that was once buried deeply. There's still a lot of things unresolved between the two of you, things he wishes he could sit you down and talk to you about.

Ever since you've arrived, you had a weird effect on him. You manage to leave your presence in every room you walk into, he can almost sense where you've been, the people you've talked to. You're everywhere, and whenever he needs to find you, you disappear completely.

It's a frustrating cycle.

Perhaps for the first time, he understands how frustrated Johnny must have been those years ago when he avoided him like the plague. You seem to be doing the same thing now, whether you're conscious of it or not.

Part of him is completely fine with it. You stay out of each other's way, avoid bringing up any bad blood. It doesn't absolve his endless questions, however. He can barely focus, even when he's with Johnny, every scar of his that he lets his eyes run over, his thoughts go to yours. How did you get them, who gave them to you, are they still alive?

He could always figure it all out on his own. There was no real need to ask, but he still held a modest amount of respect for you.

He doesn't pay attention as someone zooms right past him. Whoever they were, they were in a hurry, and in his mind, it was no concern of his. More than likely just a recruit late for training, or a soldier forgetting their report.

It's only when he refocuses his eyes and sees Johnny standing in the distance with a look of disbelief on his face, that he turns around to see you zooming away in the distance, rounding a corner when you finally get far enough.

He raises his brows behind his mask, his eyes turning to narrow slightly as he pieces together a situation, which he has no context to.

"They finally get sick of you?" Simon questions broadly, his voice taking a joking tone with the man lingering in the doorway.

Johnny didn't look all that much amused, his eyes continuing to follow you until you were completely out of sight. "They're an interesting one," Johnny mumbles while letting out a sigh.

"Don't like them?"

"Ye kiddin? Ah adore the dark, mysterious, quiet bastards that somehow always enter my life" Johnny's tone comes across as sarcastic, but there's truth to his words. Early on in their relationship, Simon had been convinced that Johnny just had a huge case of saviour complex for him. He still doesn't know if it actually did start out like that, but he can say with certainty it's developed much more complex.

Simon scoffs and shakes his head. "They didn't use to be so..." he trails off, looking back at where you went as if he could catch another glimpse, but you were already gone.

"Moody?" Johnny proposes half serious.

"Distant," Simon corrects him.

Johnny nods. He walks out of the doorway, does a gesture to someone inside, and lets the door close behind him with a soft click. The hallway is plunged back into silence as the two look at each other. Simon has never really liked intense eye contact, but he makes way too much of it on purpose.

"Have ye talked to 'em yet?" Johnny walks over to the nearby wall, leaning against it lazily. He looks tired, worn out, which is a surprise from the lack of meaningful things to do over the last while. It's not completely nonsensical, Simon is well aware of how easily Johnny can be drained from lack of activity. Having something to do is what scratches that needed itch deep in his brain.

"I've tried to." Johnny doesn't look like he believes him. He would like to convince himself that it's true, but a part of him hasn't been searching for a level ground with you either. He has no idea where to start, how to re-establish that familiarity you once shared. It makes all the deep corners of his mind stir.

Johnny gives him a look he knows well. He knows he should get on it, push past any fears and at least get back on a professional standing instead of skittish cats tiptoeing around each other like the other is going to strike.

"Don't look at me like that," Simon says defensively. Johnny puts his hands up mimicking surrender, his teeth flashing through in his smile. The smirk could easily be wiped off his face, but he has no energy to do anything about it.

"Just talk to them already, ah can practically feel the tension three rooms over every time ye two are in each other's vicinity." Johnny shakes his head, before urging Simon on his way.

A droplet of sweat falls into your eyes. It stings and leaves a burning sensation behind. In any other scenario, you'd be fighting yourself to get it quickly wiped away, to get the pain to stop. Your focus is elsewhere. Plastered on the punching bag in front of you.

Each hit sends you further and further into a locked state of mind.

One two one two one two.

It keeps your thoughts occupied. Prying them away from the creeping shadows and their tempting whispers.

Miss it. Miss it.

Hit yourself. Hit yourself.

You close your eyes and continue to count.

One two one two

Bang your face against the wall till the bone inverts.

They're insistent tonight.

You switch up your stance. Circling the bag before taking it on at a different angle. You want to excuse your jittery movements on too much coffee, but you know the reminder of how close you're getting to going near that hell is enough to have you like this.

The more you think about it, the more the small whispers in your ears taunt you. A scent of sulphur and burnt flesh sometimes pass you by. It makes you do a double take in your movements, before you can tell yourself that it's not here. It doesn't make it go away, but if you focus just a little more on the red fabric of the bag instead of the red on your knuckles, then maybe it will tone itself down.

It's a futile attempt. The voices never really listened, no matter how much you answered them or ignored them. Independent of your reaction, they only seemed to want to taunt your mind. You could hardly recall back when your mind would be relatively empty, but the time had been there.

You try to circle the bag again, coming back and forth between the space you're allowed. Your respite comes in the knowledge that nobody would be here to observe your uncertainty. There was hardly anyone at the gym this late at night. The reason you chose it in the first place.

You were rusty, a bit out of shape, but you still had your technique. It had been hammered into you for years, you wouldn't forget it that easily. Each hit to the bag makes it sway slowly around, the massive weight not being very deterred by your punches.

Blood rushes through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest and causing you to breathe unevenly. It's an afterthought to put yourself through small breathing techniques between sets. Every sound that emits in the room plays into your mind, flashes images to the forefront of your brain.

The sound of the wind outside splashing against the windows. The sound of your punches against the bag. The sound of distant footsteps. The sound of a barking dog outside, one that would bear red crosses on white pelt. The sound of low murmuring all around you. The sound of a gunshot.

You whip your head around, choking on your own spit, when you're met by the sight of the man you've been avoiding. Your eyes flicker to the person behind him, made of shadows, smiles and bad omens. It puts an uneven hand on Simon's shoulder.

The sound of your beating heart is loud in your ears, you almost fear he can hear it as well. Your breath is low, uneven, easily excusable to the exercise you were doing instead of the nightmare standing there. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palm. Small droplets of blood trickle in-between your fingers.

He hands you a water bottle. It takes you by surprise, a sudden gesture of kindness. "You look about ready to collapse," his voice is gruff and tired. You bite the inside of your cheek when you accept it.

The cold water is like heaven for your dry throat. Your body graciously accepting the hydration it's clearly needed for a while now. He wasn't totally wrong about your state. You heard the whispers, how you've been looking sick the entire day. Then again when don't you.

"Thank you..." you mumble quietly, taking another gulp from it.

"Yeah..." he looks at you like he's expecting something from you.

You stare at him wearily, trying your damned hardest to discern whatever expression he's making under the mask by his eyes alone. More than anything, you wanted to pull it off of him. You wanted to see him, truly see him.

Would he have stubble? A full-on beard, maybe. Would he have the same hair length as back then, would he have smile lines, wrinkles when he laughs? His voice was deeper, would his laugh sound different now?

"We need to talk," he says your name so quietly, like he's afraid to utter it, as if you'd spring on him like a monstrous creature or haunted ghost.

"We're talking," technically you aren't, but for you this might as well be a conversation already. Heat blooms in your chest, rising unwillingly to your cheeks. Once upon a time that would've been from bashfulness, now it was more of a deep-rooted shame, a fear of your own anticipation for what's to come.

"I'm..." he stutters over his own words, "I'm not entirely sure what went wrong between us."

He pauses and your eyebrows furrow, your mouth quivering with words unspoken.

"Maybe it was something I did, being the reason, we stopped talking but..." your eyes flicker around his mask, the urge turns pained in your chest. He shakes his head. "I hope we can put it past us, for the sake of the mission."

You hand the water bottle back to him. He accepts it, but you can see in his movements how he takes it as rejection. Your eyes are clear on the target he's becoming.

"No, I..." your voice comes out raspy. You clear your throat. "I'm not sure either, what went wrong, but I hold nothing against you...Simon...I guess we just grew apart." It's a big fat lie, but the millisecond of what you'd call relief that shows in his eyes are well worth it.

He exhales his breath loud enough to be noticeable, his form sagging just a little without breaking. "You don't?" when you nod as confirmation, he matches it. "That so...I'd like to start again...I'm curious where you've been all this time, it would be nice to catch up...begin again."

That little voice in your head bristles. A quiet little thing that belongs to a childhood version of you. It wants him to shut up, to stop the pretending front he's putting on. Then there's the other little voice, a voice of reason, one that's still young and malleable. They fight over your decision-making.

He looks down at your hands, notices the feint trail of blood where you split a knuckle. His eyes go small, focusing on it a tad too long before you can pull your hands out of view from him.

Your teeth catch your lip before you make the conscious decision to let it go. "Yeah...we can...try again...from the beginning," the dry laugh you let out doesn't sound convincing, but it seems to be enough for him to buy into. Maybe all you had isn't dead just yet, and when the call comes crashing it all down, you can use the connection for your own burning benefit.

"Right..." there's a note of excitement in his voice, the slightest change in octave and rhythm. "I'll be looking forward to it," he takes his turn to leave the same way he had sneaked in. "Oh, and spider, clean yourself and the equipment up, gonna give yourself a bad reputation like that."

