#he just had so much anger building up over how unfair it all was and he should not have taken it out on other people but he never had a

[bravevolunteer]

c-ptsd is the driving factor behind a lot of michael's mental health and issues but i want to make a point of the beginning threads of this starting before the bite of 83, too

[soft4gguk]

to build a home | chapter thirteen

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

Genre: strangers to lovers. angst. fluff. smut.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: angst. angst. angst. i’m so sorry. jealousy. self doubt. ira talks im sorry!!! but i felt like it was important. oblivious kookie :/ confused oc!! sad oc :( soori’s teething and it breaks my heart. oral (f receiving) 😈 

Author’s note:  hi besties!! another tbah sunday! i love being back soo much. this is an odd chapter, i feel. i sort of lost track of time and how much of it i actually had to finish so it’s a bit of a shorter one. it’s missing the final part, sort of. and it was making me anxious! because i wanted to post today. and then i remembered i make the rules so… chapter fourteen is coming no longer than wednesday!! it’s outlined and it’ll be what was missing in this chapter. we’re back to tbah sundays after that tho :)  i love u guys so much. do let me know what u think of this chappie, i love book clubbing with yall!! xoxo

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter Thirteen 

When you get home that night, you smell like him. It alters your senses, your body nothing but a phantom touch of where he’d been. You look at yourself in the mirror and laugh at how obvious his mark is. He doesn’t just show on your smudged mascara or your messy hair, no. He’s all over your eyes. You can’t tell if the glint in them is from the remnants of the pleasure he made you feel or from the tears that threaten to fall. And perhaps that’s just what you need. To cry. Not with feminine rage music playing in the background, or in a burst of anger, but just to cry. To let yourself feel whatever it is your heart needs to. You can feel it, the way it screams at you and begs you to just let it be. 

So you let it. You shower, letting your tears get lost in the water that falls down your body. You cry when you let yourself release the feeling and you cry when you wash him off your body, his smell going down the drain alongside your anger. Now you’re just sad. 

You cry your skincare off and give up on it tonight. You brush your hair until you can’t stare at yourself in the mirror anymore, because it just makes you cry more. For some reason the reflection that stares back at you convinces you that this is why he doesn’t love you. You look like a little child, hopeless and helpless. Eyes puffy, bared faced, in your old pajamas with the faded print that once said, born to be cute. You’ve had them since you were fifteen and all of a sudden, your nostalgic attachment feels dumb. You feel dumb. And pathetic. And sad. Your brain is cruel, letting you know exactly what it thinks. How could he want to be with someone like this? Like you? It’s almost ironic how your words of hatred all originate from words of love. From the words of love he didn’t reciprocate. 

You think of Ira, because the streak of cruelty couldn’t just end there. You think of her beauty, of her face. You wonder if she ever felt like this about herself. If she ever stared at the mirror and didn’t feel like the reflection staring back at her was enough. You don’t want to be unfair towards her, but you doubt it. You doubt someone like her could ever walk into a room with uncertain steps and words that faltered. All you can see when you look at her is confidence and beauty. Her and Jungkook made sense together. It almost felt like a perfect trick from the universe – a power move. 

You get under your covers, exhausted and with the hints of a headache that threatens to settle aggressively if you kept the tears running. You hug the teddy bear you’d grown emotionally attached to when you were six. It makes you feel pathetic yet again, but it also brings comfort and so you pull it closer to you. You wonder if you’ll ever fully grow up. The heart ache turns into something bigger, something downright existential and it won’t stop. Even if you tell yourself that it’s irrational, that things just look bad right now but won’t be like this forever. The self doubt roots inside of you, growing branches that grow through your body. Will you ever become something out of who you are right now? Will you write a book, buy a house, travel the world, start a family? The last one breaks you with a nature that’s so acute it brings back the tears. 

You grab your phone, an intense desire to type Ira Sommersmith into the search bar. You find it kind of funny – to be comparing yourself to someone that you can literally google. When did you ever stand a chance with him, really? When did it ever make sense that he’d choose you? When did it occur to you that you were enough?

Ira was from a small town in Europe you couldn’t pronounce. When she was younger she spent most of her time riding horses, they were her biggest passion. She even says it in an interview after they ask her what she thinks she’d be doing if she wasn’t a model, pondering on it for a second before replying, “I’d be in a farm, riding horses all day.” And even though her hair is perfectly styled and she’s wearing very pointy stilettos, you believe her. Her dreams sound completely valid to you because amidst her sharp features, she has a soft face. 

Another article tells you she’d been scouted when she was sixteen. She’d been on holiday in London with her parents – she was an only child – and she’d gotten stopped in the street. In another interview where she talks about this, she laughs timidly when they ask her, her gaze down when she says, “they told me I was beautiful in the way things in important places where. Like magazines and billboards,” she softens the flattery by saying, “if you consider those things to be important, of course.” And it’s during that interview that you realize you can’t hate her. Not because you don’t want to, but because she makes it really hard to. 

She’d been on her own ever since – traveling the world, walking the most important catwalks in the most important cities, grazing the covers of every magazine and billboards, she’d even made a couple of movie appearances. You wonder how you could’ve missed her. She seemed to be everywhere. She sits on a makeup chair, two people behind her doing her hair at the same time, while someone else works on her face. She talks about having had a 4 am call time, sleeping very little the night before, being jet lagged and hungry. But she laughs as she says this. You almost laugh, too. The camera man asks her how she keeps up with the hecticness and she doesn’t sit on her words for even a second before she says, “I have a really great support system. My family, my friends. Also, I always keep a snack on me.” The video shows pictures of her, in different settings, with said family and friends. You actually recognize some of the faces – actresses, models, influencers. You pause the video in the middle of a particular frame when you see a face you recognize better than the others. It’s Kenny. It’s probably the picture that dates back the furthest, they both look so young. You type their names into another Google search and their friendship is revealed to you in an almost too perfect of a timeline. They’d been friends since they were eighteen after meeting backstage at a Chanel show. Your eyes widen. A Chanel show. Holy fuck. Who were you acquainted with? Kenny almost looks like a different person behind the camera, her eyes fierce and face cold. 

You scroll and scroll until something catches your eye. It’s a paparazzi picture, taken in a big city you don’t recognize. Hobi has his arm around Kenny and Ira and Jungkook hold hands and look into each other’s eyes as they strut down a sidewalk. It looks straight out of a catalog, or something. They’re perfect. Then it’s his name alongside hers that you’re typing into the search bar. You’re surprised to find that their relationship had been quite private, not a lot of information about it on the web besides the basics. Forbes talks about Ira being a model, Vogue talks about Jungkook being the heir to The West End Collection. The anonymity their relationship holds brings some sort of frenzy, though, as you read a couple of tweets and posts that idolize their relationship. Strangers wishing them the best, looking up to them, wishing they could have a boyfriend just like him. Another perfect paparazzi shoot of them at the beach, Jungkook picking Ira up from behind, mid-spin. She’s radiant as she laughs, body clad in a white bikini thar reveals her perfect body. There’s over 300 comments under the picture. Someone says, “if my girl looked like that I’d be in a good mood for the rest of my life.”

And you get it. You get it because she’s beautiful, and talented and easygoing. She’s confident but humble and when she speaks, you can see the way she thinks about the words before they leave her, making her sound so very eloquent. She’s gentle and dainty and her voice is soft. The more you scroll, the more you form these thoughts inside your head and then you find the perfect word to describe her: gracious. Elegant is a close second. 

Your eyes feel heavy and it’s nearly two a.m.. Your phone screen illuminates your face as another video plays. She’s being asked 73 questions. 

“What’s something you can’t live without?”

“My boyfriend.”

“So, you’re in love.”

She nods, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“He’s the love of my life.”

~

Your body aches with exhaustion, courtesy of your late night perusing. Your gaze gets lost on the fruit you’re cutting at a lethargic pace and you don’t even react when you lose grip on the knife and it comes dangerously close to cutting through your skin. 

Mrs. Chae walks over to you, but you don’t notice her proximity until she’s placing a coffee cup in front of you, her movements gentle, like she understands. When you look up at her and smile, she smiles back, briefly caressing your arm before she’s back to busying herself with her morning responsibilities. Her kindness makes you want to cry. 

You hear Soori’s cries long before she enters your line of vision, and when she finally does, she’s pouting and squinting her eyes before letting out another long wail. 

“Oh, my sweet baby,” you walk over to them, running your hands down her cheeks, wiping her tears away. She turns around, nuzzling her face between Jungkook’s neck. 

“She’s been in pain since she woke up. I gave her a bottle and some Tylenol but nothing helps.” Jungkook rocks her from side to side, hand coming to cup her little head to try and comfort her, but her cries only get louder. 

“It’s okay, the medicine will kick in soon and I’ll keep her as comfortable as I possibly can,” you reassure him, but he still looks miserable, guilt settling in the closer he gets to having to leave.

“I hate to leave her like this.”

“You’re not leaving her. You’ll be back home soon. It’s okay, Jungkook, she’s going through a totally normal process. As painful as it is for her, she’ll be fine.”

He nods and she seems to calm down, too, turning around as if following the sound of your voice. She stares at you for a second and you smile and even though she doesn’t reciprocate it, she falls into your arms the way she does every morning. 

“Hi, baby,” you kiss her chubby cheeks. “You’ll be alright. Say, I’m gonna be okay daddy!” It’s sweet music to your ears as you get a little chuckle out of her when you raise her little arm. 

Jungkook stares at her, lovingly. He stares at you lovingly, too, only you’re too busy being sad to notice. You can barely look into his eyes. 

“I’ll probably be late today again, w-”

“We’ll be here. And I’ll be with her. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you, ___.”

And all you can do is smile at him, only allowing yourself to stare into his eyes for a brief second, because any longer could break you further and he’d have no other choice than to know. Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing – you’re smart enough to know that. But the side of you that can barely handle your feelings wonders how hard it’d be to share them, yet again, with him. Your heart, achey as ever reminds you that it was the shared feelings he couldn’t do anything about that land you right where you are now. 

You decide to be with your sadness, alone. 

~

Soori’s pain comes in waves. In the morning she’s fuzzy, then after breakfast she seems to be doing a little better. You two play in the garden and you let her get messy with watercolors. She’s distracted enough for all of two hours, which you deem a success in your book. She cries again as you put her down for her nap. She cries until she tires herself and you hold her through it all. When you try to put her down on her crib, she wakes up, tears threatening to leave her eyes again, and so you hold her and sit down on the rocking chair, letting her sleep on you. You let her sleep as much as she needs and when she wakes up, you have drool all over your shirt. You smile, knowing that’s a clear sign that it was a deep and successful nap.

She’s good during lunch time and then fuzzy again afterwards. She throws a block at you and you hate that you have to give her the gentle talk when she’s in such visible pain. But she’s good and she listens and when she nuzzles herself into your arms ten minutes later, you know it’s because she’s sorry. She’s so smart and it’s beginning to show in every aspect of her. 

You read her books, even as she cries halfway into the third, eventually falling asleep. You let her snooze in your arms once again, but try to keep the nap short so she can have a good night’s sleep. She’s a bit groggy and unhappy when you wake her up but she gets straight to playing afterwards. You make her a snack and it seems to be going well until she’s back to restless tears. It kind of reminds you of when you’d first met her, when you were certain about having obliterated your chances at getting to spend time with the “cute baby”. She cries and cries and yet all you can think of is how grateful you are that you got the job, by some odd chance and one hell of a lot of luck. 

You stare out into the garden as you rock her in your arms. Your exhaustion is starting to get the best of you and you’re relieved when she begins to calm down, her sobs turning into tiny sniffles and her head falling into your shoulder. You give her back soft, little pats as she relaxes in your hold. And right as you think she’s about to fall asleep, her head springs up and you hear her say,

“Dada!”

You turn around, surprised eyes on Jungkook as he makes his way inside the living room. He smiles at Soori, who jumps in your hold when he outstretches his arms in her direction as he greets her sweetly. 

“Hi, baby,” he takes her in his arms, lathering kisses all over her cheeks. She giggles and you smile in relief because it’s so good to see her so happy. “Daddy’s home! Did you miss me?” she claps her hands as if agreeing with him and he laughs, kissing all over her face.

“You’re home early,” you say, a small smile on your face as you take in the scene before you.

He takes a step forward, grabbing you by the waist and kissing you. It takes you by surprise but you let him. The kiss is deep but soft and it lasts longer than you’d expect. You feel his smile on your lips long before he pulls away. 

“We closed the deal,” he says. “It’s done. We did it.” 

You smile, hugging him to you. Your face to his chest and words muffled when you say, “congratulations.” 

Soori taps on your shoulder, whining as she gets smothered between the two of you, making you both laugh as you stare at her. She looks confused and pouty, can’t decide who she wants to entertain first. She smiles at you before she’s nuzzling her head against her father’s neck. Jungkook does a little jump and she shrieks in excitement, looking back at you and smiling again. 

“I want to celebrate,” he says.

“You should. I know how hard you’ve been working for this, it deserves a celebration.” 

“With you.” He pulls you closer once again. “And Soori. Us three. We can have dinner somewhere nice, what do you think?”

You ponder on his words, suddenly being hit with the exhaustion you’ve been carrying since the morning tenfold. You also think about the way your heart has been actively breaking since last night, and probably for the past two weeks. You look at his face, a big smile that makes him look young and carefree. In times like these you convince yourself that you see him like no one in the world can. 

“I don’t know, I-” you try, but the minute you see his smile drop, it’s impossible to keep up the cold front. “I don’t have anything fancy to wear.” you follow your lies with a smile. 

He kisses you again. “You don’t need to.”

“I’d have to go change though.”

“We can stop by your place,” he runs his hand through your hair. 

“Okay,” your voice is faint. Barely there.

“Great!” He turns to Soori, bouncing her in his arms. “I need to call Jin, run him through some final protocols. I’ll be twenty minutes tops and then we can go.” 

He says this in a hurry, making his way to his office already. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh,” and then it hits him as Soori chuckles. “Oh! Shit. Yeah.” He laughs, passing her over to you. “I’ll be right back.”

He kisses her forehead, then yours. When he turns around Soori looks at you. You stare back and shrug, making her laugh. 

“He’s funny, huh,” you say, and she laughs even louder. “Yeah, he is. You have a good daddy.”

And as much as your heart exhausts itself at your words, it knows that much is true. It just can’t help but wonder if it’s enough. 

~

You stand before your closet, hands on your hips as you attempt to find something that’s presentable enough for the very fancy and certainly very expensive restaurant Jungkook had chosen. French cuisine, classic interiors and a seasonal menu. You knew it was almost impossible to get a reservation because Lucy had studied their M.O. in class and often praised their chefs. In Jungkook’s case, the reservation was one call away and probably all but three minutes to finalize. He’d told you he frequented the place quite often and that they had, and you quote, a soft spot for him. 

You skim through your dresses, skirts, shirts, all a little frantically as you look at the time. You don’t have much of it, but luckily you’d done your makeup first thing, darkening your eyes a bit to distract from the fact that you wouldn’t be able to pull a dress that impressed. Your hair was in an updo that looked like it’d taken longer to perfect but in reality, you’d gotten lucky and got it just right the first time. 

You’re in nothing but your underwear, as if the power of your sight alone could make fancy little dresses magically appear. You don’t know what to do, and so you call Lucy. 

“Hello, you,” she greets sweetly.

“Lucy, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ve been well! How have you been, ___? Oh! I miss you, too.”

You laugh, playfully rolling your eyes. “I miss you more than you miss me, I can guarantee that much.”

“Never,” she says, “what’s this fashion emergency about?”

“Well, we’re going to La Mélodie and-”

“Woah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“Date night, huh?”

You think about it. “Mm, something like that, sure. But I don’t know what to wear. I have nothing to wear!”

She goes silent for a second and you can hear her gears getting into motion. Finally she says,

“You do. But you’re not gonna like it. But you’re gonna have to hear me out.”

“Okay…”

“Do you remember that Halloween, well into your hoe era, that you wore that skimpy black dress and painted whiskers on your face and said you were a rat?”

You gasp. “I was a mouse.”

“Potatoe, potato.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. I’m pretty sure I flashed like, three people that night. Involuntarily. Like, I actually had to apologize for it.”

“That’s to blame on tequila, not on the dress! It was a good dress. And I’m afraid it’s your only option so you better buddy up with it!”

“Great. I guess I’ll be the slutty nanny tonight.”

“That’s a great porn title, make good use of it!”

“Lucy. Soori will be joining us.”

“Why is the baby joining you? No offense to the baby. But why?”

“Long story. I’ll catch you up later. I love you. Thank you.”

She sends flying kisses to you before hanging up. It takes you a minute to commit to it, but you get the dress out, examining it top to bottom. Yep, still skimpy. But it’ll have to do. You throw it over your body and walk towards your mirror. The reflection that looks back at you looks nothing like the sad, puffy eyed girl from last night. No, you look hot. Yes, it’s a bit short, but Lucy was right, it’s nowhere near as bad as you remember. It hugs your ass perfectly, drawing over your curves and pushing your tits upwards the right amount. There’s not much to it, just a little black dress, but you certainly do bring it to life. You throw a pair of heels on, cursing them the moment you feel the way it arches your feet in an inhumane way, and brave yourself up for the night. 

When you leave your room, Jungkook’s jaw drops. It drops in such a visible manner that he has to collect himself and close his mouth before he makes a fool out of himself. It’s your face he fixates on first. He tries to wrap his brain around what it is that makes you look so different, yet still beautiful in the way he’s so very used to when it comes to you. It’s your eyes, he thinks. The dark eyeshadow you’ve smudged on them in such a subtle but notable way. It makes your eyes big and bright but they make your gaze fall a little bit, making him feel things in the pit of his stomach. Then his own eyes scan down, taking their time to take in your body. Your dress looks painted on and his breath hitches in his throat, letting him know it was gonna be a long night if this is what one minute of you in this dress was doing to him. But what resounds the loudest in his head is that, simply put, you looked beautiful, taking up the entire meaning of the word. 

“I’m ready,” you say, letting your arms awkwardly fall next to your body, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

Soori’s enthralled by an episode of Bluey that plays on your TV screen, and so Jungkook walks over to you, granting himself the luxury to simply perceive you and enjoy the view. He smiles, and though he doesn’t mean to, it’s seductive. It makes your tummy flutter, the ever so evident butterflies that never seem to leave. 

“Fuck dinner.” He stands in front of you, leaving you wide eyed and your mouth agape at his words.

“Language,” you say, looking over at Soori. 

“She doesn’t care about us right now, trust me,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer to him. “You,” his hand travels down your lower back, tempting to go lower but he stops himself, “look so beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” your words are soft as you smile at him, wrapping your hands around his neck, letting his attention warm you all over. 

One of his hands travels up, landing on your cheek, gently cupping the side of your face and you close your eyes, letting the weight of your head fall into it. His thumb brushes your skin and just as you’re about to wish for it, he puts his lips on yours. He hums against them, taking his time, tasting you, letting your smell hit his senses until all he can think about is you. His tongue parts your lips, deepening the kiss as he flushes his chest to yours. You can’t fight it. You can’t deny him, you can’t even remember why it is that you were trying to just a couple of seconds ago. In between kisses and touch, you submit to him. 

He pulls away, looking into your eyes before he says, “see? I don’t need dinner. That was a great entree.”

You laugh, playfully hitting his chest. “You do have a tongue on you, that’s for sure.”

Your words aren’t meant to come off the way they do. Your intentions are a play on words to let him know he was being witty to get his way, but alas, they have him raising his eyebrows at you, a smirk adorning his lips. 

“Oh,” is all he says. 

“No, I mean,” you stall on your words, mind already transfixed on the other truth to your statement. “Because that was clever. What you said,” you stutter, “you get me.”

“Sure,” he says, nodding his head and pouting his lips, making you laugh and roll your eyes. 

“Well, it should be a quick dinner,” he says, letting go of you. “I’m already half full.”

“See? That's what I meant with the- the tongue thing.”

He hums, taking one last look at you before walking over to Soori, her mouth open as she focuses on her show. “Don’t hate me, please,” he says, as he picks her up from the couch and turns the TV off. She cries and you laugh a little at the way he apologizes to her over and over again. 

“Aw, Soo Soo,” you coo at her, and when she sees you, she throws herself into your arms, hiding between your neck as soft whines leave her mouth in expert crocodile tears. 

Jungkook chuckles at the scene before him, but in a matter of seconds the image hits him like a ton of bricks. The way you hold her, beautiful as ever as you fix the skirt of her blue dress, fingers brushing through her hair, careful not to ruin the pigtails and bows you’d carefully perfected as you got her ready. 

It’s picture perfect, he thinks. A sight he could get used to. 

~

“Welcome back to La Mélodie, Mr Jeon,” a sweet voice trapped in a 6 foot, long legged, blonde haired body greets you at the entrance. Her voice is so sweet, in fact, that you see where the soft spot he was talking about comes from. 

“Hi, Lily,” he says. “Thank you for getting us in such short notice.”

Lily.

“It’s my pleasure, Jungkook.”

Jungkook?

She smiles at Soori, who looks at her with a blank stare before she’s nuzzling her face on her dad’s chest. She then smiles at you and it takes everything in you to return the gesture so politely. Inside, you’re rolling your eyes and probably pulling a face as you imitate the way she says Jungkook emphasis on the J. 

“This way,” she says, walking towards the center of the restaurant as she guides you to your table. You don’t miss the way she swings her hips as she walks, turning around ever so swiftly as she lets her long, blonde hair fall over her shoulder. 

You feel insane. No, really. Jealousy is such an odd feeling. A foreign one, too. You’d never been a jealous person before – to be quite honest, it wasn’t because you were overly confident or uninterested. It was simply because you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice if someone was a “threat” or had bad intentions. Or perhaps deep down, you never truly cared. Oftentimes, it was Lucy that had to alert you on these things, pointing out how it was right there, under your nose! But you failed to see it every time. Not anymore, though. It’s clear as day and it stands right in front of you wearing very dark red lipstick. 

You can feel Lily’s eyes on you as Jungkook opens the chair for you, and she disguises her vitriol with a smile as you sit down. He puts Soori in her high chair and finally sits down himself. He smiles at her, thanking her again and she winks at him. Yes, winks. Your mouth drops, quite literally. Her action is so bold it’s almost admirable in your eyes. You wonder if you could ever be such a go-getter, even if it made you vicious. 

He shifts uncomfortably on his seat, looking up at you and not missing the shock that laces your face. He wonders if he should say something, but before he can come up with anything of substance, the waiter is by the table. 

“Mr. Jeon,” he bows his head politely, “and Miss…” 

You stare at him in confusion, opting for giving him your name. 

“___.”

“Miss ___,” he says, and you smile. You don’t see this, but Jungkook smiles in endearment, hand in a fist over his mouth as he covers his chuckle with a cough. 

As the waiter recites the magic behind their seasonal menu, the main ingredients they’re using this month, and today’s specialties, Jungkook looks around him. He recognizes a couple of faces and doesn’t miss the way their eyes take in the scene, dancing from him to you, and then Soori, in confusion. It suddenly dawns on him that you don’t quite look like the nanny tonight. Not that he owes any of these people an explanation, or that he cares about what they think, or what they’ll say. He’s very much past that, and has never lingered too much on it, anyway. But the more their faces turn from shock to plain confusion, the more he realizes that it’s only been a couple of months – three, to be exact – since Ira left. He wishes he didn’t, but he understands the shocked expressions. He understands why they must be thinking what they must be thinking. 

His eyes land on you, fixating on the way you gently nod as you smile to the waiter, listening to him intently. The sight of you alone makes him think, to hell with what they think. The waiter says he’ll give you a minute to look over the menu, and Jungkook orders a bottle of his favorite white wine. He’d go for red on nights like these, but he knows you prefer light, sweet flavors and so he caters to you, without you even knowing. 

“Are you happy,” you ask, a smile on your face as your eyes meet his.

“Very much.”

“You know, I know I said it yesterday, before our little… altercation,” he smiles, remembering the acts that took place in his kitchen. “But it’s all quite unreal to me. And I truly am in awe of… you.”

“I’m in awe of you.” There’s no hesitation in his words.

You shy. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“This night is about you. To celebrate you.”

“Exactly,” he says, “so let me do as I please.”

“Okay,” is all you say, because his soft demeanor and flattery are going straight to your head, looking past your heart that still breaks. 

“On that topic,” he begins, crossing his hands over the table, “I want to head to our beach house this weekend.”

What is it with rich people and beach houses? Do they all have one?

“That sounds nice… you can rest and relax. Recover from the week and all.”

“Yeah. I want everyone to come,” he refers to his friends. “Jin and Seulgi already confirmed.”

 “That sounds wonderful, Kook.” You’re kind of grateful he’s going to be away this weekend, so you don’t have to make up excuses to avoid him and you can bed rot in peace. 

“Yeah. I’m excited. I wanna go sailing and we can grill every night,” he says.

“Hm,” you nod, smiling. You think of all the TV shows you’ve been wanting to start, pondering over the list to pick a winner. 

“We leave Saturday morning.” 

“Great!” You think of pizza and brownie fudge Ben & Jerry's.

“And don’t worry, we’re not taking the plane.”

You laugh. And then you get it. 

“Huh?”

He’s equally as confused. “What?”

“The plane?”

“Yeah. You were kinda scared the last time. Plus, it’s only two hours by car.”

“I’m going?”

“Uh- yeah? I mean- I know book club is on summer break for the next three weeks so I thought- but if you’re busy or something,” he doesn’t know what to say anymore so he just lets his last words linger. 

“Oh,” I mean, you are his nanny. Isn’t it expected for you to go to these things? Just like you did the last time. He’s about to say something else, but you interrupt him, “sure.��

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

He smiles as he nods at you, but it’s an uncertain smile. Like he doesn’t quite know what just happened. Soori calls you guys’ attention when she slams her plushie against the table, giggling as she plays, letting her imagination take over. Jungkook runs his hand over her head.

“I’m excited to spend time with her. I’ve missed her this week.”

“She missed you, too. It’s gonna be good for the two of you to spend time together.”

“I’m excited to spend time with-”

“Would you like to taste the wine, Mr Jeon?”

With you, is what Jungkook was going to say, before the waiter interrupted. Not that he’s to blame. If anything, Jungkook is. 

“Yes, thank you.”

The wine is good. Excellent, even. Like nothing you’ve tasted before. It’s sweet and fruity, but very light. You’re very much used to cheap liqueur and even cheaper wine, so getting to jump to the other side and try the other extremes is nice for a change. The whole night pans out like that – pleasant and delicious. The food, the wine, the dessert. You talk, swoon over Soori. At one point you ask something that makes Jungkook dive into a more elaborate explanation of what his job consists of. You let him speak, mostly because you’re interested, partly because you’re too exhausted to say anything of substance yourself. 

Lily brings over the bill, and you can hear the clinking of her heels from a mile away. She smiles as she walks over to the table, even before Jungkook acknowledges her. She’s ready to pounce. 

“How was everything?”

“Delicious as always, please do congratulate the chef for me.”

“I’m sure he’d love to hear it from you. Don’t you wanna stop by the kitchen before you head out?”

Gasp. She is so bold. God, does she fear nothing?

Jungkook laughs, awkwardly, as he signs the check. “I’m afraid we have to get going, this little one’s past bedtime.”

“Aw,” she says, and it’s not directed at Soori, no. It’s disappointment that’s so evident in her voice. “But it was so fun the last time.”

Last time, you almost say. Quite frankly, for a second you think the words have left you, because both their eyes are on you. Lily’s are laced with twisted pride, and Jungkook’s are apologetic. 

“Thank you, again, Lily,” is all he says. 

“My pleasure, Jungkook.” She bats her eyelashes at him, a saccharine smile she throws his way before she’s turning around and making her grand exit.

You stare at Jungkook, watching as he reaches for his glass of water, taking a big sip, gulping loudly. 

“What happened the last time that was so fun?”

“Nothing,” he says, bringing the glass back to the table a little sternly. “I know the chef. He’s helped me recruit a couple of chefs for The West End. That’s all.”

“Ah,” is all you say. 

“I don’t know what that was about. She wasn’t even- I mean, she was there, but it was mostly him and I speaking. She’s his niece.”

“I see.”

“Baby,” he says, nearly whines. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m just tired. I’m probably just irritable because of that,” you mask your jealousy with a chuckle.

Jungkook reaches across the table, wrapping his hand around yours. You wince a little, looking around you, feeling slightly exposed. 

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me.”

“Yes.”

He laughs at your sudden nervousness. “Stay with me tonight?”

“But Mrs Chae-”

“I gave her the day off. I’m going late into the office tomorrow. We can sleep in a little bit. I want you to stay. Please?”

Your heart begs you to at least think about it for a second. A split second, even! But the efforts are unsuccessful, and you don’t hesitate when you say,

“Okay.”

~

Jungkook’s shower is your favorite place in the world. 

Well, perhaps that’s a bit dramatic. 

Or perhaps it’s completely understandable, all things considered. You remember when there was a time you didn’t believe in shower sex. Not because you didn’t think it was real, but because you couldn’t believe people actually enjoyed it. There was nothing to enjoy about it, in your humble opinion. And humble it was, because these four walls can testify about the way you became a woman of faith the moment you experienced what you liked to call premium shower sex. 

You let the water cascade from your head down your body, relaxing your muscles as the massage jets hit just where you need them the most. Jungkook was putting Soori to bed and he’d suggested you take a shower in the meantime. And so here you were, contemplating. You think of staying here, waiting until he’s back, letting him get in the shower with you. Letting him do whatever he wants to you, really. That’s the truth of it all. 

But you don’t. You don’t because you try to be reasonable. Sex won’t solve this, if last night is to tell. And boy, was it loud and clear. So you get out, enjoying a couple extra minutes running his warm, fluffy towels over your body, brushing your hair, doing your skincare with his fancy products and spending way too much time, yet again, picking a shirt to sleep in. You opt for a simple Calvin Klein tee, pleased at the softness. 

When he makes his way to the room, you’re already in bed, Sense and Sensibility in hand as you read. He stops, taking you in before you can see him. He thanks the universe for making his dreams from last weekend come true. You smile at him, eyes following his steps as he comes to your side of the bed, planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m gonna shower, won’t be too long.”

“Enjoy,” you say. 

He turns around, about to make his way to the bathroom but before he can get far enough he’s turning back, walking towards you again. You look up, stars on your eyes is what Jungkook can swear he sees. 

“Thank you for staying. And for coming to dinner. That,” he pauses and you hear the hint of nervousness that takes on his tone of voice, “was good. I mean, that meant a lot to me, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Of course, Kook.”

He kisses you. It’s short and sweet, leaves you craving more as your lips feel his absence right away. 

The minute he’s out of sight, your heart sends a question shooting straight at your brain. It’s aggressive and angry. 

What are you doing?

Its simplicity holds deception. The simple answer would keep the whole thing contextual: he wants you to be here, he asked you to be here. You celebrated an important night with him and now you’re in his bed because isn’t that what you do? The last words get your heart going, beating faster with complexity. It says, no! It is not what you do. Or perhaps it’s what you do with your boyfriend, which he is not, by the way. Your own cruel words make you wince. Your heart opts for a softer approach, simply reminding you that you’re not doing yourself any favors. That playing house with the person that has made you question pretty much everything about both life and love in the past couple of weeks isn’t the best way to make sound decisions. That with every kiss you’re reminded of why you love him, and with every kiss he reminds you that perhaps to him, it’s just a kiss. A kiss that holds affection, sure. But not a kiss that holds love. Your incessant thinking makes you wonder if what you ask for isn’t too much. You wonder if it makes sense to want him to love you the way you did him. You couldn't ask that of him, at the end of the day. You couldn’t ask that of anyone. 

Sense and Sensibility is long forgotten, your brain too loud to make sense of the words you read. You turn to your side, cozying up against the pillows. You try to close your eyes but every time you do the images that play in your head are somewhat crazier than your thoughts. You toss and turn and simply opt for keeping a soft gaze towards the ceiling, focusing on your breath and trying to remember what Lucy’s meditation tapes you can sometimes hear in the mornings say. 

“You okay,” you hear Jungkook ask before you can see him. He chuckles at the sight of you. 

He walks closer to the bed, one towel wrapped very low around his hips as he runs another through his hair, drying it. Little droplets falling over his body, making it glisten. You let yourself stare at him because the sight alone leaves you slightly speechless. You’re not proud of it, but another part of your body pitches in on your heart’s debate and says, this is why. 

“Yeah,” you finally muster the words, “can’t sleep that’s all.”

”Mm, yeah. That happens to me when I’m really tired sometimes. Bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, makes no sense.”

“It’s okay, just try to relax, baby.” His knee hits the mattress, hair towel discarded to the side as he makes his way to you. 

“Y-yeah, I’m trying,” your eyes follow his every move as he gets closer. 

His hands rest at your knees before he says, “I like this on you, by the way,” eyes zeroing in on his shirt.

“It’s comfy,” you say, eyes closing at the feel of his fingers gently roaming down your legs. 

“Keep it, baby.”

“No, I like it on you more.”

He laughs. “It’s okay, I have plenty.”

He opens your legs, inching closer before he lets himself gently fall on top of you. Your fingers thread through his wet hair, pushing it back. 

“I’m having the best night ever,” he says, playful eyes on yours as you both laugh. 

“You must be easy to please,” you say.

“Depends on who’s doing the pleasing,” he watches the way your gaze flutters before your eyes close at the anticipation of his lips on yours. And when he finally kisses you, you both sigh, falling into it. It’s slow, just allowing your lips to lazily move against one another’s. You run your fingers through his hair, nails softly running down his scalp and it makes him groan in satisfaction. You push your body further down into the mattress, letting your legs fall open as Jungkook settles better between them. A moan escapes your lips as the motion has him pressing his cock into you. 

“Kook, I’m really tired, I don’t think I’ll handle it.”

He shakes his head, kissing you again. He doesn’t pull away as he says, “no. I want to make you feel good, baby. You don’t have to do anything.” He looks at you, eyes closing in pleasure when he pushes his hips against yours. “Please?”

You nod, a little caught in the feeling. “Okay.”

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

“Jungkook,” you say, turning your face away from him in a timidness that he finds so endearing. 

“Don’t ask me to stop saying it because I won’t,” he says, fingers finding your chin and turning your face to him again. He pecks your lips before he says, “fucking gorgeous.” You laugh, and he likes the sound of it and so he feathers kisses all over your face, down your neck where he knows it tickles, rejoicing on the way you giggle as you try to push him away. It’s hard for Jungkook to choose between the sweet sound of your laughter, or the way you moan when the last kiss he places against your neck ends with a tiny suckle. 

“Can I taste you, baby?” His voice is deep, right on your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Please,” and he loves the airiness the word has on your mouth. 

His kisses on your neck grow deeper, enticed by your moans and the way you pull at his hair, soft and hard. His mouth begins to travel down, letting his hands roam all over your body at a leisurely pace. He loves it when he can go slow, take his time, make pit stops on the parts of your body he loves the most. He loves your lips, and so he kisses them, snaking a hand down your shirt and cupping at your tits, drawing circles on your nipple with his thumb, making you squirm. You feel him smirk against your lips, always getting a little cocky at how well he can pull at your strings until pleasure is the only thing you can think of. 

He pushes the soft material of your shirt away, lips kissing down your chest until they’re closing around your nipple. A throaty moan leaves you and you circle your hips, making Jungkook hiss as his cock jumps from the contact alone. But he doesn’t want to focus on his immediate pleasure, no. He wants tonight to be about you. He wants to take his time with you – make you feel so good your body has no choice but to sleep the overwhelm off. 

His tongue plays with your nipple, in an ever so slow pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He lets his free hand touch all over your body, down your waist, squeezing your hips, nails scraping slightly at your thigh. He looks up at you, eyes meeting your hazy ones as he sucks on your nipple, biting gently when your fingers get tangled in his dark locks. He moves his hand closer to where you need him the most, tentative little touches that have you clenching in mere anticipation. 

“No teasing,” you warn.

“No fun,” he says, pouting before he’s biting your nipple again. 