He's being cheeky behind that mask, you can tell. Yet the reawakening of the nickname stirs the softest of a smile to almost make it to your lips.

Your feet hurt. Every step sends another spike of pain up your legs, every swaying movement threatening to send you barrelling forward. You're late. Horribly late. Each breath catches in your throat, and you barely look at the road before you pass it. Only a loud honking alerting to just how close you were to being run over, but you couldn't stop, you had to catch him in time.

You couldn't believe you were almost missing this. Your last chance at seeing him before he leaves for good. The wind hisses in your ears, the cold burns at your uncovered feet. You couldn't believe you had let it come to this.

For the last few weeks, you had been ignoring him, only sharing the most necessary of things. There was no banter between you, no jokes or laughter, and all because you couldn't contain your own anger for his decision.

His stupid, stupid decision.

You couldn't talk him out of going.

He couldn't talk you out of resenting him for it.

The sky is on fire. Rays of the sun blinding you on your way, making you squint your eyes to see. The oranges mixed with yellows makes the clouds look unreal. It's a thing that would have stopped you if it weren't for the agonizing consequences of your decisions weighing on your shoulders. The sky meant nothing to you now.

The graveyard is a welcome sight, the rusted gate creaked open wider than normal. You zoom past it, stumbling over one of the larger rocks scattered about. It propels you forward into the yard, crashing your knees against the gravel. It cuts and stings, but the buzzing under your skin is too loud to notice.

You call out his name. Your voice holding no bounds for your desperation. The only sound that comes back is the crows squawking, the fluttering of wings as they fly far away from you. There's no answer to your call, no familiar voice sounding out to meet you, no warm hand on your shoulder that would pull you into a hug.

He's gone, you realize all too late.

One forgetting mind, two arguments with your mother, and a punishment to follow, all for nothing. You missed your window. You missed the time he'd said he'd wait. He's left and with what, the only knowledge that you're angry with him. He's putting himself in potential danger, and he thinks you resent him.

More than that, he's actually out of reach for you now.

A fear that had infested your bones long before his ugly announcement. A fear that was now no longer just a fear.

Your breathing stutters. Your vision blurs. Blues, oranges, greys and reds, blobs of nothing filling your vision spilling down your cheeks. They might as well freeze in place. Your legs refuse to obey, your body hunches over from every dry heave, every soundless sob and every claw at the ground.

You were alone now.

Yet a hand places itself on your shoulder. It spooks you enough to let out a scream, yet when you whip around, you're only met with a soft smile. The hand is too big to be Simon's, too rough and too scarred. You stare into the eyes of a different man.

A friend. An enemy. A figure you could cling your shattered mind to in your late teen angst.

"You'll be alright," he mouths the words, and you're sure he speaks them, but they never reach you.

"You can meet him again," he stands tall, watches down at your kneeling form with a twist of something that churns your stomach, "I can show you the way to him."

"What?" Your voice is barely audible.

"Through the path to God we may find redemption, and through that path you may find your friend once again, we are all the same under His light."

He tosses a lighter down on the ground next to you.

"Let me show you the path to the light."

You can smell the smoke in the air, taste the ash on your tongue, feel the blood beneath your nails.

It's too late to let go now the hook has sunk into flesh.

The flame is already lit.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @islnd-vybz @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami

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rottenpumpkin13 · 10 months ago

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now, we know about the first class idiots and their toxic relationship with queen’s blood…but what about fort condor?

Why Fort Condor Is Banned From The SOLDIER Floor

• The game pieces are tiny and easy to lose, which becomes annoying when people want to play but the board game is incomplete. Irresponsibility on its own would've been fine, but this peeves Angeal immensely, who began disciplining the Seconds and Thirds with cruel and unusual punishment.

Zack lost half the pieces one time, which is how Lazard walked in on Angeal using Zack as a mop to clean the floor. • The Fort Condor board itself can be used as a weapon. People have been known to grab the board mid-game and slam it into their opponent's face. This is how Sephiroth got a concussion and the reason Genesis was shoved down the trash shoot immediately after. • Genesis has no patience. He has been known to take his sword and smash the board when he's losing, usually when provoked by Sephiroth who finds it funny how the red in his face matches his coat. • The Fort Condor pieces can be used for bullying. Since the pieces go missing frequently, people have to replace them so they get them custom made to look like their coworkers. Zack got the condor to look like Cloud one time. Cloud thought it was a chocobo. This angered Cloud greatly. It took three hours to remove the chocobo piece from Zack's nasal cavity. • The SOLDIERs (+Cloud) started playing against each other and forming teams, which reaped animosity in the workplace. Kunsel put out a hit on Roche's head (or a shave on his head). Zack locked Angeal in a broom closet out of spite and made him miss a whole mission. Sephiroth and Cloud couldn't walk past each other without trash talk. And the entire Third Class revolted against Genesis and spray painted his office door metallic silver with the words "WE LOVE SEPHIROTH" • The threats Lazard heard when he walked by the lounge were getting ridiculous, and most of them were said by Sephiroth. The most unsettling ones he's heard from him are Sephiroth: "I will use your femur as a back scratcher." Sephiroth: "I will superglue your nostrils." Sephiroth: "I will make a beaded necklace with your teeth." Sephiroth: "I will electrocute your kneecaps." Sephiroth: "I will salt your eyeballs and lick them repeatedly." Sephiroth: "I will stalk and pursue you for the rest of your life, becoming so ingrained in your subconscious that you see me whenever you go and obey me like a puppet." • He barged into the room after that last one and found Sephiroth already knocked out with a fire extinguisher and Cloud standing over him going "I panicked" • This coincides with the reason watermelons are banned. Angeal brought one back on a mission one day and put it in the break room. Sephiroth and Genesis were playing a round of fort condor, Sephiroth realized Genesis was cheating, went to the break room, grabbed the watermelon, then proceeded to shove Genesis' head inside of it. • Sephiroth is stupidly good at Fort Condor and it angers people. Lazard himself played a round against Sephiroth once and felt indescribable rage. He had to sit there with Zack fanning him with a magazine until the desire to staple Sephiroth's hair to the floor subsided. • Two games ended in crime scene tape and one of them had Zack's chalk outline in it. • Lazard wouldn't bat an eye if he saw someone on their break playing Fort Condor Online, but the last time he saw that it was Zack trash talking a ten-year-old child online who was winning.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #cloud strife #lazard deusericus #headcanons #crisis core

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panlight · 3 months ago

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you're post about what would happen if SM didn't follow up after Eclipse with Breaking/Forever Dawn (what a timeline that could've been... 😔) had this line that made me think:

I think you could still include some plot with the Volturi if the group Jane lead in Eclipse picked up any evidence of the wolf shifters and reported it back to Aro.

it made me think about Eclipse where they tried to hide the werewolves' existence from the Volturi...or I guess involvement? (I'll get to that later) and then later in Breaking Dawn where Aro is fascinated by the pack

thing is.....wouldn't the Volturi (or at least Aro) already know? Aro's whole thing is seeing every thought (maybe even memory) that went on in your mind from I guess the first thought you ever had to the present, and just from Edward alone he could've already known about the "werewolves" they had a run in with when they made a treaty in the past.

and even if that was a long time ago, from having touched Alice (who did in fact learn and met the recent resurfacing of the Quileute wolves) it surely would've raced some suspicions? or maybe even have an idea that "huh, are these people they had a treaty with part of the Children of the Moon too?"

now it makes me wonder the full extent of just how much of your thoughts Aro can read, or if Edward's "he hears every thought your mind has ever had" just being dramatic (like he isn't already with his chosen method of offing himself. lol.)

Yeah I've often wondered about this, too. Aro makes it pretty clear in New Moon that he knows all about Alice from being "introduced" to her by Edward via the mind-reading, but is it like an instant download that he immediately just knows or is it more like a book he has to flip through, and maybe he hasn't gotten to the wolf stuff yet because it wasn't as immediately interesting to him as Alice's powers?

I think again it's probably a function of the books being written out of order, because he for sure could pull the "well I'd love to let you go home to my dear friend Carlisle, but alas, you have been fraternizing with werewolves and brother Caius has a problem with that :( " and try to coerce them to stay in Volterra to serve him to spare the other Cullens or whatever. Like he could have so easily just villain'd it up but he couldn't because they HAD to go home and finish high school and get married and have Renesmee.

I guess in my theoretical sequel-to-Eclipse he did find out about them when he touched Edward and Alice in New Moon but he just put it on the back burner and didn't mention it to Marcus or Caius and could have pulled it out later in this not-BD. That is, instead of the Irina thing, Aro could have pretended to be shocked by what Jane was telling him after reporting back after Eclipse (OMG werewolves?! no way! surprisedpikachu.gif) and used the "alliance" with the shifters to go after the Cullens. "To fraternize with the enemy is one thing, but to work with them to kill other vampires is quite another!!" etc.

And I still don't think we talk enough about the danger Edward put the whole family in by choosing Volterra as his would-be suicide method. Edward, my buddy, you gave all the family secrets to Aro. More than he would have gotten from anyone else because you, too, are a mind-reader. I mean at the very least Rosalie and Jasper should be pissed about that. If his plan to die had succeeded, he would have left them not only with the grief over his passing but the fallout from Aro knowing all about Alice (and everyone else, too).

#asks #tw: suicide mention

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danganphobia · 9 months ago

Note

i think because laios and shuro’s clashes in personalities it’s unavoidable that they will fight during their relationship. who do you think would be the first one to reach out first after a fight? (this is just an attempt to make you write angsty hurt + comfort laishuro)

DRABBLE INCOMING!

Toshiro wasn't sure how many beers he had tonight. He sat next to other patrons, the number of guests dwindling as the hours passed. He just wanted to get so drunk he wouldn't have to experience a sober thought until the next morning.

This bar was quiet, two blocks away from their university campus - compared to the ones on the flashier side of town where most students went on Friday and Saturday nights to party hard and forget about responsibilities for the weekend.

For Toshiro, beers sounded more tempting than any club to wash away the stress of exams and back-to-back assignments.

When he asked for another refill, his vision started to blur. Next thing he knew, he heard another voice within earshot.

"He's been here for the past three hours."

"Don't worry, I'll pay for it."

"Uh, that's kind of you, but he's already paid for the whole night."

"Then I'll tip you extra."

Toshiro groaned, facepalming. He didn't have to look to know who it was that just showed up. Laios leaned his body against the counter, trying to peek at his face.

"Kabru said you'd be here."

Saying nothing, Toshiro finished his last beer.

Laios' carried him back to campus on piggyback. It's silent, save for the occasional cars driving through.

"Why did you come?" Toshiro asked stubbornly, the alcohol he drank made him lightheaded. If it weren't for Laios, he'd be unable to walk - but the idiot didn't need to know that. Just two weeks ago, Toshiro remembered storming out of that party Namari and Kabru invited him to, with Laios following after him, asking what his problem was, and everyone outside looking on in curiosity.

"My problem?" Toshiro had asked, sneering. "Don't you see it? This - we - doesn't work! I'm sick of it! All I ever get are stares when I tell them-"

"You're with me," Laios finished with a bitter nod, stopping Toshiro in his tracks. "If you're that embarrassed to be with me, why didn't you say so?"

That was the killer. When Toshiro noticed the eyes on them, Laios staring right at him with disappointment and hurt, Toshiro decided to admit defeat. He had only given a sour apology, leaving the party without another word.

They hadn't talked to each other since then. Toshiro stopped coming to club meetings because he didn't want to risk running into Laios, and unfortunately, Laios was always present. It was fine, their campaign could go on without Toshiro considering where they'd left off anyway.

"Why did I come?" Laios repeated the question, exhaling as he contemplated his answer. "I don't know, actually."

This was why Toshiro couldn't stand him sometimes. He was a very logical person. This was how he was raised, otherwise he'd never be fit to be heir of his father's company. Laios Touden didn't need a reason to do the things he did.

"I don't get it," Toshiro mumbled. This should make him a walking red flag, after all. This was the guy who was known for smoking pigs at clubs, did kegstands at frat parties, and could squirt milk out his eyelids for the hell of it. He was the kind of guy that would make a pristine rich kid's parents like Toshiro's have a heart attack if Laios told them what he'd been up to. They were polar opposites; someone Toshiro would've avoided if it weren't for their mutual friends. "After everything I said to you, you still came to see me."

"Yeah." Laios said, like there was nothing odd about it. It only pissed Toshiro off even more.

"Why?"

"I can't just leave you there. What if you passed out in the middle of the street?"

Toshiro snorted, scoffing. "You are aware that I practice martial arts?"

Laios laughed. "I don't doubt you can probably kick my ass while drunk. Then again, you didn't." Instead, Toshiro was clinging to his back, Laios' cyprus scent calmed him, as it was so welcoming. He hated that. It should make him nauseous if anything. "I can't say for any other stranger that would see you this vulnerable."

"I can take care of myself," Toshiro huffed. "You shouldn't have come."

"I don't care if you're mad at me, because I've already forgiven our fight."

"That's - that's preposterous -" Toshiro sputtered in defense, "Why continue to torment yourself by being seen with me?"

Laios chuckled. "Who said being with you was tormenting?"

Toshiro stayed quiet.

"You might think so, so I'll just have to prove myself to you. Lucky for me, I don't really care what people think," Laios explained, pausing at a stop light. Toshiro's eyes widened when Laios turned his head slightly with a gentle smile. "And you shouldn't either."

Toshiro's heart pounded in his chest. The traffic sign flashed - as Laios was permitted to cross the street.

"Yeah, you were an asshole at that party. But at the end of the day, it doesn't change my feelings for you. I think," Laios sighed, "if you like someone, if you really really like someone, you should let them know as much as you can."

Toshiro reached for Laios' ear and tugged on it.

"Ack!" The noise Laios' made in pain just made Toshiro pull on it tighter until he let go. "What was that for?!" He asked, pouting.

"It's easy for you to say," Toshiro said bitterly. "I've spent my whole life trying to live up to the expectations of others. I don't just do impulsive, stupid things out of my own free will. Which is why - I don't even understand why I have feelings for you, either..."

"Toshiro..."

"I am not worth this trouble. You misguide yourself."

"That's not true," Laios countered in earnest. "Tell yourself that all you want, but to me, you're worth it."

Silent and brooding, Toshiro buried his neck deep into the crook of Laios' shoulder to hide the scarlet in his cheeks.

Laios was like a leech that wouldn't pull himself off Toshiro even if Toshiro tried.

And he'd never admit how nice it felt, to be around someone who didn't expect much from him; just his presence, so they could exist together in a world so unpredictable. The air felt easier to breathe the longer they remained, just being.

#dungeon meshi #laishuro college au #laishuro #van writes #asks #hurt comfort is my jam #i just had to write the infamous fight scene at a friend's random party and the make up that comes after #theyre kind of 10 things i hate about you coded if you think about it #i hope u enjoyed this drabble anon! thank you so much!

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echantedtoon · 8 months ago

Text

Oblivious Crushes Ch2 Urogi And Karaku

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Koyoharu Gotouge for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.

Warnings for alcohol consumption mentioned, Karaku IS his own warning, possibly some innuendos, and some cussing.

Just for context. If you didn't already know this is a modern au fic and obviously I'm NOT doing a Zohakutan x Mitsuri. This is just a funny what if idea based on the art by @hawnkoi / @hawnkoii on Tumblr. Kinda based within Kimetsu Gauken and will probably be ooc with the four main clones and short but screw it! Let's go!

ALSO!! I'm going off the headcannon that Karaku is already very flexible. Have you seen him doing those backflips and cartwheels in the anime? Plus it's kinda cannon Mitsuri knows ballet with all the twirls she does. I had to research a LOT of ballet stuff for this )

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

If you had told him a few months ago that he'd fall for the most beautiful, chatty girl on campus.. Honestly he probably would've believed you.

It wasn't really a big secret that he's been around on plenty of dates. Not quite as much as his identical green eyes brother but enough to be known for his own fun loving personality. He liked to say that no one who hung out with him date or otherwise was bored. Quite a few parties he's thrown. Lost count of how many drinking contests he's won in the past two university years, only loosing to Karaku whom he could respected. But it was on only one of these days that he actually caught sight of her.

He thought that whole infatuation at first sight thing was just in movies. Y'know. Hollywood stuff so people would watch more chick flicks. However it was like time slowed in that particular moment he was leaving the hallway with Karaku and about to enter the campus library, they were supposed to meet two of their brothers after their tutoring session and then the lot of them would leave to visit their gramps and little brother over the weekend. However when Urogi went to grab the doorknob, it flew open and something solid ran into him. Something hard enough to send him stumbling back and falling onto his back hard with something landing on top of him in a heap.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! Are you ok?!", a voice squealed out above him.

Blinking his vision slowly focused and he found himself frozen. Time seemed to slow down and he looked up in awe at the beautiful face in front of him. The light hit her face just right from the window as cheesy as it sounds, and lit up her worried eyes staring down at him with that worried frown making her bottom lip pout and her cheeks puff out slightly but enough to make her look all the more cuter. One of the two giant braids hanging from her head knocked into his cheek...All he could answer out in that moment was a wide eyed wheeze.

"HAHAHA! I think you knocked the wind outta him, Mitsuri." And all at once his vision was taken away from him. Two hands grabbing her by the waist and hauling her up off him and to her feet as his brother laughed. Karaku smiled widely at the woman who looked worried at the smiling man. "Wasn't expecting to see you here. Late night studying?"

She shook her pretty head making her braids sway and the green eyed man smile more. "No. I was actually tutoring your brothers!"

His eyes widened slightly in realization. "Ah! So that's how you've been makin' that extra dough. I didn't know you were teachin' Sekido. How many pencils did he break this time?"

"None! He's getting a lot better!," she smiled up at him and giggled making a rare pink come to his face.