But Jungkook just wants to make you feel good. He wants to give you what you want, he wants to hear you and feel you, and the thought of his tongue on your heat has him nearly salivating. And so he complies. You sigh when he presses his middle and ring finger against your clothed clit, tiny little circles that have you leaking in no time. He feels it, fingers dampening against the cotton of your underwear as his mouth kisses down your torso, leaving a wet trail on your tummy that makes you feel electric the moment he pulls away. His fingers hook inside the side of your panties, his touch soft. Too soft. 

“Take them off,” you say, no edge to your voice.

He does just that, pulling away for a second to roll the tiny fabric off your legs before he’s back on his tummy, between your legs, one of his own bent slightly as he gets comfortable. You find it so lewd – the way he enjoys this. The way he enjoys it when his eyes zero in on your cunt, glistening for him. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” and his eyes never leave, following his index finger as it parts your slit. A low, controlled moan leaves his lips when he sees how wet you make his finger, how you leak for him. The tip touches at your clit, making you gasp before you’re letting out a moan. “And so sensitive, baby.” 

You’re a bit delirious but you manage to look at him as you nod, your voice so shaky when you say, “I need you- it’s been a while since I’ve had your mouth.”

His thumb circles your clit. “You’ll get my mouth, baby. But I just wanna see you for a little longer, ‘kay?” You nod again. “Prettiest fucking pussy.”

You’re about to shy away from his words but he wastes no time, pushing a finger inside of you, making you groan as your head hits the pillow. He tests the water, feels how tight you get around him, thumb still working your clit as he pushes a second one in. He pays attention to your moans, the jerk of your hips, his eyes never leaving you as you roll your lips between your teeth, arm hovering over your head before you’re hiding underneath it. 

“Look at me, ___.”

You do, eyes threatening to close as he picks up his pace, hitting that spot inside of you continuously, expertly matching your breath with each push and pull. 

“Fuck, I’m so close already,” you whine, closing your eyes for a second.

“Want my tongue, baby?”

“Fuck, Jungkook, please,” you plead, gasping when his index and middle finger press on your g-spot, tiny little movements against it. “Please.”

“I will, baby. God, how can I not?” His lips close around your clit, making you moan in sweet satisfaction. “You ask so nicely- fuck, ___, you taste so good, baby.” 

Jungkook is growing delirious, too, struggling to keep his own pleasure at bay, hips rutting against the mattress as he places little rhythmic suckles against your clit. You look down at him, eyes meeting his and he smiles. It’s dirty, bordering on obscene, but you love it. You love how much he loves making you feel good. 

“Like that, Kook,” you whisper, “shit, don’t stop.”

His tongue parts your folds, teasing your hole before he’s lapping at your pussy, spitting on it before his ministrations are back on your clit, sucking, licking, circling. You’re so wet, and so close, you can’t quite make out his actions. All you know is the white, warm feeling that takes over your body, making you a little lightheaded. His fingers push inside of you once again, making you clench around them, mouth parting in shock and pleasure. 

Jungkook hums against your pussy, eyes closing at the feel of you. “You’re so close, baby. Want me to make you cum?”

And the question alone could do it for you – in fact, you have to take a second to concentrate on not letting go. There’s something so fucking divine about him knowing exactly where he’s got you at. You nod, one airy, “please,” and that’s all he needs to finish you off. His fingers don’t go faster, but they go harder. His tongue focuses on your clit, silky flesh lapping determinedly at your nub, sucking on it when your legs begin to shake. 

“Oh, fuck- Jungkook,” you cum with his name on your tongue, letting out a little cry when you feel him moan against your pussy at the sound of his name. It’s too much, the way your muscles contract and then release, but you can’t get enough of it. “Don’t stop, Kook, please.”

He doesn’t. He milks you with his fingers, feeling the way you leak down his wrists, making a mess out of his mouth as you pull at his hair, nails digging on his scalp. You cum on his tongue, and you come down on it, too, letting yourself fall into him so quickly that the over-sensitivity has you pushing his head away with shaky hands. 

“Oh my fucking God.” You drop your head to the pillow behind you, hands covering your eyes as you try to regain your breath. Jungkook just stares at you, head resting on your inner thigh, smiling and drunk on you. He feathers one single kiss on the soft skin of your leg, and your body jumps a little, making him let out a boyish chuckle that makes your heart beat steadfast. You laugh, too. 

You let a couple of minutes linger on, the two of you sharing the same pillow, just laying in bed. You take a while to come back to your body and when you finally do, the exhaustion takes over. 

“Come here,” you tell him, and he obliges, body flushed on top of yours once again. Your hand travels down, feeling how hard he is. He hisses, his own hand closing around yours before he’s shaking his head. “Why? You’re so hard.”

“You’re tired. I just wanted to make you feel good. I’m okay, baby. More than okay, actually.”

“But,” you say, confusion lacing your words.

“Tomorrow. You need rest. I think I’ve succeeded at making you sleepy,” he laughs.

“Fuck, you really did.”

He lays back next to you, a sigh passing his lips before his head turns, meeting your eyes. 

“You know, you were right,” he says.

“What about?”

His smirk gives him away before his words can.

“I do have quite a tongue on me.”

~

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[arlana-likes-to-write]

Visiting Hours by Ed Sheeran

Summary: It has been a year since you lost the love of your life. How were going to live in a world with her gone and a daughter to raise?

Warning: Cannon character deaths (Tony, Natasha, Loki, Vision), Sam is the new Captain America, drinking, grief, survivor's guilt, reader is Wanda and Pietro's older sister who has similar powers to Wanda, angst, sort of happy ending??

Note: At the moment, I do know have a part 2 planned.

Word Count: 3.4K

Today was not a good day. When you flipped the calendar from September to October, you dreaded today. But you put on a brave face so your daughter wouldn’t see her mommy upset. You were thankful your sister could watch her niece for the night. Today, you wanted to be alone, where you could let your mask fall and grieve. One year ago today, you lost the love of your life so the rest of your family could return. It felt so unfair that the universe put you in this position. You wanted to scream and cry until your throat went raw. But you couldn’t. You were so numb to it all. How were you expected to raise your daughter without your other half?

You sat on your bedroom floor, resting your back against your bed. There was a half-opened bottle of vodka that you were sipping on the moment Wanda picked up your daughter. That could explain the numbness you were feeling. Your hands shook as you held your phone, rereading the text messages you sent back and forth. You couldn’t delete them or the voicemails, but you weren’t ready to hear her voice again. Even though you missed every pet name she called you or every time she told you, she loved you.

She loved you. She loved you.

It was the mantra that you kept replaying over and over again. But if Natasha loved you so much, why did she leave? Sighing, your phone began to ring. “Yes?” You answered.

“Just checking in on you, kid,” Clint said.

“I’m fine.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“None of your fucking business,” you snapped. “Besides, Delilah isn’t here.” The older archer sighed, and you felt one of his fatherly talks coming.

“Look, I know-”

“Barton,” you cut him off, feeling a pressure that began to build at the base of your skull. “I don’t want to talk. I want to sit here, drink, and be sad because I can’t do that every other day. So please, leave me alone.” Your jaw clenched, and each word was laced with your native accent.

“Okay,” he sounded defeated. “Call me if you change your mind.” You hung up the phone. Closing your eyes, you pushed the palms of your hands to your eyes.

“Breathe,” you mumbled. “Breathe.” Your powers were connected to your emotions. You lost control when Pietro was killed and when you faced Thanos a second time. There was so much anger and grief building inside you that it almost consumed you. For Pietro's death, you had to focus on Wanda, and Natasha pulled you out of the darkness. When the battle was done, it was Delilah. She wasn’t born yet, but we knew she was there. The little girl, a perfect blend of you and Natasha, was the only light you saw. The only reason you kept going.

‘It’s okay, moya lyubov’ (my love), it’s okay,’ you heard Natasha’s voice echoing inside your head. You shook your head. You could almost feel her hand on your shoulder, pulling you into her arms to help you regulate your breathing.

“No,” you pleaded. “Please go away. You aren’t here. You are gone.” Gone. Dead. She wasn’t coming back.

‘I’m right here, baby,’ Natasha whispered. ‘Join me.’ You were becoming too weak to resist it. Suddenly, your bedroom door burst open, and your sister was standing there.

“Where is-”

“She’s safe,” she said quickly, pulling you into her arms. “I need you to focus on me. Right here. Do you feel my heart?” You moved your hand to her chest and felt her heart. It was steady, strong, and real.

“Wands,” you gasped for air. “I can’t.” The warmth of your sister’s arms as she rocked you back and forth was helping, but the pull was stronger.

‘Come on, darling,’ Natasha whispered. ‘Come with me.’ Wanda began to hum a Sokovian lullaby that your mother used to sing to drown out the sound of the bombs.

“We’ve been waiting for you. Now you are here. More perfect than I imagined…”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

“Where is my daughter?” you asked when Wanda returned from your kitchen. She held a cup of tea in her hands. When you refused to take it and sat on your bed, she placed it on the side table.

“She’s with Pepper. I would have been here sooner but wanted to ensure she was settled.”

“How did you know?” She smiled, took one of your hands, and laced your fingers together.

“Call it twin intuition,” you scuffed, looking away from her but keeping your hands together.

“We aren’t twins,” you were two years older than Wanda and Pietro and were so excited when your mom told you she was pregnant. It was even better when she gave birth to twins. You made it your mission to protect them and seemed to fail at every step. They followed you to HYDRA; you couldn’t stop Pietro's death, and then you and Wanda were thrown into the RAFT. You couldn’t stop Thanks from snapping half of the Earth’s population, and your sister was ripped from you. All this power, and you couldn’t protect those that mattered.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered. “It hurts too much.” Wanda squeezed your hand, fearing you’d slip away from her. “I want her back.”

“I know you do,” Wanda said. “But the world your mind is trying to bring you to isn’t real. She’s gone.” You hated that she was right. That was your power. You could go into the minds of others and bring their greatest wishes and desires to ‘life.’ You made them believe they got their dream job or their loved ones returned from the dead. People have gone mad because of your influence.

“I wish heaven had visiting hours,” you whispered and looked at Wanda’s hand that held yours. “So I could ask for advice. Because I don’t know how to raise her,” Wanda was quiet as she let what you said to sink into her. “I’d go to see Mom, Dad, and Pietro and have them meet Delilah.” Wanda’s face softened at your confession. “I’d ask if I could bring them home, but they wouldn’t let me. So I’d sit till they close and let my worries disappear.” Your sister sighed.

“They’d want you to live life the way they taught us because it’s not a goodbye. It’s a till we meet again.” It was unfair how cruel life was to you and your sister. She lost Vision. You lost Natasha.

“What is grief?” you whispered. “If not love persevering,” you quoted the man she loved. Wanda let out a breathless laugh and wiped away a tear with her free hand.

“I miss him too,” she said. “So much.” You were blinded by your grief and failed to realize how much this day must hurt for everyone.

“Come here,” you said, pulling your sister into your arms. Her head was buried into your shirt, and she let out a few more tears.

Sometimes, you wonder if your family is cruised. Maybe centuries ago, your ancestors angered a god, and now you are facing the consequences of their actions. All you want is for your family to be together and safe.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

You woke up to the smell of bacon and fresh coffee. The way your stomach growled made you realize how hungry you were, but leaving your bed sounded awful. Then you heard Wanda’s voice. "I know, Lala,” she cooed to your daughter. “Your mom can’t say no to my cooking, so she’ll be out soon.” Your daughter’s babbles and giggles pulled you out of bed. The annoying alarm clock read that it was 11:36. Shit. You hadn’t slept in like this in a long time.

Sitting up, you stretched your arms above your head and listened to the sound your bones made. The first stop was brushing your teeth and washing your face in the bathroom. Then you changed out of the clothes you fell asleep in and walked into the kitchen. Delilah was you first. Her legs started to kick, and you were thankful the high chair was stable. You gasped and picked her up with ease.

“There is my beautiful girl,” you smothered her cheeks with kisses. “I missed you. I missed you.” Wanda laughed from her spot on the stove.

“See, told you, sunshine,” you smiled at using your native language. “She can’t resist my cookie.” You used your powers to pinch her sides and smirked at her help.

“Cheeky witch,” you teased. You knew she would retaliate if you weren’t carrying Delilah. “Wands,” she looked over her shoulder. “Thank you. For everything.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

Once breakfast was eaten and the dishes were put away, you were sitting on the couch while Delilah played on the jungle-themed play mat that Clint had gifted her. Her hands reached for the hanging elephant. Her laughter made you smile as she touched it. Soon, an ache filled your heart. You took out our phone, captured a video of your daughter, and sent it to Clint. A response was immediate. ‘She’s gotten so big.’ Followed by another text, ‘We need to get together soon.’ It was a simple statement but filled your heart with guilt.

You didn’t intend to cut off the team, former and current members, once your daughter was born. They all reminded you of what was. ‘How about I come to you? I bet D would love the farm,’ you hit send.

You loved the Barton homestead, too. It was quiet and peaceful, and it became your second home. It was coming up on 6 years since the last time you stepped foot in Iowa. “Can I ask you something?” You ignored your phone buzzing in favor of taking the mug from Wanda. “Are you going this weekend?” It took a moment for you to realize what she was asking about. Then it hit you.

Honestly, you forgot about it. The email from Sam was left unread in your inbox. The team’s new leader invited current and old members to a party at the brand-new compound. A celebrated, he called it in the email. In some way, it was a celebration. You won the fight but lost Natasha and Tony. “Are you going?” You countered.

“Answering a question with a question is a cheap shot,” Wanda said. “But maybe,” she shrugged and sipped her coffee. “It would be nice to see everyone.” It would be, but you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to see everyone. However, you wanted Delilah to grow up with her aunts and uncles.

That was the plan. You and Natasha would retire, find a property close to the Avengers, and build a family. You wanted a big backyard for your dogs and kids to run around. On nice summer days, you could have barbecues. You saw yourself asking Clint to help Natasha build a jungle gym set for the kids, bringing them lemonade to help cool them off in the summer sun. But that was all a dream, a fantasy. The New York City apartment you lived in was home for you and your daughter.

“Maybe,” you answered. You knew Natasha would have hated how isolated you became. “Yeah,” you gave in. “I’ll go as long as you are there.”

Delete Created with Sketch.

It was a bad idea. As soon as you got out of the car with Delilah on your hip, anxiety and dread filled your stomach. Luckily, Wanda drove with you. The squeals of your daughter distracted you. “Hey,” you looked at your sister. “Sam told me you have a room here fully equipped for Delilah. So if you need a minute, you can go there,” you made a mental note to thank the man. He was busy being Captain America and trying to make this place comfortable for you.

“Let’s do this.” The party was in full swing when you and Wanda stepped out of the elevator. A knot was still in your stomach, but it loosened when you saw your family.

“There is my niece!” Clint was the first to see you arrive and swooped Delilah out of your arms. The man covered her face with kisses. Her squeals were getting the attention of the rest of the party. Thankfully, Laura was the only one to come over and join her husband.

“She’s getting so big,” she cooed, tickling her belly. You were surprised how easily Delilah warmed up to people. Maybe she knew how important these people were to you.

“I know,” you felt Wanda squeeze your shoulder, and you nodded as she walked into the party. “I want her to slow down.” Clint passed your daughter to Laura and pulled you into a hug. You were surprised how easily your body slumped against him.

“How are you, kid?” You let out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” you answered. “Just taking it day by day.” You felt him nod and kissed the side of your head.

“That’s the best we can do,” he admitted. “Come on. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

At this rate, you only held your daughter when you entered the party. While it was nice to have a break, you were anxious whenever she was out of sight. So you sat in a chair while Pepper was holding her. Your sister was by her side with Morgan in her arms. You knew she wanted kids, but you weren’t sure what her plan was with Vision gone. Sighing, you sipped on your drink. You felt it. The lingering sensation of your powers trying to take over. You dug your nails into your thigh. Wanda glanced at you, a question of concern on her face, but you gave her a thumbs up. You were fine. You weren’t going to ruin her night. “Lady Maximoff,” you turned to see the God of Thunder.

“Thor,” you smiled, stood up, and hugged the man. He looked much better than the last time you saw him. The God was off-world when Delilah was born. “How are you?”

“Better,” he sat next to you. “My time with the Guardians did me well.” You were happy for him, indeed. For the five years of the Blip, he was overcome with his grief. It was understandable when he watched his brother die for those stupid stones. “How are you? I have yet to meet your little one.” You smiled.

“Good luck trying to get to her,” you teased, ignoring his question. “She’s a popular girl.”

“She looks so much like Natasha,” your breath hitched in your throat at the mention of your partner. You looked at the God as he stared ahead, watching the scene fold before him. Morgan was now on Wanda’s lap while your sister helped her hold Delilah. You could see Natasha and Tony over with them if you thought about it. Maybe Thor was imagining Loki. “Sorry,” he finally spoke. “I’ll see you again tonight. I am going to make my rounds.” Thor stood up and left you alone before you could tell him his apology wasn’t needed. Instead, the God walked over to Sam, Rhodey, and Bruce.

It felt stronger now. The pressure was building at the back of your skull. You needed to escape, a quiet moment without feeling everyone’s grief. It was suffocating. Standing up, you walked to the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind you.

Your hands gripped the sink as you closed your eyes. Each breath was shaky that you let out. Everything hurt. For a place of celebration, everyone’s thoughts were filled with those who weren’t there. You could feel Pepper’s loneliness, Clint’s guilt, and the weight of the pressure on Sam’s shoulders. “Shit,” you turned the water on cold and splashed the water onto your face.

‘Hi, detka,’ You looked in the mirror and saw Natasha behind you. She looked like she did when she returned from a morning workout. Her red hair was pulled back into a braid and she was wearing black leggings with a matching sports bra.

“Go away,” you told her. Natasha frowned.

‘Why would I? You want me here,’ you shook your head and dried your face with the towel.

“Not like this,” you admitted. She moved closer until her front was pressed against your back. It was pathetic how easily it was to lean against her. A soft chuckle rumbled through her chest.

‘See,’ her lips traveled up and down your neck. ‘You can bring us all back together. Nice and safe. Just how we dreamt it.’ It felt so easy to sub-come to it; the warmth and safety she provided. It happened subconsciously, the way your fingers began to glow. Natasha chuckled. ‘Good girl,’ she encouraged. ‘Almost there.’

Even the knocking and banging on the door couldn’t pull you out of it. You could give them everyone back - Natasha, Vision, Steve, Loki, Tony. It hurt and burned as you felt their grief overpower you. ‘Good,’ Natasha whispered. ‘Let go. I got you.’ Her arms kept you standing as you screamed, and a pulse of your powers left your body.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

The movement of the bed woke you up. Your eyes fluttered open. Even with your vision blurred with sleep, you saw Natasha climbing into bed with Delilah. “Sorry, dorogoy,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I think our girl wanted some morning cuddles.” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was Natasha or your daughter that wanted extra cuddles. Your wife found it impossible to say no to Delilah, almost claiming your daughter had your eyes, and it was hard for her to say no to you, too. The new one-year-old was fast asleep on your wife’s chest.

“It’s fine,” you said, sitting up slightly and snuggling closer to her. With her free arm, Natasha pulled you closer to her. “We have to get up soon,” you mumbled. It’s a busy day today.” Natasha hummed and kissed the top of your head.

“Yes, we do. We have to celebrate this little one. Wanda said she and Vision would be here around noon to help set up,” you nodded. You were hoping to have everything done by then. You loved your sister, but sometimes, she stressed you out when it came to planning parties. Pietro wasn’t much better, but he said he was going to be late. “I can’t believe she’s one,” you noticed the emotional hitch in her voice.

“She’s growing up so fast,” you added, pushing a tear that fell down her green eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Do you want to have another one?” She asked, drawing her eyes away from Delilah to look at you. It was an idea you weren’t against, especially with Natasha taking a step back from the business. She was out of town and missed Delilah’s birth.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Not against it.” You ran her hand over Delilah’s back. She would make a great older sister, you knew it. Looking back at your wife, her green eyes darkened. “After we celebrate our first child, you horn dog,” you gently slapped her arm. “Can you start breakfast while I shower?” You stole a kiss, stood up before she could respond.

“Such a tease,” she mumbled when you closed the bathroom door. You loved your little family and were excited for it to grow.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

After you showered, you found your family in the kitchen. Delilah picked apart the pancakes while Natasha made breakfast for you and her. The phone began to ring, disrupting the peaceful morning. “I got it,” you told Natasha as she wiped her hands to pick up the phone. You kissed Delilah on the cheek before answering the phone. “Hello, Romanoff residence,” it was mostly static. You could make out a voice trying to speak, but you couldn’t hear them. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you; you may want to try calling back.” More static answered.

Suddenly, the voice became more evident over the static. “Hello-,” Bzzz. “SWORD-,” Bzzz. “Let them go." Bzzz. The pounding in your heart increased.

“I’m sorry you have the wrong number. Goodbye.” You hung up quickly. With your hands shaking, you walked over to Natasha and hugged her from behind. You placed her hand on her heart and felt the organ beat.

“Everything alright? Who was on the phone?”

“Prank call,” you answered. “I just missed you.” You felt her chuckle, and your mind began to race, so you missed her joke about joining you in the shower. This was real. She was alive and safe. No one was going to take your family away again.

[falafelluva]

; 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 - 𝐤. 𝐲𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐳 ✮

summary: long distance can be challenging, especially when a busy schedule is involved

warnings: idk, a sassy man, arguing??!:!:!

author’s note: my throat hurts so bad? why am I catching a cold rn. This is short bc pt 2 is still in the making, my bad🙏🔥 #thisisnotproofread

Kenan had been away for nearly six weeks, training at a football camp in Germany. The distance was harder than you’d anticipated, the loneliness pressing down on you more each day.

Late night calls were supposed to be your way of staying close, but they grew more and more tense as the days dragged on.

It was a Friday evening, and you had been waiting hours for Kenan’s call, watching the minutes tick by.

When your phone finally lit up with his name, you felt a rush of relief and excitement— until you picked up and heard the exhaustion in his voice.

“Hey,” he mumbled, barely loud enough to hear.

“Hii, I’ve missed you so much,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light, hoping to lift his spirits.

“Yeah… missed you too,” he said, his tone flat. It stung, and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed.

“You sound exhausted. Are you okay?” you asked gently.

He sighed. “It’s just… a lot. Training is intense. I’m fine, though.”

Your heart sank a little, but you pressed on. “I get that. I just… I thought maybe we could talk for a bit. We haven’t really connected lately.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied sharply, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. “I told you, I’ve been busy. I can’t just drop everything every time you feel like yapping.”

His words stung, and you swallowed back the hurt. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just miss you, Kenan. It’s hard to feel close when you hardly have time to talk. I’m not trying to be an inconvenience”

He scoffed, a bitter tone creeping in. “Well, maybe you are. I’m here doing something important, and I don’t need you stressing me out even more.”

You felt your heart clench, his words hitting deeper than you’d expected. “So that’s how you feel? I’m just trying to keep us connected. But it feels like I’m the only one putting in any effort.”

“Maybe you should stop expecting so much from me,” he shot back. “You knew I’d be busy. It’s not my job to entertain you.”

The anger in his voice felt like a slap, and you took a shaky breath, feeling the frustration and hurt building up.

“Kenan, that’s really unfair. I just want to feel like I matter to you, even when things are busy.”

He let out a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line, the exhaustion heavy in his voice. “I told you, I just don’t have time for this right now. I don’t need another person making demands of me.”

A sharp pang of hurt shot through you, and your voice cracked as you tried to respond.

“I’m not making demands. I just… I want to be there for you, and I don’t know how to do that when you keep shutting me out.”

Silence hung between you both, thick and tense. You could hear him breathing, feel the weight of his hesitation, but no apology came.

Instead, he muttered, “You know what? Maybe this was a mistake. You’re just making everything harder.”

The words hit you like a punch, knocking the breath from your lungs. Before you could respond, the line went dead—The silence felt suffocating as you stared at your phone, the call screen fading out.

With shaky hands, you set your phone down, heart pounding as his last words replayed over and over.

Did he really mean it? Did he really think this was all a mistake?

As the reality of his words settled in, a hollow ache began to grow inside you. The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you hanging in the silence, wondering if this was the end—or just another obstacle.

[agxinstthesun]

an overly complex analysis of how the killjoys deal with loss

party poison-

party poison has a soul crushing fear of death. maybe it isn’t apparent- not what you’d expect from someone who appears so confident and in tune with themselves, but there’s signs. the way their eyes go dark when anyone in the crew gets even slightly injured- the way they're always first to volunteer to stay up all night on patrol, knowing their paranoia would keep them up either way. you could chalk it up to their “leader instincts,” but their crew would argue it runs deeper than that. a good leader doesn’t have to do what party does- a good leader - by zone standards - keeps the group motivated- keeps them from splitting up. party poison keeps the group alive, together. they took a team and effortlessly morphed it into a family. admitting to it would feed their suspended guilt even more, but each time they hear of a death outside their inner circle, a small part of them is relieved that it wasn't their family blinded by the witches touch that day.

if it were to happen, it would destroy them. the loss would be bad enough, but the guilt of it all might be enough to put them out of commission for a long while. as strong as they are, the role of "leader" digs into them like the soles of a brand new pair of shoes. leaving an indent of responsibility and overcompensation in the sand with every step they take.

jet star-

jet star never strays far from death, not since what happened to his family. finding his parents ghosted after an unexpected raid carried out by some particularly violent exterminators was the catalyst for a lot of things in his life. his heightened sympathy for the dead and the mourning was one of those things. he was known throughout the desert as a safe person to talk to about those topics. it was even said that he would offer sympathy despite negative affiliations or disagreements your group had with his. it'd be a lie to say it didn't weigh on him, though. the anger built up from hearing all of these stories and the lingering effects from his own experiences culminated in an intense hatred for BLI and everything they had done. this passion was the one thing him and party poison truly connected over when they first met.

it's no surprise that, if confronted by a companions passing, this anger and passion would hit him hard. how unfair it is, how inhumane, it shakes him. initially, he'd think to organize- to finally just go for it and take out as many of those pigs as possible- but he wouldn't. he's too aware of the amount of people in the zones that still need him. he's second in command, he's as much a leader as party is. still, he'd become distant. it'd serve as another warning not to get too close, to not give too much of yourself to something that is only ever temporary.

fun ghoul-

fun ghoul doesn't acknowledge death. despite his ever frequent catfights with it, he manages to get by rarely considering the possibility. the truth being that if he did, the weight of it all would crush him. deep down, he knows he's helpless to it. he knows that each time he evades her grasp, she gets smarter. it's no doubt it'll all catch up to him eventually..but his friends are all untouchable. seeing them injured, near ghosted? it never feels real. on a bad night, he'll think of how the others must look down, mortified, to him each time he’s left bleeding out against the desert sun. it gives him a sense of importance sometimes, but usually it just builds guilt.

if he had to face a loss head on, it would be a pivotal moment to him. as the reality set in, he'd feel lost. stupid for being naive enough to ignore it for so long. that love of throwing himself into the danger that he relied so heavily on before would fade just as fast as it came, the loss weighing him down in small ways for as long as he lived. the remorse he’d feel for pushing his love inward, and seldom expressing it, would sit heavy on his shoulders. he'd cling even more to whatever it is he had left, and protect it with his whole life.

kobra kid-

kobra kid is conflicted on death. of course it scared him- the thought that he would disappear one day, but more often than not, he caught himself wondering if that was just something he had picked up from party. the longer he thought about it on his own time, the more the thought became oddly comforting. the fact that there would eventually be a moment of rest amidst all the chaos didn’t sound all that bad to him..of course, it also pissed him off. it made him mad that the city forced that mindset onto you. the idea that submitting yourself to death was the only way to true freedom. however, it wouldn’t take long for the morbid curiosity found its way back to him.

he was almost too aware of the looming presence of death around him and the rest of the crew (the rest of the desert, really). if it happened, he wouldn’t be shocked, but deeply mourning still. he’d send letters in the mailbox, despite always considering it a futile effort. he’d silently participate in whatever zone rituals he thought would help him feel better, though they almost never would. he’d become especially reclusive and unresponsive to sympathy- it’s just something people do to feel like they’re helping, right? he’s way more dependent on his crew than he’d ever let on, and this fate would only further prove that.

[sourbinnie]

☆ trying ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> heavy angst ; no happy ending ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz + sibling!reader (gender neutral) ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> your brother failed you and now it was too late to redeem it. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

maknae line

-> the scenario

remembering was hard to you, thinking about the old days just didn't seem right. it was a different life, a different air and a different kind of worry you had. you enjoyed your brother's company a lot when you were younger, he was your best friend even if he was older than you. you had a strong bond (or that's what you thought), a connection that you didn't find anywhere else and when he hugged you, you felt protected like nothing could hurt you.

growing up always leads to people changing through time. so when you started to drift away from him, you knew things weren't going to go exactly how you wanted them to be. you really did try to keep the relationship you formed with him going but it was no use when it was all one sided. that still didn't stop you from trying even if you would leave empty handed, you just wanted to tell him how much he meant to you and you wanted to keep on supporting him. it was safe to say that only brought out fights since he didn't want you there in the first place and when you're in your teenage years, you really don't know how to solve things without fighting.

when he started being a trainee, it was worse. you could handle him not wanting you there and making a fuss about it, you couldn't handle the silence though. you couldn't handle the cold shoulder every time he saw you or the way he couldn't even look at you. even worse was the fact that you barely saw him because of how much time he spent at the jyp building training and when he debuted, he never told you. he told the rest of your family of course but you had to find out through your mom. no message popped up on your phone, no phone call, nothing, it was radio silence and you were done.

it was easy to say that if he wasn't gonna put in his part as your brother, then you were not gonna be his little brother/sister anymore. it was too late to fix anything, especially the mess he created in the first place. it was unfair and you didn't feel like putting up a fight anymore. 

chan ✉

when he arrived at australia, he noticed someone from his family was missing. he sighed as he thought about you, how much he missed you and how much his heart ached every time he thought about you. he really wanted to be a good example to hannah and lucas, yet he failed you to even be a good brother. now as he got older, he knew he made a mistake in pushing you aside, you were his best friend when you were younger and now he doesn't even have a spot in your life.

as he got to his old family home, he noticed your room was empty. not only empty of your presence but empty of furniture and of the things that it once had. hannah explained to him that you moved out because you just didn't feel at home anymore and wanted to pursue your dreams. to say that he was in shock was less than what he was feeling, he felt a sense of anger and sadness invade him. how could you not tell him? i mean yeah, you lost contact over time but he expected to see you. he decided to call you and actually settle this once and for all, he was done with the silence.

"chris? what's up?" the distance in your voice was so unsettling but he wasn't expecting a warm welcome. he didn't know what to say for a minute, he realized he hadn't heard you in so long and it only made him feel guiltier.

"why didn't you tell me you moved out?" he asked as forward as he could be. he heard you take a deep breath and let it out, the tense atmosphere was there even if it was just a phone call.

"why do you care? we live in different countries anyways." you said frustrated as he was now trying to act like he cared. you didn't believe it for a second and you didn't want to have this conversation right now.

"because i am your brother? i don't care if we live in different countries, i wanna know what's going on!" he said and it was irrational that he was the one getting angry but he really wanted to try to make things better.

"so now you care? after all this time?" you said and let out a bitter laugh. "listen, i can't do this right now, i know lucas told me you were back and that i should come say hi but i couldn't because you hurt me so fucking much during all these years that i didn't have it in me to see you again. please don't call me again, okay?"

"(y/n) we can move past it. we can actually work this out please, i miss having you in my life and i need you here with me. i'm sorry that i fucked everything up, i'm sorry i wasn't the brother you needed but just give me a chance to show you that i changed." he said, almost begging because he was done with this feud and he actually did need you.

"i don't need you and i don't accept your apology. tell mom and dad i said hi and that i'm okay!" you said and hanged up. he closed his eyes as he tried to take your words in but he just couldn't, it felt like a stab in the heart but he knew he deserved it in the end. he probably made you feel way worse during this whole years and that's a thought he would have to deal with.

minho ✉

"you didn't show up." he said when he finally arrived at his old house. he saw you there sitting on a bench in the garden and felt a sense of sadness building up in his chest. it's been so long since he talked to you, let alone saw you in person so to see that you were okay was enough to relieve him but enough to make him realize that he needed you more than anyone. he was always by your side when you two were kids, as an only child when you get a sibling, it's almost impossible to separate them from their side. so now as he looked at you and realized he failed you as a brother because you couldn't even meet his stare, it was starting to get to him.

"i didn't. i hope mom and dad had a good time." you answered. you were invited to today's concert in your hometown, you had a ticket and everything was sent your way. he expected to see you there, in the crowd or backstage but he didn't get that opportunity because you weren't there. you still weren't looking at him as you tried to enjoy the scenery and relax a bit but of course if your brother was there, you could not do that. "okay what is it?"

"why aren't you looking at me?" he asked and you just shrugged, not knowing how to answer that. he felt a distant flare between the two of you and he didn't like it at all. he suddenly remembered all the times he got mad at your advances to keep your sibling bond alive, the ways you would support him, the notes you would leave him. "i miss you (y/n)."

"i'm literally right here." you said as if it was obvious but he just shook his head as you finally looked at him confusion invading your face. 

"no, i miss what we had. you are my only sibling and yet i feel like i barely know what you're up to, i only find out through mom and dad!" he expressed tired and defeated. he was not one to beg or to plead for someone but he would do it for you because he was exhausted. 

"maybe because you did me wrong and now i don't want you in my life anymore?" you said calmly and if that didn't break him completely than he didn't know what would. he felt like crying right then and there, and he fucking hated crying. "i'm sorry i didn't go but you should move on from this because i don't wanna be near you anymore." 

"did i really hurt you that bad?" he said as he grabbed your wrist before he could let you walk away and for the first time you looked him in the eye, nodding your head. letting you go as you entered your house again to go to your room and leaving a minho with tears in his eyes.

changbin ✉

he didn't really feel like he wanted to be back. he knew the atmosphere would be tense even if his sister was gonna be there and also his parents. he didn't want to leave you behind and as time passed he knew he made the wrong decision, nothing should've come first other than you. your support should've been enough, your love should've been priority yet he let it go way too soon when things started getting complicated.

now as he made his way towards his old room, he wanted to knock on your door and talk to you. ask you how you've been doing, ask you what you've been up to, ask you if you could give him a chance again to be the brother you deserved. before he could do it, you opened the door and were a bit taken back from seeing him, you knew he would be here you just didn't expect to see him right now. so many thoughts were floating through his head as he tried to think of what to say to you.

"can you please move?" you asked and even your voice sounded different. it didn't radiate the sweet and loving energy it used to, even your words were harsh and held no love towards him. he sighed and crossed his arms without letting you pass.

"is that how you're gonna receive me?" he asked, not disappointed but just surprised and a little hopeful that he might get a hug from you but you wouldn't move. you raised an eyebrow and looked at him, he didn't know how but it made him feel so small when you were looking at him like that.

"you want me to pretend like everything's okay or something?" you asked and when he moved, you took the opportunity to get away but to your dismay he followed you. "changbin i don't know what you want from me."

"i want you to talk to me, i want to listen to you, i just fucking need you goddamn it. i'm tired of doing this and i'm so done with being trapped in the past, i want to move on (y/n)." he said and waited for your answer. he didn't expect to see the tears in your eyes, but he knew you better than that, you didn't cry when you were sad but when you were angry.

"fuck you for real. you want to move on? move on without me because it's not just being stuck in the past, it's the fact that i tried everything to be close to you and you pushed me away. you're not the worst brother because you're not even my brother anymore to me." you said as you went downstairs leaving him shocked as he shook his head. 

he wasn't angry at you, he could never be anymore. he remembers the times where he was so cruel and so bitter, showed no mercy with his words and now as he stood there feeling so small and hopeless, he knew there was no turning back.

hyunjin ✉

it felt weird to him that he was alone on his birthday. usually he was thrilled to spend it with his parents or his members, especially if he was on a break like he was right now. it was night right now and it was about to be over, he sighed to himself and laughed. he felt pathetic, wasted even from how it all hurt within him and how much he was thinking about you. 

in the past you would've been the first one to call and also the last one. he used to hang up way too soon even when he wasn't busy because he felt like you were a bit too much for his liking. he would do anything to receive a call right now, you could yell at him all you want and he wouldn't care as long as he got to hear you again. he felt the tears building up as he knew he had been horrible, he had been unfair and treated you like you didn't deserve. it's like his hands found his way to his phone and looked for your contact, if you weren't gonna call then he was.