"Yeah...So I've meaning to ask you." A hand rubbed almost nervously on the back of his neck. "Since I gotta miss our weekend sessions, do you wanna make up for it next week wh-when you're free?"

She happily nodded again. "I'd be happy to! But I really gotta go now." She cutely hopped from foot to foot. "I promised my friend I'd meet her when I was all done and I forgot the time and Sekido got stuck on that algebra problem- AH!" Karaku chuckled as she cutely grabbed her cheeks with a squeak. "And I'm making myself more late! I gotta go! See you next week! I'm so sorry again!!"

Within a few seconds she waved at Karaku, bowed apologetically, and then raced off down the hallway off to who knows where leaving the two standing there.

"Hey, Banana Eyes." Karaku leaned over his brother still splayed across the floor. "You gonna get up or do you need a forklift?"

Urogi did sit up. Slowly. Wide eyed and in awe glancing at where she disappeared. "..Who was that?"

"Mitsi? She's from my dance class. Y'know? The one I take on weekends. Here." Urogi was hoisted up to his feet by Karaku a moment later. "It helps keep me in shape. You guys keep saying it's really weird remember?"

"Huh? Oh. R-Right."

Karaku rose a brow at his brother's distracted gaze. "Uh. Are you sure you're ok? She did knock you on your ass pretty hard back there."

"Huh? Oh. Y-Yeah. I'm good. Let's just go catch up with the guys."

He wasn't planning on dwelling on the thought any longer. The weekend trip helped somewhat. Getting to see their gramps and grouchy little brother helped take his mind off her for three days max. Tuesday turned out to be the bane of his existence as the moment after class Karaku rejected his offer to join him for a night at the local bar and grill (honestly the placed cooked some really delicious chicken so you didn't just have to go to get hammered for the night) but was surprised when he turned him down.

"Can't. Mitsi's helping me catch up on what I missed last class."

"Class?"

At this his brother gave him a deadpanned look. "Uh. Yeah? I've been taking dance classes since forever remember?" As if to make a point he held up a small backpack slung over his shoulder. "I go every Saturday, Dude! How could you forget?"

"Oh yeah. Right, right. Um. So you're practicing with that Mitsy-"

"Mitsuri girl! How about you let me tag along?"

Color Karaku surprise as his brows rose at Urogi's nervous smile. "You? You want to come? Uh. Y'know it's not gonna be a real class right?" His green eyes narrowed suspiciously eyeing the nervous smile on his brother's face. "It's just a catch up for me. Also why would YOU of all people wanna come, Mr. Dancin'-Is-For-Girls?"

Good question. It was because it would look WAY too obvious to everyone if he just randomly decided to join the tutoring stuff she did. Plus he really didn't want to bother Aizetsu or Sekido about letting him join. Aizetsu would just flat out say 'no' and Sekido would just tell him to quite bothering him in typical yelling fashion. So really the only way to see her without getting too obvious was to tag along with his bro under the guise of being bored. It could work since he's always tagging along with him anyways. But he was sure judging by Karaku's suspicious face that he wasn't buying it this time.

"Aw. C'mon, Bro. I've been stuck up with homework all day." He slung an arm over his brother's shoulders as casually as he could smiling. "I'm bored! And there's nothing to do around here. It'll be funny seeing you prancing around in a tutu-"

"It's a leotard, Asshole!" His arm was shrugged off as Karaku frowned. "And for your information it's NOT easy to 'prance around'! It actually takes years of practice and it's great exercise. Now if you're done shitting on my hobby, I'm gonna be late!"

Urogi frowned as his brother just pushed past him and began walking away from him. This wasn't going as planned! So in a panic he ran to catch up with him. "H-Hey! I was just joking! I didn't mean to rile you up! C'mon! I can keep my mouth shut! Just lemme come-"

"Fine!", Karaku barked snapping a look over his shoulder, "But you're gonna stay in the audience and away from us! The last thing I need is you making fun while I'm trying to catch up with something actually important to me!"

"Got it! You won't even know I'm there!"

"Doubt it."

Urogi kept his mouth shut(for now) and just silently followed his brother out of their dorm and across campus. Karaku made one stop which was to randomly stop and rip out a handful of pretty hydrangeas and roses from nearby bushes (Which was probably against University rules) before he continued on and both found themselves at the Uni's theater. Ah. Right. Theater kids and geeks met up here. Honestly probably the perfect place to practice frilly dances besides the gym. He was caught off guard slightly when Karaku made him stop and firmly pointed at the audience seats. Ah. Right. He said he'd be quiet and sit out there. It annoyed him but his other choice was just looking like an ass in front of the cute chick he wanted to meet so he chose the less incriminating route and trudged himself into the rows of seats. It was exactly what you expected. Rows upon rows of seats, big curtains, a giant wooden stage in the center, a really beautiful girl in a pink leotard doing twirls on the stage-

Urogi tripped doing a double take falling between two rows of seats with a loud thud-

...His head popped back up quickly and yellow eyed widened in realization. IT WAS HER!! She was oblivious to him in the audience doing a rapid motion of tiny steps forward before stopping in place and twirling more on one foot with her hands above her head. Ironically her hair wasn't in long braids this time but a giant braid-bun combo on her head but that didn't matter she still looked beautiful. However despite doing ballet (at least he was pretty sure it was ballet) she didn't wear a tutu. Instead it was a full body pink leotard with white leggings. It enhanced her already pretty figure. She did a few more twirls until she stopped and instantly smiled as his brother walked onto the stage wearing a similar green get up. He was too far away to hear what exactly they said but she sure looked happy when Karaku handed her the (stolen) flowers and said something that made her giggle much to his delight. Oh gods- SHE LOOKED SO CUTE WHEN SHE LAUGHED!! SHE WAS LIKE A REAL ANGEL!! He remained mostly silent in hiding watching them (her-) as they interacted for the next hour until he got an idea into his head that he would soon regret later-

"You want to what?"

"I wanna try out your twirly dance class." His brother stared silently. "I saw her- I mean you both doing that dance thingy and it looks like fun! I wanna give it a try too!"

Karaku stared at him like he suddenly grew another head. "Uh-...You are kidding right? The classes I take is for experienced professionals that's done it for years and close to graduating. Not for people who's literally never even tried doing it." Karaku pointed out gesturing to him up and down. "You could get seriously hurt if you try doing it!"

"Aw! C'mon. It can't be that hard! I just tiptoe around and spin right?"

His brother frowned harder. "Uh. No. There's literally so many things that you gotta get good at first. Balance, muscle build up, flexibility- The closest to that you've ever done was the time you got wasted on the merry-go-round last spring festival. You don't even have the proper shit to wear!"

"DUDE PLEASE!!," Urogi begged which again caught Karaku off guard. Urogi rarely was serious let alone begged. "Just this once! I promise I'll stop bugging you! Just give me a break-"

"Alright fine! Geez. Now I know how 'Kido and Aizetsu feels."

He lit up smiling. "Dude!" And happily grabbed his shoulders. "You're the best! Love ya!"

"Uh huh. *sigh* We're holding a class for beginners next week, you can join that since it's less likely you'll break anything. I'll let ya borrow a spare outfit but YOU'RE-" Karaku tapped his finger into his chest a few times. "-paying for the class yourself. Got it?"

"Got it! I mean it, Dude! I owe ya big time!"

"You got that right."

Yes! This was perfect! This was his chance! All it would take was one car ride over there and one class to get a chance to chat with the beautiful angel! Nothing can go wrong now!

"Hi, Everyone! Welcome to the beginners class!"

Urogi stood there giving a nervous shiver every so while. A green leotard and tights identical to the one Karaku wore clinging to his body way too tightly as he stood there embarrassed amongst the other students who were all girls giving him an amused look. He felt embarrassment like none before meanwhile the beautiful angel smiled widely in front of them all along with his brother trying his hardest not to laugh at him but failed as his shoulders shook slightly with laughter. How more humiliating can you get?

"My name is Mitsuri and this is Karaku!," she brightly introduced herself before motioning to his brother whom only gave a friendly nod. "Unfortunately the instructor is busy rehearsing a very important play so we're here to run you through the simple basics! But don't worry, we're not going to be doing any actual dances today! Today is all about just getting the basics down and working on your flexibility!"

Gods he wanted to disappear. It's ok! He just had to power through it is all!

She held up a whole hands. "Now you might already know this but for those who dunno there's five basic positions in ballet. They're all really easy to remember since they're literally just called first position, second position, and so on! We're going to go over them real quick. First the first position!" Her body shifted into a stance. "First you point your toes outward and squeeze your heels together like so!"

Ok. The positions were awkward and tense to do but they weren't too hard to get through. It'd be easier if Karaku wasn't trying to die from laughter the entire time enbarrassing him more and making his face red in embarrassment. He was just jealous that Urogi was getting the basics down probably better than he did! There's nothing to it! Watch him sweep the angel off her feet with his flawless exercises! They were in the middle of something called a first arabesque which was just a sorta flamingo pose where he stood on one leg while splaying his arms and other leg out-

THUD!

His leg shook badly. The strain all those poses giving out. His face panicked. And then he fell face first into the polished wooden floors with a loud thud that had everyone looking at Urogi. Karaku snorted loudly but quickly stiffled it as Mitsuri shot him a look.

"Don't make fun of him! It's his first time! Everyone makes mistakes!," she scolded him before looking back to Urogi in pity. "Hm.. He's probably not used to such stretches yet." It was that moment that she smiled with an idea. "I know! Now would be a great time for flexibility exercises!"

It was then Karaku's face immediately dropped his smile. He looked almost horrified looking at Mitsuri, then at Urogi picking himself up annoyed, and then back to Mitsuri. "Um. Maybe it's a little too early for that, Mitsi. Let's just stick to posing today-"

"Nonsense! Flexing out the muscles will totally help!" She waved him off. "Ok everyone. Find a partner! We're going to be doing a flexibility exercise practice!"

Suddenly Karaku didn't look so amused anymore. Apparently these flexing exercises meant that they were just gonna sit themselves on the floor and hold hands while you stretched out your legs?? Ok! Yeah! He could totally do that! Easy least! Mitsuri had Karaku help demonstrate by sitting across from her and helping by pushing her legs back until she was in a splits position. She smiled at everyone gazing their own attempts. The girls were actually a lot better at doing this than he was. Instinctively he kept pulling his legs back into himself which she frowned at.

"No, no. Urogi, you're doing it all wrong."

"I'm trying! I'm pretty sure men aren't supposed to bend this way!"

"Karaku does!"

"Yeah? Well my brother is a freak of nature."

Karaku frowned at him from where he was sitting but Mitsuri only smiled. "How about I give you a hand?"

Karaku looked horrified as the color drained from his face and Urogi's eyes widened. "UH! It's alright, Mitsi. I know Urogi better so I should probably help him-"

"Oh no!," Urogi cut him off with a large happy grin. "I think I'd be more comfortable with a real professional!"

Karaku's face couldn't have gotten more pale as he watched Mitsuri stand up and walk over to Urogi as if Karaku was watching someone walking into their own demise. Urogi however was in absolute awe happily watching as his old partner switched places and allowed the beautiful angel to sit down and smile at him fully. He felt his heart pick up and his burn a hot red as she took his hands tightly all with that cute smile directed at him-

"Good luck. You're not gonna be able to walk the rest of the week."

"Huh? What di-"

Urogi barely turned to look at his brother over his shoulder and his speech was cut off when without warning her hands clamped down tightly on him and her legs snapped his back. His vision exploded white and an unbearable pain shot through his body-

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."

"I tried to warn ya. I told you it's not easy and you could get hurt but did you listen to me? Of course not."

"Just shut up!"

Karaku wasn't wrong. Sadly. He felt like he sat on a chair made of nails for an entire day! His legs shook and wobbled with each step he tenderly and slowly took as his body shook and wobbled like a newborn deer walking for the first time. Karaku for once didn't laugh and looked mixture of irritated and pitiful. Thank God they didn't have to walk the entire way back to the dorms.

"B-Be honest," Urogi winced and whimpered as he still slowly walked. He might actually cry from this. "H-How bad does it look?"

"It looks like you froze your entire legs in Antarctica for a hundred years, got drunk, and then tried walking when you got no dam feeling in them," Karaku bluntly replied making his brother wince more in embarrassment. "*sigh* I can't believe you did all that just to try and hit on her!"

"I wasn't!"

"Oh please! It was obvious! The only one who didn't notice was Mitsi and honestly she's pretty dense when it comes to flirting with her. Believe me I tried." Another whimper out made the green eyed man sigh. "Look. Instead of putting yourself through hell like an idiot, why don't you just sign up for her tutoring on a different day than Sekido and Aizetsu's? I'll even ask her to fit you in somewhere."

His watery yellow eyes went wide. He could hug Karaku right now If his entire lower half didn't feel like he got hit by a train. "Yo-You'd do that for me?"

"*sigh* Yeah. I don't think I can stomach you putting yourself through another circus act. Sides you can use the extra help. Have you seen your science score?"

"GREAT!..Uh..By the way, how far did you park?"

"Not too far. Why?"

"Can we just pretend I'm drunk and have you carry me the rest of the way back to the car? I literally can't feel my ass."

35 notes · View notes

broodybuck · 10 months ago

Text

Title: The Jealous Roommate

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, roommate AU, no powers AU, pre-serum Steve, top Bucky, bottom Steve, pining, jealousy, wall sex

[ao3 link]

Steve remembers the first day he met Bucky. The man was so hot, it's a miracle Steve didn't stutter through the little interview Bucky conducted to vet the applicants for the open room.

He remembers staring at Bucky, studying his broad chest, his dark hair, the exact shade of blue in his eyes. He has a jawline that Steve wants to trace with his fingers, cheekbones Steve wants to draw in a sketchbook. He could memorize the man's face if he tried hard enough and that's when Steve knew he shouldn't take the room.

But Bucky offered it to him on the spot with this incredibly charming smile that made Steve melt. So he immediately said yes and moved in the next day.

Steve still remembers Bucky helping him with the larger boxes. He teased Steve the whole time about his size. Let me help, this box is bigger than you, Bucky had said more than once. In the past, Steve would've been annoyed at remarks like that but from Bucky, well... hell, he'd be okay with the guy picking Steve right up all the while insisting how small and light he is. That was the day Steve started imagining what it'd feel like to be carried in Bucky's arms. Not good, Steve knows, but at least his bedroom door has a lock on it any time his mind gets too caught up in things like that.

The shower becomes Steve's enemy because it means Bucky walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. It's not fair how good the guy looks wet and shirtless. Steve's mouth went dry as a desert the first time he saw it. Now, Steve waits in his bedroom any time he hears the shower on. He can't handle looking at that again and not getting ideas.

Of course, his bedroom doesn't always solve things. Bucky is a man who's very comfortable with himself. He's not only shirtless after showers. Sometimes he walks right into to Steve's doorframe wearing only shorts. Steve's not very good at conversation when he does that. And that's the other problem, Bucky is so nice. He likes talking to Steve. He's been learning to cook and makes extra food for Steve. He picks up things for Steve at the grocery store when he sees he's running low. He visits Steve at the coffee shop he works at. It's like Bucky wants to torture him with his constant beautiful presence.

And look, Steve knows nothing is ever going to happen. There's no way a little scrawny thing like him could be Bucky's type. Bucky goes to the gym four times a week, he has a physically demanding job on the docks at the crack of dawn where he comes home smelling like sweat and fish.

They wouldn't have enough in common if they dated. Steve's lungs can't handle a workout, he's sick too often to have a job working in the frigid mornings by the water, and he mainly spends his free time drawing in his room.

So, all the while Steve drools secretly over his roommate, he never expects his fantasies to turn into reality — ever.

Steve's out at a bar with his coworker, Natasha. She's been nagging Steve to get back out there for months now, exactly how long he's been living with Bucky and not dating anyone at all. She knows about his crush on Bucky, not because he told her but because she stopped by one afternoon and saw the look on Steve's face when he introduced Bucky to her. Steve's been trying to deny it, but he's known Natasha for over a year now and she's damn good at reading people. But even she has never told Steve to go for it with Bucky, she merely nags him to start dating again.

Tonight, Natasha has a friend she wants to set Steve up with. Steve agreed, mainly to get her off his case but he already knows he's not interested. He hasn't been interested in anyone since his eyes saw Bucky Barnes.

Still, he agreed to the date a week ago and they planned to all meet at this bar so Natasha could introduce them and then leave them to get to know each other. Which is exactly what happens.

The man Steve's being set up with is named Chester. Ever since Steve met Bucky, he doesn't judge names anymore. So tonight, he simply smiles and offers his hand out for a handshake.

Chester wears glasses, he's not much bigger than Steve but he is taller. He has light brown hair with freckles painting his face. It's not the kind of face Steve wants to memorize but he supposes it'll do. Natasha leaves them alone and they start the typical small talk that people always do.

All the time they're talking, Steve's wondering what Bucky's up to back at the apartment. He wonders if he's walking around shirtless or cooking a new recipe in the kitchen.

After a few drinks, Steve already knows he doesn't want to go home with Chester. He never needs to see this man again but he smiles and tells Chester he had a nice time. They hug and part ways.

Steve takes the long way home, thinking a lot about his pathetic dating life and whether he'll ever find someone that makes him forget about his roommate.

Steve enters the apartment quietly, it's only ten but Bucky goes to bed early since he works at sunrise. The lights are off when he enters. Steve closes and locks the door and then begins to creep down the hall to his room.

"How'd it go?"

Steve jumps from the sound, throwing his hand over his chest, breathing hard.

"Sorry," Bucky laughs. The hallway light turns on and Bucky's standing in the doorway to his room. "Didn't mean to scare ya."

Steve blushes, trying to calm his labored breaths as quickly as he can.

"Oh, um. It was fine," Steve says.

He did mention to Bucky he had a date tonight, but he didn't think he'd wait up for him.

"It's kinda early, isn't it?" Bucky asks with a glint in his eyes. Steve's not sure why he seems to be beaming over this.

"Yeah, we just had drinks."