"hyunjin, it's late." that's the first thing you said to him and even if he was a bit drunk, he couldn't help but catch the monotone voice you were giving him. he was nervous to talk to you and it showed on his shaky hands even if you couldn't see him.

"why didn't you call?" hyunjin asked and that was confusing you even more as you tried to shake off the sleepiness. he knew he was direct with his question but he was tired of pretending and he needed to hear you say happy birthday to him, as childish as it was from his side being the older brother.

"why would i? oh right, happy birthday." even when you said it still wasn't enough because you just didn't have that same enthusiasm, the same spark that would light up his darkness. he smiled sadly as he let the tears roll down his face because all he needed was to see his little sibling right now yet he was stuck in a room that felt like a trap at this point. "hyunjin did you just call me because of that?"

"maybe, yeah. also because i fucking miss you." he said and you couldn't lie, you felt bad towards him but the sense of anger you've been building up for years was stronger. "i'm so sorry (y/n), if i could choose right now to change the past i would. i would literally spend all the time in the world with you and never would've let you go."

"but you did hyunjin, you did let me go. even when i held on to you and tried to make it work, you dropped me." you said and now your tears were building up, he could hear you sniffling and that broke his heart into a million pieces. "i wish i could tell you that we can make it work but i know i'm better off without you. sorry to say that on your birthday, wish you the best."

it was almost as if you knew that he was gonna start rambling so you hanged up at the right time. he felt like choking on his tears as his phone slipped from his hands, not caring to pick it up. he didn't lose his sibling, he lost his best friend and now he couldn't do anything to fix it.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Fresh Heals of Old Pain

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 21.7k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, references to past sexual abuse, insecurities and trauma exploration, encouragment of cheating/infidelity, commuication failures, unhealthy alcohol consumption, smut, car sex, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: A continuation of my modern!au 'Woes of a Modern Day Love' References to that will be present, but reading that to understand this are not necessary. Previous Installment Here, Series Masterlist Here

If one was to ask him how felt with every ounce of honesty in his chest, Jon Snow would’ve said that sitting there felt akin to a death sentence. As if things were not yet bad enough, the coming company had made complaints that it was going to be far too cold for the approaching party and thus the temperature all throughout the buildings of Castle Black were warm. Far too warm for a group full of men dressed in black uniforms, some made with fine leathers. Then there had been the humiliating act of having to store away all of their weapons as if they were children, as the newcomer did not appreciate strangers yielding weaponry in their presence.

Then came the rules, don’t ask this, don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t step out of line, don’t mention this or that, most of all as Lord Commander Mormont had put it, “The Nights Watch has traditionally been an ancient order sworn, steering clear of the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, and so for these next coming weeks, we will uphold that no matter how much you hate doing it. I don’t care what any of you do or say at home, just don’t do it here.” That had a number of eyes looking between one another.

Before at least Edd had spoken up from where he sat next to Jon with his usual low, and unserious droll. “You planning on leading by example on that one, Lord Commander?” Most of the brothers all chuckled, the Old Bear himself included.

Affirming that he was, but not without a clarification to set the record straight. “I’m not saying that we are going to lick their boots, but be on your best behaviour. We are not allowing them here to make friends, only avoid making an enemy. One week, don’t do anything stupid and it’ll all be over with.”

Still Jon thought, this was an unfair and cruel way to die. Or at least it had felt like he was dying for hours now. His phone going off when it was still dark out this morning, saying that he needed to come in for this meeting, and Jon had all but snapped at the caller with a rough tone husking out in a very impatient anger of what they wanted without even looking at the number. It could only have been a call to come in, vibrating against his night side table over and over and Jon had been unreasonably angry about having to answer it, let alone get up then and there to come in.

Jon had just managed to kiss a path down to drink between your legs, the hope you would wake up just before he would make you cum, when he was told to come in. For this of all meetings.

Finally though, as the meeting dissipated, Jon found himself now in the kitchens by the mostly empty dining hall waiting for the inevitable approach of one of his brothers coming to ask what had him so worked up. He knew his face sat in a permanent scowl the whole morning, and as he grabbed the coffee only lukewarm left did each action have him slamming something either back into place or onto the counter.

He had not supposed to be here today, it was all planned out to not be here. If staying here in the temporary quiet in the kitchens, Jon might be able to have closed his eyes and gone back to the night before. Jon had finally convinced you to come out with him to meet some of his friends from North of the Wall. You had avoided it for weeks, saying that you weren’t sure you were the right person to fit in with them, only for Jon to argue that most of them all hated his guts for years. “If they like me now after all that, they’ll love you right away.”

The nerves had gotten to you, on the drive to the bar Tormund had told Jon they would all meet at, you had been rather quiet. Fingertips tapping against the side of the car your hand rested on with an incessant pattern, each time Jon would glance to you when he knew you didn’t know he was looking you’d have that tense clench in your jaw as if you were biting down hard on your tongue. Which Jon knew you probably were. More then once you had not so subtly glanced down to your clothes or eyes flickering to the side mirrors as if to judge how you had looked again.

Jon didn’t blame you though, it hadn’t exactly been very long. Jon had known you for so many years, since you were children, but this between you was incredibly new in comparison. You had struggled to adjust to being in a relationship with Jon more then he’d seen you struggle to get used to any of the vile men you dated before. So often when alone with him you seemed as if you were unsure how to act at times, and you apologized more then he’s ever heard someone in his life.

Maybe if he was only taking you to see the others you already knew, you’d be more at ease. You knew Grenn and Pyp, you knew Edd and Sam, and of course if Sam had been there so would Gilly and you’d have at least one person more like you to relax with. But as much as the free folk Jon knew wanted to meet you already, Jon knew you did not have a great history with spending time with the friends of men in the Nights Watch. It felt a lifetime ago the day Jon had picked you up from Karl Tanners house and finally brought you home, when not even a year had passed. It had been only three months since the incident with Ramsay Bolton, and only now coming close to a month and a half since you had been with Jon.

But you had nothing to be nervous about, and he loved watching why.

For a while he had watched you across the room with Karsi and a few others. Them showing you a quite unorthodox version of billiards that had you laughing along with them at how aggressive the competition had gotten. During dinner Tormund had been quick to throw teases and jesting insults your way to test how well you could withstand it and you had hurled them right back with an even dryer tone of voice with ease.

Jon and him had been sitting at the table still, drinks in hand as they discussed you. Having mentioned to them the ex boyfriends you used to have, Tormund now that you were away begun to pry most of the details from him. “Oh I knew Tanner. Little fucker he is. Wouldn’t surprise me if he shared her around to those other creeps who were always with him. What was it, Locke and...” Gesturing vaguely in the air reaching in his memory. “You know, the one with the face like a ball sack.”

“Rast.”

Snapping his fingers, Tormund got back around. “Thats the one.” Asking in a low roughness, Jon asked what he meant by share and Tormunds answer had only made Jons hands clench tight enough one could see the strain in his knuckles. “Would pass around our women when they used to come into our territory, and those were all women who could fight back men like that. Can’t imagine she has any size to fight back if Tanner would tell her to get on her knees for his friends-” Jon interrupted with a gruff warning of his name but Tormund passed by it, “You asked what I meant. I told you.”

Only quiet for a second before Jon gritted out, “If he did that to her, why wouldn’t she tell me about it?”

But it was not Tormund who answered. You still over with a few of the others, Karsi had come over obviously hearing the ends of the discussion. “Why would she?” Sitting down, she nodded to the barmen giving her an asking look of wanting another ale, before looking back to Jon. “Her last man knocked her around in the same house as you and she took off for days to avoid talking about it. Do you really think she is going to now admit even worse shit happened to her when she lived hours away from you?”

Jons eyes glanced back over to you, still blissfully unaware of the conversation he was having. The alcohol in your system had given you a buzz, allowing you the freedom and a lack of insecurity to laugh and smile more. Rasping out somewhat muffled into taking sip, “I’m not talking about this anymore.” Both Karsi and Tormund had asked why, and Jon had just slammed the drink down as he pushed himself up without another word. Knowing at least, these people of anyone took no offence to his sudden turn.

He had come up behind you, his hands pulling you back into him by your hips as he leaned down to your ear. Saying he wanted to head home while he was still sober enough to drive you. In reality, by the time Jon had gotten out of the parking lot, he had found a dark side dirt road to pull to the side off before all but dragging you into his lap.

Jon hadn’t asked you about what Tormund or Karsi put in his head, all he could focus on in that moment the second he turned to glance at you was how men like Ramsay and Tanner had no right treating you anywhere close to that way. Jon had only been with you for a little over a month, and even though he had known you most of his life, he knew it was way too soon to tell you he loves you. But that hadn’t meant Jon didn’t pull over almost right away, drag you onto his lap and steal every bit of air in your lungs with his kiss.

The moment you had turned to ask him if somewhat was wrong, did Jon lean over and drag your lips to his. Not sparing a moment, you held onto him as he deepened his kiss without thought. Biting at your lips and sliding his tongue inside your mouth the moment you had gasped at the feeling. Pulling back to just your lips, teeth, tongue all over again, different patterns and lengths of time until you nearly gasped desperate for air as he just barley pulled from your lips. Moving everything from the way in a second, the moment there was room for you, did Jon nearly lunge over and haul you over onto his lap.

Cupping the back of your neck to kiss you again, your hands reached around the back of his neck, only able to hold onto the ride, knowing you couldn’t even move if not his will. Only one hand needed to pull his cock out, already hard and thick, Jon also then pulled from your lips. Looking down to pull up the skirt of your dress enough and almost angrily tore at your underwear until it was in tatters at the bottom of his front seat.

Jons car was not a place he was good at taking his time, and he knew it. Sinking you down on his cock, Jon groaned deeply as you cried out. He was not kind, moving you as if against your will, you held on. Being bounced on his thick length, you were ruining him. Only tiny little sounds coming from you over and over unable to keep your eyes open as Jon felt angry he couldn't watch himself sink inside of you.

Slowing enough, Jon took over. Yanking your shirt up and off your chest, leaving your breasts out for him as he grabbed your hips again. That time, you both knew with your own embarrassment, Jon was watching your breasts as he bounced you on his cock. You were soaking and warm and so tight around him, each clench making it worse, having to fuck up into your harder.

Murmuring in a low rasp as his hands dragged you up and down his length that he wanted to try something new, he wanted to wake you up with his mouth. You had asked breathlessly if he meant the next morning and Jon had rasped out, “Any morning.” You had dropped your head into his shoulder with such a shy nod it had him throbbing inside of you, and Jon pulled you back to his lips knowing he was going to make you cum as he tasted you to wake you up come sunrise.

Your orgasm shattered around you, holding tightly onto him as he fucked you through it, but something in Jons mind through the alcohol in both your systems had snapped. Pulling you from his kiss, Jon looked you up and down. “Lay down.” A breathless ask of what, Jon was almost looking in an anger with his sternness. “In the back, you’re going to lay out for me.”

Pulling you off of him, Jon ensured you carefully without hurting yourself could climb into the back seat before he tucked himself back. Leaving the car with a rough slam of his door, Jons eyes scoured the no one going by, and thought, even if they did, let them look.

Opening the back door, Jon had spared no time in pulling your skirt right off of you as you gasped in suprise. Leaving you bare in his back seat, Jon climbed up over you, slamming and locking the door behind him. A look up the other doors too were locked. There was so little room back here but thats what he wanted. He wanted to have you close and warm against him, even moreso with your bare form below against him fully dressed.

Kissing you again, your hands wound around his neck and holding onto his hair, Jon biting roughly at your bottom lip before shifting slightly. Partially on the ground Jon yanked your leg open wide. Kissing from your calf up to your knee and growing greedy and almost sloppy as his lips dragged up your thigh. Dark eyes watching yours the whole time before he had you out on an obscene display in his car for him. Mouth feasting upon your cunt with a greed, tongue against your clit before sucking the bundle of nerves with such a sudden roughness that you were utterly soaking his mouth already. Out of nowhere Jon dragged an orgasm from you, sinking down more to drink deep from you, a growl in his chest as you came on his tongue. One to the next his mouth brought you too before as you just barley were to cum again he tore his mouth from you.

Your eyes still closed barley catching your breath did Jon pull his cock back out as it strained painful confined against his jeans. Moving again to hover over you, yanking a thigh high up in his hip did Jon run his thumb tight over your clit, rasping roughly as he stared at your eyes barley able to even meet his in the moonlight. “Come on, darling, come on.” Just as your orgasm waved over you, did Jon sink inside of you.

In truth, it took not long for him to follow. A fast pace he couldn’t possibly keep up when you both were this worked up and not sober, but he was rough. No doubt leaving a sting between your legs as the car echoed every sound back to your ears of your cries and his grunts, and fully dressed his clothes scratched at your inner thighs. Pounding so deeply inside, truly Jon had spilled inside of you before he knew it.

Roughly kissing you all the while his hips sunk again and again into yours as he came. By the time Jon got you home, he had fallen asleep unable to let the ecstatic feeling leave his bones, that when he woke up first the next morning, Jon was going to kiss down your body, spread your legs again and drink deeply from your cunt until you woke up, and only then when you came for him awake would Jon sink inside you all over again.

Instead he was here, at the Wall in the now too hot building as every taste of the coffee he drank almost was bitter in comparison to what he truly had wanted that morning and it only made him more angry. The reasons why unknown, but even the Old Bear had picked up on his tenseness. “I’ve never quite seen anyone treat that coffee maker like they hate it as much as you do, Snow.”

A harsh swallow to finish what was left in his mug, he sat it down with a clench back in his jaw. “I apologize-”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your future paycheck that will be taken out of to pay for a new one if you break the damn thing.” Barley a half smirk came across his face, and luckily, the man was smart enough when not to press Jon when this in a mood.

He had the option to leave, approaching his desk Jon considered he idea of going home now very tempting, knowing he’d have you alone for hours. But when he had gotten to his desk, computer off, Jon had glanced to his phone and saw nothing from you yet. Normally when he left you a note if he left earlier then you woke up, you’d text him your response so he knows you read it. Nothing. It was nearly noon, you’d be awake no doubt. But he had nothing. You had posted nothing anywhere either, normally at least replying to someone’s post online out of the hundreds of people you seemed to know. And when he texted you twice, you still didn’t respond.

So Jon turned his computer on, he’d write his report until you did and then he’d finally head out to his car. Or that was his plan. Opening up his browser though, the news story posted all over the main page told him exactly why you didn’t respond, and he felt a dread at not having put it together before. If he wasn’t looking forward to the so called “guest” coming to visit Castle Black before, he certainly was looking forward to it even less now. He knew who was visiting here, but not why they were in Westeros, until now.

“Daenerys Targaryean lands in Westeros, the first challenge against House Baratheon’s governance in three hundred years.”

Pulling into the driveway, the moment Jon stepped from the car did Ghost come barrelling his way. Knocking him nearly over with his enthusiasm as he kneeled down, hands running over his white fur with an affection shining in his eyes and smile. “I know. I missed you too, boy.” Standing up, Jon glanced up to where he could see your window from the side of the house. Your light off, but he knew Robb and Theon weren’t back yet either. Looking down with your name on his lips Jon asked, “Where is she?”

That was when a small whine left the direwolf as Jon nodded for him to show where you were. Out by the back of the property, there was a variety of spaces laid out as if once a great courtyard of a grander manor now split into many buildings and homes. Right up by a cliffside against a path leading up to the wolfswood was a small sitting area not often used by any of the Starks on a normal basis. Too far from either the main family home, or the smaller more apartment style home that he and his brother, and Theon all lived in.

But he could see you over there not even sitting. Pacing back and forth as he could tell you were on the phone and likely had been for a while. He could hear an echo of your voice from where he stood, and you clearly sounded stressed. Were you to have two hands free instead of one he knew you’d be gesturing vaguely all over as if to emphasize whatever point you were arguing. Catching the tail end of something as you had yelled in a frustration, “I don’t care what you think, Joffery. You’ve never taken it seriously-”

Jon looked down to Ghost, whose red eyes gazed up to meet as both wolves felt the worry in how worked up you were but he wasn’t sure interrupting you was a good idea. The feeling in him to go over to you, pull you to him and help you relax was so painfully strong, as was the burning need in his system to finish what you didn’t even yet know he started that morning. His mouth could water thinking about your taste and the longer he watched you not having it the worse that need got.

Beckoning Ghost to follow, he went inside. One by one those whom came inside did not really help the tense feeling in the air. The first was Robb, all but slamming the door behind him and disappearing without even realizing Jon was there into his room, where he heard his phone go off likely as it had been all day. Theon followed next, an agitation in his shoulders but at least he had made his way into the main room after grabbing a much needed drink.

Sighing as he fell down into his own seat, grumbling as he let his head fall back and close his eyes, running his free hand over it. “You’re lucky to be in the Nights Watch. Not having to deal with shit like this.” Still feeling somewhat out of the loop in general, Jon prompted Theon to elaborate.

The mans head shooting up at the sound of the front door opening and closing, Jon not far from where he sat ready to jump up needing to have you to himself for even just a moment. Only you were much like Robb, finding your way into your room with a firm close of your door, within seconds the likely sounds of you on the phone once more muffled to Jons ears.

The urge to look unbelievably grumpy about it was an immense feeling to swallow down.

Theon finally elaborated a little now that the door slamming seemed to have ceased. “You heard about the Targaryean?” Jon nodded. “Apparently she’s been building her case over in Essos about why she should have the right to come here and take back her families seat. Someone forgot to tell her after three hundred years, it isn’t your seat anymore. And now-”

Jon was short and a bit quiet, “Now shes coming here.” Theon asking how Jon knew that, the dreading look came over him too. “She’s coming to the Wall. Apparently her advisor has a connection to Lord Commander Mormont and so he’s bringing her up there to try and start her campaign in an easy spot.”

Both men looked at each other in a knowing. “How long is she up there?” Answering a week, Theon whistled out as he looked away. “Don’t know if I should envy you then. Having to put up with some entitled diplomat for an entire week, or just having to handle the fallout she’s causing the rest of us.”

Back and forth they went over details when the discussion finally came around to them. “Robb’s got pretty much all of your fathers work on his plate out of nowhere and every other bloody House in the North is either calling him or your father about her coming here.” Jon asking your name, but he knew the answer already. “If your last name is Baratheon, then you were all but dragged into the family business all over again.”

You had begun working from home to avoid being part of your uncle and fathers political jobs, but judging by how stressed you looked from what little he saw of you, they had forced your hand into getting involved. By the time Robb had emerged, he looked less irritated and only exhausted now. A hand patting against Jons shoulder before his brother sat on the other side of the couch. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your one month with her, Snow. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if her father and uncle drag her all the way back to Kings Landing for this one.”

Jons eyes only flew to the hall he knew you were in, even though the door couldn’t be seen from where he sat. Robb said it as a joke, but Jons eyes went a bit wider as his heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t leave now, he had just gotten you. You had only started to find a life again, you had just met some of his friends. Jon felt something he wasn’t able to yet identify as panic. This was too new to survive you going so far away for so long. You’d leave him and not want him when you got back.

It didn’t get any better by the time Jon went to bed. You had passed out exhausted in your room. Not his. Jon sat at his desk just looking at his bed, at your side of the bed. Since that first morning you shared together, you had slept in his room, in his arms every single night. At this time the night before, Jon had you in his lap in his car. Your perfect high pitched yet shy pleads of his name in his ear as your hands grasped him desperately. Two hands gripping your hips so tightly as Jon struggled not to fuck up into you even rougher then he was bouncing you on his cock. Finally moving you to lay out in the back seat so he could fuck you properly. Hitch your leg up on his hip and pound into.

Yet here he sat in his own room, nothing close to that. It would be inappropriate to join you in your bed already. He had given you his office so you had privacy, and going into your room to carry you to his would be equally as inappropriate when you hadn’t even expressed want to. So Jon went to bed alone that night.

And again for three nights afterwards.

You were more tired then you’d been in months. Every single night your family had all been in touch as you suddenly had been dragged back into these affairs. Your father stating, “I did not bring you to Kings Landing for a wasted education.” Not at all acknowledging that you did not ask for the courses, nor did you want to choose them for yourself. If he had his way you would move back to the captiol and utilize your business education. Instead you met him halfway, each morning sending someone to come pick you up and meeting at one of the many buildings between Winterfell and Moat Cailin, you now sitting around the meeting table growing closer and closer to two options.

Falling asleep where you sat, or throwing something at Jofferys head. Your cousin only served to make all of this far worse, considering you had wanted nothing to do with this in the first place. You had done everything to move away from the politics of your family, but your uncle and father both had determined that all of you needed to be working as a unit on this campaign. Joffery across from you had spoken up rather loudly, “She has no right to come here and make stupid claims. Who does she think she is?”

Glaring your eyes up to him, your voice was as dry as the heaviness of it was laced with condescension. “We went over this the other day, but allow me to explain it again. She’s essentially utilizing a very old law she dug from hundreds and hundreds of years ago about lines of succession. Now, the law was never written to be more explicit about our present governance, as it was still a matter of monarchy then, but she seems to think if she can sway enough people to her side that perhaps it will grant her the authority of your fathers seat.”

Asking if that would work, Renly had the easy answer without the attitude you provided. “It could, if it were hundreds of years ago and we all still had armies made up of knights and horses.” A back and forth begun around you, as your eyes once more begged to close. Three nights in a row you had passed out at your desk, the night before that you had sat down to finally peel your boots off and the next thing you knew you were being awoken before dawn to a phone call from your fathers driver informing him he was there to pick you up. Most of the past nights you hadn’t even returned home until the three of them were asleep.

It was depressing, utterly depressing. Anyone whose last name wasn’t Baratheon you hadn’t even spoken too since the news broke. Your father stood at the head of the table, seemingly none to happy he had his repulsive nephew being tagged onto his side but you could only think that was such form of punishment for forcing you to take a leave from your job for this. Being informed that you and Renly both were to be in charge of Public Relations, you being the one to gather the information and Renly to enact plans to keep up the best appearances possible.

Though if you were being completely honest with yourself, you would have admitted that the moment the meeting finished you had been the first to leave without any goodbyes knowing your father was not yet done with you. You knew what was coming, him saying you were to return to Kings Landing but you were not ready for that.

You were not strong willed enough to defy your fathers orders so blatantly, so you were quick in avoiding being given them in the first place. You didn’t want to go back to that rats nest of a captiol, you hated living there and everyone in it. You wanted to stay in the North. Yet, something even more upsetting brewed deep in your heart at the thought of what would happen should you leave now.

Everything between Jon and yourself was still incredibly new, if you left now, it was early enough that he may simply move on without you there. It had been days since you saw or spoke to him already. Making your way down the steps of the building you resisted the urge to look at your phone. You’d see missed calls and email after email, messages between you and Robb as he was as flooded with work over this as you, as well as a few from Theon. You wondered if you would check and still had none from Jon, what did that mean going forward?

You didn’t know for sure whose voice it was the thought spoke in, but someone in your mind was simply telling you that Jon had gotten bored of you. Which of course he had, afterall twice you had boyfriends to drill into your head that you weren’t a “good lay” let alone even something worth looking at.

The longer away from him your family would keep you, how quick would it take for him to find someone new?

Jon was so vastly uncomfortable. She had arrived with a numerous amount of guard, all but demanded attention anytime she was in the room and none of them it seemed could say no to what she asked of them. The Targaryean had a way about her that to Jon, came off as rude and smug. Always feeling the need to interject whenever she disagreed on something as if her opinion had any bearing of any present matter but the Old Bear had said to be respectful.

More then once though since she had arrived at the Wall, had this Daenerys watched him. Most of the time from across the room as he had more then enough duties to keep him busy the entire day but she’d walk into a room and seek him out as he avoided her gaze. The first she had ever spoken to him, she had been left in the room by the advisor at her side being pulled away to another room for a moment when she begun walking.

Jon was keenly aware she had been nearing his desk, and more tense his shoulders grew trying to focus on the work in front of him. If she thought he hadn’t noticed she was incorrect. Even were Jon not someone who was always atune to his surroundings, if he couldn’t simply sense she was there, the abnormally immaculate manner of dress gave it away. He wasn’t quite sure where she thought she had come to, if she thought this level of ornate designs and style was at all fitting.

“I don’t believe we have met yet.”

Play nice, Jon told himself. Mormont had said to play nice. Turning to glance up at her, Jon only gruffed out a short “No.” A very awkward pause passed consisting of Jon returning to his work when she had asked if he planned on introducing himself. “Jon Snow.”

There was an authority in her tone, almost as if to say in silence he not refuse her. “And what it is you are currently doing, Jon Snow?” Eyes flickering to her and the computer, Jon somewhat turned so he at least partially faced her when she had come rather close.

Clearing his throat, Jons eyes turned back to the screen. Missing the hint of a smirk shining in her eyes. “It’s a trade agreement outline. The Nights Watch receives a certain amount of resources, and we have a trade deal with the free folk so to ensure enough goods are passed onto them that are harder to come by North of the Wall.” Asking him what sort of goods, “Medicine and medical devices are most common.”

It was an odd thing, that her eyes seemed to be on the screen but yet as Jon spoke they had flickered down to his desk for only a moment. Without his notice, Jons phone sat out had lit up as a new message came through. All of his message notifications were set to private as so wandering eyes could not just read what any sent him, but it still popped up enough that Jons lock screen was clear as day.

The photo was a rare one he had managed to capture only weeks ago. He had laid you out on his bed, your hair splayed across his sheets beautifully as Jon was partially hovering over your front, one hand pressed to the sheets to prop himself up. The other cupping your cheek as he had angled you up to is lips. He had it set to take many in a short span of time, and the perfect one he chose was beautiful to him.

Just the hint of Ghost laying beside you as his head had moved to rest on your stomach, your own hands gently grasping at Jons waist. It was not the kiss the photo showed, but in the mere second Jon had pulled away, still so close the faint silhouette trace of a strand of saliva connected between you both was just visible if one looked hard enough. You both were fully dressed but it was one of the most intimate photos he felt he had of you.

Agreeing to let him set his phone camera up just for this moment, and the one he chose was right as he pulled from your lips after getting too carried away. Your lips clearly a bit swollen from where he had bit at your bottom one with a roughness.

There was no mistakening the dynamic between him and you in the photo, but he had never thought of people seeing it. It wouldn’t matter who saw it. Until it did. Until a pair of purple eyes glanced down and in the seconds his phone remained lit, had recognized the other person in the photo.

It was that very phone Jon was currently toying with. Typing and deleting each and every message he tried to think of in a way that didn’t sound as if he was being far too possessive. He had wanted to hear from you, he wanted to see you, even just in a photo of whatever you were doing right now. He needed to have anything from you because he was worried but each time he tried to phrase it, it sounded as if he was trying to order you around.

A cawing from above dragged Jons eyes up, a narrowed squint in the sun at the sight of the large, exotic birds now making their home in the skies above his station. She had brought them over from Essos, apparently not aware that their feeding needs were a drain on their food resources with no offer to make up for it. But it all felt lackluster to Jon. You had slept in the apartment every night for days but you may as well have been gone from Jons life.

Robb had said you were being kept busy handling issues having arisen from the very woman walking about his station with her unnerving watchful eyes towards him. It was rare part of Jon wished he followed Robb and Theon into the familys work. They at least partially got to keep in touch with you, whereas whenever Jon was on duty he was isolated here with no way of reaching out to you if you were too busy.

Four days he hadn’t seen you and he missed you. He wanted to see your beautiful face again, hear your voice murmuring quietly as you both laid facing one another in his bed right before Jon would decide he wanted to take you one more time. Gods did he miss that. As if the interruption that morning had set him on edge. He wanted you in his arms, to kiss you until you would whine at how much he refused to let you breath. He needed to pry your legs open and drink from you for so long you’d forget anything not his touch. And right when he was finished, would Jon finally slide inside of you, knowing you’d be so sensitive by then.

Sex was never really important to Jon before you, but now it felt as if it was the easiest way Jon and you could open up to one another. You gave yourself to him as much as he did you, and all of your uncertainties or insecurities were gone when he had you like that. Jon missed the feeling so pure in his heart that he’d struggle to withhold his desire to tell you how much he loves you. He missed all of it, and the voice which joined him did not add well to his agitated state.

“Wonderful aren’t they?” Coming up to his side she braced her hands on the railing to the point Jon couldn’t help but notice how close she stood. Gazing up at the birds she continued as if Jon said anything. “In Essos they say these are the last living descendants of the dragons of Valyria.” One separated from the other two, more blueish in colour and strange looking like the others as if covered in scales. “That one is Rhaegal. I named him for my eldest brother. That one too, the small one. Viserion, I named after my other brother once he passed.” Jon only giving an apology for it as she only seemed to smile to the sky. “The last one with the black colouring, Drogon. Named after my late husband.”

Again, what Jon could say was very little. “I’m sorry. Losing your partner couldn’t have been easy.”

Inhaling with more of a knowing smirk. She only replied in a tone suggesting something Jon had yet to pick up on. “I appreciate your kindness. But it was some years ago now. Eventually we all move on from the ones we love, finding it somewhere else we don’t expect.” Her eyes which Jon did notice, looked down to his phone first and then him. “I was considering taking a walk up above on the Wall, I would be grateful to have someone to knows their way around.”

Jon tensed up, and if she sensed it, she clearly did not care. “It’s a straight path one end to the other, I’m sure your guard can manage.” Yet she persisted.

“I could speak to your Lord Commander about requesting an escort, but since you are already right here and clearly not doing anything.” She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Her eyes glanced to his phone once more before Jon relented. Were she to go to Mormont, he’d assign Jon anyways he already knew. There was no point in delaying it.

More then once when she would wish to step closer to the open gaps, as if he should’ve already known better, she would extend her hand out as if needing him to guide her up the small steps and back down. The smile each time Jon continued to not enjoy, but he had to only get through this day and it would be over.

Only it went on and on. Daenerys found every reason to force Jon to her side and considering his position, no one questioned it. He was second in command next to Mormont so it made sense that he would be showing her around. Only a willing guide may have looked far less on edge then Jon had.

By the time he had walked into the main building the next morning however, Mormont informed him that she had requested he be her personal guide the remainder of her visit as she travelled also to the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch by the Sea. “It will be a week long trip, and you will receive a fortnight off afterwards to make up for it.”

Yet Jon could sense there was something else coming, if by the way Alliser Thorne were looking at him with eyes amused in a maliciousness. Before Jons dreading heart even had the chance to ask, did the man answer for him. “You will be with her day and night until she returns.”

Quickly Jon felt his heart begin to beat a little more painfully, his voice a strained rasp as he attempted to hide such a feeling behind a sternness that no doubt was not bought. “Lord Commander, I’m not comfortable with-”

And yet, the Old Bear did what he did best. Shut things down to get to the point. “I don’t care if you’re comfortable. I care about playing nice with a politician long enough to get her out of our hair. I suggest you go home now to pack whatever you may need, she wants to begin her tour as soon as she arrives. You’ll be fine, she’s taken a liking to you.”

What protest could Jon give, this was his duty. He knew whatever he said would not be convincing but he had to try anyways. “That’s my problem, Lord Commander. I’m not the right person for this, I have a-” He couldn’t even get out the word girlfriend before Thorne had picked it up and thrown him right out the door metaphorically.

“Unless she’s your wife, it isn’t serious enough to get out of this.” Jon could feel his muscles twitch wanting to say something, anything to change their minds. But they dismissed him before he could come up with it.

Gathering his jacket he had just sat at his desk, he looked up to Sam having just arrived. Swallowing down a heaviness in his throat that he could not allow to come out here of all places. “What’s wrong with you?”

Wide eyes forcing into a furrowed brow to pack his stuff that he may need from here. “Mormont has me bringing Daenerys around the Wall for the week to show her around.” Sam didn’t quite pick it up at first why it would make Jon this on edge, even asking as such what the problem was when Jons head shot up looking with a glare, and an exasperation in his voice. “What’s the problem? I can’t get this woman to leave me alone since she’s been here, she wants me at her side all the time and on top of that beacuse she’s even here, I haven’t seen or heard from my own girlfriend in days because it’s kept her so busy. And now I have to spend an entire week with her away from my girl, because she couldn’t just pick any other man in this building.”

Almost taken back, Sam let Jons anger steam until he stood up ready to leave, a defeated look coming more back into his wider eyes now as his breathing returned to normal. Your name passed from his lips, only straining Jons heart more. “You didn’t ask for this, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Morose was the only thing Sam would be able to ascribe to Jons tone. “She’ll understand, just not in the way I want her to.” Before any other words could be shared, Jon adjusted the hold on his jacket before passing Sam with a tap on the arm. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I need to grab Longclaw and go pack.”

Not that Jon had known it, but it wasn’t much later when the Targaryean in question had arrived. Sam had an advantage, he was always looked over as the fat one and thus some people in power tended to underestimate him. In the dining hall, Sam had been leaving to drop something off to Pyp when he heard Jons name. Looking up subtly, he saw the Targaryean speaking to her assistant. Their appearances vastly different, her silver hair and pale skin with dark clothes contrasted to the other womans appearance entirely. “And you’re sure?”

The other woman nodded. “I am. He has reported that they live in the same home on the Stark property.”

The silver haired Targaryean nodded with a frustrated grimace. “So we won’t be getting anyone in there anytime soon, I imagine. That should be fine for right now. What was it Daario said, that I have a temping way with men?” Both woman laughed almost as if simply sharing gossip. “You watch, my friend. A week with me and maybe I will find out if wolves are as hot blooded as they say.” The other woman asked about you, making Sam feel that much more alert and urgent. “Grey Worm assured me they will be able to keep her busy. That’s one less part of the country to win over if I can take the Starks right out of her hands. You know how these people work, if I can get even one public kiss then that will sway the masses easily.”

The other woman seemed to begun to look not as if she agreed. “I presumed this was about your interest in him alone?”

“I am far more interested in keeping him away from her for the time being then I am anything else. Any other pleasures which may come as a result of the week with him are simply a bonus.” Not even the Targaryeans assistant looked comfortable, but no doubt held back that thought whatsoever.

By then, if they thought Sam was listening they would’ve said something, but they didn’t. He walked right by as the Targaryean gave him no mind. Getting to his desk almost in a rush, Sam looked through his phone only to find that he had no one in his contacts which were of use. Jon wouldn’t pick up before coming back here he knew, but he needed someone to know. Writing a note, Sam looked to Jons desk next to him.

Ruffling through his drawers, Sam could have almost laughed at what he found were he not in a bit of a rush. All well put together, save for his top drawer, with a variety of printed out photos all placed specifically to be seen. Many of he and his siblings and father at various points in their lives all together, one Sam could only guess was from the day Jon first got Ghost, newer ones clearly out far north with the free folk, but two sat right on the top. Ones which Jon would’ve seen each time should he open the drawer.

Both were photos of you and him. The first was before anything happened between you. Sam remembered the story when Jon told it to him one day. Your nameday was coming up and all of your family was going to be in Kings Landing for an event and they had forgotten that you had tried to make plans to have a dinner together with them to celebrate for once. You told Jon about it, he noted almost in passing, and so Jon had gone out of his way.

Calling your work as you hadn’t yet begun working from home, to tell them he needed them to give you at least 4 days off. Managing to talk your superiors way into delegating it a paid leave so it didn’t cut into your actual vacation or sick days. He had brought you out to part of the wolfswood which had cliffs and trails and lakes and rivers for days on end where you’d encounter no one else. A small camping trip just you, Jon, and Ghost. Jon had clearly set his camera up to take the photo automatically. The evening sky against a lake was in the background as you both sat in front of a fire. Ghost lay across your legs, but you sat right back against Jons chest. Your arms hidden by the large sleeves of your sweater, but Jons were wrapped around your front. Both of you in the middle of laughing. And that was before you got together.