"Good," Bucky says.

"Good?"

"This guy's gotta work harder than that," Bucky says.

Steve's eyebrows knit together. "I'm fine with just drinks."

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, leans into the doorframe and dammit, just that is attractive.

"Drinks is why you're home at ten, alone."

"Well," Steve says, feeling his face warm. "I wasn't that interested in him."

"Good," Bucky says again.

This really surprises Steve. He's not sure what's so good about that. And he's really not sure what to think when Bucky chooses this moment to uncross his arms, step back into his room, and shut the door. Leaving Steve standing in the hallway, dumbfounded.

Steve tries not to think about what last night meant with Bucky. They don't talk about it the next day or the day after so Steve tries to forget it happened. It meant nothing, he convinces himself.

Three days later, Natasha says Chester would like another date and wants Steve's number. Steve's not interested in another date but something stops him in his tracks. He can't refuse the offer when he realizes another date means getting another reaction out of Bucky.

And he wants that. He wants to know what the hell Bucky meant the first time. If a second date could rile Bucky up enough to get him talking again then Steve needs to hear whatever he has to say.

So Steve agrees and two days later he's on another date with Chester. This time, Chester takes him to dinner and then out to a club. It's certainly more of a date than the first one but Steve doesn't feel a thing. Nothing, the whole night. But he purposely goes along with it and tries to stay out as long as possible so that he can really test whether Bucky is waiting up for him.

Steve gets home at midnight. He creeps into the apartment much like the last time but this night, he doesn't even make it to the hall. The living room is dark which is why Steve jumps out of his skin when he hears a voice come from the couch.

"You're home late."

The lamp switches on and illuminates Bucky who's sitting on the couch. Steve gulps like a kid getting caught sneaking in past curfew. The only difference is, this is the first time he'd very much like to be reprimanded by the man in front of him.

"Yeah," Steve says hesitantly. "Uh, it was my second date with—"

"I know," Bucky interjects.

Bucky sighs and lets his hand fall onto his knee. Steve watches him grip his leg tensely. A warmth coils low in Steve's stomach.

"What happened?" Bucky asks, sharply. So sharp it makes Steve blink wide.

"Um, well, we got dinner and then went to a club to dance."

"To dance?" Bucky grits.

Steve didn't think dancing was a bad thing, but it sure sounds like it.

"Yeah and got some drinks," Steve expands because he's not sure what else to say.

Bucky's jaw tightens. It looks good on him too, enhances his bone structure, shows off his cheekbones. Steve doesn't realize the breath he's suddenly holding.

"And then what?" Bucky demands.

"I... came home."

Bucky's head snaps back to Steve with an intensity in his eyes that Steve can't exactly place as anger. No, it's something else but Steve won't let himself believe it. It can't be jealousy. What would Bucky have to be jealous of?

Bucky stands from the couch now, he moves forward.

"Nothing else happened?" Bucky questions.

He closes the space between them so quickly, he's only a foot away now. Steve swallows again.

"No—"

"He didn't touch you?" Bucky talks over him.

Something ignites inside Steve, he's hot all over and in shock because there's no denying it now. Bucky is jealous.

"Not like..." Steve begins, about to differentiate between an innocent touch and the kind Bucky's implying but he doesn't get a chance. Bucky's jaw tenses again, he steps closer — too close.

"Did you like it?" Bucky growls and it's too hot for Steve to be scared. His stomach flips in a delicious way.

"Did you? Tell me, Stevie. Was it good for you?"

Steve shakes his head, there's nothing to tell but he's debating if lying or telling the truth will get Bucky to put his hands on him. He wants the man to grab him, shove him into the wall, and kiss him hard. God, that'd be Steve's biggest fantasy come true.

"It... was..." Steve stammers still trying to decide. Lie or not lie. He's frozen in place, memorized by the blaze in the other man's eyes.

"What position?" Bucky barks.

"W-what?" Steve blinks.

"What position did he put you in? Huh, tell me which way he had you," Bucky crosses his arms again.

"P-position?" Steve stutters.

His skin's on fire now. And that's when Steve finds the little ball of courage to say it. He wants it too bad not to try.

"Against the wall."

Bucky's eyes go wide briefly before they narrow again. His whole face stiffens. And then it happens. His hands fly out and press into Steve's chest. In a split second, his back is shoved into the wall behind him. The air is knocked out of his lungs — Steve tries not to smile through it. He looks up at Bucky breathing over him, furious with envy.

"The wall—the fucking wall?" Bucky seethes. "Christ, Steve. You're serious?"

The edge in his voice is faltering. Steve can tell he'd be surprised if that was the truth. It's about to be, Steve thinks.

"Yeah. The fucking wall," Steve confirms pompously.

Bucky's mouth twitches, his eyes drop down to Steve's mouth then back up.

"You liked that?" Bucky asks. This time his voice is low.

"Loved it."

Bucky stares at him with wild disbelief and then it turns, darkens, and finally Bucky leans in. Kissing him hard on the mouth. Steve's knees nearly give out but Bucky has a firm grip on him, holding him steady. Bucky pulls back after a long, deep kiss and they both exhale loudly.

"Fuck," Bucky says and his hands drop, he lets Steve go.

Steve's heart drops. He wants to pull him back, kiss him harder but he stands frozen against the wall.

"I wanna do something I shouldn't, Stevie — fuck."

"Do it," Steve demands.

Bucky's gaze snaps back to him. Neither of them moves for a beat. Then slowly, Bucky runs a hand through his hair, combing it back with his fingers. Steve's been wanting to do that for ages and this is the closest he's ever come to believing that could happen. That a whole lot more could happen.

"Do what, Stevie?" Bucky asks, with a playfulness to his tone. "Cause what I wanna do, is show you how much better I can make it for you."

He steps closer again, caging Steve in with his hands against the wall.

"You tell me the position, tell me what he did and I'll do it better," Bucky husks low.

Steve's mouth drops open and he needs to suck in a breath before he can answer.

"I know you will. I want you to."

Bucky breathes once and then his mouth is back on Steve's crushing their lips together desperately. Bucky's hands grab Steve's hips and lift him up, pressing him harder into the wall.

Steve hooks his legs around Bucky. He's able to keep himself steady against the wall even as Bucky pulls open the fly of his pants and shoves them down below his ass. Then he lifts Steve higher, high enough that his legs need to resettle on Bucky's shoulders. Then Bucky starts eating him out.

Steve squeals. This is already the hottest thing he's ever experienced. It's hard to handle everything he's feeling especially including Bucky licking into his hole and using his thumb to press against on the rim.

When Steve's wet enough, Bucky starts easing in a finger. He picks his head up and lets Steve's body slide down the wall, dropping down to the knuckle of Bucky's finger. Steve gasps and Bucky immediately kisses him so forcefully, Steve can't catch his breath until he pulls back.

Bucky works him open like this. Against the wall, with his legs draped over his shoulders. When he finds Steve's prostate, Steve's legs start trembling from how good it feels. Bucky steps into Steve making his legs fold against himself. He moans and Bucky adds another finger.

"Wanna fuck you like this," Bucky huffs, his fingers slipping out now. "How'd he do it?"

Steve inhales slowly. "He didn't."

Bucky looks at him.

"He didn't touch me. He didn't fuck me at all," Steve tells him.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment then leans in and kisses Steve. When he draws back, he keeps his eyes closed.

"I thought I'd be able to control myself," Bucky breathes. "But the thought of you with another... fuck, I couldn't do it. I've wanted you for so long now."

Steve's eyes are wide with that confession and he could confess a thousand things to his roommate too. But he doesn't have time because Bucky's pushing down the waistband of his sweats, slicking his cock up with saliva and then pushing in.

Steve groans. He holds Bucky tightly, as his body gives in and slowly sinks down on the man's cock.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes, resting his forehead against Steve's. Their breath mixes into one, Bucky kisses him again. Then he grabs Steve's waist and holds him up so he can start with short, shallow thrusts. But their position means Steve's already deep on the man's cock and he whines with every small movement.

"Don't—" Steve pants and Bucky stops, "go easy on me."

Bucky nearly growls and pushes back in as deep as he can go. Then he moves Steve's body with his thrusts, makes each one harder until Steve's slamming down on the full length of his cock feeling every inch plunge into him.

Steve's eyes roll back. He claws at Bucky's hair. He can't even warn him, he's coming all over himself before he realizes it. Bucky's still fucking him when he starts to groan along with Steve and then he's coming too. He stills his movement to let his release pump into Steve.

They stay breathing against each other for a few long minutes. Bucky's still holding Steve up, only the wall is helping him now because Steve's gone limp otherwise. He's not holding onto Bucky or keeping his legs hooked. He'd be on the floor if Bucky wasn't supporting his weight.

Then carefully, Bucky hugs Steve too his chest and carries him to the couch. He lays them both down and pulls Steve on top of him, he pulls out. Only the sound of their breathing fills the room now.

"You know," Steve finally says. "I didn't peg you as the jealous type."

Bucky cracks a grin at that.

"To truth is, I shouldn't have let you move in."

"I never thought this would happen," Steve laughs.

Bucky breathes a little easier and smiles. "Yeah, well, this was me trying not to let it happen."

"You did a real good job of that," Steve snickers.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up, punk," Bucky teases and then kisses Steve hard on the mouth again.

And after this, the hope is gone. Steve's never going to stop thinking about his roommate now.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky smut #oneshot #tumblr fic #jealous!bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfic

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elliotts-personal-property · 1 year ago

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I Think I Love You (Joe Elliott x Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, as promised here's the Joe one shot. Feeling super nervous rn, considering this is the first time I’ve posted my writing on here. I'd love to hear your feedback so I can improve on my writing. I'm open to any and all constructive criticism and encourage it! Anyways… I won't keep stalling for any longer. I hope y’all enjoy this one!!

Warnings: Mentions/references to making out/smut but nothing actually explicit happens.

Ps, if you really want to feel the vibe of this one shot I'd suggest listening to "I Think I Love You" by The Partridge Family while reading this💗

With love, Kris<3

Sheffield, 1982

I'm sleeping

And right in the middle of a good dream

Like all at once I wake up

The poor guy had been tossing and turning all night.

Joe couldn't get his mind off of you.

Just the thought of you disrupted his sleep.

From something that keeps knocking at my brain

In his eyes you were perfect. You were the only girl in the world he wanted. Of course that also meant you were the one girl, who in his eyes, had got away. The one he could never have. Why? Because you were his best friend.

For months upon months he was stuck in this endless cycle.

It went a little something like this:

He'd think about you so much so that he'd convince himself that he had to go tell you.

Then he'd work up the courage to say it.

He'd find the perfect time to confess but then start to reconsider his choice. He always would hold it back when he decided it wasn't a good idea after all.

He'd then go back to thinking about how perfect of a moment it would've been and mentally kick himself for not saying a thing.

And the cycle would repeat.

It went on and on and on.

Before I go insane

As a result of this, he hadn't had a good nights sleep in a while.

That night was different though.

I hold my pillow to my head

Something had finally snapped.

And spring up in my bed

He had known how he felt for a long time. But he had never actually come to terms with the gravity of it.

Screaming out the words I dread

I think I love you

All at once it hit him like a brick wall. He realized he truly loved you.

On the rare occasion that your best friend felt brave he'd indirectly hint at something more. After a while of not getting any knowing looks from you he just assumed that you were oblivious to all of his side comments. You in fact were not.

After a while you started to get impatient with him.

You wanted to shout it out loud, right in his face, "Dear God Joe just ask me out already!"

Recently those side comments from Joe had stopped. You would've said something to him if he hadn't stopped. But now you weren't even sure if he still cared, or if he had just given up and moved on. It would be stupid to lose your friendship over this. So you stayed quiet just to be safe.

It was a shocker to both you and everyone else how you two hadn't gotten together already.

There were so many signs. It was only a matter of time.

This morning

I woke up with this feeling

I didn't know how to deal with

Another night of restless sleep had gone by. It was worse than usual, so much so that by dawn he had already come up with a plan.

He knew what he had to do. He was going to tell you the only way he could. In the only unique love language he knew, through music.

If he was gonna do it, it had to be big and flashy. Joe wouldn't have it any other way.

He couldn't let his feelings lie dormant anymore. No, he thought, this time will be different. This time I won't back out.

And so I just decided to myself

I'd hide it to myself

And never talk about it

He had kept his feelings to himself for the past few years. Joe wanted to tell you, he really did. But in the back of his mind he worried about ruining the relationship you guys already had.

Joe loved you so much that he was willing to hide his feelings just so you wouldn't walk out on his life. He didn't want to lose you over some feelings he had. Ones that he couldn't guarantee you'd reciprocate. So, he believed it was best to keep it to himself.

And did not go and shout it

When you walked into the room

I think I love you

Joe didn't just think, he knew.

Joe was dead set on what he had to do. He just needed to get a few things sorted. First off was getting the guys on board with it.

Joe gathered his closest friends together. They were less like bandmates and more like brothers to him. He knew they would help him out. All it would take was a bit of convincing.

"Can you please help me out?" Joe pleaded.

He assured them about his plan.

"It's just one, and it'll be real quick."

"Alright, fine," the bassist answered for them all, "What song is it anyways?"

Joe told them his song of choice and they all gave him odd looks.

Sav cocked an eyebrow at the song choice.

"The Partridge Family? Are you serious?"

Phil chimed in, "You really think a band like us should be playing a song like that?"

Steve rested his hand on his head, "Everyone's going to make fun of us."

Joe tried to defend his choice, "You know it can't be that bad. We're playing in a pub for god's sake. It's not like the whole world's gonna be there."

The rest of the guys seemed unconvinced.

"Come on guys, you said you'd help me. Please?"

He kept on.

"Just help a bloke out, alright?"

And on.

"Please I promise I'll never ask for anything ever again."

Rick half-whispered to Sav.

"You know he's never gonna let it up. Not until we say yes at least."

Sav knew he was right. Joe wouldn't stop bugging them until they agreed.

"Okay fine, but it's only one song."

Joe nodded enthusiastically, "Mhm yeah, just one."

It was settled, they would help. Now all that was left was to get you there.

I think I love you

So what am I so afraid of?

The thought of telling you was exciting to him, yet terrifying.

I'm afraid that I'm not sure of

A love there is no cure for

His heart raced as he drove over to your place.

I think I love you

Joe was already cheery about just the thought of you going.

Isn't that what life is made of?

He hadn't felt this excited over something in a long time.

As he pulled onto your street he tapped on the steering wheel. It was due to the mix of both the pure joy of excitement and an ever growing anxious feeling that was building up inside.

Though it worries me to say

That I've never felt this way

Believe me

You really don't have to worry

"You'll be there tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," you answered with a wide smile, "You guys go on at eight, right?"

God he loved your smile. It could light up any room.

He melted just looking at you. Anytime you spoke to him he lost all train of thought.

You snapped your fingers to get his attention.

"Joe?"

"Oh- um, yeah. Eight, we'll be on then."

I only wanna make you happy

After you said yes he began going through that same cycle again. He started doubting his whole plan. Wondering if it would work or not.

There was no way he could back out now though. For the past few days they'd been practicing that song, not stopping until Joe felt satisfied with the final product.

He wondered if you would stick around after all of this.

Would you tell him to "beat it" and move on with your life without him? Or would you stay there by his side?

And if you say, "Hey, go away"

I will

Joe crossed his fingers, hoping for the best outcome possible.

But I think better still

I'd better stay around and love you

He was determined to make sure you stayed.

Do you think I have a case?

Let me ask you to your face

Do you think you love me?

Tomorrow night he'd get the long awaited answer to that question.

I think I love you

You arrived early, wanting to make sure you were right up front. This is what you always did. It was your way of showing Joe you cared. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the small stage, waiting for them to come out.

Meanwhile Joe was there fixing himself up in their tiny dressing room, (if you could even call it one). It was fairly small. The owner had "renovated" one of their small back rooms into a "dressing room".

He stood in front of the vanity mirror fluffing out the rest of his hair. Joe was doing any and everything in his power to keep his mind off of the plan. He looked at his reflection as he told himself to just smile and hope for the best. Whatever happens happens, it was no longer in his control anymore.

After waiting for what felt like forever the guys finally came out on stage. As Joe got on he stopped in front of you and sent you a quick smile before turning his attention to the other patrons of the bar.

You cheered along the whole time as they went through their usual set list. It didn't matter how many times you'd seen them, you were always captivated by their showmanship.

Time always seemed to fly by whenever you watched them play.

By now you had memorized their set list and were almost sure they were closing out now, having just played Wasted. They always saved it for last and were just about ready to leave.

That was before Joe had something to say.

The cheering in the room died down as Joe placed the mic back in its stand. He adjusted it right to his level, getting ready to speak.

"We have one last song for you all tonight. We're gonna take a little change of pace if that's alright with you."

He took a glance around at his bandmates, giving them all a quick nod before adding on.

"This one goes out to a very special someone. Someone who means the world to me."

His eyes drifted down to the people in the front row, moving one by one until eventually landing onto you.

"This is for you, Y/N."

Taking one last deep breath in he calmed himself before counting the guys in.

All of them started in, "Ba, ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba, ba."

You giggled at the ridiculousness of it before fully realizing the gravity of this song.

You knew what it was the second they sung the first line.

You hadn't heard it in such a long time and had practically forgotten about it, forgotten how much you loved it. It was always one of your favorites, and Joe had known that for a while now.

All thoughts completely left your mind when Joe began to sing.

"I'm sleeping,

And right in the middle of a good dream,

Like all at once I wake up,

From something that keeps knocking at my brain,

Before I go insane,

I hold a pillow to my head,

And spring up in my bed,

Screaming out the words I dread."

The rest of the guys joined in on the next line.

"I think I love you!”

This was his confession.

His eyes couldn't help but drift towards you.

"I think I love you."

While preforming Joe tried to keep his attention with the rest of the audience equal, but he kept on letting his eyes go back to you, like some sort of magnet that couldn't be pulled apart.