The other Sam recognized, it was much like Jons lock screen but from a different time in the photos automatically taken. This one showed Jon hovering over you much more intimately, one hand in your hair behind your head, the other wrapped around your back pulling you up into him. Your hands grasping at his shoulders, but Jon had you firmly trapped against him in what was clearly a passionate kiss. Nothing about it was inappropriate, but to Jon, clearly it felt a photo that was very intimate. He had delegated that drawer to only very important things and rarely did Sam see Jon put things in it, but that was why.

His brothers and sisters, his father, his friends, and you. The most important things and Sam suddenly looked back at where he had known the Targaryean was even if he couldn’t see her. Clearly she knew you in some way, and wanted to take Jon from you. Sam had no doubt Jon would never do anything, but it sounded as if she would try to make something happen between them and he did not know what lengths she may go to to achieve that. So far, she seemed entirely untrustworthy. So as Sam left the note just sticking out enough from that drawer Jons keen eyes would notice it, did Sam too turn his computer on.

He had a lot to write out to Gilly and no patience to type it all on a phone. But if this Targaryean wanted eyes on her and Jon, she too seemed to imply she had eyes watching you. Which means he would need to have someone far less known and far more inconspicuous to help.

Sam could only wonder though, how did you two know each other to the degree she seemed to be planning to seduce your boyfriend into her bed as if to get back at you for something.

It was the worst possible timing. Jon barley managing to pack the basics for a week, distracted the whole time since no one was home when he got back. Writing out a message for Robb, he had put it on the kitchen counter with his bag now sitting on top of the table, with a plan to call you pretty much until he got back to Castle Black to tell you. He didn’t know how he missed it, but it almost startled his heart from his chest when he heard it behind him.

“What’s this?”

Turning around with wide eyes, Jon felt horrible. Not now, he thought. Don’t make him rush out of the door right now for this. Your hands were perched against the empty door frame looking between he and the bag with eyes he could only describe as close to breaking. You looked so exhausted and instantly Jon realized why, you had been sleeping at your desk, only passing out in the middle of working when you couldn’t keep your eyes open. But you either had a small bit today to come home, or Jon hadn’t even realized you were still here when he left, and you just had to be wearing that shirt. His Nights Watch shirt that you looked so beautiful in.

But clearing his throat, Jon felt such guilt in doing this now. “Mormont assigned me a job that will take me away for a week.” Asking if it was north, he felt so much worse. “No, it uh..Daenerys Targaryean has been visiting the Wall..” You didn’t have any change in reaction and Jon knew that was a withholding of dread in your heart. “And she requested me specifically to...accompany her in her tour of the different stations for the week.”

All you said, was a quiet little, “Oh.”

Jon truly hated this, he hadn’t seen you in days but he had to leave now, he was late as it was. “Darling-”

Your interruption was heartbreaking, “No, no. Your duty is important, Jon. I shouldn’t keep you.” Jon knew you wanted him to think you meant keep him waiting, but he had a horrible feeling you really meant something else. Calling your name gently Jon just managed to grasp at your waist to turn you to him.

Looking down at you, he grappled with what time he had. Not enough. “He sprung it on me only this morning. Once I’m back I’ll have a fortnight off though. To make it up to you.”

He knew what this was, and why you said it this way but he was desperate for you to not do this. “There isn’t anything you’d need to make up for with me. I’d never keep you from doing what you want.” Oh he really felt ill, whatever you were thinking was going to happen, he more firmly asked you if you thought he’d do anything like that but your answer was so horrible he felt his heart cracking into pieces. “The last thing I want is for you to feel chained to me.” Pulling away from him, Jon tried and failed to get you to come back close. “Dany is rich and beautiful, you’ll have fun spending time with her. Lost of men always did. I’ve kept enough of your time.”

Jon tried grabbing you and calling your name. Following your retreating figure you closed the door before he could get to you. Mouth slightly agape, Jon felt something truly sickening. Twisting his stomach and rising up to burn away at his heart and lungs. He was going away for a week on a miserable work job, but something about your reaction looked like you knew something he didn’t.

Muttering your name, Jon was alright if you didn’t respond. He just wanted you to hear him. “I love you. I know it’s too soon but..I just need you to know that.” If Jon listened any more closely, he felt a sting behind his eyes at the realization that you hadn’t moved from the door. You likely had your back against it, having slid down to the floor and all Jon could hear was the possibility of you hiding your head in your arms as if trying to smother the want to cry.

Forced to walk out to his car without even having you in his arms for even a moment, Jon sat in the front seat for a moment. Jaw clenched and the sting in his eyes mixing with anger. Every gods forsaken boyfriend you’ve ever had treated you so horribly that just the idea of Jon spending a week with someone like Daenerys Targaryean had you convinced you’d lose him. And worse you didn’t even act like you’d blame him for it.

He was glad no one was around to see the way he threw something harsh into part of the inside of his car in anger. Realizing why this felt so sickening in his heart. You weren’t treating this like something may happen on his work trip away. You were treating this, as if once Jon comes home, he’d be done with you without question.

You were treating this like it was already a breakup.

The constant buzzing around the building was tedious at the best of times. It had been years and years since you worked anywhere near here but you had been thrown right back into it as if you hadn’t purposely left this job. But you were part of the family, and thus you were given no choice. Though in a truth, you knew there were reasons you were more on edge here then usual. You simply had not gone home in many nights. The small couch in what was designated your office again, had housed you as each late night gave you no incentive to wish to go home.

For most of the week you had gone home, Robb had both been a blessing and a companion in misery. He suddenly had his job and his fathers all on his plate as Ned was working directly with Robert. For the first while, Robb had taken up taking you to and from work. Shutting you down when you insisted he not go out of his way, but you knew Robb could see the exhaustion and stress in your eyes clear as day.

At first it was comforting, having someone you’ve known for so much of your life there for you but eventually you stopped wanting it. The closer your father came to telling you he was going to bring you back to Kings Landing the more you started to realize you didn’t know how to say no. So you told Robb you were needed at earlier hours then he’d wake up, and that your father would have a driver bring you home so Robb didn’t have to go out of his way anymore.

And then you stopped going home, and stopped answering Robbs calls and messages. You were going to have to go back alone to Kings Landing soon anyways, you may as well get used to this loneliness now then later. But that wasn’t the only thing keeping you from being home, and you knew Robb had picked up on it too.

Whispers of Daenerys Targaryeans arrival had gotten around and soon followed photos online of interest. She was exactly as you remembered. Her luscious silver hair and immaculate wardrobe, the brightness of her Valyrian beauty something all wanted to catch a glimpse of, but it was never photos of her alone. You recognized what appeared to be a normal entourage of people around her but too was the early talk around her, a so far publically unidentified man close to her side.

The difficulty came though in that you had known you saw pictures like this before. Photos sent to you from a friend whom had seen Ramsay around with a girl named Myranda just like this only to be told by him it was nothing. Yet when you had begun to sleep with him, he revealed the truth that he was seeing her too and you were going to have to either live with it, or step things up to convince him to stay with you alone. You had not been worthy of giving any attention individually, you had not the worth and he was sure to teach you that.

Telling you one night, “Most men won’t stay with you. They’ll find pretty girls just like Myranda and fuck them until they realize the first one they dated just isn’t cutting it anymore.” He had unsettlingly traced his thumb down your cheek, jaw and down your neck with pale blue eyes scouring you with a falsehood you didn’t know how to tell if it was real or not. “I’d recommend listening to what I tell you to do from now on. Afterall, love, you just aren’t good enough to keep a man tied down to you alone. If you didn’t have me, the next man you date would just toss you away one day for a prettier and better version of you.”

You didn’t understand. Jon had told you that Ramsay and even Karl had been using you for sex, and you believed that then and now. All they wanted to do was have sex and never do anything else. Jon and you did plenty of things, but then you sat there, hands hovering over the keyboard unmoving. Jon was also very physical with you, quite so. You had asked him to be sure if all he wanted to do was have sex, and he said he wanted all of it.

Did all of it just mean sexually? Did you make yourself a fool thinking the romance would stay? Were you not giving yourself over physically enough to keep him interested?

The most recent photo was from the night before. Spotted at a small restaurant in the Gift, clearly much of the area had been closed off for her and thus photo were taken out of interest. A beautiful dress on her that you couldn’t afford in many lifetimes with hair which must have taken hours. Of course she looked better then you ever would, you sat at your desk with messy hair thrown back into a braid and dark circles under your eyes.

Naturally some did not question the circumstances, he was her guide here as his duty of course he would be polite and respectable about her wishes, but you looked at the photo again and again. The way she looked quite naturally close and cozy attached to his arm. There was not a world in which you would understand why Jon would have anything but a good time. She was so much more glamorous, rich, and powerful at his side.

You normally worked a calmer job from home, and had far too much baggage for him then he deserved. What made it worse, was a message which appeared on screen from Gendry. That very photo with the message only containing a rather angry ask of what was he looking at, only with a few more expletives thrown in for colour. Good, you thought sarcastically. Other people were about to start seeing it.

Hardly any outside of the Starks or Jons circles even knew about he and you yet. The first woman of meaning they’d see by his side was her. You looked horrid in comparison. People would look down on Jon for going from her to you.

Another message from Gendry, then one from Arya. By the time you got the same photo and kind of message from Loras of all people did you turn your computer off. Elbows propped on the table and hanging your head into your hands with a deep sigh. Any other women would be angry, mad, offended, but you should’ve simply seen this coming. You gave Jon what he wanted, and expected too much in return. That wasn’t his fault, that was simply yours.

As you ascended the steps to the main door, you could only contemplate how you even got here. It felt like a blur, as if only moments ago did you turn the computer at your desk off. But walking in, it had yet to get busy. An open seat right by the corner of the bar, you sat down. Barley registering what you had ordered, only that it was as bitter going down as you needed. You didn’t even bother pulling your phone out to entertain yourself.

What were you going to do? Avoid worried messages from Robb telling you to either come home already or call him? Wait to see what other photos would arise? Jon looked cordial in them but how long until he looked like he was having fun, how long until he was giving Dany the looks you wished for so long he would give you? How long until he sent you a message telling you that this was not going to work anymore?

Men always boasted that she was good in bed, and she was always good at tempting men she wanted into her bed in return. At least someone would give him a pleasurable time other then him always having to take the reins with you. You knew nothing compared to what she did, why would he want to stay with that after she could show him how much better being with her felt?

You’d ask worried how long until that happened, but then you felt that dark wave of fear that maybe it already did. Within an instant, you downed the ale before ordering another. It was straight forward with Karl and Ramsay. They told you what to do, what they wanted or expected and would just take it when you didn’t get the message. You never knew what Jon wanted, and clearly guessing had not worked out.

Ramsay was upfront for most of your relationship that he would fuck other women. If that’s what Jon wanted to do, you wished he would be honest and tell you. You’d understand. He was a man, he had needs and you weren’t talented or good or pretty enough to fulfill them. This is why you never wanted Jon to know about how you felt. You knew you weren’t good enough, that you would ruin the friendship you both already had.

How much had you drunk at that point? You need not stand up yet and find out.

Jon had yet to have a single moment to himself from the very instant he opened his eyes. She needed this or that, ordered one thing or another from him or simply would change her mind and have him escort her somewhere. She was, for all intents and purposes, his boss currently. Or at least, she was certainly ordering him around like she was. He apparently had no choice here as much as he couldn’t refuse an order from Lord Commander Mormont if she had anything to say about him telling her no.

She had wanted to go to a specific restaurant, and as utterly uncomfortable as Jon felt, when she asked him to sit and join he had refused initially. Only to have a more narrow eyed look with a smile that felt judging with a tone filled with less room for interpretation. “It is bad manners to refuse a ladies offer.” The stare off lasted around five long and painful seconds before he begrudgingly sat down. Nearly refusing any offer of food for drink at her expense, stating he was fine while picking at whatever too upscale appetizer she ordered for him.

The only easier moments were with the waitress, a young girl, likely around Aryas age in over her head at the degree of upscale done for the Targaryean. She would take her orders with a nervousness but seemed at least to relax at Jons ease with her. Ensuring as long as she came around often enough to refill his water, she had nothing to worry about with him. Daenerys had her team pay by cheque.

Jon had caught the young waitress his way out, giving her a gold coin specifically for her good job. It was the only real smile anyone had given him in days as she thanked him.

Now though? Jon could hear voices muffled outside his door even through the noise and walls with his keen hearing. Soon enough his only chance at quiet would be interrupted, but Jon was begging for it to wait until he could finish showering. Or, at least finish his illusion of showering. Towel long since around his waist as he let the hot water keep running to steam the bulk of the room, Jon leaned against the counter picking up his phone.

If he had one fundamental flaw, it was he had no idea how to handle issues like this in most forms not in person. Not even over the phone was ideal, but you didn’t answer his call. Not that he blamed you. Photos begun going around online and it was painting Jon out to look like he of all people was treading into the path of being unfaithful. But Jon didn’t know how to text you about it either, he knew he didn’t come off well in text.

A few more days, thats all he told himself. He would be back with you in a few more days and he would fix everything then. A knock at the main door had him rising his head up, but Jon made no move to go answer it. It was late, he wanted time to himself, she would survive without his company. He didn’t even understand why she wanted to spend time with him, he barley spoke to her if she didn’t require an answer.

Swiping through his photo gallery, one then the next, then the next. You hated having your photo taken but always managed to be talked into letting him at any point. Jon could admit to himself with a ghost of a smile painting across his face that he took his best photos when he’d set his camera up to take them automatically as he kissed you. The one he had looked at in the moment, he had sat his phone against something as if moving it out of the way before coming up and wrapping his arms around your front, his own lips finding your neck as you leaned into his touch.

So many with you Jon could look at until he passed out, he missed you terribly, and he hated that he had to leave while you were still clearly so upset. Every night when he fell asleep in a bed not his, he too felt angry that you weren’t curled up in his chest. Jon was practically spoiled with how often you slept in his bed, hell Jon felt alone without the inevitable feeling of Ghost hopping up onto the end of the bed and curling up around both of your feet.

Only finding it in him just then to contemplate turning the water off and attempting to call you one more time before passing out, did he get an email. From Gilly of all people. Opening one, the subject line left empty did she send him photos of articles.

Another email, more photos of articles and names he somewhat recognized. Another email with more personal photos as if scanned from a book online. But it was the last one that had Jon swiftly turning the water off with eyes narrowed. Face tensed as he looked at the final article photos she sent him.

If any noticed, they said nothing. The falsehood in the smile Daenerys was giving him and the stiff attempt at remaining neutral in Jon the next morning. “We had wondered what happened to you last night. You didn’t answer your door.”

Hardly looking as Jon stood somewhat in front of them all fiddling with his own credentials, they had finally arrived last night in time for her tour of the Shadow Tower and he wanted to get her in there and distracted as quickly as possible. Mumbling out, “I fell asleep after I had a shower. Must not have heard you.”

Not making any eye contact, Jon gestured with a nod for them all to simply follow him. By the time they arrived, with merely one look at him did Jon know that his demeanour was even more off put then it normally was. Most were trying to be polite, but with the wave over for him to come up to speak to him, Jon simply directed them to follow Dareon as he swiftly made his way up the stairs. That time he felt her eyes watching him, but he didn’t care as he shut the door behind him.

Rummaging through the cabinet behind his desk before turning did Qhorin Halfhand let out a far more natural tone then he greeted the party with. “One bloody foreign politician shows up and suddenly we’re expected to bend over backwards to kiss her ass.” Letting the glasses thud against his desk, he didn’t even need to ask Jon to sit while he begun pouring the amber liquid Jon hoped was strong. “Whose idea was this anyways?”

Grabbing his with a thankful nod, Jon muttered with a frustration. “Mormont. His son is her advisor, Jorah. I think he’s trying to use it as a way to make amends but he’s just thrown me into the fire this time.” A laugh came out that Jon understood but didn’t quite appreciate as he just took another far larger sip, holding back the wince as it burned down his throat.

“She looks like she fancies you.” Jon only grunted from within his chest, his eyes dark and expression twisting into something akin to a frown. “Too bad for her, she’s in the North. Most men I know born and raised up here aren’t quite into whatever they have going on.” If Jon had the capacity to laugh he would’ve. That certainly was true. Those of the North were never normally looked at as the attractive culture of the country and if any were as far from what they were like or looked like it was the Targaryean. By the time the Halfhand found his word again, Jon knew he had to tackle this now while he had someone alone who could help. “You’re trapped with her for a week? Doesn’t Mormont know you have a girl?”

“I don’t know, but she does.” Looking at him in question, he leaned forward with his arms on the desk in curiosity as Jon elaborated with your name on his lips. “She was going to school in Kings Landing, and went over to Essos for a few months for some special program. Apparently they paired students up with people to live with over there that should match in lifestyle.” The Halfhand putting together the indications that you had been moved in with Daenerys Targaryean.

Jon recalled when he got back, Sam leaving a note that said to stay distant from her until certain information was found. Which he had no idea what that had meant until then night prior. How Gilly found all of this, he had no idea as he continued. “Her brother Viserys lived there too.” Once again your name coming out, albeit with far more of a strain the man before him could sense was rather protective. “He took an interest in her, wouldn’t leave her alone. Was at her side day and night always trying to get close as possible to the point some people thought they were together.”

Recalling the report filed with both local officials and schooling records, he suspected that Gilly may or may not have gotten access to things she normally shouldn’t have, but Jon told himself to remember to thank her for it. For finding something you had never told him about, but now more then ever seemed to be needed. According to your written and spoken statements, Viserys had convinced you on a night you felt homesick out to a club. You hadn’t drunk much but you do remember that one of which he had ordered from the bar for you and brought your way, all without you seeing.

Medical reports attached showed traces of Shade of the Evening in your system. You had said you did not take anything like that, but refused to point the finger at Viserys because if you were wrong you thought it would be a horrible accusation. The official you spoke to had pointed out what they already had on record of what he had done as to try and convince you of a truth you still refused to accept. Feeling not right, you had found yourself dragged to a more secluded hallway where Viserys has tried to-

Jon had cut himself off on that one as the Halfhand filled in those details. Saying your name, “What’s all this now then have to do with her? Miss Silver Hair out there not like that a girl reported her brother for being a raper?” Jon heavily swallowed down any thoughts about that, it didn’t go that far he knew, but dare he tread into what else he had learned of your time with men since.

Rasping out after taking a final sip, before handing the glass over to the Halfhand waving for him to get it refilled for his own sake. “He never got charged for anything. He and his sister were rich and they got him dropped of charges.” Directing back to you, “When she was put on a ship back home, apparently someone had let it out that Daenerys helped to hide what he did, and they kicked her out school for it. And apparently she blames her for it still.”

“So now she’s trying to steal you to get back at her.” Nodding begrudgingly, Jon hated that in your eyes, that plan was working. He felt ill thinking what you could be worrying he had done already, or what he would have to do to prove he never would betray you like that. “Well, she’s here for two days then you have barley any more alone with her to get back to Castle Black. Suppose in her mind that’s plenty of time to charm you. What did your girl have to say about all this?”

The dark frown growing on Jon was immense. “She’s been busy with her Uncle’s campaign against Daenerys, and even beyond that I think she’s afraid to pick up my calls.” Asking why, Jon answered with a heavy weight in his throat. “In case she does, and I’m only calling to break up with her.” Almost in an instant Jon nearly downed the second refill in one large go. “She was dating this abusive-” He cut himself off before he let that anger get him too carried away. “And a little before him she had been dating Karl Tanner.”

The looks shared between men spoke volumes. “Tough girl you’ve got. Making her way out of that mans life and then another? That isn’t easy.” It was easier to see where Jons struggle was coming from, and why from here he felt trapped from being able to do anything. “Sounds like you need someone to go talk her into her senses. Who from up here does she know?”

One plan set, and the next came in the form of Jons only last question. “What do I do in the meantime?

“Your job. Nothing more, nothing less. Get her out of our gods forsaken hair, and yours for that matter. As long as you don’t trip and fall naked into her bed, I don’t see what you’ve got to worry about.” A more firm voice coming out, catching his eyes. “Snow. Stop worrying. We’re brothers, all of us. You’ve had our backs more times then I can count, we can have yours this once.”

Though, being brothers meant they did not go without getting on each others nerves. “One more question, Snow.” Turning with his hand still braced on the doorknob, Jon could already sense the irritation based on the jesting brightness in the Halfhands face. “How long’s it been since you and your girl have fucked? Haven’t seen you this wound up since your first year here.”

Jon almost didn’t answer, with a more flat glare though he grumbled out, “Too long.” Which was the real answer of almost a fortnight. Considering though, a fortnight passed into Jons relationship with you he had fucked you nearing twice a day, this was starting to feel like a true torture. A torture made worse everytime he noticed her staring at him, now realizing that he was just a pawn to get back at you.

He didn’t want her to want him in the first place, but now he was angry. Using him to break your heart all for something her own brother tried to do to you in the first place. He’d only ever met one, but already he hated that family to his core.

You didn’t pick up when Jon tried calling you then already, or that night, but he had to trust the Halfhand to help with you. He just didn’t realize by the time the one sent to talk to you was going to find you at a bar in that state. Each night he reminded himself how long. But before he had reached his hotel bed the night before beginning the days long journey back to Castle Black, did he get a call from Robb, pretty unbelievably angry with him.

Leading up to that call though, one would have to go all the way back to the bar you sat in hours before. The low rumbling voice coming to your side held a laugh that nearly caught you off guard, as did his size. “How’s someone your size stay conscious with that much in you?” Nudging at your arm as he took a seat did you meaninglessly try to swat at him back.

Little thought came out of your mouth as you didn’t even bother to greet him. “What are you doing here, Tormund?”

Ordering something for himself, he shrugged which hardly passed your notice. Eyes presently trained on the wood of the bar. “Thought I’d come out. Have a drink with a beautiful woman.”

Eyes rolling somewhat to the side did you mumble, “I repeat. What are you doing here then?” That time the nudge was much more noticeable then before. Only saying he was here to check on you, your eyes narrowing as you whipped your head to the side to look at him suspiciously, not quite aware it was coming off more adorable then intimidating. “I left work not telling anyone where I was going. How did you know to find me here?”

The answer gave your insides a little bit of a sobering jolt in sorrow. “Jon mentioned he and you used to come here all the time. Seemed an easy guess.” That time you on a true spree of questions asked why he was looking for you and the answer was just as unpleasantly whirling in your stomach. “Got a call from that half handed cunt at the Shadow Tower, said Snow’s pretty on edge that you haven’t spoken to him in over a week.”

Your hands twitched as if to go grab your phone, forcing it to remain in your bag. For now. “I don’t know what to say to him.” Asking almost incredulously that meant you chose to just ignore him, you felt a tinge of annoyance creeping through the anxiety. “We can talk about if he wants me to stay or not when he comes back, I don’t want to have that conversation over the phone.”

Grumbling out, were you not drunk you may have picked up the amusement instead of judgment you interpreted it as. “You think he wants to get rid of you?”

“It isn’t a matter of getting rid of me or not. If he’s bored of me, that isn’t his fault.”

Tormund was quiet for more then a good few seconds. Still difficult to pick up his tone, but you also didn’t even notice his freedom to reach inside your bag and grab your phone as he spoke. “As long as I’ve known him, he’s been stupid in love with you. Watched you date shit bag after shit bag and refusing to make a damned move whenever I told him to. Something about not wanting to take advantage of you when you were vulnerable.” Turning a little, you at least could see the partial sight of his wild orange hair in the low bar light. “Now I knew Karl Tanner, means I know the kind of shit he’d have put you through. Your crow doesn’t even know the half of it does he?”

Slowly you shook your head as a heat begun forming behind your face in a rather unwelcome way.

“If you told him the truth about that, he’d run day and night to come back right now-” Cutting him off you told him that wasn’t the only thing you weren’t honest about. “Alright, fess up.” Telling him a rather drunk version of the events, Tormund whistled out by the end of it. “You have a great habit of trying to surround yourself with the worst shits I’ve ever known.”

Continuing on, you hardly noticed his jest. “As soon as he told me who he was going to be with, I just knew what would happen. I knew Dany. She’s beautiful, rich, charming every single man I met in Pentos adored her. There wasn’t anyone who she couldn’t get into her bed and I always knew why. She was everything men dream of having all in one woman. She’d be perfect for him. She looks perfect at his side. And I know she’d figure out Jon was with me, and she knows she’s better for him then I ever could be. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in her bed right now. Doesn’t take most men this long.”

Unbeknownst to you it was rather ill feeling to other people at how little blame you placed on Jon in this imagined scenario. You’d refute every ounce of guilt he could be accused of beacuse of men like Ramsay and Karl. In your eyes, you were unattractive and broken, Dany was beautiful and perfect. Jon probably took one look at her and gave her those wide and bright eyes you for so long wished could be directed towards you just once.

“Then why is all he can talk about when you’re not there, you?” Brows furrowing you shrugged while turning more away, curling a bit in on yourself. “Ever since you two got together, all he can focus on is you. If he’s not with you, he’s talking about you. If he’s not talking about you, he’s obsessing over you. And if he’s not doing any of that, then he’s probably busy getting off thinking about you. Hates talking about you with other men in any way. If this girl is what he wants, then why in seven hells is he so obsessed with you every second of the day?”

If you were entirely truthful, you had always thought Jon was exaggerating when he said he told his friends a lot about you. You assumed when he wasn’t with you, you were barley in his head. That’s what Ramsay and Karl were like, it was what you were used to. “Before he left, through the door he told me he loved me.” Tormund gave you the silent space to think. “He’s never said that before. We’ve never said it before. But he told me before he left and I didn’t say it back. I hadn’t seen him in days, I didn’t understand why he’d tell me when he was leaving for even more.”

More quiet then usual he asked, “A man ever tell you that before?” Shaking your head no, you refused to acknowledge the sting behind your eyes. “You are a mess if I’ve ever seen one before.”

Muttering with a bit more amusement peeking through, “You know all the proper words to flatter a girl, don’t you?” That time you nudged his side back as much as he did you. The thoughts simmering in your head for a little while until they came out calm. “I don’t know how to do this. Normal relationships, let alone when the one I’m with is my best friend. I’ve never been in one that wasn’t so horrible, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act with Jon if he doesn’t tell me.”

“And he’s not going to know how to talk that out with you, if you keep your damned mouth shut about every problem in your pretty little head. He comes back in what? In a day or two? Just wait until he comes back before trying to push him away all over again. Let him choose to do that this time, you’ve had your fun.” He was being hyperbolic at the words of fun, but you understood his position. “Now,” Slamming your phone onto the table between you both, “Who the fuck can you call at this hour to pick you up?”

By the time you were outside, the cool night air was somewhat comforting in your lungs. Leaning against the much larger Tormund for support you felt the need to fall asleep coming. Eyes jolting open each time they were tempted too. At the sight of headlights, you felt a relief as if he wouldn’t have come. You had figured by now your attitude would’ve driven Robb from wanting to put up with you, but it wasn’t the case.

The concerned and gentle way he handled you was more comforting then you had thought it would be, that at least he hadn’t written you off entirely just yet.

Whatever it was that was said between Tormund and Robb you didn’t really know, almost falling asleep Robb had just picked you up by then. “Last thing you need on top of everything is a concussion” All you remembered was by the time Robb sat you carefully in the passenger seat did you drift off to sleep.

Robb carried you into the house, gently resting you down on the couch on your side. Grabbing a fur to cover you wish as Ghost came scurrying out of Jons room over to your side. “Come on now, give her space.” Whining, the direwolf rested his head on the couch looking at you as Greywind came up to nudge Ghost as if comforting him.

Debating what he wanted to do, stay here and make sure you didn’t throw up in your sleep or finally say a word or two to more then one persons. Telling Ghost and Greywind to come get him if anything happened, Robb went outside. First thing was first, then Robb called his brother and it likely was the first time in along time he chewed him out for something with an actual anger.

On the other side, Jon stood almost taken back in the middle of his hotel room that Robb had called him in the near middle of the night to yell at him without even so much as a greeting. “Sometimes I have no idea what runs through your head.” Trying to ask what he was even talking about, Robb only cut him off not even before reaching the end of the sentence bringing up your name. “Everything she’s been through the last few months, no the last year and you start pulling this sort of thing? What is wrong with you?”

Face twisting into his own taken back offence, Jons tone dropped beginning to match in the frustration. “Do you want to be more specific?”

But it was you again, of course if was you. Jon felt haunted by your lack of presence. “After Tanner, after Ramsay we all waited to see if you’d actually do anything finally. You made a move and we were all proud until you pulled all of this. She’s never even been in a relationship with someone that wasn’t a piece of shit and the second things got even the slightest bit difficult, you took off for a whole week.”

Blood rising in intensity in his veins Jon felt his muscles tensing with nothing to let it out on showing in the sharp edge to his shortness. “I didn’t ask for this, Robb. I was assigned to it, I had no choice-”

Not having a second of it, Robb was far firmer then Jon was growing angry. “You did. If you said no, did you really think Mormont of all people would what? Discharge you? Demote you? Of all people? No, things with her got tough, you didn’t know what to do to fix it, so you ran. And worse, you ran off to the side of the very woman making her life hell in the first place. How do you think seeing photos of her with you day in and out is making her feel?” Almost in a stunned sense for a moment, it gave Robb room to continue. “I had to pick her up from a bar tonight, did you know that? She was so drunk she couldn’t even stand on her own, she passed out the moment I got her into the car.”

On Jons end, suddenly an ill, blackening poison grew from within his stomach at the thought. He had assumed you wouldn’t have spiralled this hard, and Robb was clearly irate at the fact as he had to watch the rest of it. “Is she-”

“She’s asleep right now. I called father, told him he needs to put his foot down to Robert about dragging her back into all of this, because either shes drowning in work she hates or drowning in her thoughts all alone. There’s no excuse this time. When you come home you fix this, you’re not the only one who cares this much about her.” It was Robbs next words though that hit Jon somewhere deep in a much more slashing strike. “But I’m not the one who ran away from my struggling, traumatized girlfriend the second things got difficult. I’m picking up the pieces you’re causing. Daenerys Targaryean isn’t your girlfriend and she isn’t your boss. Set some fucking boundaries, Snow.”

Hardly a few words Jon got in before Robb hung up. It had been a long time since the two brothers ever argued like that, and he didn’t quite know how to feel right away. Yet the more he thought about it, the more Jon realized he was right. Jon hadn’t tried to fix things. He’s argued against the Lord Commanders orders more then that before on less, he should’ve learned letting either of you walk out the door without talking a problem out only made it worse. And knowing what he knew now, Jon knew he did wrong by not being far more firm towards Daenerys about him not being interested.

Even if she was doing this to get back at you, Jon should’ve known better then to let it even vaguely fall into place. The first time you struggled more then usual in the month and a half since he had started to be with you, and he took off for a week without speaking to you on it for more then a few minutes.

Some good example he was setting for this relationship, Jon knew.

No doubt she had not been expecting whom was at the door at this hour, but perhaps she should have read the room before giving this reaction. The middle of the night, Daenerys in her sleeping clothes and yet he was fully dressed as if the sun was out but she somehow misread this in a way that only made him angry. “What a pleasant surprise, you coming by so late to see me. Please, come in, I insist.”

Trying to pull the door more open for him, Jon let a gloved hand reach out and grasp a higher edge of the door stopping her in her tracks with eyes growing more frustrated within them. “I’m not here for a chat.” If Jon were a worse man, he might have snapped at her for the audacity to give him almost a leering look up and down. Starting to form something or another with a much more intentional tone of voice, Jon hissed out. “I don’t know what gave you the idea I’m interested in you, but I’m done.”

Head jolting back, the act dropped within an instant. “What do you mean done?”

Pulling something in front of him previous tucked away, a freshly printed out receipt and details for a driver and arrival time. Asking what this was, Jon pulled his hand back from the door finally. “A driver bought and paid for to take you to wherever you need to go from here, but I’m finished. Whatever you thought this was, you’re wrong. I’ve been taking you around beacuse I was told to, because it was my duty, but nowhere does it say I’m to stand here and let you try and push my girlfriend out of my life beacuse of something that happened years ago.”

Eyes wide and if he was not mistaken, just a tint of an unsettling rage hid too beyond her controlled words. “I don’t know what it is you’re accusing me of-”

“We both know exactly what I’m accusing you of.” Your name falling from his mouth as a twitch in her eye gave it away. “I’m sorry for what happened to your brother, but what he did to her was wrong, and you got caught covering up for him. None of that is her fault. And you come back trying to take her families livelihood away and on top of that, try to take her partner away from her too just because you can’t let go from something that happened when you were both still teenagers. Move on, Daenerys. This isn’t healthy.”

Stepping out the door only a bit as Jon turned, raising her voice. “So that is it? You walk away now after telling me off for things that are not your concern?”

If she expected it, she didn’t seem to show it in how quickly she leaned away from him. Stepping close to her personal space, Jon all but growled in his voice with dark eyes looking down at her with your name. “Everything that concerns her, is my concern.” Moving away only a little, Jon feigned as much respect as he could but still let such impulsive feelings slip out. “I’d wish you luck on your campaign, but we both know I wouldn’t mean it. Consider this you losing the support of the North.”

He knew she watched him the entire way down to his car, throwing his bag in the back seat and not waiting another second in the lot before pulling out and down the road. Glancing down to his phone Jon considered stopping to send you a message in case he didn’t make it back in time, but Jon knew the route from the Shadow Tower back to Winterfell. And how quickly he could get there in the empty middle of the night traffic, perhaps not following the speed limits as much as he should’ve.

But he had somewhere else to be, and someone to get to. She tried to use him for her spite but Jon had still alone be responsible for leaving you for a week in such a vulnerable position. And that was no ones fault but his.

The last you recalled was seeing Robb show up to pick you up from the bar, and yet you had no idea how you got to where you awoke. The sun blurred from your eyes as dark curtains were pulled across the window, early enough you presumed that it had only just peeked over the darkness. For a moment you felt confused as to where you were instead of how, a warm figure behind you keeping you pulled back into their front with a hand more loose against your waist as if a tighter grip had been there when the owner of it was awake.

For a moment you had a thought still marred by the alcohol in your system of what was possibly realistic, wondering if you had done something horrible and ended up in Robbs bed, only to come to your senses. Even if somehow being drunk turned you into a woman suddenly with no morals of commitment towards a partner, it wasn’t as if Robb of all people would take advantage of that. But the warmth, the familiarity, and only when you registered the feeling of longer curls against your skin where he lay behind you did you realize you were in Jons room, with him.

Frozen for a moment, you once again worried you did something wrong, but your heart refused to let it grow that time. At the very least, you could recall words in your head Tormund had spoke of the night before and thought to yourself in such a wakening state, perhaps you should trust him for now. Stop acting so scared right off the bat, give Jon the chance Tormund was insisting on. But for you, you couldn’t just lay back in his arms yet. Not when you hadn’t even spoken.

Inch by inch did you slip from his grasp, and a miracle was granted to you as Ghost did not wake up from his bed either. The moment before you slipped out the door, you turned back to look. He must have come right from wherever he was last. Still in his Nights Watch attire as you were your clothes from last night, sans your boots no doubt. Jons strictness about any shoes on his bed of course.

Curls wild and even a hint of stress in what normally was his most peaceful time, maybe he didn’t have the week you were trying to convince yourself he had. Really, he looked no better then you felt. But you had your routine. Showers normally saved for night, you needed one this early if only to wash the grime off your skin from the bar. Standing before the mirror after, there wasn’t even much there. An indicator neither of you had been home in days.

Teeth brushed and mouthwash, ridding any access of what was whatever you drank in access of last night, for the most part the next little while as you felt a little more calm trying to do your hair alone, the stubborn thought in your head that it was so much easier when Jon would happily stand behind you and help with the bulk of it for you.

Creeping into your room, intentions on finally choosing something fresh to wear before looking down to notice someone had even plugged your phone in for you, but atop your dresser sat clothes chosen out that you know you didn’t pick. You recognized the writing right away, and while you didn’t know yet what it meant, it seemed Robb thought it spoke for itself.

“You’re not going into work. Dress comfortably for once. That’s an order.”