If him dedicating this song to you wasn't the most obvious thing, you'd say his looks alone were enough to tell you that this was for you.

You couldn't help but feel a smile tugging at your lips. Your cheeks started to feel sore from the excessive smiling.

"So what am I so afraid of?"

Every time his eyes caught yours you felt your heart skip a beat.

"I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for."

Joe really did care about you, deep down inside he did, he always did.

Soon the song came to a close with their repeated "I think I love you's" becoming more and more quiet as they faded off.

They all came front and center, taking a short bow together as the crowd in the bar cheered them on.

The girl next to you had to have already been out of it.

"You're a lucky girl, huh?" she practically yelled into your ear. You couldn't blame her though, she was standing directly in front of an amplifier the whole time.

It snapped you out of the trance you seemed to have slipped into.

"Oh-uh yeah," you smiled.

"Look," she said, swinging her arm to point at the guys in front of you.

The rest of them were making their way off, leaving through the stage left.

Joe was the last one still up there.

You stayed staring at him in disbelief, not even knowing what to do. He had finally said it... or well sung it, same difference. What was there you could do?

He tilted his head to your right gesturing off to the side of the stage, to what you only could assume led to their dressing room.

He flashed you a quick smile before sending a subtle wink your way.

If it was anybody else, you'd say you were surprised by their actions, but for Joe? Well that's a different story.

With both of her hands the girl next to you latched onto your arm.

"Ooh looks like someone's gettin' some action tonight!"

Your cheeks flushed red and you prayed to god no one else heard.

Immediately you turned to Joe, hoping he hadn't heard the girl's remark.

His eyes darted away from you. Before Joe left you saw him trying to suppress his chuckling, but ultimately failing. His smug smile was the last thing you saw as he walked off the stage.

Of course he had to have heard it, why wouldn’t he?

The girl let go of you when you told her you had to leave. She told you something along the lines of, "Have fun tonight!" before you left.

You went around the corner finding the door that you guessed led backstage. The door was locked from the inside and there was no way of getting in. You didn't worry though, knowing that the guys would come out soon enough.

After a couple minutes of waiting by the door an ecstatic Rick swung it open. The rest of the guys shuffled their way out, but with their lead nowhere in sight.

You turned your attention towards the last member to come out.

"Is he?"

"Third door to the right," Sav answered before you could even finish asking your question.

"Thanks."

He gave you a warm smile, still holding the door open for you, letting you slip through to the back hallway.

"See you in a bit," he said, letting the door shut behind you.

Even though there was no reason to, you counted to yourself as you passed by each of the doors.

One...

Two...

You felt your heart race as you got closer to the last one.

...Three

You stood there for a moment trying to see if you could hear anything on the other side. You didn't and knew it was time to stop stalling.

After taking a deep breath to compose yourself you rested your hand on the cool doorknob.

Here goes nothing.

You slowly opened the door as quietly as you could and after shutting it watched the scene play out before you.

He stood there in front of a vanity mirror facing away from you. He hadn't noticed you but you could see his face clear as day through the reflection.

Joe was humming a tune while brushing his hair. You immediately recognized what song it was.

He was humming the one he had just played. His tone was full of pure joy.

Once he was done he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shape it some more.

The man in front of you looked fine already but seemed to be getting ready for something more.

He adjusted the collar of his shirt before picking up a small bottle of cologne. Adding just a spray to his neck and one to his wrist before turning around.

Joe's humming abruptly stopped and his eyes widened.

"Oh… you're here?"

You'd been caught staring.

At this point any embarrassment that you could have had got washed away whenever he decided to dedicate that song to you.

"Sorry, I-"

"Don't be," he cut you off.

He set the bottle down and slowly approached you, seeming to take his time with it.

You watched carefully as he took every painfully slow step.

You didn't know where to start, but knew you had to say something.

"You guys were great."

"Thank you."

You had to bring it up, you couldn't bare to wait any longer.

"That song you played. Did you?"

You stopped, taking a quick glance around, noting that it was just the two of you in the room, before finishing.

"Did you really mean that?"

His gaze softened at the question.

"Yes."

He paused before stepping closer, leaving barely any room between the two of you.

"I meant every word of it."

Your heart sped up with every word he spoke.

"Y/N I mean it."

His hand moved up to tuck the loose hair behind your ear.

"I think I love you."

You had been longing to hear those words for such a long time. Never in your lifetime did you think it would happen, but it finally did.

He said that to you, and you only.

After all this time, you heard those three words you loved the most.

"I love you."

His hand moved down to cup the side of your face. You lightly nudged your face against his warm palm. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath in, wanting to smell more of the cologne that rested on his wrist.

When you opened your eyes his hand moved down to carefully tilt your chin up.

Your eyes faced him now.

"I love you too."

This was the moment. The moment you waited forever for.

Heart racing and eyes wide you both slowly drew in closer. It felt like the longest seconds of your life, waiting for him to connect with you.

You looked into his emerald green eyes before letting yours flutter closed.

Soon enough you felt the feather light touch on your lips. It felt like heaven to you.

You brought one hand up, letting you fingers run through his light brown hair.

You felt Joe's other hand reach down to the small of your back, gently pulling you closer into him.

All you could do now was relax your body and take in the overwhelming smell of his cologne.

After what felt like an eternity, the two of you finally pulled away from one another. You already missed the feeling of his soft lips on yours.

You refused to back up from him, leaving hardly any gap between you two.

His warm breath fell on your lips as he mumbled, "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"Me too."

Joe's hands dropped down and his fingers latched onto the belt loops of your jeans before lightly tugging at them, pulling you closer.

Your hips were pulled forward and you lightly bumped against him before falling back and resting mere inches from him.

Joe's eyes quickly scanned over your face as if he was looking for a cue of some sort.

Though you had never seen this look on him before, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Please Y/N."

That short plea was more than enough to get you going.

Your arms almost instinctively wrapped around his neck, letting him know you were okay with it.

"Come on," he said, slightly lowering himself to reach the back of your legs. He lifted you up and stepped back to sit in the armchair placed in front of the mirror

Your legs were pinned close on either side of him, resting between his outer thighs and the arms of the chair.

Without warning the two of you crashed into each other once more, desperate for each other's touch.

He hummed into the kiss, making you relish in the feeling he gave you.

You didn't know exactly how much time had gone by, but you knew a decent amount had passed.

Slowly, you drew away from his neck and let out a shaky breath, still wanting more. It had now been a little while since you first got in there and you knew it would only be a matter of seconds until someone barged in looking for two of you.

Your eye contact with him continued as you calmed your breathing.

Lightly pushing yourself away, resting your hands on his stomach, you finally spoke up.

"We should go. They're pry wondering what's taking so long."

Joe thought about it for a second. Seemingly weighing the pros and cons of both staying and going.

"Who cares? Let 'em wonder."

You planted one last quick kiss before making an offer.

"How about later, yeah?"

A wicked smile spread across his face, already thinking of what was to come, "Yeah."

You pulled yourself off of him and tried to fix the newfound wrinkles in your clothes. After getting up he did the same and you stayed there fixing yourselves up.

Just as the two of you were about to walk out you stopped him.

"Wait."

He turned to you.

"You’ve got a little…," you trailed off as you brought your thumb up to the corner of his mouth.

"Something," you finished as you wiped the last bit of red lipstick off of him.

Feeling content with how the two of you looked, you set off out of the dressing room and back down the hallway.

He held the door open for you and led you out into the main room.

You both scanned your eyes around the bar floor trying to find the guys.

Joe grabbed onto your hand and held on as he guided you through the crowd. He led you over to the round booth where they were all seated. As you approached the booth he gave your hand a light squeeze before letting go.

It took only one glance at the you two for the teasing to start.

"Woah!" Phil exclaimed, "What happened in there?"

"Nothing," Joe replied making his best attempt at a deadpan tone.

"You sure about that?"

The rest joined in on by adding "ooohs," sounding exactly like a group of kids in elementary who just found out one of their classmates was called into the principals office.

This was only the beginning of the never ending teasing that was to come.

Phil raised his eyebrows, "Just couldn't wait until you got home, huh?"

Joe rolled his eyes at his bandmates teasing.

Sure you had been gone for a bit, but you knew there had to have been something else causing their reactions.

You looked between yourself and Joe quickly noticing the culprit.

Though you had made sure to get all your lipstick off his face you forgot to check the collar of his shirt. The sloppy kisses had caused you to completely miss his neck in some spots and just get his shirt. The shirt in question being a white one didn't help your case.

There was no sense in trying to rub it off now, and not like you could anyways.

Rick and Sav scooted around to make room for you and Joe.

As you sat down you both noticed all the other guys were already starting their night off with their drinks in hand.

Joe looked around at each and every one of them, "You started without us, aye?”

"We waited for a little while, but you guys took too long," Sav replied.

Joe turned to face you, "How 'bout a round?"

You smiled, "Sure."

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you liked it💗

#joe elliott x reader #def leppard x reader #works by elliotts-personal-property #kris’ writing #joe elliott fanfiction #def leppard fanfiction #joe elliott #def leppard

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