A smile was easy after that. Part of you wanted to feel bad, wanted to think of a way to make it up to Robb but you could predict that outcome. A lecture all of your own to stop trying to owe people back things they do out of kindness alone. Robb was not a man afraid of getting rough, and would all but drag you out of the kitchen by just picking you up and placing you out in the main room whenever you tried to take over either his or Theons night to cook when you thought they could use a break.

Stepping out into the main hall, Jons door was wide open as you could hear the sounds of both Ghost and Grey Wind pattering about. Inhaling deeply, your eyes fluttering closed for only that moment as you told yourself to just be a big girl and talk to him. Though maybe that would be less intimidating if the last interaction between you, was not you being too upset to respond to him trying to tell you he loves you.

Coming to the kitchen, you could see what he was doing before he noticed you. Clearly your intoxication had not passed him by, recognizing the ingredients sitting out as he prepared them. You stood there, internally following his steps as he did each in exact order as usual. After nights all of you would enjoy a good too many drinks, it became habit that Jon woke up first. Always making something easy and helpful for you to get down once you woke up, and then jesting to Robb and Theon when they’d ask what he made them, “Neither of you are girls, you can make your own drink.”

Theon normally joking with a bite if he was being bigoted, only for Jon to grunt out a simple, “Only towards you two.” But the others weren’t anywhere to be seen, it was only you two to deal with your failures towards him with two direwolves to watch.

Jon hadn’t even turned towards you, looking almost too soft in such casual clothes compared to his normal uniform with his voice rasping in as gentle tones as he could saying your name. “Sit down before you get lightheaded.”

He knew you so well even without glancing, knowing with little in your system but remnants of alcohol you likely hadn’t had much else to give you energy. His curls pulled all the way back in a bit more of a messy manner as if simply haphazardly throwing it up to get it out of his way quickly, but you could see his shoulders deflate with tension as he clearly could see from the corner of his vision when you sat down in your normal spot without debate.

Instantly the sounds of Ghost trotting over to you filled the air as a happy whine came out from the direwolf. Your hands running over his head and ears as he rested his head in your lap, not noticing Jons grey eyes bright and shining looking over to you with his wolf so perfectly. A dark feeling only just coming about him, having to swallow roughly and turn back to grabbing the smaller, more quiet hand blender at the thought that Daenerys would have ever thought she could take Jon away from this.

Grey Wind followed suit but with more of his respectable demeanour, nudging you happily beside Ghost but allowing the pure white furred red eye’d goofball to soak up all of the needy attention. Suddenly making a low sound to the other, both direwolves turned back to give you space as Jon had finally turned to indicate to them both to leave be.

Coming up to you, one hand put it down in front of you, the other without any hesitation running gently over the back of your still damp hair as he sat in his seat pulling it a bit closer to you then it normally would sit. Glancing down, you felt almost as spoiled as you did like a child. The right fruits you liked and the one metal straw in the entire kitchen found to put in, always after you once ever so briefly mentioned preferring straws like a child, he had not hesitated to do things as care filled as he always did for you.

Muttering a thank you, your hand reached out to the glass but pulled back slight for a moment, looking over to his soft gaze with a worry. “Jon, I want to a-”

His hand running down your hair more toying with the strands through his fingers, he nodded to the glass with a low rasp. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just drink, let’s get you feeling better first.”

Neither of you spoke for a bit, so far, you didn’t need too. Jon never left toying with your hair, nor even move away anywhere near far enough to lose his warmth. In fact it felt as if he kept getting closer. Prompting you to keep going when you’d pause for too long, both of you knowing he made you just the right amount you would need and not any bit more then that.

The hand in your hair slipped to run across the top of your back as he muttered that he’d handle it when you even twitched to get up to clean it. You stood regardless, looking at his back turned realizing that it wasn’t just unfair to compare Jon to Karl or Ramsay. It was downright insulting. Jon was the only man whose ever looked at you with such a softness or dealt with you with such precise care.

Hands braced against the cool feeling of the fridge, you leaned your side into it not knowing if you would be able to summon the courage to say it all in a calm and thought out manner before he turned around. But as he did, and you hadn’t just as you thought, Jon stepped closer to you anyways.

Not waiting more, a hand coming to rest at your waist while the other traced two knuckles of your neck and cheek, using them to tilt you up to look at him. Taking the reigns himself, his eyes soft but with a sadness that looked like a guilt, but not a scary sort of guilt. One of something far more dipped in trust then that to feel scared by it. “I shouldn’t have just left like I did. That was wrong. You were upset, you needed me, and I took off for a week. And if I was sorry for that, I’m even more sorry that it was with her.” Now running down the hair at the side of your head, your hands tentatively moved to rest along his torso. “I should’ve said no in the first place, and I should’ve stayed long enough to talk it out with you. Because then I’d have known who she is to you, and never would’ve even considered doing it. I would’ve called Mormont then and there and told him to send anyone else, but I didn’t, and I’m so sorry, darling.”

Nodding a little, you looked not yet at this eyes anymore but more distracting yourself purposely down, presently at his collarbones. “I thought you’d do the worst, and that was...horrible of me- no, Jon it was. It’s insulting to even put a piece of you where someone like Ramsay or Karl are like, you’re not and you wouldn’t do what they did and it was horrible of me to push you away for something you didn’t even do.” Hands sliding a bit more comfortably on his chest, Jon finally cupped your cheek, slowly raising his other hand to cup the other. Tilting your forehead to press a kiss before resting against it.

Only you both stood there with nothing more to say for the moment, and truly Jon realized telling you what she tried to do wasn’t worth it. You had enough pain, this wouldn’t even do anything but add to it. You had him, and he had you, that should be enough without bringing her into it anymore then she already tried to be. “If I tell you I love you, are you going to start crying again?”

It wasn’t a mock, but a very tender teasing as he pulled you up to look at him. Your smile small against his brighter one but you shook your head. In a suprise to him, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek before returning flat on your own feet. “Is it too late to tell you I love you back?”

Jon didn’t dignify that with a response, pulling you into his kiss without a second thought. Your hands coming up to his shoulders, gently wrapping around the back of his neck. Guiding your lips with his soft ones, Jons kissed you with as much need as it was filled with the amount of times he wished he had told you he loved you prior. Never letting you lead as if to tell you, you need not try to match up to him, that you gave him enough. Deepening it, Jon tilted your head up more to keep you at his mercy, not letting you break away. Always surging forward to keep your lips to his whenever you’d attempt parting for air.

Arching a bit more into his front as he deepened it again, more of a greed this time, a small sound high pitched and needy came from your chest. Both hands dropping to your hips, Jon moved you almost so slow you didn’t notice until your back found the edge of the counter. Holding him tighter, Jon crept into your space, pressing more against your front as his kiss grew rougher and rougher with a greed almost bordering too much to not be noticed as a strong need. One hand still tight at your hip, his other grasped your cheek and jaw, tilting you better to his lips again as he nibbled against your bottom lip.

More the once leaving a tingling sensation in it’s wake as Jon instead of indulging in how easily you parted your lips for him, he pulled away without any thought. Dropping his head down to your neck, lips and tongue soaking up and down the sensitive skin of your neck as you held him tighter, leaning more into his touch. The hand on your cheek slid to grasp your hair, pulling it out of his path and using the grip now to tilt your head giving him more space as you so willingly let him move you.

The moment his teeth sunk into your skin, a loud gasp left you, arching into his touch as his hips begun to press more firmly and noticeably against yours. On an instinct in such an open space, one hand left him to cover your mouth. Only for Jon to leave your hip, yanking the hand away and pushing it to rest against the counter behind you as he kept his own covering yours. Leaning even harder into your front, now a slight shifting as you moved to his touch. Both of you knowing me meant for you to feel his cock twitch and harden against you.

Dragging his teeth rough up and down your neck, only transitioning into his gentle kiss and licks across the bite to sooth the sting before returning to the same feeling making you cry out needy for him now free in the air. “Jon..” Almost weak and unsure in what you were asking for, time need not pass as he still know your needs better.

It was still new, you still did not really know what you liked, but Jon did. Jon knew your body like it was an instrument he had long since mastered the art in playing, he could figure out anything you liked and what you needed when you had not even the understanding to know what that need consisted of. It was bold but Jon knew sometimes he had to be bold.

Hands running under your shirt, Jon found the edge of your sports bra right away, grasping firmly you read his intention, pulling your hands from him as he used the leverage to pull your shirt and bra off. The tight later material snapping as almost as if a show for him, bounced in the jostle as he carelessly tossed it to the ground.

Black and narrowed he stared at you before shaking his head with a gruff mutter through his teeth, “Any man who wouldn’t want this is blind.” Capturing your lips again, did both his rough hands grasp your breasts. Tightly groping with no mercy, pushing them together as he roughly groped at them before sliding to the small buds peaking in the cold kitchen air. Biting at your bottom lip, Jon pulled away to look at your eyes the second he yanked. And not gently, a rough yank that had your core shake in need as you felt the wetness grow within seconds for him. Eyes forced in a silent command to meet his, your mouth dropped open in need as he twisted and yanked before groping your breasts all over again so roughly.

Skipping a path, Jon moved enough so his mouth took over as one hand moved to steady you at your hip. The same soaking and yet rough treatment he had marked your neck up did Jon run his lips and teeth over your breasts. Bruising marks into it with a growling need, only becoming more intense each time you gasped into the air in plea of his name. Sinking his teeth onto your nipple more roughly you cried out so much louder as he matched in harshly pulling and twisting your other with his calloused fingertips.

Hardly tearing away, the only thing splitting the trail of saliva between his mouth and your chest as moving to the other. Giving the same rough treatment and yet your chest arched into his mouth making him all the more greedy and bold. Groping rough, and biting down even rougher then before as he more purposely pulled your other nipple pulling a loud sound into the air from you. So he did it again, and again and as your core soaked you under your clothes did Jons cock throb unbearably hard.

Jon was there for a while, attacking your chest and leaving proof of his presence in bruises and teeth indents as he pulled away. Still pushing and pulling them together in a more rough massaging manner, Jon returned to full height. Speaking to you through very strained gritted teeth and eyes black as he met your eyes even as he hands were rough on your breasts. “I was going to wake you up with my mouth. That morning I had to leave you before you woke up. I was so close to tasting you when I got called in, and all I’ve been able to think about since is you.” Never not roughly adding to the sting on your chest from his tough hands, Jon leaned forward to urgently capture your lips in a deep kiss before pulling away to run his nose along yours. “There hasn’t been a single day I haven’t wanted to spread you for me, taste you until you cry and then sink my cock inside you until you don’t even have it in you to cry anymore.” Another kiss, that time biting at your lip roughly. “Fuck you until you don’t remember anything in your life but how I feel inside of you.” Another bite. “Do you want that?”

Nodding, Jon demanded you say it outloud. “Please, please, Jon I want that. I promise, I want you.” Gritting out in what way, you were far more honest in such a need Jon knew you weren’t even aware you were begging him with a true desperation. “Inside me, please. Gods I want you inside me, I’ve missed you so much.”

Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Jon grappled with himself as he kissed you. He always prepared you, always, but something about having you here begging for his cock sent Jons brain into a feeling almost raw and feral like an animal. Leaving your chest, Jon yanked your pants and underwear both right off and tossed them too. Standing at full height he pulled his own shirt off before cupping your cheeks for another rougher kiss. “Take them off for me.”

The way in which you knelt down without question to pull Jons own pants off with such slow care, contrasted to the quick speed which you got on your knees was unfair. Cupping the side of you face, Jons chest heaved with his breathing staring down at you. You almost didn’t know what he wanted for a moment, and yet unlike anytime before him, did you feel your now bare thighs want to clench together at the thought with him. Almost asking with your movements, your hands found his thighs and drifted up to his hips.

His cock thick and long, hard right at your mouths perfect reach looking up at him, staring down at you with something dark. In truth, neither you or Jon were sure if he was aware he had said it, as if so raw in need it slipped out as dark as it did. “You’d look so beautiful on my cock. So deep in your mouth you couldn’t breathe until I spilled down your throat.”

Biting your tongue from begging him, you leaned a bit closer to his cock. Almost presenting yourself as something for his need and use, but Jon shook his head and yanked you up. Hoisting you up onto the counter, Jon spread your legs and invaded the space between, holding your hips tightly as his cock sat heavy between your legs. Trying to entice him gentle into the right head space, you ran a hand gentle along his cheek and down his coarse facial hair. “I’ll take your cock.” Hands tightening to the point it was leaving bruises as his eyes were painted over in black looking down your frame. “In any way you want me to, I’ll be good, I’ll take it I promise.”

Jon truly fought with himself. He wanted to be gentle, and easy and comforting but you looked at him with such strong trust that you knew he might have done anything at that point. Instead he yanked you over the edge of the counter, one hand gripping the back of your neck to rest your forehead to his, Jon gave you a view of his other hand. Gripping the thick base of his cock, Jon guided himself to your core.

The tight grip on your neck tightened further to force you to pay attention, as Jon slid every single thick inch inside of you in one go. Smooth but so tight and warm around him, you took Jons cock with no resistance. Crying out as your hands dug into his shoulders, your head would've hung even if he didn’t force you to watch him.

Slowly pushing all the way inside of you, Jon didn’t even linger. He was cruel, slowly sliding almost all the way out to the point only his tip remained inside of you. The whine in your chest as Jons eyes flew up to meet yours, but you were so good for him, you didn’t beg or even ask. You’d take whatever he gave you, and Jon just as slowly sunk right back to make you take his whole length. That time not letting you look away from his eyes, your hands on his shoulders. Slowly thrusting inside of you, Jon never wavered in his rhythm. Slow as his cock slid in and out of you with such a soaking sound it would’ve humiliated you if his black eyes weren’t neatly hypnotizing you.

The hand on your hip moved to what he could cup of your ass, pushing you further over the counter. A grunt close to a growl left Jon, eyes closing as he felt as if he was somehow thrusting even deeper inside of you. Hand right of what his fingertips could feel of your plush ass, and once more it came from something Jon didn’t even know he could’ve said to you. “Tonight, darling, I’ll remind you we belong to each other. I’ll taste you until your soaked, I’ll fill your beautiful mouth before fucking you just like this.” Another grunt almost forming to a groan left Jon as his head rose up to almost beg for air to breathe properly despite your core burning so much at his twisting pleasure he stole all your air. “I’ll fuck you as much as you want, darling. But then, I’m going to flip you over, and take you here too.”

Fingers treading to your ass enough to make you jump, but never pushing too far. Only arching more into his touch as he again sunk in and out of your soaking walls, his cock so thick the stretch stung to the point that if it were any but Jon, you’d have wanted to stop. But you couldn’t get over how much your insides twisted in need, barley finding air to beg for him. “I can take it, please-”

His pattern never stopped, he never sped his hips up, nor did he slow down. Jon fucked you nice and deep and slow right on the kitchen counter, sweat building between your bare bodies against one another as your hands grasped at his shoulders. “You don’t now what you can take. I have to show you. You don’t know you’d want my cock deep in your ass until I’m already fucking you there over and over.” You just nodded, you could only agree with no thoughts beyond how close to the sun his cock burned through you. “We can do all of that, but you need to look at me. Now.”

Rising up, Jon still refused to leave his pace, your muscles shaking all around him at how close you were, at how you could hear each time he sunk into you by how coated you made his cock. “Jon..”

Leaving your ass, one hand back on your hip keeping you steady as he fucked into you without letting you even move with him, taking control entirely of the cruelly slow, yet so deeply intimate pace. The other cupping the back of your neck again to keep you close, nudging your nose with his. “Promise me you’ll never doubt this again. Promise me you’ll never trick yourself into thinking I’d want to be with any woman who isn’t you.”

The look on your face was far more wide eyed and innocent then Jon expected and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you as a result. “I promise, I love you. I’ll never doubt that Jon, I promise.”

A single nod getting through before Jon leaned forward as he pushed your head to to capture your lips in his kiss. The gasp leaving you letting him slide his tongue inside your mouth, brushing along yours coaxing you to follow suit and explore him. But when you were too shy, Jon took the lead once more. Pulling you closer and closer to your end did Jon finally pick up the pace.

Not anywhere near fast, but steady as the sounds of how wet and deep he sunk into you filled the air over and over. Your core twisting and setting on fire, before Jon pulled back enough to bite at your lips and turn back to a deep yet chaste kiss did you find your end.

Arching into his front, Jon let you suddenly hide in his neck. Grasping at your hips tightly though, Jon did not let up. Pulling you as much as the angle could to meet his every thrust, sliding in and out of you at a matching pace he moved you to before pulling you as much as he pushed deep inside of you. One arm wrapping around your back to pull you into him, the other grasping at your hair as Jon hid in there, groaning your name deeply into your ear. Just as deep as he came. Spilling his seed inside of you, pouring thick and deep as it felt hot, Jon kept going. The more you begged meekly into his neck, the more your tight walls clenched around his cock did Jon spill more and more thick spurts of his seed inside of you with not a single bit of shame.

You felt almost lightheaded as he pulled you up to meet your eyes. Yours hazy and needy, but Jons were bright and loving as if he was not still deep inside you. One last kiss to your lips, Jon smiled a bit at how you just clung onto him like you were exhausted. Not everything was fixed, but you were happy that it was a step in the right direction. One more kiss, Jon rasped against them as his hot breath danced across your skin. “I know you had a shower, but I think I want you with me in a hot bath for a while.”

Nodding, Jon knew you’d agree to nearly anything right now. Preparing you that he was going to pull you, Jon shushed you through the wince before picking you up. He’d deal with the mess and scattered clothes he left behind of you both later. After a week of being away from you in such a horrid manner, all Jon could focus on right now was having you laying back against his chest in his arms with soothing hot water around, so he could take care of you. He had you alone for once, he was going to take advantage of it.

But Jon was not the only one who lived there. Intending on stopping by only to see how you were, did the remains of a scene lay out. One he knew he wasn’t supposed to walk into the aftermath of, Jon no doubt would put the kitchen back into respectable order before the others were set to come home. But eyes looked down to your clothes.

The ones he sat out for you. He had been the one to call Jon, to tell him to come fix things with you and you and his brother being happy is what he wanted. But as he stood there looking at your clothes in the remains of a passionate scene, there was only one strange thought in his head.

Why did Robb feel so intensely, almost unbearably jealous?

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (4/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

CHAPTER 4: A week before the highly-anticipated dinner, you discover something terrible. You are a hard, fact-based person; Charlie is your contrarian spur-of-the-moment partner. And he’s not shy to show you. (5.4k words)

CHAPTER 4: BOYS IN THE BLUE

The warm autumn day took a nosedive the moment you headed home. There was a light spray of rain in the gardens, and you had to march over soggy leaves to get to the front door. When you were back inside, it was even colder in the lifeless, expanse corridors and you involuntarily shuddered. It was chilly to the point that you assumed there must be Dementors floating about… oh, right, your brother and father were home.

As you ambled down the hall, you mapped out all the ways to victory. It was a play well-rehearsed and acted.

The Plan Step 1: Start argument with Lucius. Step 2: Press the issue, inciting anger in him. Step 3: Build up the anger by making valid points. Step 4: Watch his composure rupture. This is considered a victory. Just wait for his silent withdrawal because he’ll be too embarrassed to admit he’s lost. Optional Steps  Step 3.a. Utilise reverse psychology (e.g. “Uncle Theo is a classic example of money not buying class. I’m so glad we don’t engage in such gauche practices.”) Step 3.b. Create fantastical scenarios to help your father see the light. Step 3.c. Rally Narcissa on your side. Lucius never argues with Narcissa. 

As you passed your father’s study, you saw Lucius at his desk writing something on a long roll of parchment. He’d since changed from those ridiculously fancy dress robes to just a plain button-up shirt and let his hair down. The fireplace cackled menacingly beside him, orange flames puffing just like how he’d be within the next five minutes. 

You popped your head in. “I hope your business meeting went well,” you started. 

“Fortunately, it did, despite the crisis that I averted,” Lucius answered without so much as a glance up at you. 

“What crisis?” you asked sweetly.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, still writing. “You know very well what I’m talking about.” 

“You should recount the story for mother and Draco tonight,” you offered.

“There’s no need for it.”

“Right,” you affirmed. Again, you didn’t want this dinner to have to happen. This conversation was a means to call it off. “I reckon it was hard to take in. You should take your time and meet Charlie when you’re in a better temperament.”

“That’s not correct,” Lucius stated with a tsk. “I am always in a pleasant temperament.” He finally laid his quill down and looked at you. “And your mother and brother will be delighted to meet your… partner at dinner in a fortnight as planned.”

“So, all your talk about reputation and standards was for naught?” you pressed. The next plan of attack was a subset of step three: reverse psychology. “What happens when our neighbours see a Weasley at the door? Being invited in by a Malfoy? You’ll be the talk of the town.”

Lucius smiled menacingly. “I reckon I’ve been unfair,” he admitted slyly. “I should get to know the Weasley boy. Maybe he won’t be a disgrace like his parents.”

You grimaced internally. You should’ve known that Lucius was not going to make this easy.

“You’ve really had a change of heart, father,” you stated. “It’s not in our usual fashion, but maybe we should start associating with blood traitors more. 

“Nonsense”—he waved a hand—“I consider it charity work.”

“That’s complete rubbish, Charlie is not—”

Lucius raised a hand to stop you. “I have never implied that, but if that’s what you think of your boyfriend, then so be it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. If this was how he wanted to play it, then you were going to start writing to all his colleagues and business partners about your relationship and plaster your photos on every billboard. You were going to send an owl to everyone in the Ministry, including the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Hold on, speaking of Shacklebolt…

 “Then, you wouldn’t mind if we attended the Ministry Christmas party together this year, won’t you? We could be sat at the table with you and mother, and Draco. I reckon I should let you know now since the Minister’s office needs a guest list by the end of October.”

A moment of silence. Then, both the corner of your and Lucius’s mouth twitched at the same time but in different contexts. You, with happiness and him, with chagrin. 

“Well, that’s still some ways off,” he responded. “But I’m sure our Minister would be delighted to have the less fortunate seated so far up.”

“Then spare a seat for Charlie.”

“Of course,” Lucius said. “Consider it done. But let’s have dinner together first, shall we?”

“And remind me, (Y/N),” Lucius continued with a growing grin. “Charlie is the son with the dragons, correct?”

“Why do you care?”

“His father always tries to tell me about his children when I pass him by at the Ministry. Truthfully, I’m barely listening but I have caught onto this particular detail.”

The look in his eyes made you uneasy. Truthfully, you wished you didn’t have to answer him. There were consequences to telling the truth or lying. Looks like nothing had changed since you were younger. 

“He is.”

With that, you walked away.

The rest of the afternoon, you resided in the sunroom, watching the rain slam on the overhead glass. A cloud of perturbation hung over your head like the weather. Unsure of how to communicate your failure with Charlie, you chose to sit and ruminate. But after half an hour, you grabbed a quill, a piece of parchment, and a seal and began writing. 

Charlie, I couldn’t do it. You’ll have to clear your schedule for next next Saturday.  (Y/N) Malfoy

About half an hour later, your owl fluttered back to your window. 

(Y/N), Not saying I didn’t tell you so, but… I told you so. I won’t be here all week, but I’m back on Friday from Hogwarts. How about meeting me at the platform at eight p.m.? Charlie P.S. This is Romanian parchment. Go on, try to burn it. Spoiler: it doesn’t. 

Curious, you trotted over to the fireplace. You crumbled the parchment and threw it into the flames. You waited for the crinkling sounds, for the edges to crisp and blacken, and the ball to burst in flames, but to your amusement, the paper was as pristine as ever. It lay unaffected in the blue flames. 

With a smile, you wrote back: 

Charlie, That works for me. Have a good week. (Y/N) Malfoy

You held off communication with Charlie for the rest of the week, opting to fiddle with your quill at your cubicle at the Ministry. When no one was looking, you scribbled down details of what you’d say to your father—lines you’d feed to Charlie to regurgitate until they felt real. For some reason, Fred and George were eager to escort you to the station to meet Charlie on Friday. You chalked it up to them missing their brother. Fred invited you to wait for them after work so you could go together.

When the fated Friday arrived, you rushed out of your office to Weasley Wizard Wheezes. You sat in the homey flat upstairs while waiting for Fred and George to close shop. You spread out on the couch, legs on the armrest, reading the stories you’d weaved at your desk. 

You rehearsed in a low voice. “Charlie and I met at Christmas last year when he came back for a week. He invited me for coffee and the rest was history. December 27th, wasn’t it, darling? We had an instant connection and maintained our relationship through letters and chats through floo.”

You scribbled a line in and continued. “I was chuffed when he decided to take an extended vacation this year.”

Then you shut your eyes and pretended Lucius was asking you a question about your future.

“Well, we haven’t decided where we’ll settle, but at the moment, Romania is looking like the better option for both of us.”

“Is it?” Fred interjected. “Really?”

You scrambled up, feet hitting the ground. “You’re done already?” 

“Not a particularly busy week,” he said, sitting down next to you and peering over. “Let me have a read to review the accuracy of this love story.”

You pushed him away. “No.”

“It sounds kind of stiff and unrealistic if I’m being honest,” George added. “Is this a dinner or a job interview? And Charlie sounds more romantic than I’d ever know him.”

“I was just rehearsing,” you grumbled in defence. “It’s not meant to sound polished.”

Fred and George walking in on you penning a romance between you and their older brother was going to be something they’d never let you live down. You continued walking on and grabbed your topcoat that was hanging from the rack. You slipped it over your black sweater dress and announced: “Let’s get going.”

All mentions of your script were thankfully forgotten when the three of you landed in the chilly autumn air that engulfed King’s Cross Station. You strode the last hundred metres, quickly falling in sync with the twins. A tale as old as time, Fred situated himself to your left and George to your right. 

“I assumed Charlie was only to be at Hogwarts for two or three days a week from the way he was speaking,” you said. “But it seems he left Monday, is that right?”

“He mentioned some ‘contractual matters’ to clear with McGonagall. You know, given that he decided to take the job on such short notice. But McGonagall has been waiting for her favourite student to come back since he graduated, so she was more than fine with it,” George explained before a grin broke out on his face. “It’s interesting you seem to have such complex insights into Charlie’s life.”

“Complex insights?” you repeated. “He told me.”

“When? On your date or when you were having lunch with his mum?”

“Your mum, too, Georgie,” you reminded him.

“Not the way she was making it seem.”

To your left, Fred made a discontented noise. “I wish he hadn’t come back,” he grumbled.

“Why’s that?”

“Because while mum adores Bill, her fixation with Charlie is on another level,” Fred groaned. “And now that McGonagall gets to see him again, it’ll be even worse for his ego. That’s all she ever talked about, huh, Georgie? ‘That was a very strategic play, Fred, but your brother Charlie did it better.’ And then she’d launch into a story of the time Charlie enacted a critical play to win the game.”

“Which game?” George queried, stroking his chin. “I can only remember ten examples.”

“You sound jealous,” you teased, giving Fred a nudge.  

“You’re right,” Fred conceded. He shot you a quick wink. “I guess I’m jealous he gets to date you.”

Your sudden laugh vaporised in the cold air. “You flatter me, Fred Weasley. But we’re not dating, remember?”

Fred must’ve noticed the puff of air that left your lips, because he then suggested: “Let’s have a night out before the weather goes to total shit.”

“It is already total shit,” you reminded him as a snappy breeze blew past you. You held a gloved hand to his face. “The nice weather will be gone like your deepest freckles.”

Fred clicked his tongue. “(Y/N) Malfoy, eternally the”—he paused at looked at you—“shivering pessimist.”

He wasn’t wrong. You breathed a sigh of relief when you stepped into the warmth of King Cross’s station. You strode past the last wave of stragglers trying to catch the next train home. You looked around the concourse, ensuring there were no muggle eyes on you, before the three of you smoothly gilded into the wall and onto Platform 9 ¾.

“Nice to be here with nowhere to go, huh?” George asked when you reappeared.

You nodded. It wasn’t early September and there weren’t bustling crowds and extraneous noise—of frantic parents, crying children, and conductors. Now, there were barely five people on the platform: an old man reading a newspaper; a mother and her son; and two wizards in dress robes. 

A light wind began to pick up around the platform. You looked down at your watch. It was eight o’clock on the dot. The Hogwarts Express de-accelerated, screeching slightly against the metal tracks, before stopping in front of you. The windows were noticeably emptier and there couldn’t be more than a dozen people on this train. As people deboarded, you peeked around, looking for a mop of ginger curls.

As soon as you saw Charlie at the top step in the first compartment, you nudged George to go over. Charlie hadn’t seen you yet. He was raising a hand to the conductor. “Thanks, Stan.”

Stan tipped his hat. “See you next week, Charlie.”

Then, Charlie stepped off the train carrying a leather briefcase. He was dressed like how you first saw him, in the same slacks and jean jacket. His hair was mussed from the trip, but the dishevelled locks suited him. His blue eyes were cloudy with sleep, as they would be after a long journey.

“Hey Charlie,” George greeted. 

Fred patted your shoulder and said: “Got your girlfriend here in one piece.”

Charlie’s face lit up. “Thank you, Fred.”

You shook your head in annoyance at Fred. Truth be told, you didn’t like Fred’s casual use of the word ‘girlfriend.’ Hopefully, after next week, you’d never need to ask for Charlie’s services again.

Fred ushered George back to the wall. “We’ll be heading back now.”

George cocked his head. “Yeah, don’t be too long.”

When the twins had disappeared through the wall, so did their laughs.

You turned to Charlie. “There’s a coffee shop in the station we could sit at,” you offered. “You must be famished after your trip.”

“I’m tired,” Charlie said with a yawn. He stretched his arms behind his head and flawlessly, one of those arms swung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. The scent of pine trees and cinder enveloped you immediately. He cocked his head downwards towards yours, eyes lighting in amusement. “Let’s chat at the pub instead.”

“The pub?” you repeated, blinking up at him. Unconsciously, you fell in step with Charlie, striding with his arm locked around you down the platform. “Didn’t you just say you were tired?”

“A beer will wake me up.”

“That is physiologically counterintuitive,” you stated. 

“I wasn’t built like a normal person.”

As the firm curve of his bicep grazed your face, you were inclined to agree. 

When you stepped outside of the station, the night had grown even darker. Stars peeked out from the blanket of black from up above. Charlie finally unlatched himself from you as you approached a tram stop. To be honest, you were annoyed that your shield of warmth was taken from you and that Charlie had left you to fend against the wind by yourself. 

“Where to, Miss Malfoy?” Charlie asked as you sat down on the moving tram.

You leaned back on the plush seat. “Might go to the White Wyvern for a classy night,” you jested.

“Great, I’ve been looking forward to splintering my fingers at the table,” Charlie hummed in agreement. “Or I’ll my hand stuck from the beer residue until Mace, the owner, has to saw it off. Might lose a kidney, who knows, but it’d be worth it.” 

“Have you been?” you asked. “It sounds like you have.”

Charlie chuckled. “That I can’t say. You can inquire about anything else though.” He swerved the conversation around. “Where does your dad go on a Friday night?”

“Valour.” 

Valour was an upscale bar where Lucius fancied having dinner with his business companions. You’d been just a handful of times, but it wasn’t your cup of tea. There was no one your age there.

Charlie let out a low whistle. “I’d have to sell my kidney for a night there. Let’s settle for something in the middle.”

“Alright then,” you said. “Let’s go to The Brew.” 

“I’ve never been there.”

“It opened last summer. You were probably in Romania.”

“Sounds reasonable. Lead the way.”

The Brew was only a block away from where the tram stopped. You guided Charlie up the cobbled road on Warwick Avenue, dangerously close to where you were last week when you were caught by Molly. You knew you’d arrived when you saw the exterior of the building: sleek and trendy with neon cursive lettering shining against the black brick. Inside, the crystal wine glasses perched on top of the bar shimmered in the dim light. The velvet chairs—maroon and pine—contrasted well against the glossy walls.

After the host took your coats, you looked for an open spot. 

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Charlie suggested. 

“Alright.”

You also appreciated Charlie’s confidence to find footing wherever he was. You thought yourself well-adjusted in that regard; you were good at settling with your family’s uppity friends. But Charlie was on a different level. 

He weaved through the crowds gracefully with two hands in his pockets. When he found two unoccupied barstools, he pulled one out for you. 

“After you.”

“Thank you.” You smoothed your dress and sat down. You swivelled around to place an order, but the bartender in front of you seemed occupied with something else. 

“No way,” she exclaimed, her hands halfway through drying a glass with a towel. “Charlie Weasley?”

“The one and only,” he responded. “And you are…” He squinted his eyes, appraising the tall bartender. She was dressed fully in black which you assumed was the unofficial uniform of the pub. Her curly hair rivalled the colour of her blouse. She had eyes as green as the lime garnishes at her workstation. Her ears were adorned by multiple piercings, and a small collection of tattoos dotted her toned arms. “Mallory.”

Her red lips curled into a smile. “You still remember me?”

“I couldn’t ever forget,” Charlie said. “Though it’s been almost, what, twelve years?”

Mallory nodded.

“Mallory and I were teammates on the Gryffindor Quidditch team,” Charlie explained, facing you. “Mallory, this is (Y/N).”

You quickly extended a hand. “(Y/N) Malfoy. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh—,” Mallory quickly corrected herself and shook your hand. “Mallory Mikaelson.” 

You smiled politely and withdrew. What a reputation your last name had around town. If only it was for the better, you thought.

Mallory’s eyes narrowed in concentration as she leaned over the counter to take a closer look at you. “I can’t seem to place you, love,” she said. “I suppose you were in a different house, or a different year?”

You didn’t want to admit you were six years younger than Charlie because of the way it might reflect on him, so you were vague with your answer: “Both.”

She hummed, then redirected the conversation back to Charlie. “Do you remember Marcus, my brother?”

“Of course,” Charlie said. “The best beater I’ve had the pleasure of playing with, besides you. Where is he now?”

“Department of International Transportation at the Ministry,” Mallory said. “We still play Quidditch at weekends at Felder's Field just north of here. We’d love to have our old teammate back for a game.”

“Name the date and time, I’ll be there,” Charlie affirmed.

“Hey Mal,” another bartender called from the back. “Abby called in for her shift at the front. Boss is asking you to cover for her tonight.”

“I’ll be right over,” Mallory said, her tone cool and professional. Then with a warm smile, she capped off her conversation with Charlie. “See you then, Charlie. Send me an owl.”

Charlie waved back. “See you.”

“What can I get for you two?” Mallory’s colleague asked after she’d gone out to the front.

“A pint of stout,” Charlie said. 

You were still preoccupied with the conversation that just occurred so the question didn’t even register in your brain. Who was Mallory? What kind of past did she have with Charlie?

“What about you, love?” the bartender pressed.

“(Y/N)?” Charlie leaned in, giving your arm a squeeze. “If you don’t answer, I’ll get you a stout, too.”

You quickly regained consciousness. “An aperol spritz, please. Thank you.”

“Is the idea of a stout really that terrible?” Charlie joked.

“Yes,” you gasped out. “Awful.”

In a matter of minutes, your drinks arrived and you were finally left alone.

“It’s always nice to see a familiar face, isn’t it?” Charlie remarked. 

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a nod. You vowed to forego your curiosity; there were more pressing matters. “Speaking of familiar things, how was your first week at Hogwarts?”

“Really great. I’m just settling in and getting accustomed to my classroom and Hagrid’s curriculum.”

“Does he know the meaning of a curriculum? I’ve heard his classes weren’t very…. Well-structured.”

“Not at all,” Charlie affirmed. “It’s whatever he feels like teaching that day. I might have to work with him a little.”

You grinned. “I can imagine.”

Charlie nodded his head. “You’re imagining right.” After a sip of beer, he resumed his thoughts. “But we’re not here to talk about Hagrid. We’re here to talk about next week.”

“Right! So, I prepared something,” you said, reaching into your purse for the rolled parchment. You hooked it with your finger and fished it out. “I was hoping to go over some notes with you—”

“(Y/N),” Charlie interrupted. His hand, leading with his thumb, was making a backward motion. “I need you to start from the beginning. Unlike my brothers, I know zilch about you.”

You set the parchment back in your purse and tucked it away. “Well, what do you know about me?”

“I know that everyone is terrified of your father, your brother is a right tosser, and your mother is gorgeous.”

Without thinking, you slapped Charlie on the arm, causing him to sputter in his drink. “Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“If you’d let me finish my sentence,” Charlie protested after recovering. “I would’ve said, ‘that’s obviously who you got your looks from.’’”

Now, it was your turn to nearly sputter into your drink.

Charlie wagged a finger. “Careful, don’t spill that on yourself again.”

“I don’t reckon that was remotely my fault. You sat on me.”

Charlie was unfazed by your accusation and grinned instead. “Tell me more about your family.”

Quizzically, you continued, though you were unsure of how keen Charlie was on climbing your family tree. “My mother has two sisters, my aunts Bellatrix and Andromeda. I don’t have much to say there. My father has a brother and a sister. My uncle, Theodore Malfoy, and my aunt, Rosamund Malfoy. Thankfully for all of us, Uncle Theodore lives in France.”

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows. “Why thankfully?”

You paused. You never had anyone show so much concentrated interest in your family. Even Fred and George didn’t care much past the surface, past taunts against Lucius or Draco. You explained to Charlie what happened in France this summer, how he’d made a grand show of displaying his new properties and putting your family down.  

“He’s perhaps the most terrible person I’ve met,” you huffed. “He’s worse than my father. You can’t talk about anything good without him doing you one better. And his spawn follows his mannerisms exactly.”

“Who are the spawn?”

“Genevieve. She’s my oldest cousin. She just got married this summer in Nice. She’s the worst. It was a cursed occasion because my mother came home with some nuptial fever. Her brother Claude is similarly terrible but he just talks less and conceals it better.” You gauged Charlie’s facial expression and could tell he was still engrossed. “I have two younger cousins, Charlotte and Clara. They’re pleasant, though I can’t tell the difference between them on a good day. They look very much alike despite being two years apart.”

“That leaves you,” Charlie remarked with a wide grin. “My favourite Malfoy.” 

You laughed. “I’m the only Malfoy you know.”

“I’ve heard of your brother,” Charlie said. “From what I’ve gathered, I prefer you.”

“I haven’t scared you off?”

“Not yet.”

His face read ‘try me’ to which you smiled at. 

Then, silence fell upon you. It was to be expected, a natural stall in the conversation. You took a prolonged sip of your cocktail to ease the awkwardness. As the bitters melted on your tongue, you searched for other things to talk about, but Charlie beat you to it.   

“(Y/N),” Charlie’s deep voice called out to you. 

You put your drink down on the table. “Yes?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Alright.”

Charlie shifted his stool over to yours. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his body. This time, instead of remaining where he was, he latched a hand on your kneecap. Every callus embedded on his fingers were noticeable on the groove of your knee, despite a layer of sheer tights separating his skin and yours. His grip didn’t hurt, but he was firm.

“What are you doing?” you panicked. Your tone came out more accusatory than you’d liked.

“Practising?” Charlie said quizzically. “Will it even be the least bit convincing if my touch repulses you?”

“I’m not repulsed!” you retorted. “It was just unexpected.”

Unexpected, as in you hadn't had a man touch you in months, maybe two years if you wanted the statement to be accurate. And at some point, you had stopped counting because the thought made you all the more miserable.

“That’s why I have a question,” he explained. “How much am I allowed to touch you at this… dinner?”

Your brain short-circuited for a minute. It was very hard to form any thoughts with Charlie’s sharp blue eyes tangled with yours, waiting for an answer like his life depended on it. The lopsided curve of his lip tempted a sacrilegious answer, one that you had too much modesty top provide. And now, things were harder with his large hand engulfing your kneecap. You were a deer in the headlights; he was the coyote catching his prey. 

“This is fine.” This would convince your parents. Merlin, even you were convinced.

“Alright.”

You looked down. Your skin burned beneath his touch, and you had to wonder why you felt this way, why you were suddenly so flushed and withdrawn. Surely, if Fred pulled this act, you’d touch—or rather, slap—him back in retaliation.

Charlie’s thumb began to rub circles above your knee as he asked: “What about this?”

You stifled a sound. You were ticklish but you also couldn’t deny that that wasn’t the only sensation you were feeling. You couldn’t pinpoint it but you knew his touch wasn't at all unwanted.

“Don’t you think that’s too much?” you murmured. “All we need is a solid story, and I reckon we should be able to get away with it.”

“Nothing is too much if the goal is to convince your parents you like me, emotionally and physically,” Charlie commented with a laugh. “That’s the equation of love. Got it?”

You nodded slowly. Sure, you understood arithmetic, but this was a devilishly dangerous line he was toeing around. 

He scooted even closer to you, his barstool squeaking against the floor, to be able to lift his hand from your knee to find your waist instead. His palm found its way to the dead centre, gravitating towards the most delicate part of you. 

“Still okay?” he asked with an upward tilt of his head. You were entranced by how sharp his jaw cut under at this angle.  

You nodded slowly, lips parting slightly as a result. He was so close that you could smell the alcohol on his lips. You hoped the dim lighting obfuscated your reddening face.

“Good job,” he praised with a smirk. “You’re doing great, (Y/N).”

Your head spun as if the prosecco in the aperol spritz had concentrated and exploded in your bloodstream all at once. Charlie’s voice started sounding further and further away, even though you were intently watching him inch closer. The room behind him blurred like a camera finding a focus on its subject. Charlie was your subject, his every freckle and crease near his gleaming eyes clear as day.

“Do you do this… often?”

You could barely hear your own voice.

“Sh, I’m the one asking questions. Keep focussed on the conversation we’re having.” 

Focus? You wanted to ask Charlie if a dragon had clawed off his frontal lobe, leaving him helpless to his impulses. A prime example: this scene he was making.

“Now,” he continued, squeezing your waist. “What is your limit?”

“My—” you stammered, unable to gauge the meaning of his two-toned words. “My limit? As in alcohol?”

A barking laugh shattered your daze and brought you back to the present. Charlie’s voice was now glassy clear and his tone melodic. “(Y/N), let’s reroute back to the question of how much I can touch you.”

“Erm, this is okay,” you eked out through shallow breaths. Had Charlie shrunk your lungs? Was there such a spell? “I don’t imagine anyone would want to see any more.”

His eyes darkened. Your heart stopped. “What if I kissed you?” he asked.

Well, your heart was certifiably alive again because it had just catapulted against your chest, almost throwing you forward.

‘Now? Or next week?’ You wanted to scream. At this point, it was hard to tell and if he didn’t stop talking, you were really going to die. Might as well have the bartenders dig a hole in the ground right here and bury you with a tombstone carved with the words ‘Cause of Death: Charlie Weasley.’

“Let’s hope the situation’s not dire enough to have to come to that,” you said. On the contrary, your eyes were drinking in those smirky lips like they were the finest and richest wine in the world and wondering if rehearsals should be in order.

“But if it did?”

You pursed your lips which Charlie noticed, his eyes falling downwards, long lashes casting shadows over his face. You had to approach this logically and weigh the benefits and risks. If you had to kiss Charlie for a millisecond, it could mean a lifetime of your parents off your back. And a seriously tumultuous friendship with Fred and George if they found out.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“It would be fine,” you whispered with minimal conviction. “But only as a last resort.”

A rush of blood pounded your head when he was a mere three inches from your face. You gulped when you saw yourself reflected in his eyes. One wrong move and your nose would brush up against his freckled one.

“Of course,” he stated, looking offended. “You’d think I’d just waltz in next weekend and we’d start snogging in the foyer? You must think better of me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—’

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Charlie teased, scooting back and letting his legs stretch out. Your eyes were glued to his hands and arms that were crossed in front of his chest. A cocky grin graced his chiselled face. “But this is great. I’ve got enough for next week.”

“Shouldn’t we discuss more about what we’re going to do?” you protested. Your voice was desperate and frantic. “We have to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“No, I really do have all that I need.”

“I wrote some things down, some critical points we should hit,” you pleaded, trying to find the parchment in your purse. When you unfurled it, Charlie was quick to snatch it out of your hands. He crushed it between his palms. When he opened his hand up again, the parchment was nothing more than cinder that disintegrated before it could hit the floor. 

You were absolutely and undeniably sober after that action. Any thoughts of giving into a kiss dissipated immediately (and you weren’t sure why you were flirting with that idea in the first place). Your blood alcohol level: negative. Your chances of being betrothed to Goyle: positive.

“Charlie!” 

“(Y/N)!” he imitated in a loud, whiny drawl that attracted the attention of the man beside him. You flushed; you did not sound like that. “Let’s get another round to soothe those nerves of yours.”

His grin grew wider as he flagged down the bartender. A blonde woman immediately swivelled towards him. He pointed to your drinks. You shut your eyes in defeat, resisting the urge to slam your head on the table.

 His laissez-faire attitude was going to be the death of you.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

[ayanominitrash]

Geto Suguru x reader // of all the days//

life is unfair, but Geto is thankfully a saint

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

thinking about how you're the 4th student of the second year in Jujutsu High - the batch with the strongest sorcerers of your generation

you have a huge crush on Geto Suguru but always have his best friend Gojo Satoru cock blocking you, or should I say pussy blocking you?

you can't help it, Geto is quiet, gentle and kind. his dark eyes shine into yours, making butterflies in your stomach go berserk

so, not a day goes by where you don't try to convince the annoying white-haired man to leave out a mission so you can partner up with Geto for once. it's always the two of them, while you have to get left behind with Shoko Ieiri, who isn't assigned to many missions as she's only one of the few sorcerers who can heal

"as if you're strong enough to take on one of our missions," Gojo would scoff at you every time you beg him. "Geto's mine. Or I could fuck you over and have him partner with Shoko instead."

You're red in the face in your anger, "Principal Yaga or the higher-ups would never take her out on missions too much, you know. Just this once!"

Gojo hums in thought, hand caressing his chin. then finally looks at you with a smirk, "No"

"fuck you with all my being" you glared at him before stomping away

"that's not a threat, considering how short you are!" he shouts at your retreating figure

on your way home from a mission with Shoko one day, you find the perfect bribe for Gojo to sit one mission out - it's a limited edition daifuku, his favorite dessert

"Principal Yaga, believe it or not, I'm not feeling all that great today. I think I got the bad btch disease - that said, I'll let Y/N take the next mission with Suguru, -bye!"

"he's all yours," The tall man says before biting into the tasty treat

Finally, you meet up with Your Crush Geto Suguru, who smiles at you before opening the car door open so you can go in first

Your Crush Geto Suguru who was kind enough to ask you if you're nervous about the mission, in which you joke to him that you'd be more nervous if you were on a mission with Gojo with how reckless he can be sometimes and likes to go solo - Geto chuckles at you, eyes disappearing in the process

Your Crush Geto Suguru who politley ushers you forward once the two of you reached into the buidling of said mission, a light push from his hand on the small of your back. Once the curtains are pulled down by the assistant that drove the two of you there, he speaks in a soft voice about the situation. You nod at his words, trying to not get distracted by the gloss of spit on his bottom lip

Your Crush Geto Suguru who lets you sit down first while he clears the first floor of the building. You feel an uneasy pain in you, but you don't mind it. Instead, you help yourself to watch how Geto's broad shoulders move as he exorcise the low grade curses, his brows pinch together in concentration.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who asks you in concern when you told him you can't exactly stand up, he looks down at you with those pretty dark eyes, it makes you weak in the knees. But that's not the reason why you told him you can't stand up from your seat. Of all the days, it just had to be the day that you're finally in the mission with your crush, only to have your period come in early.

Your Crush Geto Suguru whose eyes widen when you tell him of your little unfortunate incident. You probably think he'd be grossed out by you or turned off. Or probably annoyed because you're insinuating to let him handle the mission all by himself.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who only voices his concerns for your being - are you hurting? can you move? Is there anything that I can do to help? You heart can't help but flutter of how considerate he's being with you. You tell him that you can still go on the mission with him but your skirt is probably soaked from your backside area. Maybe if you're lucky, you can find some pads in the abandoned building - gross, but what are you to do?

Your Crush Geto Suguru who removes his jacket uniform and wraps it around your waist "It's just the two of us, but if this will help you feel less uncomfortable around me, please take it."

Your Crush Geto Suguru who only puts his hand on the small of your back again as he ushers you forward to the next floor, shutting down your protests about using his jacket as your cover, how you're afraid about the stains.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who does most of the work, exorcising curses along the way so you don't have to push yourself.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who bridal carries you out of the building after the mission because your cramps got worse. You'll never forget the feeling of his strong arms around you.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who asks the driver to stop at a convenience store on the ride back to the school, so he can buy you some much needed pads and sweets.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who gives you that sweet smile of his when you return his uniform jacket the next day, all washed and clean.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who asks you if you two can eat lunch together that same day.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere

//

This is my first time writing - I think this is called a drabble? brrttt I was gushing while writing this Daddy Suguru PLEAASEEE

[bellysoupset]

Jon's Appendicitis - Part 2

Jonah didn't feel well. Everything was hurting, even through the painkillers, and to make matters worse, Leo had hardly spoken since he had woken up.

He had been obviously concerned and the few words they exchanged were over how Jon felt - is this okay? Do you want me to fix your pillow? I'm gonna get the doctors, you need more painkillers - , but other than that... Nothing.

Jonah shifted on the passenger seat, staring out of the window. From the corner of his eye he could tell Leo was frowning.

"Will you spit it up already?" Jonah snapped, so loud that it caused Leo to jump a little on his seat and the car to almost break. The blonde let out a scoff, frowning still.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You're clearly pissed, so just yell at me already, Leo," Jonah sighed, rubbing his chest. Everything felt so damn itchy, the bandages, the clothes scratching against his skin.

Leo didn't answer him immediately, squeezing the steering wheel and attempting to be the bigger person, before he blurted out, "you were sick for days and you didn't tell me."

"Sick is an overstatement," Jon rolled his eyes, "I didn't feel well, big fucking dea-"

"You didn't tell me."

"You were busy, Leo," Jonah grimaced, turning on his seat, "you had to focus on your exam, I wasn't gonna be complaining about a damn stomachache, c'mon."

Leo let out a scoff, "and then yesterday you went out to fucking drink? Are you insane? You're supposed to be a fucking doctor, Jonah!"

"We were celebrating!"

"Shut up about the stupid exam!" Leo rolled his eyes, "we could celebrate another night! If the roles were reversed you'd be pissed I didn't tell you!"

"This isn't fair," Jonah said quietly, sighing in relief when their building came into view, "you're being unfair."

Leo's mouth hung open and he felt tears sting his eyes. This was like being told I'm-not-angry-I'm-disappointed. It stung twice as much than just screaming at each other.

"How- How am I not being fair!?" Leo exclaimed, forcing the words out, "you hurt yourself! You're not even remotely sorry! You - You hurt yourself and it's my fucking fault-"

"Stop," Jonah rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted, "stop, Leo."

"No! You're being a hypocrite!"

The car came to a stop and Leo fully turned to glare at his boyfriend, only to feel his anger diminish as he got a good look of Jonah's wounded face and the pain written all over it. He felt an overwhelming urge to apologize immediately, but Leo dug his metaphorical heels. He couldn't believe Jonah thought he was justified in hurting himself like that.

"Okay," Jon said, almost soft spoken and opened the car, getting out of it slowly, hissing at every move. Leo's stomach sunk.

"Jon..."

"I said Okay," Jonah repeated, leaning heavily against the car, "I just wanna go lie down."

"I... Yeah, okay..." Leo mumbled, feeling dangerously close to tears. He wanted a fight, not whatever this was. He didn't want to kick his boyfriend when he was in pain, he had wanted to just voice his frustrations, but somehow he felt worse now than before, "let me help."

"I can walk on my own," Jonah snapped at him, a cold edge to his voice, betraying the anger he was calmly concealing. Leo gulped down.

"Why are you pissed at me?" He groaned, resting his elbows on top of the car and resisting to raise his voice out of frustration. Jonah let out a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Can we please go inside? Or are you so hell bent on causing a scene in the garage?"

"Who's being unfair now?" Leo scoffed, slamming the car door shut and power walking ahead. Still, he held the elevator door until Jonah joined him, mulling over his words. It wasn't right that Jon was acting like he had no business being angry. If Leo had hidden an illness for days and landed himself in the hospital, Jonah would be ballistic.

He noticed Jon slumping against the wall of the elevator, chest heaving with laborious breath. Leo desperately wanted to comfort him, just as much as he was still furious.

The elevator came to a stop with a soft ding! and they walked out, still not looking at each other. Leo held the door open, so Jonah could pass in front of him and then let out a sigh, "can you take more painkillers?"

"Not for another five hours," Jonah said quietly, then glanced around the room, "where's my rug..?"

Leo let out a chuckle, noticing the white rug he had always found incredibly tacky was gone, "I guess Luke trashed it. I mean, it was definitely ruined, so..."

Jonah glared at the empty spot, then around the room, "where's my cat?"

"Luca has her-"

"You let Atwood kidnap my cat?" Jonah scoffed, sitting down on the couch and crossing his arms, "great, just great."

Leo rolled his eyes, shoulders still tense, "he didn't kidnap her, he's catsitting for us during this weekend. I couldn't exactly feed her while I was at the hospital, could I?" the bitterness pulled his voice up at the end.

"For fuck's sake, Leo!" he exploded, slapping the couch and jumping up, so sudden that Leo jumped and took a step back, heart racing, "why the fuck are you so pissed!? This isn't fair! I sucked it up so you could pass the exam-"

"I never... I never asked-" Leo choked out, but Jon interrupted him immediately, pissed off.

"I know! I know you didn't ask me to suck it up, but it was the bar exam, Leo! It's your future, it's our future! I wasn't gonna take your focus away because of a fucking stomachache and now you're yelling at me? How about thanks Jon!?"

"You want me to thank you for hurting yourself?!" Leo echoed, floored, "are you out of your damn mind?!"

"I didn't hurt myself, not on purpose! I got sick, stop making such an issue out of this! Take the fucking win and shut up!" Jonah all but yelled and Leo flinched, out of reflex.

His thoughts were all scrambled and he stumbled back, "you're- You're being a hypocrite. If it was me-"

"It's not the same at all-"

"Why?" Leo frowned, "because you know best and I know fuck all?"

"That's not what I said-"

"That's exactly what you said."

"Because you'd do it on purpose!" Jonah exclaimed, "because- Because you don't think you deserve to be cared for, so you go and you- You hide and think you can just curl up and die and no one will care, but I wasn't doing that! I just didn't think it was a big deal and I wanted you to pass the damn exam and I wanted you to be happy! It's not the same!"

He was panting when he finished yelling it and Jonah let out a hiss, bracing against the couch and falling sit. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands and Leo took the minute to collect himself.

He felt a little dizzy, mind struggling to stay in the present. Leo clenched and unclenched his fists, taking deep breathes. Five things he could see: his boyfriend curled up and clearly struggling not to throw up from the pain; the grey light streaming through the living room windows; the dishes washed and put away in the kitchen; JD's food bowl was missing; His flip flops neatly tucked away near the front door.

"Leo...?" Jonah spoke up, voice much calmer, much quieter, "are you alright...?"

Three things he could hear: the blood singing in his ear, Jonah's concerned voice...

"Leo?"

"Give me a fucking second," Leo snapped, squeezing his eyes shut. Jon was scary when he was angry, yelling like that. He wasn't a violent person, Leo knew that, but that didn't stop his heart from hammering up like that.

"Baby, I didn't-"

"Shut up!" Leo exclaimed, pressing his back to the opposite wall and sliding down, "just fucking shut up for one minute."

Jonah's mouth snapped shut in a tight line and he sat on the edge of the couch, watching Leo intensely. The blonde looked up, glaring at the ceiling and counting his breaths until everything got back in focus.

"I'm not a child," he said slowly, refusing to meet Jon's eyes, "I appreciate you not wanting to take my mind off my exams and trying to make my night special, but I'm not a little kid who needs to be lied to or shielded from facts. I could've done even if I knew you were sick. We could've celebrated it a different night-"

"Leo-"

"Let me speak," he said sharply, raising a hand, "and I don't appreciate you using my mental illness as an excuse to hide things. That doesn't help me. All that causes is me trusting you less."

"I didn't use your depr-"

"I know I have my issues and I know I struggle with things, but that's no excuse for you to lie to me," Leo glared at him, finally meeting his eyes, "I don't want to feel like I did, sitting in that waiting room, knowing you were in immense pain just because you didn't speak up earlier, ever again."

Jon nodded, his frown melting, "I'm sorry... And I'm sorry for yelling... Can you please get over here? I don't-" he tried to get up again, then gave up with a pained whine, "please?"

Leo nodded, feeling exhausted. He got up and crossed the room again, hesitating for a split second before sitting right next to Jon and allowing his boyfriend to hug him. For a second there, his whole body tensed up and he felt Jon squeeze him harder, until Leo hugged him back.

"I'm sorry," Jon mumbled against his neck, "I didn't mean to scare you. Not then, not now."

"I know," Leo answered, turning his head to kiss Jonah's temple, noticing how clammy he felt to the touch, "let's move you to bed, you're not supposed to be sitting up like that."

Jonah nodded, saying nothing and Leo appreciated the silence, because he still felt very close to tears. He looped an arm carefully around Jon's waist and pulled him up, noticing just how pale he was.

They took a minute to stumble back to the suite and Jon fell against the pillows with a sigh, pressing his hands to his eyes. Leo frowned, as he noticed his boyfriend's heavy breathing and the way his shoulders were shaking.

"Jon," Leo sat gingerly next to him, touching his elbow, "babe, if the pain is so much you're crying, then maybe we should-"

"It's not that," Jonah's voice was choked up and he rubbed angrily at his eyes, "it's not the pain. I'm fine."

Leo's frown deepened and he said nothing, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"I don't like you being scared of me, that's all," the other man whispered, looking defeated. Leo's heart squeezed and he leaned in, wiping the tears that Jonah was clearly unable to hold back, due to how tired and achy he felt, and kissing his forehead.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, I'm not scared of you," he rolled his eyes, opening a smile, "I don't like the yelling and hitting, it scares me, yeah, but you don't. Those are different things."

"It's not really," Jon pouted and Leo glared at him, kissing his pout.

"Are you trying to explain to me my own triggers? Didn't we just talk?"

"I..." Jonah had the decency of blushing and then nodded, grabbing the front of Leo's shirt and pulling him closer. Even weak as he was, he had enough force in his grip that Leo fell over him, narrowly avoiding putting all his weight on his boyfriend's tender stomach. He kicked off his shoes, snuggling on his side and planting a kiss to Jonah's shoulder, wrapping an arm around him, fingers playing with his hair.

"I love you, okay?" Leo whispered, exhausted, "you know that's why I'm pissed, right?"

"Yeah..." Jon nodded, leaning in to press their foreheads together and breathing out, "my stomach bloody hurts, Leo. No one told me about this..."

Leo smiled, counting it as a win that Jonah was communicating his pain and kissed the side of his head, "do you think a warm bath would help? Or a hot water bottle? Or ice?"

"Maybe ice," Jonah said tentatively, but then squeezed Leo's shirt when he attempted to move, "not now. In a second."

Leo let out a huff, hugging him closer, "it's just gonna hurt more, babe..."

"It's fine, in a second," Jonah snuggled into the hug, "and I want my fucking cat back. You can call Lucas."

[ria-writes-stories]

So close yet not there

Ship: Vuzi

Genre: Glass

Description: Part two of the first Vuzi fic on this channel. Going brrrrrrrr, everyone go and thank @bladeubae for this fanfic, for one of their wips inspired me to write this fiction(make sure to give them and their work some love)

Observaton note: obviously Uzi doesn't know the earth is literally non-existent at this point

-----------------

(No one's pov)

Life, was such a strange and annoying thing. It brought you the greatest moments of joy in your most miserable state, and brought you the greatest of distress when you were finally having a peaceful period of time, but of course, it couldn't last. Nothing lasts. Everything shapes and changes. Everything takes a turn, everything has a different perpective depending on who sees it. Nothing can be destoryed and nothing can be created from thin air either, the energy all around us simply takes another shape, stuck in this infinite loop of nothingness yet everything.

Ever since that night, nothing was the same anymore. Uzi's thoughts were more troubled, she didn't know where to turn, and in a moment of weakness she crawled back to what she thought was best for her, for the simple fact that the one that truly saw her for who she was, in an act of mercy and desperation, tried to put her out of it all in the heat of the moment when she thought that the drone was no longer herself but someone else, a haunting presence from the past, a presence she refused to loose anyone else to it, even if it meant she would have to be to put them out of the misery that they were in.

V was truly terrified, and of herself out of all things. She didn't think of a hopeful solution, she didn't think Uzi could snap out of her murder rampage, she didn't think Uzi would wake up from her state, so she tried to save her, but truly, who was she trying to save? Uzi? Or herself? The moment when Uzi asked for N, V was convienced that Uzi most have truly lost herself in an unbearable insanity of agony and torture, for how else could she ask for the one that broke her heart the most when she was right there, ready to break her own soul to bits and dust in order to build the strongest defenses seen by this planet to protect her? It made no sense, not to V. Yet the fool who was unable to protect her from herself was now the knight in shinning armour, the hero, but he was neither, he was a prince, and like all cocky or foolish blind princes he was unable to see that he was not her salvation, but rather her doom. What has V done wrong to be tossed to the side again, like a pile of scraps and nothing more? The past didn't let her live her present, and her possible future chose her torment over her joy as the present was drowning in this foggy timeline, numbed by the pain and loneliness that it had to reside within.

Has she not done enough? Has she not fought enough for her love? For her safety? For her greater good? Had she not come all the way over here for her? Has she not held her tightly in her arms? Has she not done it all for her? And yet… "Yo, I ate them. I get hungry idiot." "Not calling names, just asking." After everything, she took the blame, she covered it all with a petty lie, held any possible consequence far away from her.

She seemed at peace, she seemed happy, or at least, relaxed, at least for once in her life, next to him, ever since that one night… She couldn't offer her that. It angered her, it pained her and it drove her to insanity thatthe stupid thing that made them reside by each other's side turned to be the same thing to pull them further apart than ever before. It was unfair, it was cruel, cold, painful, agonising, tormenting and heart shattering. Was she not worthy of her love? Or was it that she accepted reality faster than everyone else that pulled her away from her? Was it that life tossed her around so much that she ended up being ready to loose everything all at once instead of having to fight helplessly to keep it all and still be left with nothing despite her best efforts? Maybe she wasn't the right one for Uzi. Maybe she was never meant to feel this silly little things. But she asked Uzi…she begged her, not to do it, and yet…she still did. That tiny little push over the edge, over the brink of helplesness and look where she was now…

Uzi was afraid of sacrificing everything that she had again, so she had no clue that by trying to sacrifice herself only, she lost all that she tried to protect. V was a far away dream to her. How could she love her? How could she care for her? She just tried to kill her didn't she? Then again, Uzi wasn't herself either…she killed so many people, the bitter tasted of their oil on the tip of her tongue still. How could she blame V when in reality she held back. J had that electro-magnetic gun that took her out in the first encounter she had with the disassembly drones, meaning that V too had it, so why had she not used it on her? It would have bought her enough time to do the deed? Yet she didn't… V was intelligent, fast and skilled, so if she wanted Uzi dead she could have found alternatives, yet she didn't…because she didn't even truly consider these options.

So why did it hurt, when this foolishly annoying boy, refused to hold her hand? Why…? Maybe because Uzi saw him as the only vilable excuse and gate away to hide from the far more painful reality, for it was painful for the very reason that it made her feel alive.

"Nah. Uzi, I trust you." "V PLEASE! WE NEED YOU!" Uzi was in too much pain to even realise what was happening. V could have left Uzi to be killed by the sentinels, but she saved her, and her thanks? Uzi went ahead and hugged N instead? She flirted with him, held hands, tried to cheer him up instead of her. Was that all that V deserved after what she did? If V was truly upset with her, if she was truly wishing to pull Uzi to shreds, she would have done so already, she had plenty of possibilites… She saved her, she cared for her, in her weird distant way, fulfilling her duty of protecting her, even if it was from afar, for if the defenses fall right next to the protected base, how will those within the base have time to prepare for what's next if the threat is knocking right at their door?

V saved her, her and him, multiple times, and it wasn't for selfish reasons, it wasn't to use them, it wasn't to toy with them, it was all for them, and they? They ignored her, neglected her, hurt her, doing the worse possible to someone that cared for them so deeply and dearly.

You never know what you had until you loose it, ain't that right? That is what they deserved, after everything that she did, after every single struggle and ounce of heavy torture placed upon on her shoulders. She deserved to be freed of this mortal pains and struggles, and they? They deserved to rot with this aching pain in their hearts.

The moment Tessa was quickly out of view once the elevator reached it's end, Uzi grapped onto N tightly as tears steamed down her cheeks. V was dead. She was dead and it was all of her fault. She could have saved her. If only she would have listened, if only she would have paid more attention and if only would she have been there for her the same she was.

But out there, true torment appears, in the illusion of hope and salvation. In a cell, with her hands crossed upon her chest, rested the purest angel that this world had ever had the honor to lay it's eyes upon. A cell that was attached with wires and cables to keep it powered and in function. A cell protecting the one that couldn't protect herself. A cell that took care of the one unable to recieve all that she deserved.

"V!" Uzi said in a quiet whisper, unable to believe her eyes. Was this a trick? A hologram? A hallucination? Was V there but as a spooky hollow snake crab? She didn't even care. So what if she was? So what if this V that she saw was just a hologram of the one that was torn to shreds, looking to rebuild herself, of the one that was now anything but V? She didn't care. She refused to at this point. She lost her with all of her silly complicated thoughts of anxiety, and now when her peek of heaven appeared she didn't want to let the opportunity pass, even if it would cost her greatly, even if it would somehow mean that V's sacrifice was in vein, she'd gladly die knowing that the parts of her body would be used to rebuild her, knowing that this pitiful act of joy represented her remorse and gratefulness.

The shorter girl pressed her body on the glass almost as if trying to fuse with it just to get a tad closer to the drone. "Is this how J also came back? How do I get you out?" Uzi was still unsure how J returned… Did she come from earth or did she wake up in a capsule like this? Whatever the answer was Uzi didn't want to wait any longer, yet she was unsure of what to do… V just died, so how long would it take for this new body to recieve all of her memories? What if she won't recieve them at all? What if this is just an empty vessel and nothing more? What if it was just a carcas good for scrap that will never host the radiant energy of one of he strongest people she has met in her entire short tiny life?

As these questions filled her head, Uzi slightly backed away from the glass, but her hands remained glued to it as if a hex had been placed upon them. Uzi took her tail out and used it to light this casket made of glass, shining it to see her better. She didn't look in pain, she didn't look troubled, she looked like she was resting, a sweet painless and proper rest. One from which she would wake up from with refreshed batteries, ready to take the world on again, as if it was just yesterday that she first opened her eyes.

Maybe she should let her rest…

'ERROR ⚠'

That is all that it took. A flash of light, a sudden boost of energy through the carcas, activating it's system, or at least trying to.

Words could not describe in a million years the horrible ache that had stabbed Uzi right into her soul. The joy, the pain, the agony and the distress. V was waking up, or at least she was trying to. After falling like weak prey, while sacrificing herself like a true hero, she was still fighting. Fighting for her. How foolish Uzi was, to not accept this kindness that the universe has blessed her with. To turn it down in fear of breaking it instead of just accepting it like it should.

A desperate scream left her mouth as she felt no control of herself just like back in the cabin. Her wings spread widely and her claws grew sharper and pointier, trying to claw at the glass, to penetrate and open it. Whatever the error she could fix it! Even if she didn't have her joystick she still would be able to do something. Anything! She could help her, she could finally help her. She could show her regret, her grief.

Everyone talks of how the scream of a mother in pain is worse than any blood curling scream and shriek that the world has ever heard, but no one tells you how such a deed only happens when the true selfless genuine love of one's heart and entire being is involved for otherwise there are plenty other mothers who do not even look at their children.

And so here was Uzi heard from every corner of this lower chambers, of this underground hell. From trapped sentinels to anything else that breathed and moved, all stopped in sync as the agonising scream filled the echoes of these walls, leaving no room for anything other than a sudden rush of arenaline and panic, as a far more dangerous being has entered the realms of this hidden world, and now more than ever, it's desperation made it worse than anything else that could have place foot in this cursed place.

All that would go against this shriek would fall apart, tore to shreds and turned into utter nothingess, so all unwillingly bowed their spirits in fear as the pained scream punctured all of one's senses to the brim, leaving space for nothing other than the same feeling that the source provided. Agony.

Gripping onto the glass and banging her fist on it's surface did not budge the imprisonment of this angel. She was alive, she had to be, for otherwise this vessel that so closely resembled her wouldn't have had a spark of anything in it without her also being there.

She had to break her free, she had to let her out to breath the air, as cold and as miserable as it was, she had to let her see the world again. It was her right, it was the least that she deserved, to live, and to be able to feel alive, and Uzi wasn't going to leave, not until she was out, not until she could hold her and told her all the words that her core trapped within itself by the command of her system, dooming those words to be foolish and useless, now none will be in it's way, for all that was left of the brinks of sanity was gone, now filled with one thing and one thing only, desperation.

Desperation like no other. She would tear to shreds anything that would dare approach her. She would stay there until the cursed mechanisam opened and let Uzi catch V in her arms like all the other times V carried her burdened heart all alone. She will hold her tightly and she will help V heal, she will make sure she is there by V's side just as she was. Uzi will keep her close and she will let V know with all the last days, hours, minutes or seconds that she has left, that she recognises all that V had done for her, and that she will never again in her life do anything to make this most blessed angel of all feel as if it was all for nothing and in vain. Sge will love her, she will stay by her side, and she will not let even death itself have the last word in it. She would make sure to do everything, anything and more to achieve this goal. Starting from this very moment, without a further a do or a moment of hesitation in her judgement.

The end

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

“This isn’t necessary,” Gwyn complained for what felt like the seventh time that morning. Overhead, Azriel openly rolled his eyes. She guessed he was tired of hearing her say it, too.

“I think it is,” he replied in a rumbly voice. Gwyn had woken early enough to catch him sprawled out in a chair, head thrown back in sleep. His own bed had been mussed like he’d been tossing and turning before he’d gotten up and found refuge in the chair. 

“Of course you do,” she hissed, pulling herself from her memories. Dawn had only just broken and Azriel was already hustling her across the city to the library he’d found. The same library she very much doubted either of them were going to be allowed in. Her for being female, him for his wings. 

Gwyn didn’t want a bunch of priests staring the two of them down like they were little more than dirt beneath the sole of his boot…or sandals…or whatever it was they wore on their stupid feet. Azriel would get mad and who would he focus all that anger on? Her. 

Thoughtlessly, Gwyn reached for Azriel’s siphon clad hand in an attempt to move a literal mountain. He jerked, stumbling over air at her touch, eyes wide when his head whipped around to look at her. Right. Don’t touch him…she knew better. 

Heart in her throat, Gwyn said, “Don’t do this, okay? Lets just…go have breakfast, make a new friend, and do what we came to do.”

“How are you supposed to do your job?” he demanded, towering over her with unreadable hazel eyes. Azriel flexed his hand seemingly on reflex—the same one she’d grabbed—before hiding it as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You don’t research midwifery.”

“How do you know what my research is about?” she snapped, unreasonably frustrated with him. Azriel only arched an eyebrow as if to say, I know everything, Gwyneth, which only irritated her more. He didn’t know anything, and if he knew the focus of her research, she was certain he didn’t understand it. He’d likely never read a word of it, had his little shadows spying on her like everyone else. 

“Let’s—”

“No.”

Azriel, who’d turned back for the library, centered somewhere in that vast, dew-covered city, froze. She watched as his wings pulled tight against his body, bracing herself for his fury. Her stomach twisted in knots, certain there was going to be an ugly showdown between them.

But when he turned, his face was plaid—focused. She could see writhing frustration, of course, battling some other emotion she couldn’t quite read. But Azriel merely inclined his head.

“As you wish,” he murmured tightly, turning back toward the palace. It left Gwyn frustrated, too, because she didn’t want to go back.

But she couldn’t handle seeing the pair of them turned away simply for who they’d been born as. Azriel might be fine playing outside the rules of polite society and diplomacy, but Gwyn was not. She’d merely ask Kai to give her access, so when they did return, no one could throw them out. 

Azriel’s disappointment was a palpable thing, salty and thick in the air. It was a mirror of her own, just barely swallowed in an attempt to salve her raging temper. 

Gwyn forced herself to look up at those spires stretching like spindly fingers toward the heaven. “How did the queen even get up there?” she demanded, though truthfully Gwyn didn’t care. She just wanted to release the anger building in her chest, to give an outlet to how unfair Montessere felt. 

Azriel’s eyes remained on her. Even without looking, she could feel the heat from his stare burning against her skin. “Want to do an experiment with me?”

“Are you going to throw me off the spires and see where I land?” she demanded. 

There was a pause and then, “I’d catch you—”

“Oh, well. So long as you’d catch me—”

“You don’t trust me?” he asked in that low rumble of his. Gwyn shivered without meaning to, swallowing as she turned to face him. She could say no, of course, if only to hurt him…and lose the only ally she had in this place.

Besides, it wasn’t true. Gwyn did trust Azriel. “I trust you.”

The tightness in his expression evaporated, replaced once again with some emotion she couldn’t read. That was for the best, she decided as she turned her own gaze back up to the spires. Whatever he was thinking, she doubted she wanted to know. 

“Does it matter how she got up there?” Gwyn asked, responding to her own question. “Or how she fell?”

Azriel shrugged powerful shoulders. “Maybe not.”

She couldn’t resist looking at him again. He’d cocked his head so one piece of his dark hair fell against his forehead, brushing one of those hazel eyes. Still staring at the spire, Gwyn guessed it did matter for Azriel, who was doing more than just whiling away his time in the library.

“You can take me up there,” she relented. Someone had to make inroads between them, and this seemed safe enough. Assuming, of course, she didn’t slip from his fingers and actually plummet to her death. 

“I won’t let you die,” he said, reading her mind. Her fear must have been written all over her face given when she looked back at him, there was amusement shining against his handsome face.

“We’ll go this evening, when the palace is asleep.”

There was a pause between them, causing Azriel to shift his weight even as his wings unfurled from behind him and his shadows returned, peering up at the spires just as he had been doing. “Why don’t you want to go to the library with me?”

With me. Like he was the problem. “They’ll turn us away,” she said, holding his gaze. “For my gender and your wings and I…”

Gwyn swallowed, humiliation burning in the back of her throat. Azriel shifted, his discomfort plain. “I was just in there,” he reminded her with a patience she wouldn’t have believed him capable of. “They let me in, they’d let you in, too. Is that…is that why you said no?”

Gwyn swallowed. “I thought because I was female and you were…” Gwyn couldn’t bring herself to say it—to give words to the hateful attitudes too many High Fae had about people like Azriel.

People like her. She was hardly pure High Fae—she merely looked it. Gwyn had the blood of a water nymph flowing through her, and that blood was to thank for her long, limber limbs and the speed in which she swam. 

Azriel drew a breath. “Right. Well, I think it’ll be fine. Would you like to return?”

Gwyn would. She couldn’t hide it from him just like Azriel couldn’t hide the smug smile he was trying to smother by biting his bottom lip. 

“Yes,” she grumbled, hating that she was making him happy. Azriel’s fingers brushed her elbow, nodding behind them toward the pinkish glow of morning. 

“Kai will be so annoyed he was deprived another opportunity to spend time with you,” Azriel murmured, his shadows vanishing when he stepped into a beam of light. Gwyn decided to ignore that remark, following after him until they’d put the castle in the distance behind them. The city itself was yawning, doors opening as they passed as folks began setting out their wares for the day. Gwyn smelled freshly baked bread wafting from an open window nearby, reminding her she hadn’t eaten yet.

Being outside felt good, even when clouds rolled against the sky, obscuring the light and drenching them both in shadow. Not Azriel’s shadows, which had scurried off to wherever they hid when he had no use for them—perhaps in the folds of his wings or the strands of his hair? It was tempting to ask.

A lot of things were tempting, and yet off limits, when it came to Azriel. Asking about his shadows, giving him any information about herself…touching him. All expressly forbidden in her own mind. 

Sensing her eyes on him, Azriel glanced down at her though his steps remained sure and steady. “Something on your mind?” “No,” she said hastily, hating the way his lips twitched. 

“Tell me why you stopped training with me.”

Gwyn’s heart stuttered in her chest. Forcing herself to look straight ahead, which so happened to feature a male attempting to pull a push cart by himself, she shook her head. “Mind your own business.”

“It is my business,” he protested in a soft, cajoling sort of way. “Annike has been asking for private lessons.”

Yeah, Gwyn bet she was. With Azriel’s pretty face, who wouldn’t want some time alone with him, just to see what he was like? “You should give them to her.”

“Without knowing what repulsive act I committed to drive you away?” Azriel said it like a joke, though his eyes were all but on fire, burning her cheek as he silently pleaded for her to just tell him what happened. Gwyn couldn’t—she wouldn’t. 

“We’re not friends, Azriel. Why do you care so much?”

His steps faltered and Gwyn knew right then she’d made a mistake. They weren’t friends like he was with Cassian and Rhys or she was with Nesta and Emerie, but they weren’t really acquaintances, either. 

“So I did do something,” he murmured, his voice so soft she might have missed it had the noise around them not immediately died down. Gwyn swallowed.

“No, it wasn’t you. Just…” She trailed off helplessly, because she couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t admit it to herself, didn’t let herself think about it. And Azriel couldn’t know, either, because he’d want to talk about it, would want to do something about it. 

“Then train with me again,” he said, halting before carved, onyx steps leading into a large, towering building she assumed must be the library. “There’s a little island just off the coast small enough for our purposes—empty.”

Gwyn looked up at him, hands fisted at her side. “Azriel, I…” He cocked his head. “Are you Carynthian or not?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing exactly the right combination of words to ignite her temper, to push the words from her throat. “I am Carynthian,” she hissed, all but stamping her foot in front of him. “I earned that title.”

Eyes shining, he said, “Damn right you did. Now prove you still deserve it. Nesta and Emerie are still training. Why should you stop just because you’re here? If I’m not the problem, there should be no issue.”

Glaring daggers at him, Gwyn took a breath. “What kind of training?”

His smile was lethal, the sort of thing that might make another person who didn’t know him cower and whimper with fear. Gwyn wasn’t afraid of Azriel, though, which made it easy to face off with him in front of this foreign library.

“The kind befitting your station, Carynthian.”

“The same training you got?” Gwyn challenged, wondering why she didn’t just tell him no. She should tell him no. They were already spending too much time together. 

“Better.”

“Because you’re the one training me?”

His smile darkened, shadowed by some ugly memory. She wondered what it was—who had trained him? “Because I’m better than the male who trained me.”

“Says who?”

Shut up Gwyn, what is your problem?

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” 

She hated the way his smile made her feel, how her heart thudded in her throat at the sight of it. There was a pleading note to his eyes, one that so clearly said say yes. One of his shadows slithered through the sun, braving a beam of early morning light caught between clouds to wrap itself around her throat. 

“First you want to throw me off a palace spire, now you want to run me into the ground,” she grumbled by way of agreement. He all but beamed, grinning so wide she swore there were dimples in his cheeks. It vanished like the sunlight around them, his expression settling once more into the carved, icy features she was so accustomed to. 

“Lets go, Gwyn,” he murmured, gesturing toward the stairs and the tall, iron doors at the top. “Show this place who's in charge.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. 

But she was struggling to hide her smile, too.

AZRIEL:

“Swear you’re not going to drop me,” Gwyn said, bouncing from one foot to the other anxiously. Leashing his temper and the urge to demand to know why she thought he’d be so careless with her safety, Azriel gritted out, “I swear I won’t drop you.”

They hadn’t even left the ground. Azriel extended a scarred hand toward her again, while Gwyn inclined her head to stare up at the spire half lost to clouds overhead. He couldn’t figure out if she was needling him or she was genuinely afraid, but there was a zero percent chance Azriel dropped her. 

Finally, Gwyn took his hand. A wave of possession snapped through him, reverberating through his chest before it settled like a coiling snake. Azriel was tempted to rub his chest in an effort to ease the ache, though he didn’t. He merely yanked her against him, bending his knees to scoop her up before she could flail and protest. 

“A little warning,” Gwyn complained breathlessly, but he’d already kicked off the ground and had them in the air. He didn’t want to risk her changing her mind, nor would he set her down once they got up there. Azriel needed to know he was right, and he trusted Gwyn to help him with this.

“We’re flying now,” he replied dryly, looking down at her rather than up toward the sky. She’d grabbed his neck, arms tight around his body, hair half in his mouth and she twisted to look down. No fear, then. He liked that about her. All her issues seemed to lie with him, and Azriel didn’t know what to make of that.

Or even why he cared. 

But he did. 

“Do you like flying?” she asked, twisting so she was looking at him, too. Azriel nodded, stomach tightening when he remembered those teal eyes he couldn’t get out of his head—and what he’d done the night before thinking about them.

She’d hate him for it, if she ever learned the truth. 

“I think I’d like flying, too,” she admitted, her voice a melody in the wind. Heart thudding, azriel couldn’t resist brushing a piece of her hair from her cheek under the pretense he was trying to get it off his mouth. Gwyn didn’t notice, nor did she flinch away like she did every time Kai was touching her.

And for whatever reason, that felt like a victory to him. 

“I think I’d have big, blue wings,” she continued, oblivious to his strange, affectionate thoughts. “And I’d never touch the ground again.”

“It’s tempting,” he agreed, taking them higher in the clouds. He was grateful for the moody night and the thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. Coupled with the shades on every palace wall, Azriel felt confident no one was aware the two of them weren’t squabbling in their bed chamber like they’d done all through dinner.

“Okay,” he began, setting them both on the highest balcony on the spire. “Can you see if there are stairs leading up?”

Gwyn dropped to her feet, grabbing for the iron railing as her knees buckled. He lunged, afraid she’d topple over but Gwyn was steady. She slithered around him, hands on his chest given how little space was available to them. 

“Open the door for me,” she murmured, angling her body beneath his arm so he could reach over her and yank the door from its hinges. The sound of crunching metal vibrating loudly through the air, clanging against his teeth. Gwyn, too, seemed alarmed in the dim light, though she was quick to peer inside. 

She lifted a finger and to Azriel amazement, a little lick of red hot flame appeared just around her nail. 

“Where did that come from?” he breathed, staring it down. 

She merely shrugged slim shoulders. “I’ve always had it. My mothers mother was from Autumn.”

A powerful Autumn family, to have that kind of magic, though he didn’t say that to her. She likely knew, besides, and if she was a Vanserra, Rhys would have warned him. Her family was no one important anymore, and the remnants of that magic small enough no one was missing it. 

“Here,” Gwyn murmured, twisting in the small landing of winding stairs to point toward the ceiling. Azriel would have missed it had Gwyn’s flame not illuminated the little string. She yanked, revealing more stairs narrow enough there was no way he was going to be able to wedge his body through. A slimmer male without wings might have been able to get through, and Gwyn, with her lithe form, began walking up them easily.

Azriel caught her wrist, heart thudding in his throat.

“It might not be safe.”

“As safe as being thrown off a roof. I want to know how she got up here. Don’t you?”

He hesitated, wondering what was wrong with him. Of course he wanted to know. Desperately, even, if only to satisfy his own curiosity. But…

“If you get stuck, I don’t think I’ll be able to get you out.”

Gwyn grinned, her body half lost to the darkness overhead. “Didn’t I tell you I’m a quarter nymph? I’m flexible, Azriel. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He took a step back, hating how his body reacted to those words. I’m flexible. Yeah, he bet she was. Jumping off the rail and back into the cool night air calmed his racing blood, settled the strange arousal that ignited when he heard her say that.

It’s just Gwyn. 

He repeated that the entire way up to the slick spire, boots hitting the marble loudly. In the distance, he could hear Gwyn quietly swearing to herself, climbing the stairs much like Nesta had back when Cassian had first begun to train her. She appeared a moment later, pulling herself from a hatch in the ceiling he’d missed the night before.

Azriel offered her a hand, surprised when she accepted gratefully. “You’re out of shape,” he commented.

“Shut up,” she panted back, hands braced on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Azriel had to look away because of the spring green dress she wore was cut just low enough that her breasts pressed against the top, all but spilling over.

That fucking dress.

He’d kill Kai for it. 

Gwyn stood, reaching for his arm when a rough gust of stormy air slammed into them both. Azriel flung out one of his wings, shielding them both from the impending storm. “Gods,” Gwyn breathed, looking out at the word with clear eyes. “How desperate she must have been…”

Azriel was tempted to crush Gwyn to his chest. He didn’t like how easily she was empathizing with the now dead queen who had, presumably, ended her own life. That would have been too much, and Gwyn seemed fine, though his swirling shadows were poised around him, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Whispering—always whispering. 

But everyone in the palace was asleep, or at least looking elsewhere.

“If I were miserable,” Gwyn began, releasing her grip on his bicep as she inched toward the edge. Azriel’s heart thudded wildly, palms sweating even though he’d asked her to do this. “Why would I choose this method?”

Azriel considered that too. “Maybe she was being watched closely?”

“Maybe,” Gwyn conceded, toeing the very edge of the rail. Cinnamon hair whipped around her beautiful face, hiding eyes that were drowning in pain. Gwyn took a breath, body heaving. “Or maybe she just wanted to feel free.”

Azriel jerked out on instinct to grab her, forgetting for one horrible second he’d asked Gwyn to jump. All he saw was her body leap into the world, filling him with heart shattering panic. There was no thinking when he went after her, wings spread to catch the draft. Gwyn was headed not for the rocks, but the ground below which would kill her the moment the two met. 

Not her.

He caught her a heartbeat later, the weight of her sending them both spiraling downward for a breathless second. She grabbed his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist, mouth on his neck.

She was laughing. He’d thought she’d been crying, but Gwyn was laughing with the kind of open, undiluted joy he so rarely let himself feel—and never in front of another person.”I was right,” she told him, voice breathless with wonder. “I do love flying.”

He beat his wings, taking them back up into the sky, obscured by the clouds. “So do I,” he told her. Gwyn laughter was infectious, forcing a smile—and then a laugh—from his mouth seemingly because she willed it. He circled the spire, both arms wrapped around her, laughing like he was young again. Gods, but Azriel couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt so easy or when he’d felt quite so free. But right then, floating beside a fat cloud filled with rain, Azriel thought he might never come down.

He was almost glad to be Illyrian. Grateful for his wings, if nothing else, so he could give her this. Gwyn looked so alive, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. All that sadness he’d grown so accustomed to seeing had vanished, leaving only joy in its wake. This was who she might have been without Hybern.

Beautiful. 

The thought came to him unbidden, catching him by surprise. It was enough to remind him they weren’t up there to dance or fly—but to figure out what happened to the queen. Blowing out a breath, Azriel resisted the urge to bury his face in Gwyn’s hair. “You weren’t falling toward the rocks.”

“No,” she agreed, her smile dimming a little. The shadows returned to her expression, stealing her happiness as reality crept back in. They weren’t really free, even if they felt like it. Gwyn rested her chin on his shoulder, sighing softly. “I was going toward land.”

“It still would have killed you,” Azriel said, the thought so abhorrent to him and yet he couldn’t keep the image of her body slamming against the surface and those eyes of hers fading until they were sightless and dull.

His grip on her tightened ever so slightly. “Maybe it was a figure of speech,” Azriel murmured, circling back toward the rocks.

“Maybe,” she agreed. “Or maybe she was pushed.”

“You jumped,” he reminded her, the toes of his boots skimming over the tower again. “Would a push be more forceful?”

“Want to find out?” she offered, shuddering in his grip. No, Azriel didn’t think he wanted to watch her fly toward the rocks because of his hands. He shook his head, taking them toward the edge of the water, sparkling like diamonds far below. 

“She was pushed…or she didn’t die up there at all. Not like they said, anyway,” he murmured instead. 

“Why?” Gwyn asked, well aware he had no answer. “Why would someone do that?”

He only shook his head. Why would anyone kill their monarch who, by all accounts, held very little power. The royal family was still grieving, presumably, though that didn’t mean they hadn’t participated. Shame and guilt were powerful motivators—almost as powerful as grief. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “We won’t solve this in one night.”

Gwyn relaxed, swallowing softly. “Did I scare you?” she asked him as he began to bring them down from the clouds—just in time. A fat droplet of rain splashed over his cheek, startling him.

“No.”

It was a lie. He’d been terrified watching her jump off. Not because he thought he couldn’t catch her in time, but because she looked so at ease doing so. Like she wanted to fling herself off that roof, and didn’t care if he caught her or not. It was tempting to ask her if he’d been right about her, but Azriel didn’t dare.

Not when it meant having to admit how he knew what that expression meant—because he’d seen it on himself, too. Too often to count, in fact, so numerous that sometimes when he looked at himself in the mirror, there was nothing but swirling darkness staring back. Staring down at Gwyn and the brightness emanating from her, Azriel wondered if it wasn’t all an act. Showing him what she thought he wanted to see.

But Azriel didn’t want to see light if there was none. And he didn’t want to see happiness if it didn’t exist. He wanted to see her.

Darkness and all.

[itsjuststardust]

Heaven in Hiding - Chapter 14: Campfire Confessionals

Heaven in Hiding Masterlist

Chapter Summary: “Lesson one,” he began, walking to offer her his hand. Alaina looked up at him with a glare but accepted his hand. “Always be ready."

Word Count: 9,610

Author's Note/Chapter Warnings:

Back by popular demand—Rav! I was so excited to see how much y'all enjoyed Rav and Din’s backstory. He may pop up another time or two, but we have to weave some stories within stories within the big story, and it's all very timey-wimey. MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY 🎵 Chapter soundtrack 🎵 ‘Arsonist’s Lullaby’ - Hozier

Chapter 14: Campfire Confessionals

Din Djarin hated it here.

Concordia, he growled.

Rav had stayed for a week to help him get situated in his brother’s home, and then he had just left.

“Sorry, kid,” Rav half-heartedly apologized. “My brother will take care of you. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Din had never felt so out of place before in his life.

Everything was cold and hard here. The people always wore armor, surrounding him in a sea of masked faces. With the exception of a handful of other Foundlings, he never saw anyone’s face. Rav’s brother, Kresh, had become Din’s sponsor in this bizarre world, and the man acted like a drill sergeant to the new addition to his clan. He forced him up in the morning when Din would rather stay in bed. The man sent him to school, where he learned about the history of Mandalorians and strange subjections like how to handle weapons properly and proper weapons maintenance. Some days, he was forced into small groups with what appeared to be a wide range of ages as they learned Mando'a. Even basic subjects, like math, were different. These Mandalorians took a more practical approach to teaching subjects, explaining how the building blocks of math and science would translate into flying ships and surviving on strange planets.

The worst part was when his sponsor’s son would return home from training with the fighting corps for a few days every couple of weeks. The son was another faceless metal person, and as the months went on, he made it clear he thought less of Din for not taking the Creed immediately upon arriving. Kresh made it clear that even if Din never took the Creed and become a Mandalorian, he would still have a place to stay with him until he was old enough to care for himself. Kresh's son made it clear that his views on the matter did not match his father's. It was so bad that Din would stay locked in his room when his ‘foster’ brother came home.

Unfortunately, his sponsor had sent his son and his foundling on an errand, and he could not avoid the young Mandalorian at this time.

Din ground his teeth as the boy, who was only two years older than him, spoke to him as if he were nothing more than a baby.

Din Djarin had enough.

Three months of pent-up rage exploded, and he lunged at the other boy, tackling him to the ground. The older boy was clearly taken by surprise because it took him a stunned moment to retaliate. For a boy who was training to be a Mandalorian warrior, he sure struggled against the smaller, inexperienced foundling.

He wasn’t sure how long the two of them struggled, rolling around on the ground, but what felt like seconds later, two sets of gloved hands pulled the fighting boys apart.

Din looked at his foster brother, who looked away from him, ashamed, in his father's arms. Din growled, lunging at him because it was unfair that the other boy still had his father. He didn’t make it very far before his body was pulled back against a solid wall of armor.

“Alright, alright,” a familiar voice grumbled behind him. “Calm down, kid.”

Din spun at the sound of the new voice and felt relief wash over him as he saw Rav standing in his familiar blue armor. Then, as if a switch flipped, that relief turned to anger, and he charged at the Mandalorian who’d saved him only to abandon him. With an angry yell, Din roughly shoved Rav in the man’s abdomen, forcing him a step away from him.

Rav gave him one shove and only one. The next time Din charged at him, the older man easily twisted out of the way. Rav grabbed Din and yanked his smaller body up by his chest so Din’s back was pressed against the older man’s chest, and his feet dangled off the ground.

“Are you done?” Rav questioned, and Din responded by kicking the man in the shin. “Alright then,” he grumbled when it was evident that his Foundling wasn’t done yet. Rav turned back to look at his brother, “I thought you said he just laid in bed all day?” he asked. Kresh just shrugged. “Come on, kid,” he said, walking away from the armored father and son, still carrying his foundling as they walked away from the scene of the fight.

With a sigh, Din sagged defeated into the man’s arms as he was carried out of the town toward the nearby open field. Once they made it down the hill, Rav finally let him go.

“You wanna talk about it?” Rav asked, and Din ground his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides. “Cause I’ve been getting communications for months from Kresh about you refusing to interact with anyone, and now you’re picking fights?”

Din did not want to talk about it. Din wanted to do something about it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his parents. But he couldn't do any of those things. No, Din Djarin was stuck on this Maker forsaken moon surrounded by a bunch of... well, they could be droids for all he knew. And the one person who he trusted left him to rot away here.

So. No. Din Djarin did not want to talk about it. Instead, he ran at the older Mandalorian, but Rav just shook his helmet before sweeping out a leg, knocking Din’s legs out from under him and knocking him flat on his back.

“Ow!” Din yelled.

“Feel like talking yet?” Rav asked, looking down at him.

He snarled at the blue Mandalorian and scrambled back up to his feet. “You left me!” he yelled his accusations at Rav before charging at the man again.

Once again, Rav kicked his foot out, knocking his legs out from under him again.

“I didn’t leave you, kid,” Rav said, shaking his helmet at him. “I told you that my life was no place for a kid. Kresh is the family man. He likes kids. He’s been worried about you.”

Din blinked at the blue helmet, staring down at him, “So if you don’t even like kids, why do you care about what I do?”

The older Mandalorian sighed frustratedly, “Don’t put words in my mouth, kid. It’s not that I don’t like you. Promise. My life right now… it’s too dangerous to have you tagging along.” Rav stared at him for a moment before offering him a hand, but when Din batted his hand away, the older man stood straight before saying, “Alright, if you wanna fight, then let’s fight it out.”

Din growled, scrambled up from the ground, and fixed the Mandalorian with a seething look.

Rav began to circle him, “Let’s see whatcha got.”

Din snarled and charged at Rav. When the Mandalorian struck out a foot, Din jumped to avoid it, smiling when he avoided being knocked on his ass again. Unfortunately, he was too caught up in his small victory that he missed the man sweeping out his other leg, and he ended up on his ass anyway.

“Stop that!” Din yelled, slamming his hands on the ground.

“I’ll stop it when you stop acting like an ass,” Rav challenged.

Anger flared in his chest, and he jumped up from the ground.

“There’s that fire!” Rav cheered and motioned with his hands to come at him again.

Din charged again.

And again.

And again.

He went after Rav with his feet, hands, and everything he had. Each time Rav dodged him and knocked him on his ass, he told him what he did wrong. Each time Din roared and got back up, Rav clapped and cheered for him.

They went on like that for another half an hour before Din was so tired and sore that he couldn’t get back up from the ground.

“Ya know, you’re alright for a runt of a thing from a backwater skughole like Aq Vetina,” Rav commented from a distance. “You should give my punk of a nephew a run for his money and join the fighting corps,” he suggested, stepping closer to him.

Din let his head fall to the ground, looked up at the sky, and thought of his parents.

Would his parents—a baker and a teacher—be disappointed to see their only son fighting? To see that their only son became a fighter? A soldier? A warrior? A Mandalorian?

The fighting corps, Din thought, finding it difficult to imagine. If you would have asked him three months ago, Din Djarin would have told you that he would be a pod racer when he grew up.

“A word of advice,” Rav began, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t let yourself get distracted. You need to have an eye on your surroundings at all times. Don’t let yourself get comfortable. The second you allow yourself to be comfortable, that’s when you get knocked on your ass—”

Rav was cut off when someone came up behind him and swept his feet out from under him, taking Rav to the ground.

“Case in point,” Rav grumbled, looking behind him to see his brother standing over him with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m tired of you beating up my foundling,” Kresh grumbled, walking around his younger brother to offer Din a hand up.

Din gave his sponsor an apologetic look before accepting the hand.

“Your foundling,” Rav challenged, rubbing his lower back as he got up.

Kresh nodded, “You left him with me, didn’t you?” 

Din looked curiously between the brothers as they appeared to be having some kind of silent argument when Rav didn't respond immediately. This was the problem with all these people having their faces covered and wearing full body armor all the time. How was he supposed to tell if someone was angry or happy?

After another second of silence, Kresh continued, “Of course, you could give up the nomad life and come home. Then you could become his sponsor.”

Din lit up at the suggestion and turned his head to give Rav a hopeful look. Only Rav had become unnervingly still, and Din looked between the two brothers, not understanding why everything had become so tense.

“Funny,” Rav finally bit out, but his voice lacked his typical playful undertones. “The last time I suggested coming home, you were the one who told me I wasn’t welcome.”

A sigh left Kresh’s helmet, suggesting this wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. Then the older brother finally replied, “It wasn’t you who wasn’t welcome.”

Rav held his helmet a little taller and straightened his shoulders, “Then I guess I’m still not welcome.”

“I guess not,” Kresh responded sadly, putting his arm over Din’s shoulder to lead him back to his home.

“Wait,” Din said, turning out of the older brother’s arm to run back to Rav. The other blue-armored Mandalorian relaxed and kneeled when Din approached him. “Will I see you again?” he asked.

Rav clapped his shoulder and gave him a nod. “Don’t worry, kid. Not even that mudscuffer can keep me away for too long. I promise not to wait three months this time.”

Din wrapped his arms around Rav’s neck, smiling when his savior returned the hug.

“Don’t let that fire flicker out, Din Djarin,” Rav whispered. "I know this is new, and you're confused, but Kresh and I just want what's best for you. Even if you don't take the Creed, we'll still be your family." Din nodded into his savior's neck. Rav squeezed him a little tighter. “Do what is best for you. Just promise me you'll keep fighting no matter what. You hear me?”

For the first time in three months, Din Djarin saw a light at the end of the dark tunnel he was in. Maybe the fighting corps wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

“I don’t want it to seem like I’m complaining,” Alaina said, breaking Mando from his daydreams. “This place is beautiful and all, but I thought you said you would start training me today.”

Mando sighed, “Just trying to figure out where to begin.”

After watching the sunset over the emerald green lake yesterday, Mando escorted his companions back to the Razor Crest for the evening. A tiny spark seemed to have returned to Alaina after her time at the lake. The spark flickered when they returned to the Crest when she saw the site of her attack, and he rubbed his glove up and down her spine, hoping to help ward off the no doubt ugly memories that were playing in her head. Exhausted, Alaina walked past her cot, crawled back into his normal sleeping alcove, and fell asleep instantaneously.

Mando looked between her cot and the spot where he killed that mudscuffer and realized that it was only a couple of paces away. He sighed and looked at Alaina, who was already asleep in the alcove. He would have to figure out a way to make her comfortable in the hold again, but he hadn’t slept much since Alaina had her breakdown after she’d finally woken up, and well… that problem would just have to be left until tomorrow.

The three of them slept in this morning, and Mando was still smiling at waking up to Alaina fast asleep with an arm and a leg sprawled over him and the kid drooling on his shoulder.

There were worse ways to wake up.

Alaina and the kid slept in just long enough for him to shower and have a cup of instant caf in the cockpit before they woke up chomping at the bit. Alaina was eager to begin her training, and Grogu was eager to explore.

“The basics are usually a good starting place,” Alaina commented, giving a couple of mock jabs to his chestpiece.

Mando tilted his helmet and grabbed her wrist, moving her thumb out from under her fingers to lay it on the outside of her fingers under her knuckles.

“See,” Alaina nodded. “Basics.”

He sighed again as a streak of green ran past them. He needed a leash for the kid.

“Grogu,” Mando called, and the womp rat immediately stopped and turned around, not used to the Mandalorian calling him by his actual name. Mando reached into his pocket and held the much sought-after silver ball for the kid to see. Grogu’s mouth dropped, and he ran as fast as his small, squat legs could carry him. “You can play with it, but you can’t leave the clearing,” he instructed, dropping the ball to the ground.

The kid went to Alaina and tugged on her pant leg to get her attention to show her the ball.

“I see that!” Alaina responded with a bright smile that brought out matching smiles from him and the kid. She leaned down and rested her hands on her knees as she looked at the kid. “Now, can you say Mando’s a sucker?” she asked the kid with a snicker.

Grogu blinked, and Mando cocked his helmet and, without warning, kicked his leg out, swiping it at Alaina’s legs, knocking the blonde off her feet and on her ass.

“Hey!” she wailed. “That’s not fair! I wasn’t ready!”

“Lesson one,” he began, walking to offer her his hand. Alaina looked up at him with a glare but accepted his hand. “Always be ready,” he finished, letting go of Alaina’s hand so she fell back to the ground.

“Ass!” she accused, and Mando chuckled at her dramatics. 

“I think we’ll start with hand-to-hand combat,” he suggested, walking a few steps away from Alaina.

He started dismantling his armor and piling it on the ramp out of the dirt.

“Why are you taking your armor off?” Alaina questioned him as she brushed the dirt off her clothes. “I thought we were doing hand-to-hand combat?”

“We are,” he confirmed, pulling his bandolier over his shoulder. “It’s so you don’t break your wrist when you try and hit me.”

She fiddled nervously with the end of her braid before saying, “I don’t want you to go easy on me.”

Mando cocked his helmet, “Who said I was going to go easy on you?” Alaina smirked at his answer. “We will focus primarily on hand-to-hand, but we’ll work on weapons some too. You picked up quickly on a lot of steps working Dune, but you can’t think of everything as choreography. If you find yourself in another fight, the person you’re fighting with won’t be doing the same routine as you.”

“We call that improv,” Alaina said, giving him a wobbly spin on the toe of her boot.

Mando nodded. He took in the woman in front of him with a trained eye. It was different to see her in a tight black shirt and pants instead of her usual dresses, but the new wardrobe seemed to fit her. She’d done her golden hair in a braid, and with her combat boots, she looked the image of a fighter.

Hopefully, she would be by the time he was done with her.

There was only one problem. He knew where he wanted to begin…

“What?” Alaina asked, tilting her head curiously, apparently sensing his hesitation.

Mando sighed, “You know I would never intentionally hurt you, right?”

Alaina treated him with a soft smile and closed the distance between them. “I am not so naïve to think that I won’t get out of this without some bumps and bruises, Mando,” she told him when she reached him. “But I know you would never hurt me,” she finished, placing her hand in the middle of his chest.

Her words shocked him; he was not used to hearing Alaina admit that. He nodded, loosely looping his fingers around her wrist and running his gloved fingers along the underside of her wrist. “I want to start by teaching you how to get out of different holds,” came his hesitant words.

It took Alaina a second to understand why he was so hesitant, but the moment they were on the same page, she sunk in on herself. Mando gripped her wrist tighter and tugged her a little closer to him. 

“If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell me to stop, and we’ll stop,” he continued quietly. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she answered quietly, her emerald eyes looking away from him to the ground. “I just kind of thought we’d start with the punching and the kicking.”

“Based on how hard you kick in your sleep, you’ll pick up on the kicking rather quickly. I still think you were a Trandoshan kickboxer in a previous life,” Alaina rolled her eyes at his comment but finally looked back up at him. “But this is important. You don’t want to feel helpless? Learning to get yourself out of various restraints is where we start.”

She took a deep breath in through her nose but nodded.

Mando rubbed his thumb along her wrist while he continued to observe her for any sign of hesitation, but Alaina’s green eyes remained steadfast in her decision, so he nodded and grabbed her other hand.

“Lesson two,” he began, gripping her wrists tighter. “Don’t get in your opponent's space.” Alaina narrowed her eyes at him at his words, but he didn’t miss the smirk on her lips. “Any opponent you come across will take one look at you and think they’ve already won. Your biggest weapon is going to be the element of surprise. What is your first instinct if someone has you by the wrists like this?”

“To try and pull away,” she said quickly, giving a weak yank of her wrists to try and get him out of his grip. “Or kick them.”

“They’ll be expecting you to pull away,” Mando told her, shaking his helmet at her. “You might be able to buy a few seconds with a well-placed kick, but they’ll likely be anticipating you using your legs. Instead, go with the momentum,” he instructed, pulling her by her wrists as he began to walk backward in the clearing. “They will already be bringing you closer; use that to your advantage. They’ll expect you to pull or kick; instead, go with what you can reach,” he explained and stopped to yank her closer to demonstrate. “Go for the neck,” he said, bringing her hands up to where his vocal box was hiding under his cowl. “Or the chin, or the nose,” he continued, bringing the heel of Alaina’s hand up to the underside of his helmet before dragging it up the front of the helmet where his nose would be.

“And what happens when the person I’m fighting is wearing head-to-toe beskar?” she asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“Then you have bigger problems on your hands,” he deadpanned. Alaina stuck her tongue out at him, and he pulled on her wrists again. “Come on,” he ordered.

They spent the next few hours with Mando showing her the motions. He had her run through some mock punches to his neck and head before he let her take a crack at him. Alaina struggled at first without his direction, but eventually, she came into her own. She tried different approaches to her attack, learning different ways to feint, when to move with him, and when to strike. 

As Alaina adapted, Mando did too.

He started twisting out of her reach, pulling on her arms, trying to throw her off her balance, and charging toward her. If Alaina didn’t figure out what he was trying to show her the first time, he would repeat the motions over and over until she figured it out. Mando slowly taught her to learn her own choreography without explicitly spelling it out, teaching her to improvise as he slowly added more and more steps to their dance.

Two, almost three hours into their training, he could feel Alaina’s steps progressively getting slower. What they were doing wasn’t particularly physical, but between the sun and the continuous moving, it was enough to tire anyone, much less someone who had wasted away as a lab rat for the last five years. 

Ready to call their first session, the next time she moved with him, he took her by her wrists and spun her so she faced away from him, crossing her arms over her chest before yanking her back against his chest so her boots dangled above the ground. Alaina growled at the new position, and when she struggled in his arms, he tightened his hold over her chest, silently telling her that was the wrong move.

“Think it through,” he murmured when she finally relaxed in his arms.

“Nose,” she panted, gently tapping the back of her head against his helmet where his nose would be.

He hummed in agreement, “And?”

She stilled as she thought through her actions and then sucked in a deep breath through her nose before snapping her right boot back into his knee.

Mando grunted and let her fall to the ground. “Good,” he praised her, squeezing her shoulder.

“Ugh,” Alaina blew out and collapsed dramatically to the ground, splaying her body out. “I’m out of shape,” she panted.

Mando chuckled and gave her boot a gentle tap with his own. “You’ll get there,” he told her, fully believing it. She was a quick study. In time, she had the potential to be a formidable opponent. “The best way to get there is to keep going, even when you’re tired.” Alaina lifted her head off the ground to give him a bewildered look. “One lap around the lake,” he instructed, nodding to the nearby green waters.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Alaina asked with wide eyes.

He tilted his head at her question. “You started running with Dune back on Sorgan,” he reminded her. “Keep it up. It will help with your endurance.”

Alaina’s head fell back to the ground. “Why couldn’t we have started with running?” she asked him, exasperated.

“Don’t want you tired and trying to learn. Besides, it’s good to finish with a run to push yourself when you’re tired. It will make the difference between winning or losing,” he replied. When Alaina refused to get up off the ground, Mando gave her boot another kick. “Better get going,” he told her. “Don’t want to be out too late. The wolves start to come out at dusk.”

Wide emerald eyes stared back up at him, “Seriously?”

“Make it back before dusk, and you won’t have to find out,” he smirked and walked to the ramp of the Crest to sit at the top. The kid was at the foot of the ramp, playing with the ball. Alaina grumbled as she made her way to her feet, giving him one last pouting look, intentionally giving him sad puppy dog eyes. Mando just shooed her with his hand to get a move on as he began to disassemble his rifle. With one final roll of her eyes, Alaina headed to the lake.

“Alaina!” Mando called after her, and she turned back to give him a hopeful look. He reached behind his back, found the canteen of water and a couple of protein bars he’d set aside earlier, and tossed them to her. She caught them and looked between her rations and him. He only smirked when Alaina spun and stomped into the lavender field.

Grogu tossed the ball up the ramp and clapped when it rolled back down to him. When the kid gave him a toothy grin, Mando just pointed at him.

“Careful, or you’re next,” he teased, earning him a spitting noise from the toddler.

Mando spent the afternoon cleaning his weapons and watching the kid go from the ball to chasing a beetle to finally taking a nap.

When Alaina made it out of even his visor's advanced range, he went up to the cockpit to monitor her as she made it to the farthest part of the lake from them. Satisfied with her progress, Mando grabbed the kid and headed into the woods to see what he could hunt for dinner.

Just shy of six hours from when she left, Alaina came trudging through the lavender grass back to their clearing, drenched in sweat and breathless.

The first thing she did was flip him a vulgar hand gesture before she stomped up the ramp and headed straight to the fresher without saying a word to him.

With a chuckle, Mando worked on building a fire to start roasting dinner. A short walk from the ramp, there was a downed tree trunk, which made a good bench. Now that he knew where to build the fire, he gathered smaller limbs, rocks, and other debris to get the fire going. He grinned as he watched the womp rat follow him, copying his actions and grabbing twigs and leaves to add to the fire.

“You need kindling,” he explained, showing Grogu how to prod at the dry leaves and grass under the logs and larger sticks he had stacked. He knelt low to the ground to get as close to the kid’s level as possible and stretched his left arm out. “Now, press this button,” he instructed, pointing to the top button on his vambrace. The kid hovered his tiny clawed finger over the button and looked up at his helmet. Mando nodded, “One short press, ad’ika.”

Grogu’s finger pressed down on the button and jumped in surprise when a flame shot out from Mando’s wrist, sparking the dried plant material. He smiled as the leaves and grass caught fire, eating up the flames quickly until only embers were left. Mando smirked when the kid’s ears drooped in disappointment.

“It’s okay,” Mando reassured him, giving the kid a gentle pat on his back. “That happens. Give it time. Sometimes, you need to give it a little air.” Grogu cocked his head at him. Maybe Alaina was right, and the kid did understand more than he thought. He pointed to the fire and leaned down, turning his head away from the kid to tilt the beskar piece up just enough to blow at the embers, bringing them back to life. When he moved back to look at the kid, he just looked at him with his large bug eyes and stared between him and the fire. “Go on,” he encouraged. “You try.”

The kid got close to the low burning flames and huffed a tiny breath, bringing the flames a little higher.

“Good job,” he nodded, pulling the kid by his shirt away from the fire. “Now it just needs time.”

“Careful, Grogu,” Alaina warned.

Mando turned his head at the sound of her voice, and a flash of purple caught his eye. Alaina was tenderly limping down the Crest’s ramp, and he instinctively sucked in a breath at the sight. Dressed in a light purple dress that struck just above her knees, Alaina seemed to float as she walked barefoot down the ramp. Even her damp blonde hair reflected the colors around her as she grew closer to their campfire. Mesh'la.

“Mando will just reward your accomplishments with unwanted physical labor,” she teased the toddler when she joined them at the fire.

With a smirk, Mando went about preparing the rabbit he’d caught earlier while watching the child enamored by the ever-growing fire.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” she groused as she flopped to sit on the downed tree trunk.

“Working through it helps,” he responded, placing chunks of rabbit on skewers over the fire.

“You say that as if I’ll be able to move in the morning,” she grumbled, stretching her bare feet to warm them by the fire.

Mando was about to discuss tomorrow’s training with Alaina while they waited for dinner to finish cooking. Before he could begin, he watched the kid levitate the silver ball into the air just over his head before letting it fall to the ground. He looked to Alaina to comment on the kid’s magic powers but stopped when he saw the hurt look that had taken over her face.

“I want to be able to do that again,” she murmured sadly without looking at him.

Pain flared in his chest. He could help train her physically, but he wouldn’t be helpful regarding whatever sorcery possessed her and the Child. Mando watched Alaina from the corner of his eye as he recalled the unfortunate events on Tatooine—How Calican had a dazed, vacant expression, and Alaina had a nosebleed that he’d come to associate with her using her attempting to use her powers or after visions… 

“On Tatooine,” he began, keeping his voice low and calm. Alaina’s eyes flicked from the floating ball to his helmet, and he could already see pain flooding her emerald eyes. “When I pulled Calican off of you… Were you trying to use your powers to throw him off of you?”

Alaina’s face paled at the question, and her eyes dropped from his helmet to stare at the fire.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he murmured, going back to grilling dinner. He should have known better than to bring up the incident so soon.

“I was using my powers,” she whispered, and her response surprised him. “I tried to use my powers to throw him before… before…” she tried to start and bit down on her lip. “I’m sorry,” she rasped.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pulling the skewers off the fire and passing one each to Grogu and Alaina before sitting next to her on the black tree trunk. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

Alaina just shook her head and breathed deeply through her nose before continuing. “I haven’t been completely upfront with you about everything the Empire did to me,” she began, keeping her eyes on the skewer in her hands. “I didn’t want you to…” she faded off.

Mando reached over to wipe a tear from her cheek. “You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me,” he murmured, resting his hand on her thigh.

She nodded and turned to look at him with a remorseful expression. “You know how whatever they did to me kind of left me with premonitions, or whatever you want to call them?” He nodded. “They were successful in giving me one other power,” she whispered and turned to look away from him. “But before I tell you, I want you to know that I swear, I’ve never done this to you.”

He squeezed her thigh, “I believe you.”

Alaina took a deep breath and grabbed his gloved one resting on her thigh for support. “I—I—Um, I'm not sure where to begin," she muttered, nervously pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

"The basics are usually a good starting place," he teased, copying her words from earlier in the day.

Her lips quirked at his words, but the moment didn't last long before a deep frown returned to her face. "You have to understand... You have to understand that I did it to save myself, and... and I couldn't take his abuse any longer. I—He was going to kill me," she rasped. "It maybe wouldn't have been that night, but I just knew he was going to kill me."

“Who?” he whispered darkly, tightening his grip on her thigh.

“General Graven,” Alaina answered, voice barely above a whisper. “He was in charge of the main lab in the lava flats. He was an angry man. He used to torture me after I would inevitably fail whatever task Penn had me attempt.” Mando let go of her leg to wrap an arm around her shoulder to pull her into his side. “I thought he was going to kill me that night. He was strangling me, and Penn tried to save me, but the General was too strong. Eventually, he let me go, and I couldn’t do it anymore. Instinct just took over. I walked up to Graven, placed my hand on his cheek, and told him to walk in a straight line without stopping.”

Mando frowned, confused as to why Alaina was so worked up. “That’s it?” he asked her, trying to understand.

Alaina shook her head, “You see, they tinkered around inside of my head. When they tried to get me to predict the future the first time, I had a seizure during their tests and apparently almost died.”

Alaina picked at some unseen piece of lint or thread on her dress for a moment, and he gave her time to gather her thoughts. “When I eventually recovered from that, and Pershing deemed it safe to begin testing again, they tried to get me to read people’s minds. He wanted to know someone’s deepest, darkest thoughts. He wanted to know what people were thinking and what they were planning. The best I could do was pick up on someone’s emotions,” she shrugged. “He locked me away in a sensory deprivation room with a flask of water, a single protein bar, and a bucket and told me he wouldn’t let me out until I could read his thoughts. I was trapped in that room for what felt like an eternity.”

Mando's arm clenched around her shoulder at Alaina’s retelling of the terrible things that had happened to her and the terrible things Alaina had been forced to endure at the hands of the Empire. He wanted to shoot something. He wanted to shoot someone. Pershing. Graven. Whoever he was in her story. Every Imp in the sky. He wanted them to burn for what they’d done to Alaina.

“After all was said and done, I could do one point five things out of the three he wanted from me, and I lost everything I could do before. I couldn’t move anything with my mind when Pershing went to test me. Everything I could do before… It was just gone.”

He frowned at the one-and-a-half things she could do that she couldn’t do before because Alaina had made it sound like she failed…

She turned from his embrace, and a small, terrifying smile spread across her face. Mando flexed his hands as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck, remembering this same look from one of her visions. Only this time, her eyes didn’t take the vacant look that came with her visions. They stayed sharp.

“I was able to do one thing, though,” she started quietly. “General Graven,” she sneered, “liked to pick on me. He liked to hit me, and with my original powers gone, I couldn’t do anything to stop him. That night, we were at the main facility on Nevarro, and they were testing my ability to coerce people. The idea was that I could walk into a room and just whisper an order into someone's ear, and they would do whatever I told them. Like the other tests, it wasn’t going great, and the more tame methods they used as punishment weren’t working, so Graven rolled up his sleeves and went to work.”

“Alaina, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she nodded. “I want you to know what was taken from me. I want you to know the kind of person they made me. Because that night… That night changed me. The lab had a private hangar built into the side of the mountain,” she explained. “It’s how we came and went… Mando, I—” She cut herself up to look at his helmet. This close, he could see the distress radiating off of her, and he was about to tell her she didn’t have to continue when she continued. “Mando, I can make people do things,” she began shakily. “With my words,” she elaborated. “I first did it on Nevarro to Graven. I did it to save myself,” she told him, looking at him with pleading eyes. "I told him to walk without stopping. He—He marched off the edge of the hangar—I killed a man with just my words.”

Lightning cracked over the sky. “My—my name is Alaina,” she stuttered. “I’m a dancer. I just want to be a dancer. I’ve never stolen from anyone or hurt anyone.”

His heart broke for the woman sitting next to him. Oh, Alaina.

“They were a little scared of me after that,” Alaina shrugged. “That earned me the collar," she whispered, flicking her eyes down to her lap.

Was that even possible? To force someone to do something—to kill themselves with just a thought?

“So, Mandalorian,” Alaina continued softly, and her emerald eyes returned to his helmet. “Are you scared of me yet?”

Silence stretched between them as he studied her. Scared of her? No. Angry for her? Yes.

“The only thing about you that scares me is your piloting skills," he finally said, gently squeezing her thigh.

Alaina's face softened. “Do you hate me?” she whispered, ducking her head away from him as if she was scared to learn the answer.

“No,” he said quickly, taking his hand to force her head back up to his helmet. “I’m the last person who should judge someone because they took a life,” he tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Alaina just stared back at him with hurt-filled eyes. “Alaina, you did what you needed to do to defend yourself. That’s what you were going to do to Calican?” he asked, connecting the dots.

She nodded, “But Mando, I promise I’ve never forced you to do anything… At least, I don’t think I have, and if I did, it wasn’t intentional! You have to believe me!”

Mando shook his head, not understanding why Alaina was panicking so much—

Sorgan. 

Their one lust-filled night together. It almost seemed as if that night was a lifetime ago.

“Tranyc,” he whispered, gently resting his forehead against Alaina’s. Her large, emerald eyes stared directly into his soul, and he squeezed her hand. “You have not forced me to do anything I did not want to do, sweet thing,” he whispered. Relief flooded her green orbs, and he smiled.

He set his skewer in his lap and, with one hand, pulled Alaina closer to him and, with the other, tilted his helmet up just enough to kiss her cheek. When he righted himself and dropped his helm back to cover his face, he couldn’t help but smile at the bright blush that popped up across Alaina’s cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning over to peck his helmet's middle with her lips.

He smirked and handed her the skewer in her lap, nodding for her to eat before he turned slightly so he could take bites of food from under his helmet.

The three ate silently, Alaina and Grogu turning slightly away to give him more privacy. At one point, Alaina had to stop the kid from eating the skewer itself after he got his last bite of rabbit.

“Here,” Alaina said, offering Grogu a chunk of hers.

“Stop that,” Mando told her, shaking his helmet at the kid who’d already devoured the bite.

“What? He’s hungry.”

“He didn’t hike thirty-something kilometers today,” Mando argued, giving her his last piece of rabbit. Alaina tried to beg him off, but he put the chunk of meat on her skewer, not taking no for an answer. “And he’s a bottomless pit. He’s always hungry.”

Alaina just rolled her eyes but didn’t argue with him. When Grogu realized he wouldn’t get any more food from his blonde friend, he returned to playing with his ball.

“Thank you for bringing us here,” Alaina said, returning to eating her food. “It’s so beautiful here. It was the only thing that made the hike around the lake tolerable. And that water! Have you ever seen water that was green?” she asked, looking at him in wonder.

Mando chuckled and was about to tell her about another planet he’d visited with a purple sea when a distant howling noise made him pause.

Alaina’s mouth dropped, and she stared back at him with an affronted expression. “There are wolves here!” she said, shoving his shoulder. “You ass! I could have been eaten by a wolf today!”

He laughed and looked down to check on the kid, only to find that he’d passed out between them and was using Alaina’s foot as a pillow. “I told you there were,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his before he bent down to pick the kid up. “You were never in any real danger. They only come out at night,” he reminded her as he stood up to take the kid back to the ship.

“Oh sure, leave me out here alone to get eaten,” Alaina grumbled, taking an angry bite.

Mando gave her head a playful push before returning to the ship with the sleeping toddler.

He quietly crept through the hold, placed the kid in his hammock, and covered him with his tiny blanket before returning to sit with Alaina in front of the fire.

He stopped at one of the crates tied to the hold. He looked from the crate to Alaina by the fire and then back to the crate to open it. He rummaged through the various other items before finding what he was looking for tucked away at the bottom of the crate. He wrapped his hand around the glass neck, pulled out a bottle of whiskey he rarely consumed, and brought the bottle back to the fire.

When he returned to Alaina, he retook the same spot on the log, not quite close enough to touch her but close enough to be in her personal space. He passed the bottle to her, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise at him. He nodded to the bottle, and she finally accepted the amber liquor with a shrug. She took a deep swig from it before passing it back to him. He couldn’t stop his smirk when he saw Alaina grimace at the taste of the whiskey. Mando turned his head away from her and lifted his helmet enough to take a sip from the bottle.

He moved to pass the bottle back to her but was surprised to see her staring back at him. “What?” he asked her, shaking the bottle until Alaina took it from him.

Alaina pointed to his helmet, “Does it bother you that you have to wear that all the time?” she asked him, taking a sip from the bottle.

Mando shook his head in response, “This is the way.”

Alaina took another sip from the bottle at his answer. “When’s the last time anyone ever saw your face?”

Mando tilted his head curiously at her and let out a little sigh. “I don’t know, I was maybe ten?”

Alaina passed the bottle back to him at his answer. “Is that when your people take your Creed you talked about?”

Mando paused and swirled the bottle of whiskey in his hands. They hadn’t spoken much of his Creed other than briefly explaining to Alaina in the middle of the night that he couldn’t remove his helmet in front of others. Curious green eyes stared back at him, and he turned to take a deep drag from the bottle before he answered her. “The Creed is taken by anyone old enough to speak the words. I was older than most kids my age who had taken the creed several years before me.”

Alaina tilted her head in confusion, “What made you wait so long?”

“I wasn’t born a Mandalorian,” he paused. “I was a Foundling.”

“Foundling?” she asked, and her forehead scrunched in confusion at his words.

Mando nodded. “Foundlings are considered no less Mandalorian than those born on Mandalore or Concordia, which is one of Mandalore’s moons. That’s where I was raised. My home… my home was destroyed by droids. My parents only just managed to hide me in a bunker before they were killed. If it weren’t for the Mandalorians, I’d be dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Alaina whispered.

Mando shrugged and turned from her to lift his helmet and took another swig from the whiskey bottle.

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. I mean, I never knew my dad, but I couldn’t imagine losing my mom, too, at such a young age. And then to just be taken from your home to be raised by strangers with an entirely different culture… I just… that’s a lot, especially for someone so young.”

Mando shrugged again. “It was a lot at first, but the Mandalorians who took me in were kind. The one who saved me from the bunker arranged for his brother to take me in. He already had a son who was a few years older than me and the space. They were one of the older families on the moon, so I got a crash course in all things Mandalorian. I took the Creed almost a year later.”

Soft green eyes stared back at him. “Do you ever regret it?” she asked.

“No,” Mando answered easily with a shake of his head. “I can’t imagine it another way. I am a Mandalorian,” he told her, and Alaina smiled at the easy way he spoke with her. “The Mandalorians who took me in treated me as a son. Even the Mandalorian who found me returned to watch the ceremony when I took the Creed. He gave me one of his shoulder pauldrons the last time I saw him. I wore it to remember how it all started up until recently. It’s tucked away with my old set of armor in one of the crates on the Crest. Your blaster is his, too.”

Alaina smiled, “Resilient and sentimental.”

Mando shrugged and passed the bottle back to her.

“It’s okay. I’m a bit sentimental, too,” Alaina whispered, taking the bottle back from him for a drink. “Obviously, I have my mom’s dagger, but only because that was easy to carry when I fled. I packed a whole trunk of things and gave it to our neighbor, who we’d lived across from for as long as I can remember. I knew Pershing would come looking for me, and I just couldn’t stand the thought of some of that stuff getting taken or destroyed. It’s just mainly some clothes and pictures. It’s a lot of my mom’s things, some of which were sentimental to her from when she lived on Naboo,” she shrugged and took another sip of whiskey. “I think it’s okay to be sentimental.”

Mando studied her momentarily as the beginnings of an idea began to form, and Alaina took another sip from the bottle to avoid his intense scrutiny in the firelight. “Do you want to go get it?” he asked.

Alaina blinked at the question. A thousand feelings seemed to have come over her, and he waited patiently for her to find her words. “I—I don’t know,” came her whispered answer. “I mean, of course, I would love to have it again, but life is… a little too unpredictable right now,” she smiled.

“We could still go get it.”

Alaina’s smile softened, “Maybe someday. For now, I know it is safe. If we went and got it now and something happened to it, I would be more upset. Besides, there isn’t much room in your ship—”

“There’s room for a trunk,” he countered.

“Maybe someday,” Alaina whispered.

Mando nodded in understanding. Sometimes, even memories of happier times were almost too painful to be reminded of. “Whenever you’re ready,” he finally settled on, giving her another nod.

Alaina continued to study the Mandalorian sitting next to her, taking another drink from the whiskey bottle before passing it back to him. Mando took the bottle from her and immediately turned to shield his face to take another drink.

“I was thinking... I still want to continue our training, but I think I could train Grogu, too,” she offered, nervously biting her bottom lip. He cocked his head at the suggestion, and she continued. “He has powers, and he's just a kid. He should learn to use them. Properly. I still remember the training my mom gave me when I was little to help me learn my powers. There’s a lot of meditation, which is a little boring, but there are other lessons that aren’t quite so boring. And who knows,” she stopped to shrug, and he watched as hope flashed in her eyes. “Maybe I can relearn some of what I lost by starting from the beginning.”

He nodded and squeezed her thigh, “I think that is a great idea.”

Alaina smiled brightly at him, but the smile faded almost instantaneously like before. “Mando, I need to thank you for Tatooine and that guy…” she started nervously, looking down at her hands. “If you hadn't shown up when you did…”

He shook his head to stop her from trying to thank him for something he should have prevented, “It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not,” Alaina sighed. “I’ve never… I mean—” she cut herself off and shook her head. “This is embarrassing… I’ve never… been… intimate with someone else before… you.”

Mando’s breath caught in his chest at that bit of information, and he could only silently pass the bottle back to her. And then, bright anger flashed in his chest once he could process what she told him. 

“I want it to be you,” she’d told him that night. “I want it to be with someone who thinks I’m beautiful and that I… trust.”

She trusted him to be her first. He’d been her first, and he could think of a multitude of things he could have done differently—

“Don’t make it weird,” she told him, bumping her shoulder into his. Alaina took a deep swig from the bottle. “I should also warn you that, except for Sorgan, I haven’t had any alcohol in five years,” she said, taking another long drag from the whiskey bottle.

Mando chuckled and pulled the bottle from her grasp after her admission.

“You’re no fun,” she pouted, and he playfully bumped his shoulder into hers. “Hey, what’s your name?” she asked.

Mando stayed quiet. He looked at her, and her green eyes were slightly glazed over from the alcohol. “My name…” he began but tapered off, unsure how to explain it to her. “It’s kind of like wearing the helmet. The anonymity protects us. No one outside of my tribe knows my name.”

Alaina shook her head at his answer, "We're so different, you and I," she murmured. "Only your family, your tribe," she corrected, "can know your name... You're expected to hide your face and identity at all times... Whereas I was literally taught and encouraged to display my emotions through dancing. Even my name was known in my small little pocket of the galaxy... If someone would have told me five years ago that we'd be here..." she stopped to shake her head in mock disbelief.

Mando chuckled, nodding in understanding at what she was trying to say. He took a swig from the bottle. He could still remember sitting in the rafters of the performance center, watching her dance. People sat below them, dressed in fine clothes, enjoying their night out, as the demure, blonde ballerina took them on a story with her dancing. He could still remember how difficult it was for him to leave his hiding spot to go after his quarry because, surely, someone that beautiful and pure couldn't have a bounty on her.

That was the last time he ignored his gut regarding bounty hunting.

“I don't want to seem disrespectful because you've done so much for me, even when I didn't realize you were... I just wish I could call you something other than Mando,” she said with a soft shrug but didn’t appear disappointed in his answer. Just like him telling her he couldn’t remove his helmet, she didn’t complain or argue (much) when he didn’t offer his proper name.

They stared at one another, and he felt that strange feeling in his chest. He knew that the tribe still held their strict values, especially now that they were in hiding... but he felt that same kinship with Alaina and the kid. Would it be the end of the world to share that private piece of himself with her? Would she understand the significance of him to give her his name? Would she understand that by giving her his name, he acknowledged that she was a member of his tribe? Of his family? Or would it just make things more painful when Alaina and the kid came to their senses and decided that this lifestyle was not for them and told him it was time to leave?

Alaina cocked her head at his sudden silence, and he turned to take another drink. There had been enough heavy words spoken tonight. He didn't need to weigh her down any more than she already was with her own problems.

“Didn’t say you had to call me Mando,” he finally said when he turned back to her.

Alaina rolled her eyes and snatched the whiskey bottle back from him. “Okay, fine, your language…”

“Mando’a,” he supplied.

She took a drink from the bottle. “Mando’a, right,” she nodded. “What’s the word for friend?”

“Is that what we are?” he questioned, taking the bottle back from her.

He couldn’t explain the feeling of… anxiety… anticipation… dread… that took hold of his chest while he waited for her answer. So much for keeping the evening light.

She just gave him a confused blink before she shrugged her shoulders and asked, “Aren’t we?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. So much had transpired between the two of them that the simple description of friends didn’t seem to completely encapsulate what they were to each other.

“Mando?” she questioned quietly, and he hummed in answer, still lost in his own thoughts. “I was gonna walk away and leave you to brood, but I don’t think my legs work anymore.”

He barked a deep, genuine laugh and shook his head when he saw Alaina hold her arms out for him to help her up. He chuckled as he swooped to pick her up so he could carry her back to the Crest. “Come on, Tranyc,” he murmured as he situated one arm under her knees and another behind her back to cradle her to his chest.

Alaina loosely wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “You never told me what that means,” she murmured.

Maybe it was too soon to give her his name, but he could give her this.

“The literal translation is star-burned but is also interchangeable with the word sunny,” he began as he slowed as they approached the ramp leading up to the hold.

Alaina snorted. “So you call me that because of my sunny disposition?” she snarked.

Mando stopped at the foot of the ramp to give Alaina a serious look before saying, “No,” he said quietly, and Alaina’s face turned confused at the change in his demeanor. “I call you that because you are the sunlight. Despite everything you’ve been through, it would be understandable for you to fade away into the dark and let it change you… A lesser person would have broken a long time ago. But you?” he stopped to shake his head.

Alaina looked up at his helmet with tears, and he pulled her a little closer to his chest, gently pressing his helmet into her forehead. 

“You are the sunlight, Alaina.”

Author's Note #2: ... Did anyone else hear that? I *swear* I heard the smut monster's cage rattle…

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Heaven in Hiding Masterlist

Next Chapter in series - Chapter 15: Seas of Green

[sillycyan]

「 Daydreamtober 2024 」

I'm using the prompts to write, explain, draw, or just daydream more about the first events or facts that come to me when I see the word. Some things will be longer or higher quality than others, so please bear with me a lil bit. I gotta post lore somehow..

⟻ Day 8 — Letter ⟼ Word Count : 911

Fin wrote a letter to Reign one month after their breakup. He had been blocked from all of his social media accounts and restricted from entering his building. He wanted to talk to him again so he sent a letter in desperation . . . To the person I used to know, I don’t know what else to do since you’ve blocked me everywhere. I’ve tried every way I could think of to talk to you. You even told the people in your building not to let me in and that’s just LOW Reign you know that. We had something real and you just cut me off like I meant nothing to you. I know you’re mad, but you can’t just end things without hearing me out. This is why I have to write you this letter. I need you to understand. And I get it Reign I screwed up. But you’re acting like I burned the whole world down, like I burned YOUR whole world down, like what I did was the end of everything good. IT WAS ONE MISTAKE. You can’t tell me you’ve never made a mistake before. You’re acting like you’ve never hurt me or anyone else and that’s what’s really unfair. If I’d known how you’d react, if I’d known you’d cut me out of your life like this, I wouldn’t have done it. You know that. But I DIDN’T KNOW because you never talk to me about anything that actually matters.

That guy. He didn’t mean anything. I didn’t even know him or his name. It just happened. And if you could just get past your anger you’d see it wasn’t what you think it was. I know you, Reign. I know you have a soft spot somewhere inside, and maybe that’s why this hurts so much. I just never thought you’d turn that anger on me like this, not after everything we’ve been through. You used to be more understanding, more forgiving. Why can’t you be that person again??

I KNOW I MADE A MISTAKE, BUT IT WAS YOUR FAULT TOO. Let’s be real here. When was the last time you even wanted to be close to me like that??? You stopped. You shut me out and I didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone and you weren’t there. You just kept distancing yourself and I TRIED to be patient. I tried to understand, but it felt like you didn’t want me anymore. You can’t be mad at me for that. I didn't just wake up one day and decide to do this. I was pushed. I had NO CHOICE. You should’ve just talked to me instead of making me feel like I was alone.

And you know what YOU’RE NOT PERFECT EITHER. You used to sleep around too! You used to tell me those stories like they were no big deal. So why is it suddenly a big deal if I do it just once? Are you really going to throw everything away over one stupid mistake? It wasn’t serious Reign. It wasn’t like I had feelings for him. I didn’t even know his name. But you. you didn’t even give me a chance to explain. You just slammed the door on me, blocked me, and tried to pretend like I never existed.

It's not fair. I know you’re hurt, but what about what you’ve done to me? You think this is easy for me? You just walking away without looking back? You left me to pick up the pieces alone. And now, you're making me feel like I’m the only one who’s guilty, like you’re some perfect person who didn’t mess up, too. You’ve ruined my life by shutting me out like this. DO YOU EVEN REALIZE THAT? You’ve torn me apart. You think this is just about me cheating? It’s about EVERYTHING that happened before. All the times you pulled away, all the nights I tried to talk to you, and you just looked at me like I was a stranger.

You know people are going to find out what you did to me. What WE went through. It’s not going to be just my word against yours. You’re acting like I’m the monster here, but people will see the truth. They’ll see the way you treated me, like I was disposable, like I was something you could just use and toss away. You think blocking me is going to make me disappear, but it won’t. I won’t let that happen. You CAN’T just pretend I didn’t exist.

I’m asking you, Reign. Please. Unblock me. Let’s just talk like two adults. I know you think you don’t need me, but you do. I was there for you when no one else was, and I can be that person again if you just let me. I know I can fix this. I know I can make it right, but you have to give me the chance. You can’t just keep running away from it because you’re scared. I know you still care about me deep down. I know you remember all the good things we had, and I know we can get back to that if you just LET ME IN.

Stop being selfish Reign. You owe me this. You owe me a chance to explain and a chance to fix things. We were good together and you know it. Just stop being so stubborn and let’s talk. Yours, Fin <3

[therxtking]

Some Sulfur stuff

He has severe anxiety and anger issues. Mainly because it's all bottled up and he feels he cannot safely express it or retaliate/stand up for himself against others. He never talked about his past issues or worked through anything, and now it's all boiling up and being directed at Gordon.

Sulfur doesn't train or work out, he doesn't think he can given his past of health problems, and doesn't see a reason to. With his size and build, he thinks it'd be a waste of time to try and get stronger and he'd just embarrass himself.

He has a lot of mixed feelings about Gordon. He's happy to have them as a friend and sees them as his first and only true friend and is grateful for the job he has under their protection. He has a bitter resentment that he's under their thumb as a servant and that's why he never expresses any emotions to him and tries to stay professional He's enamored with Gordon and how carefree and powerful he is and all he has, how kind he is and how caring. especially his body. Sulfur has developed romantic and intimate feelings for him. Sulfur has a burning loathing for the king because he thinks it's shallow and unfair that Gordon is so desperate for love but never looks at Sulfur, only bigger, stronger creatures who don't respect him. He feels like he's living in his shadow as they bask in glory and public adoration. No one would ever see Sulfur that way and he hates it, he's incredibly jealous. He resents Gordon for breaking up with him even though at the time Sulfur had WANTED it to happen. He hates Gordon for having so much authority and power simply handed to him. He was born huge and grew up a prince, he assumes since Gordon's so powerful that the muscle and strength comes easy. Sulfur hates that he was crowned king because of the skills he learned under his mother and endorsement from Zicamaia. He HATES that for his next birthday the GODS are showing up and giving him gifts and MORE POWER via international agreements. That Wrath will pass her pendant over to him to crown him her heir and he'll get THE POWER OF WRATH HERSELF on TOP of all of this.

He sees Gordon as spoiled, naive, and undeserving of what he has. And he's at his breaking point, and feels entitled to their love and adoration. And dammit he's going to do something about it now...

[briamichellewrites]

38

Bria was officially back in rehab for an indefinite time. She went through the intake process with her manager. Micha and Henry were curious about their new surroundings. She had a private room and bathroom. Her body was so tired. It was also going through the side effects of the anti-HIV medication. She had nausea and fatigue. All she wanted to do was stay in bed and sleep. The staff made her eat and participate in therapy sessions.

Jason heard his wife was back in rehab. Good for her. What was her rock bottom? Mike had the difficult task of telling him about the assault. Tears of anger went down his face. He trusted his friend. Was he his friend or just a guy he bought drugs from? No, he considered him as a friend. Did she go to the police? No. He just took her to the hospital.

She was scared of being arrested for drugs by reporting the assault. He wiped his tears. Her being assaulted didn’t change how he felt about her. He loved her no matter what. She was his wife. That’s why he was so angry. He had every right to be angry. Mike was very angry. He nodded. Was he angry with her? He was angry at their addiction because he didn’t want that for them. But, he also had so much compassion for what she went through.

Just because she was an addict, it didn’t mean he had the right to do that to her. She would have to live with it for the rest of her life. That was what’s unfair. He took full responsibility. This was his fault. He never should have gotten her involved in his drug use.

“Jay, work on this in therapy. They can help you more than I can”, Mike said.

The band saw how much Mike was carrying on his shoulders. Only Dave knew what was going on. What was Bria doing? Was she still modelling or was she acting? She was back in rehab. Dave asked him if he wanted him to tell them. Yeah, he did. He repeated it enough already. They learnt that she was using drugs with Jason. It started before their wedding. For the longest time, they were functioning addicts. Their relationship might have been based on drugs.

What drugs was she using? She was using heroin, crystal meth, marijuana and cocaine. The drug she was addicted to was heroin. Chester had experience with meth. It was one of the worst drugs ever because it takes over your mind. You can become addicted to it the first time you do it, like crack cocaine and heroin. Was she smoking or injecting heroin?

She was injecting it into her foot. He was thankful she got help because she could damage her veins. Where were her cats? They were with her in rehab. Even when she was using drugs, she was taking care of them. They had a clean litter box, plus food and water. She wasn’t neglecting them. How long was she going to be in rehab? Mike didn’t know. She could be there for six months to a year. There was so much she was going through, that she needed to work on herself.

Neither he nor Dave felt comfortable telling them about the assault. She would have to make that decision if she wanted to tell them. Bradford couldn’t imagine what he was going through. He begged him to take care of himself. I am. Thank you.

Jason was working on going home. He was nervous, which was normal. His therapist recommended a sober living house for the first year. That’s what his brother was doing. How was it working for him? It was working great. He felt comfortable knowing that if he needed help, there was always someone to talk to. That was very true.

“My wife and I are building a house together. We are supposed to move in a few months.”

“We can look into outpatient follow up care. That way, you can continue living at home while working on your sobriety.”

“That would be great. I want to stay sober for her.”

He looked at his arm. It healed up but he still had scars. They would always remind him of how dark his addiction had become. Why did he cut himself? Initially, he didn’t know. It seemed like an impulse decision. The more he thought about it, he realised he did it to get rid of emotional pain. Did he want to die? Yeah. If Dave hadn’t been there, he would have eventually ended his life.

He was so tired emotionally and physically. Drugs no longer gave him the same feeling. He hated himself and he was so close to death. But something made him reach out for help. Save my life! Dave did. He saw him for what he was. A drug addict. He wanted to thank him for being there for him. How? He didn’t know. Words didn’t feel like enough. Neither did a thank you card. There wasn’t anything in the world he could give him to express his gratitude.

During family therapy, his parents talked about how his addiction affected them. What did they do wrong? Nothing. They didn’t do anything wrong. Muto asked him why he was using drugs. It started as curiosity. He tried cocaine and he fell in love with it. Then, he started drinking. Cocaine was more available than alcohol. He got high when he couldn’t drink.

He was sober for six months after he got out of rehab. Then, he relapsed. He stopped drinking completely but he couldn’t stop using drugs. It made him suicidal because he was lying to them and Mike. He wanted to stop but he couldn’t. They were so proud of him and he hated himself. His drug addiction cost him so much. It made them lose their trust in him and he deserved that. There wasn’t anything in the world he wanted, except to stay sober.

He also wanted to restore their faith in him. They could tell he was being sincere. He wasn’t trying to manipulate them. It would still take a lot for them to trust him. He would have to prove his sobriety. I will do that. He was no longer their little boy. His therapist recommended they get involved in a therapy programme designed for families of addicted people.

Maybe Narcotics Anonymous or Alcoholics Anonymous. They were supportive groups for addicts and their families. Donna would look into them. She and Muto wanted to understand the disease of addiction to help him, his brother and their daughter-in-law.

Jason showed Mike a video of their new house. The builder did a walk-through, which he recorded and emailed to him. The rehab centre had a computer station for patients to check their email and browse the internet. However, all activities were monitored with a webcam. The house was amazing! Along with the already mentioned amenities, they also had a moveable wall in the basement for storage and laundry.

He added a gaming room on the main floor. That was a compromise between him and Bria. She got the cat room. He got the gaming room. Mike was impressed! Why was the storage and laundry hidden? They thought it just looked cluttered and disorganised having them out in the open. The wall made it look nicer. Yeah, that made sense. He couldn’t wait to see it in person!

What did he decide about after rehab care? He was going to move into the new house and attend outpatient follow-up counselling. Because of what happened, he was cutting off his so-called “friend”. Good for him! He nodded. There were red flags he was just realising. He made jokes that were more than inappropriate. Everything he did, he was quick to brush off. Mike could see how he had rose-coloured glasses. Cutting him off was the best choice for him. He agreed.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon