#i also doubt the reunion will be great...

[purple--queen]

friendly reminder that if loki & thor going to meet in doomsday this is not our loki. our loki died in infinity war by the hands of thanos so he does not know about the emotional "the sun will shine on us again". This loki just knows that the last time he saw thor, thor put an muzzle on him to keep him quite. you're welcome :)

[kingkaisen]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

⎯⎯ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⎯⎯

♡ — 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After what happened to you & your son, Satoru couldn’t stop drinking . . .

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: dark content, fem reader, canonverse, amnesia, mentions of death, suicide ideation, violence, mentions of food, drinking, gojo not eating. mention of gojo’s son & the reader struggling with their disabilities. reader wears dress/heels/perfume.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 11K

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hi everyone, thanks for being patient with me! I doubt many of you remember this story and were waiting for a continuation, but I hope everyone who reads this enjoys this series coming to an end, and thank you for the kind comments on the last part.

— MONTHS BEFORE THE REUNION —

“I’m going to throw myself off of a building today,” Satoru Gojo thought as he glared down at his uneaten dinner, sitting alone in the booth of a restaurant called Jeezers, a blue and yellow themed sandwich place that hadn’t seen a spec of cosmetic work since the 90’s.

And it wasn’t a drunken idea; there wasn’t any alcoholic beverage that he could blame the unwanted thought on.

But, could he truly call such a thought unwanted?

His body didn’t flinch when the dark image of his planned suicide entered his mind. He didn’t try to push the negative emotion away, tell himself to snap out of it, or immediately try to think of happy things.

Instead, he thought about how he would do it, where he would go, and when.

But, due to his great power, jumping off a roof wouldn’t kill him — what would?

“Do I have to chop off my own head? Is that the only way?” he thought.

Satoru shoved his unappetizing sub sandwich away. The sandwich itself was rather delicious. The employee wasn’t skimpy when it came to the toppings, and for only five bucks, he also was able to get a refillable soda with it.

But the white-haired man didn’t want food.

He wanted his wife and son to come back to life. Or, he wanted alcohol. And to die.

The glass entrance doors chimed as a person walked through them. The generous sandwich maker — and cashier, as the restaurant was understaffed — greeted the hungry customer who casually strolled toward the counter.

“Welcome in!” The young woman said.

“Thanks,” the customer replied.

And, when Satoru heard that voice — as he didn’t bother to look up and see who entered the restaurant — the former teacher sighed heavily.

The sound of footsteps approaching his lonely booth grew louder and louder. As the person came closer, their steps slowed down greatly as if they were approaching a wild animal, expecting it to lash out.

“Gojo?” The call of his name came from his student — a former student — Yuji Itadori. He hadn’t heard his voice in a long time. It sounded a bit deeper, but he still recognized it.

Satoru looked up. Unsurprisingly, Megumi was with Itadori as well, and Gojo’s eyes flickered over to the boy he practically raised himself.

Satoru didn’t bother with faking a smile, nor an overly enthusiastic greeting — one with a touch of a humorous tone — that would capture the personality of the great Satoru Gojo they once knew.

He wasn’t that person anymore. And, now, he didn’t even have the strength to pretend to be.

“Hey,” Satoru mumbled sadly.

At least he was sober right now. If his students had caught him tripping over his own feet, tears falling from his blue eyes as strong alcohol coated his breath, he would never forgive himself.

Much to the depressed man’s dismay, the two sorcerers slid into the other side of the booth.

“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Itadori said, his voice heavy with worry, but kindness as well. “How . . . have you been?”

Satoru took a moment to truly look at them. They were older. When he had last seen them, they were simply young teenagers, but now, their jawlines had sharpened a bit more. Their voices were slightly deeper. They had grown a couple of inches. Megumi was starting to look more and more like his father, while Yuji — who wore his hair pushed back now — started to resemble Sukuna.

Satoru clenched his fist unintentionally.

Sukuna’s finger destroyed his family.

That’s what the higher-ups told him.

Years ago, Satoru could easily tell the difference between Sukuna and Yuji, markings aside. But, now, it was like he was staring right at the King of Curses.

The only difference was that Yuji’s eyes were filled with kindness and concern, not pure evil.

“It’s not him. It’s Yuji. It’s just Yuji. It’s not him. It’s not him,” Satoru repeated in his chaotic mind.

Looking over at Toji — no, it was Megumi — did him no favors, either.

It felt as if Satoru was staring right at his two greatest enemies.

“It’s been a few years,” Megumi blinked, his face solemn. “We didn’t know if they ever locked you up for that little killing spree of yours.”

The dark-haired sorcerer glared at Satoru with eyes that begged for answers, and Satoru could easily tell that he wanted to ask him about the infamous killing spree since the day someone undoubtedly told him the horrific news.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Satoru clarified. He fidgeted with the paper wrapping of his untouched sandwich. “I was targeting curses.”

“Yeah?” A frown appeared across Megumi’s face. “But you were clumsy, and you hurt a lot of regular people too.”

“Leave him alone, Fushiguro,” Yuji glanced down at Satoru’s sandwich.

The uneaten dinner, along with the plain misery written all over his face, made it utterly obvious that the sad man was suffering enough.

Suddenly, the welcome bell chimed again as someone entered the restaurant. A pair of shoes clicked against the tile as they approached the counter before halting abruptly. There was a brief pause before their footsteps picked up once again, quicker this time as they changed their direction and made their way over to Satoru's booth.

“Gojo,” The young woman said with shock, as both a question and a statement.

Satoru looked up to see Nobara. Her ginger-brown hair was longer, falling past her shoulders, but not yet reaching her mid-back. She wore an eyepatch over her left eye.

She slid into the booth, sitting beside Satoru, who hesitantly scooted over.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she looked at him. “How are you? I could kick your butt for leaving us behind, ya know.”

She smiled sadly as she spoke, her tone soft and humorous despite her words.

“I’m sorry.” Satoru’s leg started to shake.

“It’s okay,” Nobara glanced down at Satoru’s sandwich as well. “I get it. I’m just teasing you.”

“So,” Yuji spoke cautiously, thinking over his words before he said them. “What do you do now? Do you live around here?”

The country music playing softly in the background filled the silence for a moment. His former students simply blinked at him, waiting for a response.

“You guys should go to the counter and order your food.” Satoru stared down at the table. “I think they’re closing soon.”

“Gojo . . .” Nobara frowned, her honey brown eye glistening with worry. “Why don’t you come back to the school with us tomorrow? Everyone would love to see you, and . . . maybe you could talk to the higher-ups about becoming a sorcerer again.”

“The world has gone straight to hell without you,” Megumi added, although truly, he knew it was pointless.

The man couldn’t find the strength to have a proper dinner. He definitely wasn’t in any shape to fight curses once again.

“No, but thanks for the offer.” Satoru managed to glance up at the three of them once again, but it pained him to do so. “It was good seeing all of you, though. I better head home now.”

“Already?” Yuji frowned. “C’mon, Gojo. Just talk to us. Please.”

“What’s there to talk about, Yuji?”

“There’s plenty to talk about!” Yuji raised his voice, speaking louder than he intended, but luckily, the restaurant was isolated for the most part aside from an adorable elderly couple sharing a meatball sub, and the cashier, who started to wipe down the sandwich building station.

“If you don’t wanna become a sorcerer again, fine, but we can still help you.” Megumi stared into Satoru’s eyes. The younger sorcerer was secretly more upset than he let on, but Satoru could see the brokenness reflected in Megumi’s eyes as he started to speak. “You won’t eat your sandwich for some reason, so I’m guessing you’re struggling to eat anything at all. You’re not drunk right now, and yet, you still smell like alcohol. I’m willing to bet that you’re not actually trying to get home right now but to that bar down the street. Am I wrong? Not to mention — you look miserable.”

The silence was deafening.

Nobara thought about kicking Megumi under the table, but she didn’t.

“That was rude, Fushiguro,” Yuji mumbled under his breath, looking down at the table as he did so.

“I know, and I’m sorry, I really am, but kindness isn’t going to help him.” Although he was speaking to Yuji, Megumi’s eyes never glanced away from Satoru.

Satoru stared at Megumi with an expression his old student couldn’t recognize. It sent a shiver up his spine.

“Let me out, Nobara,” Satoru mumbled.

The young woman hesitated, flickering her eye between Yuji and Megumi to see what they wanted her to do. But, she truly couldn’t keep him there. What good would that do?

Nobara scooted out of the booth.

“Gojo, please don’t leave, just talk to us, we care about you,” Yuji's plea fell on deaf ears as Satoru started to make his way out of the door.

“We know you miss your family, but this isn’t how you handle it. Don’t leave . . .”

Satoru tuned out the rest of Megumi’s words.

Both Megumi and Yuji started to get up from their seats and follow their former teacher out of the door, but Nobara stopped them.

The look of sadness on her face spoke for her. It told them that there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped.

The two sorcerers sat back down, and the three of them watched as Satoru left the restaurant and made his way down the street to the bar.

—

— TWO WEEKS AFTER THE REUNION —

SATURDAY

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Ren, happy birthday to you!”

Your boy smiled happily as he leaned over his five-layer chocolate chip cookie cake and blew out his candles. The guests attending his eleventh birthday party all applauded.

“Did you make a wish?” A young girl with dark hair in a ponytail asked.

“Yeah. I made the greatest wish ever.” Ren grinned at his crush from school, a bit embarrassed to tell her what his wish was.

After all, when he blew out the candles, he had hoped that someday, your memories of Satoru would return.

The white-haired man walked up to Ren with a wide grin, wiping away his tears with his thumb. Satoru was wearing a colorful birthday hat, and he looked rather silly, but even so, he was excited to wear it.

“Are you ready to cut the cake?” Satoru grinned. “We can open presents after. How does that sound?”

“Sounds awesome,” Ren smiled back. “This is the coolest birthday I’ve ever had!”

Truth be told, he already had the number one thing he wanted. A dad.

But seeing the enormous pile of gifts in the corner of the venue was insanely cool as well.

The bright smile spreading across your son’s face made you grin too as you watched him interact with his father from a distance.

Satoru had planned Ren’s entire birthday party and didn’t hold back a single dollar when it came to making sure his boy had everything he wanted, from the cake that he started to slice into, to any gift he could ever ask for.

After all, the last birthday Satoru attended was when his boy turned three.

After a day of bowling and arcade games with his friends from school, they all met up with the parents and other adult guests at a local venue.

Blue and black video game themed decorations coated the entire place. His favorite songs blared softly through speakers as everyone ate the food served buffet-style and socialized with one another. During that time, Ren had met several unfamiliar people, such as his dad’s former students.

It might have been Ren’s birthday, but Satoru was just as happy. If the birthday hat wasn’t an obvious sign, then the constant photo-taking was. Every second, he was snapping a picture of his boy. He wanted to take a picture of you too, but he couldn’t build up the courage to ask.

From a short distance away, Satoru stared at you with those pretty blue eyes of his, watching as you chatted with Kento and Yuji.

He wished that he could say that the drinking had stopped once he found you again, that he no longer knew misery once you reentered his life, but that wasn’t true.

He was happy that you and Ren were alive, of course, but you didn’t remember him. And, if you didn’t remember him, then you didn’t love him anymore.

That hurt like hell.

His grief didn’t fade away, it only shifted focus.

But, even so, this was the happiest he had ever been since the great incident, and he managed to go five days without having any sort of alcohol as well.

About five minutes had passed before the conversation between you, Kento, and Yuji had ended. Satoru took that opportunity to approach you with a slice of cookie cake in hand, and with every step, his knees threatened to wobble. Hands almost started to shake.

He was nervous.

In that moment, he felt like his former teenage self who — despite his overly cocky attitude — had to spend months building up the courage to ask you out on a date.

It was the same thing all over again; he was trying to earn your affection.

Because if you couldn’t remember Satoru, then he’d simply have to win your heart all over again.

“Hey,” Satoru greeted, extending his arm as he handed you the paper plate with a slice of cake on it. “I had to fight three kids to get it, but I grabbed you a piece.”

With a soft laugh — one that Satoru missed hearing more than he could ever express — you took the plate from him.

“Thank you.” Grabbing the plastic fork, you took a bite. “And not just for the cake, but for helping out with the entire party. It means a lot.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Smiling shyly, Satoru put his hands in his pockets. “I’ve always spoiled him. I just can’t believe I have the chance to do it again.”

“That reminds me . . .” Suddenly, you turned around and sat the plate of cake down on a nearby table, and faced Satoru once again. “We haven’t had the time to talk about everything, and I’d really like to.”

You and Satoru both sat down at the round table, chairs turned to face one another.

For the past two weeks, conversation between you and him had amounted to nothing more than a few text messages being exchanged, all regarding Ren’s party.

After all, your boy was the only thing you both still had in common. Shared experiences and sweet memories no longer existed, and it wasn’t easy for you to get over your guilt, and for him to get over his heartbreak.

It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t remember him — obviously. But, even so, the sight of his suffering — even though he tried his best to hide it — made a lump form in your throat whenever you thought about the pain your absence had brought. And your return did little to mend it, thanks to your amnesia. It only brought another form of suffering.

“Noa-I mean, Ren . . . has really adapted to his new life pretty well,” you smiled a bit. “Well, his old life, which is now his new life, or . . . you know what I’m trying to say. I heard him call your friend Uncle Kento earlier.”

“I heard that too. Kento couldn’t stop smiling, and he never smiles.”

A beat of silence passed. Even now, while you were both trying to focus on yourselves — on your own relationship with each other — You noticed that Ren was the main topic of the conversation.

“Ren was worried that you wouldn’t like him. Did you know that?”

“What?” Satoru frowned. “Why?”

“His limp,” you said. “He thought that you would be disappointed. He assumed that any father figure that would possibly appear would be upset to have a disabled son, and discovering that his dad was a sorcerer, and the strongest sorcerer at that, well, it just made him worry.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about that. I think he’s perfect.” Satoru glanced down at the floor, smiling to himself softly as he thought about his boy. But, then, he came to the same realization that you did earlier: Ren was the main focus of the conversation yet again.

“We should talk about ourselves, though.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Clearing your throat rather awkwardly, you pointlessly shifted in your seat. You waited for Satoru to say something — anything to kick the sensitive conversation off. He broke his staring contest with the floor and looked into your visible eye.

But he didn’t say anything.

His eyes darted away from yours, and then a second later, he made eye contact yet again.

And, somehow, you knew exactly what that look meant. You couldn’t pinpoint how you knew, not exactly, but you did.

The way he stared at you, looked away, and then glanced back at you . . . it was familiar.

“What’s wrong? I know that look.” You frowned a bit. “You look like you wanna ask me something.”

Satoru smiled sadly.

“How do you remember Ren, but you don’t remember me? We were a family. I was away a lot, but . . .”

The unreasonable guilt gnawed at your insides. You shifted in your seat again.

“I only remember Ren because he was with me every single day after the incident. After some time, old memories with him started to come back.”

“What about memories of the three of us?”

“Sometimes, I can remember another person being there, and I can remember feeling loved and cared for, but I can’t picture a face or remember a voice. It really sucks, and I’m sorry. I just don’t remember you, Satoru.”

Your last sentence snapped his heart into pieces — what wasn’t already shattered, at least.

As you could see the pain reflected in his eyes, you sat up a bit, and tried to make the situation a little bit less heartbreaking as you said, “but I could, eventually. Being around Ren is what jogged my memory of him, so, maybe, in time, being around you will do the same. And I’m willing to make new memories as well, you know what I mean?”

Satoru made a facial expression that you couldn’t recognize. His face was as blank as a fresh canvas.

“All that matters is that you’re both still alive,” he lied, giving a fake smile. “I’m starting to become okay with getting to know you all over again. It’s better than thinking you were dead.���

It wasn’t okay. Not in the slightest. He wanted his wife to remember him. He didn’t want to start his relationship over, as if you were both strangers, under the pressure to recapture a love that was now lost.

“Why would the higher-ups do something like that?” You suddenly asked. “Why would they lie to both of us?”

“I can think of plenty of reasons. But I’ll deal with them later.” Satoru clenched and unclenched his fist. He planned on handling those god-forsaken higher-ups soon enough, but right now, his family was his top priority.

Once again, Satoru made that familiar face. The face that told you he wanted to ask you something.

“What is it?” You questioned, tilting your head just a bit.

Suddenly, Satoru’s hands were sweaty, just like they were when he was a seventeen-year-old lovesick high schooler.

“Do you wanna go out with me? On a date?”

A bright smile spread across your face. You didn’t know it, but it was the same smile you gave him all those years ago when he asked the first time.

“I’d love to.”

Two hours later, Ren’s birthday party came to an end. He was certain that come Monday, his legendary event would be the hot topic at school.

That night, after tucking your son in and kissing him goodnight — although he playfully insisted that he was too old now to be treated like a baby — you left his bedroom and walked into your own, collapsing on your bed with a sigh.

You gave yourself about ten minutes to rest before getting back up to wash a couple of dishes, take a shower, and brush your teeth. And, as you got ready to go to bed, you only thought about one thing: your date with Satoru.

— WEDNESDAY —

Chicken stir fry and fresh vegetables sizzled in the hot skillet on the stove, the tantalizing aroma traveling throughout your cozy two-bedroom apartment. A short distance away, you could hear Ren playing video games in the living room, chatting with someone through his headset.

“We got second place! Good job — even though I had to protect you the entire time,” Ren paused, laughing softly as whoever was on the other end of the headset spoke.

“What? This is the third duo match where you got eliminated before I did. You can kill curses, but you can’t aim?” Ren laughed once again.

You found yourself curious about who your son was talking to. He certainly wasn’t friends with any sorcerers.

Giving your meal one quick stir, you turned the stove heat down to low.

“I gotta go, I think dinner’s almost ready,” Ren said. “Thanks for playing with me. I know you’re really busy, so . . . thanks. Bye.”

Ren took off his headset and turned off his PlayStation 5 — a sleek, white, and big console that Satoru had bought him for his birthday.

As you stepped into the living room, your son smiled up at you.

“Hey Mom,” he laid his dark blue controller on the couch cushion. “This game system is awesome. It’s digital too, so I don’t have to buy physical copies of games anymore.”

“Yeah, I saw that in the directions. That seems pretty cool, huh?” You grinned softly. “Who were you playing with just now?”

“Yuji,” Ren paused. “He likes video games too. We were playing Fortnite. He said I used to always try to take his phone and play games on it when I was a toddler.”

“Oh, really? That doesn’t surprise me.” Raising your eyebrows in surprise, your smile widened. “It was nice of him to play with you, though.”

For the college-aged sorcerer to take time out of his seemingly busy schedule to play video games with your son was kind of him.

“Dinner’s ready. Put your controller away and go wash your hands,” you said.

“Yes ma’am.”

A few minutes later, you and your son were sitting at the small dining table, eating dinner together as he rambled on adorably about his day at school.

“I have about a week or two to finish my science project, but Mrs. Willows paired me up with Mae.” Ren took a bite of his egg roll as he spoke.

“Is something wrong with that? Mae’s lovely. She’s your crush, isn’t she? This could be a great chance to get to know her.” You thought about the way your son blushed as he chatted with the young girl at his birthday party.

You took a sip of your water and noticed that Ren didn’t respond. In fact, he frowned and placed his bitten egg roll back on his plate.

You knew what was wrong without asking.

Aside from the fact that he didn’t want to discuss the topic of crushes and romance with his mother, he was also incredibly insecure. Mae was always kind to him — that much was true. But, at his age, girls often went for the boys who excelled in P.E. class, not the ones who had a limp and couldn’t keep up with the physically demanding sports.

If only he could be more like his father, and his father’s old students — that is what he must have been thinking.

Not only were they strong and powerful, but they went to a school created specifically for sorcerers.

He should have been preparing to attend Jujutsu High in a few years.

He should have been getting trained by his dad to fight curses and save lives.

That’s what he thought.

“I wish I could become a sorcerer,” he mumbled.

“Interesting thought,” your fork gently scraped against your plate as you stirred your food around. “Why do you want to be a sorcerer?”

“So I can fight curses and stuff like Dad used to do.” Ren paused. “You used to be one too.”

“And the fact that I can’t remember that is exactly why you shouldn’t want to be a sorcerer, honey. It’s too dangerous. Your dad quit for a reason.”

“Okay, okay . . . you don’t gotta talk me out of it. I couldn’t become one anyway.” Ren stared down at his plate. “I was just saying it would be kinda awesome to be special like everyone else. Even you’re special.”

You frowned sadly. Seeing your boy’s eyes glisten with sadness as the corners of his lips fell into a frown was simply too much. The sight of it broke your heart.

“Ren, you are special.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”

“No, I’m not.” You stared at the eleven-year-old, trying your hardest to hide how much it hurt to listen to your child’s opinion of himself — both what he expressed through words, and what you knew he was thinking. “You don’t need to be a sorcerer to be special. You don’t need to be great at sports, either. You’re incredibly smart — and I know that because I see your report card — and more importantly, you’re kind too. Not many human beings are as good of a person as you are. Do you know how special you have to be to live in a cruel world like this, and only want to help others? And you’re loved too. Everyone who showed up to your birthday party was there because they adore you, and they don’t care if you have a limp or if you’re not playing sports or killing curses.”

You leaned over, ruffling your son’s head of white hair. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, do you hear me? I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else sees you. The way I see you.”

Ren smiled softly.

He couldn’t deny that he was loved. The amount of presents he had received for his birthday — which you both struggled to carry into the apartment — was a telltale sign of that. The amount of hugs from teary-eyed strangers who were relieved that he was alive also confirmed that fact.

His friends had also treated him like family.

As he thought about all of it, picking up his fork and gathering a bite of food, he figured that, perhaps, he was worth loving.

“Oh, by the way,” you suddenly spoke up. “I’m closing the coffee shop at three tomorrow, so you don’t go there after school. You can go to your dad’s house if he isn’t busy, or maybe Avery’s. Unless you wanna take the school bus and come home. Up to you.”

“Why?” Ren blinked curiously, but he couldn’t hide his excited grin over potentially getting to see his dad again. Sorry, Avery.

“I have a couple of errands to run. Shopping. Hair appointment. Stuff like that.”

“What for?”

This time, you were the one who couldn’t hide your smile. You took another sip of your water, and calmly — despite the way your heart raced — you said, “I have a date with your dad this weekend, so I need to get ready.”

Both Ren’s smile and eyes widened with unspeakable joy.

While he was overflowing with excitement over his parents going out together, you were filled with nervousness over your upcoming date.

— SATURDAY —

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Satoru Gojo could barely move.

His limbs were unspeakably heavy as if his bones were made out of pure stone.

The bedroom light was too bright. His eyes squinted, but it did nothing to stop his pounding headache.

Kento’s footsteps back and forth from his closet to his dresser — attempting to put together a nice outfit — were too loud.

But Satoru’s negative thoughts were even louder.

“I can’t do this, Nanami.”

Kento stopped walking. He turned his head to face Satoru, frowning.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Trying to get her to fall in love with me. It’s like we’re seventeen years old again, going on our first date. I can’t do it.” The poor man wanted to cry, a lump forming his throat that made it difficult to speak.

“Would you prefer the alternative? Getting drunk in a bar, thinking she’s dead?” Kento grimaced over his own harsh words, thinking that he might have been too harsh. With a sigh, he stepped closer to Satoru’s bed. “Listen, I know it sucks, but at least you’re getting a second chance. Your family came back, Satoru. They came back. And she might not remember you, but at least she’s willing to make new memories. I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”

“She’s not the same person that she was before the accident, and I’m not the same person either.”

Walking over to the center of the room, the blonde-haired man laid Satoru’s shirt across the ironing board as he listened to the sad guy speak.

“Well, I don’t think you should be worried about that,” Kento said in response as he ran the hot iron over the shirt, smoothing out every wrinkle. “She knows that everything you’ve done, and who you’ve become, was just a result of thinking you lost your family. The Y/N I know would never judge anyone for being depressed over something like that — and she hasn’t changed that much.”

“But I was more than just depressed.” Satoru looked up at Kento as he spoke. “I hurt innocent people. I spent the last seven years of my life in a bar, and all I want right now is a drink. And you’re right, she wouldn’t judge me. But that doesn’t mean she’d want to be with me, either. I just want a drink, just one goddamn drink.”

The sound of gentle steam being released from the iron and the swooshing noise it made as it went across Satoru’s fancy shirt was what filled the silence.

And, during that silence, Kento stared at Satoru with an unreadable facial expression, one that sent a chill up Satoru’s spine.

His best friend was always so intimidating.

“So that’s it, huh?” Kento suddenly spoke. “You got your family back, but you’re still going to drink yourself to death because it didn’t turn out exactly how you wanted it to?”

“You don’t know how it feels to be forgotten by your soulmate.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I know it’s better than your soulmate being dead. I said it once, and I’ll say it again: you’re getting a second chance. Most people would kill to have their family come back, even if the love of their life had amnesia and their child couldn’t remember them either. And you’re going to throw it all away because-”

“Nanami, she doesn’t know me.” Satoru’s voice quivered. He stared into Kento’s eyes with a glassy, tearful gaze. Unbeknownst to him, he started to dig his nails into his palm hard to hurt himself. Hard enough to draw blood. “She doesn’t remember anything about me. She looks at me like I’m a stranger. Not only that, but all the pain I went through for all of those years was for . . . for nothing because she was alive this entire time and I had no idea. How can you say I got my family back when they don’t remember us ever being a family?”

Kento turned off the iron.

He approached Satoru, kneeled in front of him, and placed his scarred hand over Satoru’s — a hand that was only so scarred from having to pick up more outrageous missions due to Satoru’s absence from the sorcerer world.

“So, let’s say she did remember you, Satoru. What then?”

“What do you mean?”

“What would you have done if she did remember you? Because if I recall, your relationship wasn’t perfect. You were away a lot, and it broke her heart. If she could remember that, then you’d still be in a similar position to the one you’re in now, because either way, your relationship needs some serious work. Do you really want her to remember how long she had to wait each day for you to return home from your work trips? The special events and holidays you missed? Right now, you have a chance to start over. And, who knows? Starting your relationship over might turn out to be easier than trying to repair it ever would have.”

When Kento finished speaking, Satoru looked sad.

Heartbreakingly upset.

The sight of his frowning face and teary eyes made Kento’s heart ache. He was brutally honest, but even so, he spoke to his friend softly. With love and care.

But maybe he was still being a bit too cruel.

“Hey . . .” Kento softened his voice even more and tried to make Satoru look him in the eye, but Satoru avoided his gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, and you weren’t a bad husband, just a busy one. You had a lot of responsibilities and I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty about that. I’m sorry, Satoru. This is supposed to be a good day.”

Satoru nodded as a way of saying, “It’s okay.”

Kento sighed.

Standing up, he made his way towards Satoru’s bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it.

Then, he returned to his previous kneeled position in front of him. Gently, he dabbed the fresh scars decorating Satoru’s palm.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” His sudden question broke the silence, but that silence returned rather quickly, as Kento didn’t respond.

Not immediately, at least.

He spent a solid thirty seconds trying to figure out what to way.

“It’s like I said earlier. She knows who you are now and what you’ve done, and that hasn’t deterred her away yet, has it? And for all we know, she could be worried about the same thing too. You’ve both changed, and that’s okay.”

Kento finished cleaning the little blood stains off of Satoru’s pale skin. He removed the towel, and kindly, he said, “Come on. Time to get ready.”

—

Your knee-length dress was red. It was tighter than the clothes you wore regularly, but not too revealing — the perfect balance of classy and sexy.

Your heels clicked against your floor as you stepped into the bathroom, checking out your hair and makeup one last time.

After spraying a bit of perfume on your wrists and collarbone, it was time to grab your coat and purse, leave your apartment, and meet Satoru at the nice Italian restaurant in town.

Living in a safe, walkable town had its perks, certainly. But with every step you took, you couldn’t help but wonder if Satoru was just as nervous as you.

The sheer panic you felt — it made you want to cancel.

After all, he was handsome. He was the world’s strongest sorcerer, even if he was out of practice. He was the father to your boy. He had memories of you that he was looking to recapture or recreate — the pressure of it all didn’t help ease your misplaced guilt.

The incident wasn’t your fault, but even so, that familiar lump formed in your throat and couldn’t be swallowed down.

Your nerves didn’t begin to settle until you walked into the romantic, warmly, yet lowly lit restaurant and spotted Satoru.

When he smiled at you, it felt . . . familiar.

A wave of calmness washed over you, and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

As you made your way to your table — Satoru getting up to pull out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was — you were feeling relaxed.

You couldn’t recall any specific memory, but somehow, you remembered that you had done this a hundred times with him.

Dinner began with a complimentary bread basket and nervous compliments being exchanged.

Five minutes in, you smiled softly at your lost lover.

“So, what was our very first date like when we were younger?”

Your question made Satoru smile too. He took a sip of his water, glancing at the white tablecloth as his mind wondered back to the sweet, cherished memory.

“It was similar to this, kinda. We had dinner together. It was an Italian restaurant as well, but it wasn’t nearly as nice. You, uh, you wore red then too. I remember you saying that you wanted Alfredo, but you ordered spaghetti in case you spilled it on your clothes.”

The look of love in his eyes as he spoke about the past made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, I get it,” you nodded slowly. “Red sauce would blend in with the red clothes. Seems like something I’d say. I can’t believe you can remember something like that.”

“What’s funny is that I was the one who ended up spilling something,” Satoru paused. “I knocked over the bread basket when I was reaching for my drink.”

“Really?“ leaning forward a bit, your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke. “For a guy with the four-eyes thing, you’re pretty clumsy.”

“Six Eyes, and I’m not that clumsy. I was just nervous. Even now, years later, you still make me nervous.”

You leaned back in your seat. Your eye glistened with a peculiar kind of sadness — an expression that Satoru didn’t recognize.

“No need to be nervous,” slowly, your beautiful smile faded away. “I’m down one finger and an eye, and this facial scar isn’t doing me any favors. I’m not worth all the effort and worry.”

Satoru stared at you.

A look of insecurity. That was your unfamiliar expression.

He furrowed his brows, the corners of his mouth drawn downward as he put his laminated menu on the table.

“You decided to quit being a sorcerer the minute you found out that you were pregnant with Ren, but before that, you and I went on a mission together to exercise some curses inside of a mall. It wasn’t an easy mission either. I was exhausted, and you were injured. A curse was about to attack you — you had your back turned, trying to treat a civilian’s wound — and I jumped in the way to save your life.” Satoru started to fiddle with the cloth napkin lying next to his menu. “I was fine. I killed the curse. But you were angry with me for getting in harm’s way. You said to me then what you just said now — that you aren’t worth the effort and worry. And that’s not true at all. You’re worth everything to me.”

“You saved my life once?” The sad gaze in your eye softened into a look of pure admiration. “That’s so . . . I mean . . . until recently, my entire life has revolved around my son and my coffee shop. And then you appeared, along with these old friends I can’t remember having, and now I’m always hearing wild stories about me fighting curses and being madly in love with you. It’s crazy.”

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe another human being loved you this much, in such a romantic way.

The waitress appeared — a kind woman with red hair who jotted down your orders in a tiny notepad. You ordered pasta, and Satoru couldn’t help but smile.

Certain aspects of you have changed forever, but some things still stayed the same.

Once the waitress walked away with your noted order of fettuccine alfredo and his order of ravioli, you shifted in your seat, sighing softly.

“I have another question, and I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while.” Cluelessly, you blinked at Satoru. “What was our marriage like?”

Satoru’s blue eyes shifted away from yours. Truth be told, he considered lying for a moment.

“It was perfect. We were perfect,” he would have said. “I was always there, and we were always happy.”

He could see the satisfied grin on your face now.

But he couldn’t lie to you. If he won your heart back with a string of lies, he would never forgive himself.

The honest truth wasn’t the perfect fairytale love story that you both would have hoped for, but it was good enough, as what really mattered — what was undoubtedly the most important thing — was that you both loved each other deeply.

“We were pretty young when we got married,” Satoru started, staring at you. “We were young when we did everything, actually. Not just getting married, but moving in together and starting a family too. All we knew was that we wanted to be together. We had movie and dinner nights every other Saturday, but it was hard being a husband, father, and sorcerer. I was away often, and you were always worried about whether or not I’d make it home. You wanted me to quit, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t think anything bad would ever happen to me, and I needed to protect non-sorcerers and mentor my students. It got to a point where I started to miss important events, and you weren’t happy with me. I wasn’t happy with myself either. My very last mission was a few weeks before Christmas. You begged me not to go because you said you had a terrible feeling about it. I just thought that you wanted me to stay home for our holiday traditions. We got into a big argument that night, and I left anyway, telling you that I’d be home before Christmas Day. I felt horrible about it, so I finished up my mission quickly and came home about two weeks early to surprise you. That was when the incident happened.”

Your initial silence made Satoru worry. He looked at you, trying to read the look on your face — attempting to stare into your visible eye and take a peek inside of your brain and see what thoughts were circulating in there.

The quietness was deafening. It was almost worse than you saying that you were no longer interested in rekindling your love, because the silence provided no answers. No closure.

Satoru started to involuntarily shake his leg underneath the table. He so desperately wanted a drink.

“Oh. . .” You finally spoke up, but your empty words, ridden with disappointment, offered little relief.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru said softly, briefly staring down at his half-empty water, the dots of condensation among the glass dripping onto the white tablecloth. “I know it’s not . . . I’m probably not what you were hoping for, but I loved you more than anything. Please believe that.”

Suddenly, that soft smile that Satoru once fell in love with reappeared on your face. Reaching across the table, you grabbed ahold of his hand — the one that was fidgeting with the napkin. You ran your thumb across his fingers.

“Satoru, if there’s one thing that my condition has taught me, it’s that the past doesn’t matter as much as we think it does. I just wanted to know because of plain curiosity, okay? I’m interested in our future and the man you are now.”

This time, following a small sigh of relief, Satoru was the one who smiled. It was the grin that you once fell in love with, even if you couldn’t remember ever doing so.

The date was filled with soft laughter, delicious pasta, and heartwarming stories.

You and Satoru sat at the dining table long after your meals were eaten and paid for. As the hours flew by, other couples and families coming and going, you both didn’t leave until the employees started stacking chairs and mopping the floors.

Together, you both walked down the street of your cozy little town, grinning down at your shoes stepping on the fallen orange and brown leaves covering the sidewalk.

“So, where’s Ren? Is he at home or . . . ?” Satoru questioned.

“He’s sleeping over at his friend’s house.” You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “That reminds me. He came up with an idea the other night, and I wanted to run it by you.”

“What is it?”

“A family dinner,” you glanced up at Satoru. “Just us three, sitting around a table, all having a meal together. The whole domestic vibe. What do you think?”

“I’d love that.” With a smile, Satoru started to blush a little.

“Okay, great. I’m thinking seafood, maybe? Hm . . . I don’t know. Kinda don’t feel like dealing with an apartment that smells like shrimp and crab. You know what? I’ll just open a window and spray some Febreze, it’ll be fine. Seafood it is. You’re not allergic, are you?”

Listening to you ramble made Satoru’s heart pound rapidly. It made him want to kiss you and mourn your lost years. But he couldn’t let on the effect that you had on his mind, body, and soul, even if you knew how he felt.

He had to keep all of that inside and remind himself that to you, he wasn’t the love of your life, but a mere friend.

“I’m not allergic. I love seafood, or all kinds of food, really.” Satoru glanced up at the stars for a moment, thinking about how over the last few years, eating was a chore. He went from being a food lover to a man who had to be forced to eat. But now that you reappeared back into his life, so had his love of all things sweet, spicy, and savory.

You brought back the parts of him that were human.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Satoru suddenly spoke up.

“Of course.”

“Have you . . . had any other partners? Since the incident?”

Your shoulder gently bumped against his arm as you both walked. Based on the tone of his voice, he hadn’t asked you that question out of jealousy per se, but curiosity.

“A few, but nothing that lasted very long. Mostly fantasy-obsessed weirdos who just wanted to brag about dating someone who wears an eyepatch, like I’m a fictional character or a damn pirate or something. But, uh, what about you?”

Satoru laughed a bit, but not humorously.

“Nope. I could barely function like a normal human being, let alone be in a relationship.”

He didn’t mean to make that burden of guilt reappear.

Catching a glimpse of you staring at the ground, he opened his mouth to apologize, but you started to speak before he could do so.

“I hate knowing that I caused you so much pain. I should have done something. I should have never let the higher-ups force me to start a new life, or at least, I should have tried to figure out who Ren’s father was. I’m sorry.”

Satoru grabbed your hand. He didn’t think it through — didn’t pause to wonder if such a display of affection was okay, but you didn’t seem to mind. Your warm fingers curled around his.

He couldn’t wait to tell Kento about it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Satoru stared at you, paying no mind to anything that might have been in front of his walking path. “I picked working for people who would destroy my life at any given chance over my own family. None of this would have happened if I had been home like I should’ve been. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

At this hour, all of the small, local businesses were closed, cute little brown buildings showcasing nothing but darkness when you glanced through their windows as you strolled by.

However, one place was still open.

It was the bar.

Walking past it, you held Satoru’s hand a little tighter.

The white-haired man couldn’t see it, but as he made his way by the entrance doors, the bartender could see his former customer walking by with a small, sober grin.

The bartender smiled to himself as he washed a glass.

He was incredibly happy for that man, and he hoped to never get another dollar from him again.

“So what happens now?” Your sudden question made Satoru hum in response and tilt his head a bit. Continuing, you asked, “Are you going to go back to being a sorcerer?”

“No,” Satoru shook his head. “I passed the torch on to my students a while ago, and I think they’ll be just fine.”

As you both unhappily arrived closer and closer to your apartment, a sad frown appeared on Satoru’s face. He didn’t want the date to end. He wanted to keep walking with you forever.

Letting you go with the promise of seeing you again soon never came easy after the incident.

Your footsteps clicked against the hard ground as you made your way to your front door. With a shy smile, you turned and faced the white-haired man.

“Thanks for walking me home. I’d invite you inside, but it’s getting late, and I have to head to my coffee shop in the morning. I was able to get a few bookshelves put in. Can you believe it?” Digging through your purse for your house keys, you smiled at Satoru. “I just gotta spend my Sunday actually putting books on the shelves now before we open on Monday. Boxes are sitting everywhere right now.”

“I’m happy for you,” Satoru said. He couldn’t help but wonder if this newfound passion for books, coffee, and entrepreneurship came after the incident, or if you were always interested in such things, and he never noticed.

He would have bought you a two-story bookstore and coffee shop years ago if that was the case. Was that always your dream and you kept it hidden from him? Why? Did it have anything to do with having to raise Ren and run the house while Satoru was off fighting curses and training his students?

He wanted to ask — and he almost did, his lips parting a bit — but he knew you wouldn’t remember. You wouldn’t have an answer.

“You should stop by sometime!” Your smile brightened. “Do you like coffee? You seem like the kinda guy who’d like something on the sweeter side . . . a mocha, maybe?”

Satoru couldn’t help but lovingly mimic your bright smile, his eyes flickering from your eye to your lips, and his heart skipped a beat.

Most people would assume that a guy like Satoru hated sweets. Back when he was a sorcerer, others figured that he avoided sweets and sugary things to keep himself as healthy as possible. Truthfully, though, he was the kind of person who would have dessert for every meal if he could. Both because it helped energize his overactive mind, and because he simply had a sweet tooth.

But you knew.

Was it something you remembered, or was it nothing more than a lucky guess?

Satoru couldn’t say. You couldn’t say.

However, no one could deny that your old personality was starting to return while in his presence. You had never known yourself to be the kind of person to ramble on and on, but here you were, spending your night talking so much that your jaw had started to ache.

After one proper evening together, the gorgeous man was bringing out a side of you that you had never known — or, perhaps, had forgotten.

“You could serve me a cup of toilet water and I’d drink it,” Satoru said with a gentle, brief chuckle. “But yeah, I have a sweet tooth.”

“So I was right.” You paused. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

The smile on his face faltered as uncertainty flooded his mind, as he didn’t know how to properly say goodbye. You held hands earlier, and you had hugged once before, but should he initiate one now? Should he shake your hand? No . . . too professional. The last thing he wanted was for your reblossoming relationship to amount to that of a business transaction.

He decided to play it safe. He mumbled a quick goodnight, gave you a soft smile, and started to walk away.

“Wait,” you called out.

With a little hum of confusion, his brows raising slightly, he turned and faced you.

Reaching up, your hands gripped his shoulder, pulling the taller man down a bit before planting a soft kiss on his cheek, which instantly reddened the second your lips came in contact with his soft skin.

“Goodnight,” you mumbled.

When your face was still a whisper away from his own, Satoru kissed your cheek back.

It was a subconscious act — as natural breathing. You’d kiss his cheek, and he’d kiss yours back.

“You used to kiss my cheek all the time.” He pulled away from you, blushing.

“Really?” You wrapped your fingers around your house key, turning towards your door briefly to place it in the lock. Looking back at him as you twisted it, you said, “That’s probably why I wanted to do it now. It just felt right, I guess. I don’t normally kiss my dates on the cheek.”

“Right, well,” Satoru, once again, started to walk away. “Goodnight.”

That night — after soaking in the bathtub and texting Satoru to make sure he got home safely, although you felt silly doing so, being that he was the most powerful man in the world — you rested your head against your pillow and started to drift off to sleep.

In that state, in which it felt as if your mind, body, and soul were stuck somewhere between falling asleep and staying awake, Satoru’s face appeared in your mind.

Only — he was younger.

He wore dark sunglasses, and a dorky smile, cheeks pink as he blushed . . .

“Y/N!” He called out, waving for you to come over and join him where he stood in a shady spot underneath a big tree.

As you approached him, the cocky teenager put his hands in the pockets of his school uniform, trying his hardest to seem cool and calm. But despite his best efforts, he was still a blushing mess.

“Hey,” you greeted politely, smiling up at your tall classmate. “Everything alright? I’m gonna be late for training.”

“Y-Yeah,” he awkwardly cleared his throat following his stutter — which made him wish that the ground would somehow open up and swallow him whole to ease his embarrassment. “I just . . . wanted to say hi. I’m sorry I didn’t call you after our date. Well, I did, but I hung up before you answered because I got nervous. Not-not that I normally get nervous or anything, I’m pretty chill, but it was late and I didn’t know if you wanted to talk, or if you’d think I was weird for calling you after we had just hung out. I’m not weird, I promise. I’m not as cocky as everyone says I am, either. I’m just a normal person. You’re not, though. I-I mean, you’re normal, but you’re really strong and pretty, you know what I mean? So, uh . . . yeah.”

An amused grin appeared on your face. Meanwhile, Satoru’s own face reddened even more with every shaky word he spoke. The gifted sorcerer couldn’t look you in the eye.

“You’re adorable,” you chuckled softly, watching as he fidgeted around, unable to stand still in your presence. “And it’s okay. You make me kinda nervous too.”

Your eye darted away from him. Satoru glanced down at your hand and saw that you were fiddling with the end of your sleeve.

“Do you wanna go out with me again?” Satoru’s words were rushed, rolling off of his tongue and falling from between his lips much quicker than he wanted.

“I’d love to.” Your sweet smile made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. Glancing down at your watch, you said, “I gotta go, but maybe we can have lunch together tomorrow. Diner down the street?”

“Okay, that’s cool,” Satoru couldn’t fight the urge to grin, his cheeks starting to burn. “I’ll see you later.”

You started to walk away, but suddenly, your footsteps came to a halt. Turning back around to face a puzzled Satoru, you approached him once again, motioned for him to lean down, and you planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Bye,” you grinned.

Satoru couldn’t speak. Your lips touching his red, blushy cheek had seized his ability to communicate like a normal human being. His body froze, his throat dried to a crisp, and his overactive mind was incapable of forming a coherent thought.

As he watched you start to walk away, eventually snapping out of his trance, he shouted, “Wait!”

The happy teenager leaned down and quickly kissed your cheek. Then, he ran off to locate his best friend, Suguru Geto, eager to tell the dark-haired boy about the heartwarming interaction he just had with the woman he was certain he’d marry someday.

—

— THURSDAY —

Less than a week has passed since your wonderful evening with Satoru. During that time, your coffee shop was now a fully operational bookstore as well. You and Satoru stayed in your shop well past closing hours, sipping on beverages and chatting. On Tuesday night, you, him, and Ren enjoyed seafood and board games.

It was wonderful.

Spending time with him often led to dreams when your eye fluttered shut and the moon was shining through your curtains.

However, the dreamlike images of that beautiful man didn’t feel like dreams at all.

And your therapist agreed.

She suggested that, perhaps, they were memories.

But there was only one way to truly differentiate between what was real and what wasn’t.

And that was by asking Satoru. Only he could tell you if the beautiful scenarios that appeared were missing pieces of a life you had forgotten.

That Thursday, the setting sun began to darken the baby blue sky, and faint stars appeared above the school in which a science fair was taking place.

In the big school gym, several students had their artistic projects on display for judges and parents to walk around and admire. Ren and Mae had created a presentation about power and electricity.

He looked so proud as he stood there, pointing at several different wires surrounded by Mae’s detailed drawings of lightning bolts, explaining the scientific process to curious guests.

However, what he was proud of more than anything was his mother and father, who stood behind the group of judges and parents and snapped pictures of him. The young boy would occasionally dart his eyes away from the crowd of strangers admiring his presentation and smile at his parents.

He had two of them.

A mother and a father.

Later on, as the judges gathered to discuss the winners of the science fair, Ren walked off to chat with his group of friends. While everyone had to create a project for a class grade, submitting it to the science fair was completely optional. Only true science-loving geniuses took it that far. Even so, Ren’s friends — the ones who attended his birthday party — all showed up to support him. They didn’t know a thing about science beyond what they could scribble on a ripped sheet of paper and hide under their sleeves during tests, but they knew one thing: they wanted to be there for your boy.

Approaching Satoru with a white paper cup of water, you smiled at him softly.

“Hey, do you have a minute? Can we talk outside?”

“Of course,” Satoru matched your smile with a grin of his own. Even if he was busy, he’d make time for you now. Always.

Walking through the see-through doors and stepping outside into the darkening surroundings was a nostalgic experience. It was an entirely different school, but hearing crickets chirp and seeing families walking home after their own events ended as the falling sun finished off another beautiful day reminded Satoru of your after-class walks from way back when.

He faced you with a look of curiosity.

“What’s up?”

“I was just wondering . . . do you remember what our second date might have been like?”

Satoru’s eyes darted up at the stars for a moment — he remembered, of course.

“Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure I remember every date. Why?”

“Just curious,” you lied. The last thing you wanted to do was give him hope that your memory was returning, only for it to turn out to be nothing more than a pointless dream.

“We planned it right when we saw each other in person again after our first date. I was nervous and apologetic about not calling you the night before — either I was nervous or I forgot, I’m not sure — but we went to a nearby diner, one close to the school.”

You shifted your stance a bit, much too excited to stand completely still. Could it have been a coincidence?

“I think I might have remembered that.” As you spoke, Satoru’s eyes widened. “I had a dream — or I thought it was a dream, but it felt too real. We were standing outside of a school, wearing uniforms. We were both still so nervous around each other, but you were rambling a bunch, and . . . I’ve just been having a lot of similar dreams like that lately. To know that they actually might have been memories . . . I can’t believe it.”

“Wh-What else do you remember? What were the other dreams about?”

You went on to describe what you had seen.

Satoru’s eyes started to water as you recalled some of your shared memories. The stars appearing in the sky above seemed brighter.

Although you couldn’t remember everything, for now, it was enough.

“I know it’s not a lot, but those little memories are something I’ll hold onto forever. Some of them came back, and I don’t plan on letting them go anytime soon,” you said. “I might not remember our first kiss or every anniversary, but I’m starting to remember how it felt to love you.”

Satoru’s world stopped. It was a feeling similar to the day he first found you and Ren at that one grocery store.

It was a combination of shock and love running through his veins.

Satoru’s large hands cupped your cheeks. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

Satoru lost you once. Then, you reappeared. However, kissing you softly, yet passionately in this moment is what led Satoru’s soul to believe that he had finally found you.

Your sweet lips moved against his with a familiar pattern one would only have while kissing their soulmate. Even if your mind had forgotten much, your soul knew. It just knew.

The entrance doors belonging to the school opened and closed. Parents were heading back inside after ending phone calls or smashing their cigarette butts because the awards ceremony was about to start according to their watches.

Sadly, you and Satoru had to pull away, breathlessly, though, and after reuniting for two or three more little kisses.

“I’m starting to get jealous of the old me who used to kiss you like that every day,” your beaming smile was too cute.

“No reason to be jealous, you can still do it every day if you want to,” Satoru’s face was only inches away from yours as he spoke.

“Well, come on, let’s go see if our boy won first place. We can talk about our new every day later,”you said, grabbing ahold of Satoru’s hand.

You led him back into the school, where Ren would later accept his first-place trophy.

As the three of you celebrated his victory — together, as it should be — being a family started to become your new every day.

—

— TWO YEARS LATER —

White dresses and fancy cakes were on your mind, the old, sweet memory of walking down the aisle, glancing up at your teary-eyed husband, had recently come back to you in great detail.

You could taste the classic vanilla cake flavor on your tongue. Smell the special cologne Satoru wore that day. Feel the swaying rhythm of the song played during your first dance.

Today, as you drove your thirteen-year-old to school with him in the passenger seat — the middle school was too far of a walk compared to the elementary school — you touched the knob of your radio and turned up the music a few notches.

“What song is this?” Ren questioned, listening to the unfamiliar ballad.

“I think it’s a song from my wedding. I’ll have to ask Satoru later.”

Ren smiled. Another potential memory was unlocked.

“I’m also hoping he can take you to get a haircut tomorrow because I gotta-”

“Whaaat? No, Mom, no haircut, okay?”

“Since when do you not like haircuts?” You made a swift right turn as you spoke.

Ren scratched the side of his white hair, feeling his growing strands.

“I’m trying to grow it out until it looks like Dad’s, so not too long, but a little longer than it is now. Plus, Mae said that she likes longer hair. Oh, and can you take us to the movies Friday? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“Sure,” you agreed with a soft smile.

Your son and Mae had officially been dating for about a year, and it was beyond adorable.

Turning into the drop-off lane in front of the school, you pulled Ren’s packed lunch out of the backseat, along with his backpack. He was a growing boy — a realization that brought both you and Satoru to tears — and, naturally, his stomach was a bottomless pit right now.

“Bye Mom,” Ren started to open his car door but paused. “By the way, I hope you and Dad get remarried soon.”

And with that final thought, he closed the door and limped away.

—

Three days later, Satoru proposed.

Just like he once did years ago, Kento helped him out with planning the details of a perfect proposal.

It was in a beautiful, forestry area lit up with fairy lights — a gorgeous local walking trail you both strolled down together often.

He got down on one knee. Pulled out a mesmerizing ring. Cheeks red from being nervous, an emotion only you could bring out of the extroverted man.

There was no greater joy than when you wrapped your arms around him after saying yes.

God, he loved you. He loved you, and he loved you.

And, once again, you had promised to spend the rest of your life with him, because, god, you loved him. You loved him, and you loved him.

Satoru kissed you deeply after you accepted his proposal, tears streaming down his face.

“This ring isn’t just an engagement ring.” Satoru’s lips hovered over yours as he whispered, “It’s also a promise ring, too. Because I promise you that I’ll be the husband you deserve this time around. You were always so scared back then of falling in love with someone you could lose, and I’m letting you know now that I’m here, and you’ll never lose me to anything, especially a career path. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“Don’t worry, the past doesn’t define us as much as we think it does, trust me. You, me, and Ren are going to be just fine, okay?” You ran your thumb across his blushing cheek. He was so beautiful. “Let’s just focus on our future. On our every day.”

Satoru kissed you softly, mumbling a subtle, “Okay.”

He had his worries, but whenever your lips touched his cheek, and his lips touched your cheek, he had a gut feeling that, perhaps, everything would be alright.

—

— DECADES LATER —

“This color looks pretty, Grandma.”

Your eldest granddaughter gently rubbed one of her favorite lipsticks across your lips. “Brings out your eyes.”

“I only have one, honey, but thank you.”

Softly, she laughed. Growing up, she loved hearing the made-up stories about how you got your eyepatch. You being a pirate on an adventure to save captured mermaids was her favorite tale as a child.

She was Ren’s and Mae’s firstborn, the oldest amongst their three children, and the only girl. Your granddaughter was sweet and kind enough to help you get ready for a family brunch.

Ren, who was in his forties now, stepped through the front door of his lovely home with his wife and two sons.

He walked into the living room and greeted you briefly as he kissed your forehead before heading into the kitchen and sitting down a big brown bag filled with groceries.

Then, several more kisses followed from your fellow cherished family members.

You smiled with pride. Ren was a successful surgeon who married his childhood sweetheart and had created a beautiful family.

Suddenly, you frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Your youngest grandson asked, tilting his head a bit.

“Where’s Satoru?”

You glanced around for your husband. You missed him. Where did he go?

Your granddaughter held your hand.

“He’s in the bathroom, remember? He left a few minutes ago. He’ll be right back.”

You gave an unsatisfied nod.

Memory loss has always been a struggle for your entire life. Be it object permanence as a baby, amnesia as an adult, or plain ‘ole forgetfulness as an elder.

But at least you remembered love.

That much was obvious when Satoru returned to the living room, eyes crinkly as he smiled, and your mood suddenly changed into complete and utter happiness.

“You look pretty,” Satoru ran his hand across your cheek. “That’s lipstick, hm?”

“Brings out my eye,” you joked.

As Satoru took a seat next to you on the couch, Mae shouted from the kitchen, “Hey, come help us.”

Your three grandchildren left the living room to assist their parents, leaving you and Satoru alone to enjoy each other’s company by chatting and watching TV until brunch was ready.

He had his arm wrapped around you, his body heat warming your entire soul. There was no greater joy than being with him.

That night, you and Satoru were snuggled up underneath your thick comforter, facing each other in bed.

“After all these years, you still make me nervous,” Satoru said, staring into your eye, his cheeks becoming the faintest shade of pink.

With a warm smile, you slowly kissed Satoru’s cheek. He kissed yours.

You touched a strand of his gray hair. Then, your lovely, wrinkly fingers graced his cheek, the warm lighting from his bedside table lamp highlighting his aged, beautiful face.

“Thank you . . . for another great day, and for all the memories. I love you, Satoru.”

A little yawn escaped you. As you drifted off to sleep, Satoru mumbled, “I love you too, Y/N.”

In time, you will once again start to lose all of your memories. Slowly, it will all fade as you grow older and get closer to your impending demise. Satoru had grown to accept that expected outcome. However, this time around, if you passed on before the retired sorcerer, he wouldn’t be a sad man stuck in a bar, mourning. He would be at your bedside, holding your hand and kissing your cheek.

Then, he’d wait for the day in which he too would pass on and join you in the place of eternal happiness and rest, where, finally, both of your souls would be at peace after what happened.

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

🏷: @sad-darksoul @sircatchungus @gojossocks @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @star-toruu @yobabymama @s7armin @minmin-minnie @jexx233 @roninishere @dreamsarenicer @starzcoffeelvr @delghoul @buttercupmuffins @dijaicar @tuliptoot @sweet-yzabelle @creative1writings @lympha @malikazz243 @bforbiblio @galagarts @enesitamor @luffysfav @chilichopsticks @misscellaneousisme @1plwushie @blackjou @gfmima @dazedflvr @safiest58ravenclaw @dyna-mights @honestlywtfisgoingon @pnkoo @levin4nami @frogtee @myhomeworksnotdone @ushygushybaby @wooasecret

[v6quewrlds]

TIRED, ANDREI IOSIVAS.

pairing⠀⁎⠀andrei iosivas x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀1.7k.

summary⠀⁎⠀after a rough game, all andrei needs is you.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by an anon <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀18+, smut, handjob, blowjob, subby andrei.

In the bustling stadium, amidst a sea of orange and black, a solitary figure emerged from the shadowed seats. You made your way through the throngs of disappointed fans. Your brown eyes scanned the chaotic scene, searching for something more than just a way out. The air had the scent of sweat, popcorn, and defeat—the Cincinnati Bengals had just lost to the Steelers on their own turf. The roar of the crowd had transformed into a murmur of discontent, the echoes of the game's final moments haunting the concrete halls like a funeral march.

Your heart was heavy, not just for the team you had grown to love, but for the man who had given everything out on that field. Andrei had played his heart out, but the scoreboard was a cold, unyielding judge. You knew he'd be feeling the sting of loss, the weight of his dreams, and the gnawing doubt that came with it. As you approached the players' tunnel, the anticipation grew stronger, the air thick with the musky scent of the game and the anticipation of your reunion.

When you finally saw him, Andrei's shoulders were slumped, his eyes reflecting the sadness of the evening. He looked up and caught your gaze, and for a brief moment, the gloom lifted from his face. The two of you embraced, his sweat-dampened jersey sticking to your skin as you held him tightly. His sigh was deep and pained, the kind that comes from a place much deeper than physical fatigue.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured into your hair, the words muffled by the volume of your meticulous twist-out. “I know you had to watch that all alone.”

“Don't be, baby,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “You played great, Drei. It wasn't your fault.”

Andrei offered a half-hearted smile, his eyes still clouded. “I'll see you at home?”

You nodded, knowing he needed some space. As the hours ticked by, you waited in your cozy apartment, your thoughts racing with how you could help him through this. By the time he walked through the door, the silence was deafening. You watched as he shuffled to the bedroom, his shoulders still carrying the weight of the loss.

Your eyes followed him, taking in his tall frame, his hair still drying from his shower at the stadium. His gaze was distant, lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. You knew that look all too well—the one that signaled he was in a dark place. You took a deep breath and sat next to him on the bed.

“I don't know if I can ever be enough,” Andrei mumbled, his voice cracking with emotion. He sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows propped on his knees, staring at the floor.

Your heart ached for him. You knew that underneath his tough exterior was a man who took his craft seriously and losing was something he never took lightly. You took a deep breath and placed your hand on his back, feeling the tension knotting his muscles.

“You are more than enough,” you said firmly, your voice a gentle but unyielding force. “You're so talented, one game doesn't define you.”

“But I could have… should have…” He began to protest, but you stopped him with a soft embrace. You knew his perfectionist nature, his unyielding need to be the best, but you also knew he needed to hear that he was loved, regardless of the outcome on the field.

“You can’t control everything, Andrei. Sometimes, things just don’t go as planned. But that doesn’t mean you’re not enough. It just means you’re human. And as a human, you have the power to learn, to grow, to come back stronger next time.”

Andrei nodded slowly, the weight of your words sinking in. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder, and you could feel the tension slowly seep out of him. His overgrown hair tickled your cheek as you held him closer, your hand brushing through the dark strands. The quiet between you grew heavier, filled with the unspoken understanding that sometimes, love was about just being there, holding space for the other to heal.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. “Could you, maybe, help me clear my head?” There was a hint of shyness in his tone, something you rarely heard. “Whenever we… you know, after games like this, I sleep a little better. Like it just takes the edge off, you know?”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with understanding and affection. You nodded, your mind racing with the desire to ease his pain. “Of course, I’ll do anything to make you feel better. What do you need from me, babe?”

Andrei took a deep breath, his gaze still cast downward. “Could you, maybe, take charge this time?” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Andrei sat on the edge of the bed, his hair falling over his eyes. You could see the hunger in them, the need for your touch. You sank to your knees in between his spread legs, your heart racing with excitement. With a gentle hand, you pushed his hair back and leaned in to kiss him softly, your hand reaching down to cup his cock through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your body.

Your hand slid into his underwear, wrapping around his warm, hard length. He gasped, his eyes fluttering closed as you began to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate.

You took your time, your hand moving in a hypnotic rhythm that grew slightly faster with each passing moment. Andrei's breath grew ragged, his body leaning back into the bed. You could feel his tension slowly draining away, his muscles relaxing under your gentle touch.

“You need more, Drei? Tell me, baby,” you whispered, your voice sending a visible shiver through him. Andrei nodded, his eyes glazing over as you slid his boxers down, revealing his hardened shaft. You took him into your mouth, your soft, wet warmth enveloping him, and his eyes rolled back in his head with pleasure.

Your head bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm, your tongue swirling around his tip, tracing the veins along his length. Andrei’s torso fell back against the bed, his moans turning into whines as you deep-throated him, your throat constricting around his cock. You felt his hips bucking involuntarily, curses spilling from his lips in a mix of pleasure and desperation.

He was always so sweetly shy about asking for this, but you knew it was his way of letting you be the strong one when he needed it. And you were more than happy to oblige. Your mouth moved up and down his length, your tongue dancing along his shaft, your cheeks hollowing with the effort of taking him deep. You could feel his thighs starting to tremble, his breaths coming faster and shallower.

“Oh,” he breathed, his voice soft with pleasure. You knew he was close. You reached up to grip the base of his cock, your hand moving in sync with your mouth, increasing the pressure. You could taste the precum on your tongue, could feel his cock pulse with the promise of his release.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” Andrei moaned, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your mouth work its magic on him. Your soft, dark brown eyes flicked up to meet his, filled with a determination to bring him to the brink of ecstasy. He felt his body respond as you quickened your pace, your hand and mouth moving in perfect unison.

Your saliva coated his length, making his skin glisten in the dim light of the bedroom. He could feel his orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. You sensed it too, your strokes becoming more deliberate, your tongue flicking against his frenulum with care.

“Baby…” he breathed, his voice strained, his hips rising off the bed to meet your mouth. You hummed in response, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through his body. And then it hit him, the orgasm crashing over him like a wave, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he came hard, his release spilling onto your tongue.

You didn’t miss a beat, swallowing every drop of his warm cum. You kept your eyes on him, watching the tension drain from his face, his body going lax against the bed. You felt the rigidity in his hips relaxing, his breathing even out. Only then did you pull away, giving his tip one final, lingering kiss before standing up and heading to the bathroom to grab a washcloth.

When you returned, Andrei was lying on his back, his eyes closed. You climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist. He looked up at you, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. You gently wiped away the last traces of his release and your saliva from his skin before wringing the cloth out in the sink with warm water.

“Better?” you asked, your voice gentle. He nodded, a lazy smile playing on his lips. You pressed a series of kisses along his jawline, your heart swelling with affection.

“Thank you, Princess,” Andrei murmured, his eyes still closed. “I needed that.”

After Andrei came, he always looked so pliant, so open. You felt a pang of tenderness, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You're more than enough for me, you know that right?” you whispered.

Andrei's eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I know, baby. I know. But it's hard to remember sometimes.” He reached for you, pulling you down into his arms, his body radiating heat. You curled into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek.

“I love you, so much, baby,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. His arms tightened around you, his hand stroking your back as he finally came down from his high. The scent of him, the warmth of his skin, it all helped to soothe the ache in your heart.

“I love you too,” he murmured, his breathing slowing to match yours. You laid together, wrapped up in each other's embrace, the outside world a distant memory.

[shinedoitsulikeabright]

So, about God Games...

I know I recently made a similar post in regards to 600 strike, but I can't stop thinking about what this song could've looked like if we had all 12 Olympians taking part.

So, this is what I've managed to come up with thus far. It ain't much, but it's honest work.

(I won't be going in any particular order. This is going to be a long post so brace yourselves.)

Dionysus: His whole argument is that Odysseus never lets loose and parties. Instead, he's spent these 20 years being all miserable and serious.

Athena's rebuttal: Sure, he never lets loose, but how could he? He's been continuously going through nightmare after nightmare. If Dionysus agrees to let him go, he'd return to his usual whimsical, silly guy self and party for days to come, celebrating the reunion with his family.

Hermes: Although Hermes wants to let Ody go, he still chooses to tease Athena because he's a troublemaker like that. He would say something obviously wrong, just so Zeus can't say that he didn't participate. He'd probably say something dumb like "had Ody been smart, he would've entered Circe's palace and simply stolen the piggies when she wasn't looking".

Athena's rebuttal: She'd roll her eyes but play along. Her response would basically be no, he couldn't have done that because Circe would've known. And even if he succeeded what would he do with a dozen pigs on board? She'd then point out how similar the two are: both very cunning, manipulative and skilled with words.

Demeter: Her argument could be that while Odysseus was away, he failed to take care of his land and people, leading to the agriculture suffering (because I honestly doubt that Penelope had the mental capacity to attend to all that the way she normally would with everything on her plate).

Athena's rebuttal: She'd try to draw the parallel between the relationship between Demeter and Persephone and Odysseus and Telemachus. She could point out how heartbroken Demeter felt when she couldn't see her beloved daughter, tugging on her heartstrings and convincing her that Odysseus was going through the exact same agony.

Artemis: I honestly think she wouldn't care about Ody. The only reason why she'd participate is to appease Zeus. Anyway, I think she could do the Hera bit where she's like "gimme one good reason why I should help".

Athena's rebuttal: Athena could try to recount the boar encounter to show how great of a hunter Odysseus is. Plus, she could add that Ody's weapon of choice is the bow aka something that Artemis also uses.

Apollo: Since we're doing Artemis, might as well do her twin next. Apollo, as the patron god of Troy, could point out that Odysseus destroyed the walls he helped build. Then, he could also add that argument about the sirens.

Athena's rebuttal: Here, Athena could say that it wasn't Ody who destroyed the walls, but the Trojans who demolished them in order to let the wooden horse in. As for the sirens, she can repeat that argument she used in the official song. Or, better yet, say that if Odysseus returned home, his journey would inspire countless songs and works of art.

Hephaestus: I think his entire bit is perfectly fine (both in terms of the argument, as well as the rebuttal). Either way, I doubt Hephaestus really cares and it shows. He just wants to get back to work... And Athena wants to be out of there asap considering their history.

Aphrodite: I think her argument is good, although I do find it a bit strange since she is most typically associated with romantic/sexual love. Hera or Hestia would've been better picks for familial love imo. Anyway, if I were to rewrite her argument, I'd make her be petty and say something like "he hasn't bed his wife in 2 decades!". Overall, she really couldn't care less, she just wants to mess with Athena.

Athena's rebuttal: I think she'd snap and be petty back, saying something like "well, who's fault is that?" (considering it was Aphrodite who basically started the Trojan War). Then, she'd recompose herself and say that if Aphrodite agreed to free Odysseus, he'd return to his wife and make up for all the lost passion.

Ares: Great argument imo, no notes. Sidenote, but I love Ares so much. In fact, I named my first dog after him.

Athena's rebuttal: Her canon rebuttal needs work, I think. After all, it wasn't the lack of bloodshed Ares had a problem with, but cowardice. If I were to rewrite it, I'd make Athena defend Ody's actions by pointing out that what Ares sees as "cowardice" was simply strategy. As for the Telemachus call-out, she could point out Ares' hypocrisy. On one hand, he insults the kid for being pathetic and on the other, he prevents his father from returning home, thus not allowing him to teach the necessary skills he needs in order to be a warrior. Additionally, she could appeal to Ares' softer side. He's one of the few gods who actually loves and cares about his kids, so she could appeal to that.

Poseidon: Yes, the big, bad man himself. At first, Athena is a bit worried about her ability to convince him (I mean, in the original Odyssey it says that he was one of the few gods she feared opposing directly + they already have a strained relationship due to the Athens rivalry). However, Poseidon is so done with this mortal that he just lets him go before his niece even gets the chance to open her mouth. In reality, he wants Ody to be set free just so he could kill him with his own hands. He's way too invested in this, dammit.

Hera: As the goddess of marriage and family, Hera could argue that Odysseus had been a bad husband and father. I mean, he spent 20 years pissing off gods and monsters instead of focusing on returning to his wife and child.

Athena's rebuttal: Athena could argue that he's actually been an exceptional family man considering how much he was willing to sacrifice just to return to those he loved. Then, just to put the nail in the coffin, she'd repeat the whole "never once has he cheated on his wife" slam dunk.

Zeus: Our thunder bringer isn't exactly pleased that his daughter beat the game. In fact, he's pissed because she not only humiliated him by winning, but she also won by humiliating him (with the whole not cheating argument). Anyway, the canon event happens where he strikes her with lightning and she begs for Ody to be set free.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

What if Antinous and the Suitors were loyal to the throne and wanted to crown Telemachus. So instead of hearing them planning on attacking his family, Odysseus finds them trying to convince Penelope and Telemachus to have the latter ascend the throne.

I just think of the telemachus’ birthday parody.

That but unironically.

But the question is, How different would things be?

(What if Antinous and the others WERENT evil.)

-So the song legendary is altered slightly. The first part is the same with Telemachus. But the second part addresses Telemachus’ nervousness at becoming King. Explaining the situation of how the kingdom is a bit shaky ever since the Trojan war ended.

-Antinous and the others are there mentioning the need for a king.

-“Boy, when will it be time for you to take the throne.”

-Telemachus being nervous he says he’s unsure.

-Antinous and the others talk and mention that some training should help clear his head.

-“Little Wolf” is very different. It’s not a mocking fist fight. It’s a training session where the men are helping train him up.

-Athena appears and mistakes Antinous words as an insult and thinks Telemachus is being bullied.

-It’s only after Telemachus lands a good hit on Antinous. Telemachus explains to Athena that they aren’t bad guys, just concerned citizens.

-Athena still bonds with Telemachus. But now less worried for Telemachus. Is able to go to help Odysseus.

-Meanwhile Penelope is basically handling the ruling, but doesn’t need to deal with the suitors.

-The castle also isn’t ransacked by the suitors.

-Though the problem actually comes up during god games. Athena couldn’t convince Ares with her words. As Odysseus has no reason to make more bloodshed when he gets home.

-suffice to say I think Athena actually fails to win the god games.

-Odysseus remains trapped. After a while, Calypso decides to wipe Odysseus memories. The man she loves is suffering and was mentally broken. So to have him move on. She does that. Now her lover, but part of him mentions feeling empty. The song (No more pain) and (Something’s missing) replace I’m not sorry for loving you and Dangerous.

-The new saga is called the Coronation saga.

-Penelope’s song “my love will live on” as she is still waiting for Odysseus. But she can’t stall and has Telemachus to take the throne.

-Telemachus does take the crown. He is king of Ithaca. (Likely when Odysseus had his mind wiped).

-Telemachus singing “A king like him”

-The Suitors became loyal soldiers to Telemachus. And with Athena there helping advise Telemachus, to avoid what happened with Odysseus. Telemachus became a great king. And he even fell in love and got married. This adds an additional 5 years.

-The last Saga is called the Memories saga. Because it’s Telemachus finding out from Athena the truth. He goes to Right the wrongs.

The songs are called (“What happened” “Sins of the Father.” “Calypso” “Remember us.” “Reunion”)

-What happened- Telemachus learns the truth and where his father is from Athena. Who tells him it’s impossible. But he is going

-“Sins of the father.”- Telemachus meets Poseidon who mistakes him for Odysseus. And Telemachus beats Poseidon akin to 600 strike but with Athena’s help

-“Calypso”- Telemachus encounters Calypso who refuses to let Odysseus go. That he is hers and Telemachus fights her. And Calypso is about to kill him when she is stabbed by Odysseus. Who is a mind broken mess

-“Remember us.”- Telemachus and Athena trying to help fix Odysseus. And it’s only when Penelope is mentioned that he snaps back to reality

-“Reunion.” Where Odysseus and Penelope finally reunite but both feel guilty. Odysseus of his sins and forgetting while Penelope let her doubts cloud her mind and she tried forgetting Odysseus. But their love was strong enough that they embrace.

[loveharlow]

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[8.2k] A trip to Charleston leads to a wild chase through Kooksville and an unexpected reunion that turns the pogues worlds upside down, amongst other heartbreaking events...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, mentions of firearms, unestablished relationship, poor communication, tw // jiara mentioned, mild angst

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

NOW PLAYING‧₊

IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING AND THE FOUR OF YOU WERE RIGHT BACK IN MR. SUNN’S CLASS. You had a permanent smile on your face from last night and something had shifted between you and JJ in the hours between then and now. While you were driving to school in the car you two had fixed up together, you’d made a joke about him being your passenger princess, the blonde laughing and then absentmindedly planting his hand on your thigh for the rest of the ride.

You were starting to feel like yourself after weeks of walking around like a ghost and you were holding out hope that after this was all over, once the cloud passed fully, that you could give JJ the answer he deserved. 

Right now, you were muffling laughs as Mr. Sunn rambled about the current unit topic, you and JJ sending tiktoks back and forth, phones hidden under the desks. 

“Mr.Sunn,” A man emerged in the open doorway, dressed down in a suit with an envelope between his fingers. Your laughter died as your attention went to him. “Can I borrow Mr. Heyward for a moment?”

The teacher looked dumbfounded between Pope and the man at the door, chalk clutched between his fingers. “Uh, we’re in the middle of a lesson.”

“My apologies, it won't be long. I’m from the Vanderhorst Foundation, Mr.Heyward was previously in the running for our scholarship.” He pressed once more, Mr.Sunn sighing and giving in, motioning for Pope to get up. Pope looked at the three of us before getting and leaving the room. 

Your eyes met JJ’s across the room, both shrugging. Kiara was too engrossed with trying to peek out of the door from her seat. Even though the classroom was fairly quiet, it was still too far to hear any part of the conversation. 

Maybe he was there to offer Pope another chance which would be, for one, great but also impeccably poor timing. You glanced up at your teacher as his attention turned back to the board, slouching in your chair and shooting a text in the group chat the four of you had.

You think they’re giving him his spot back?

Kie doubt it, the deadline’s more than dead :/

JJ maybe they still want him, pope’s a certified genius

Just then, Pope came power walking back into the classroom, turning a few heads as he did so. He practically fell into his seat, turning around to face you, JJ, and Kie, holding the envelope the man from the foundation had in his hand just minutes ago — flipping it to reveal the very same wheat symbol that was branded into the gold bars.

“What the fu-” JJ started, gaining the attention of Mr.Sunn who had very teacher like expression of warning, causing JJ to trip over his words. “Fu-fudge…” He cleaned up. The teacher gave him a look and turned back around in his chair.

“We’ll talk about it after class.” Pope whispered, nodding and turning around his seat. 

THE FOUR OF YOU BOOKED IT TO THE LIBRARY AS SOON AS THE BELL RANG, the middle-aged hag of a librarian shushing you at the door. You found an empty table and crowded it as soon as possible, all ears waiting on Pope.

“That was the guy from the scholarship committee.” He started, putting the envelope in the middle of the table. “But that’s not all. Read it.” He urged, JJ being the first to swipe up the letter but he hesitated to read. You were sat next to him, the both of you across from Kie and Pope, so you leaned over his shoulder.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked. JJ angled the paper in your direction, eyeing the two people in front of him nervously as you immediately spotted the problem — the letter was written in cursive. JJ couldn’t read cursive. “Oh, it’s fine, I got it.” You reassured, gently taking the letter from the blonde’s hands.

“What?” Kiara asked, brown eyes fleeting between the both of you. JJ shook his head, wiping his palms on the fabric of his cargo shorts.

“Nothin’. I just, I can’t read cursive.” He dismissed cooly but you could tell the subject made him slightly insecure. “What does it say?” He deflected, looking back at you.

You cleared your throat before reading, paper clutched between both of your hands. “Dear Mr.Heyward, I am reaching out because I may have material evidence that can exonerate John Booker Routledge…” You trailed off, shocked eyes meeting those around the table before you continued reading. “...It is of vital importance that you come and meet with me in person at my offices at twenty-seven King Street, Charleston at eight PM sharp, tonight. Please come alone…?” Your face twisted at that. No way in hell was that happening. “Regards, C.Limbrey.”

“Charleston?” JJ exclaimed incredulously, eyeing Pope’s endlessly pacing figure. “That’s like an eight-hour drive.”

“Plus, the ferry.” You added. “If you want any chance of getting there tonight we’d have to leave, like, right now.” 

“I have a free period.” Kie shrugged, sighing. “I gotta tell my mom, though…”

“Alright but guys?” You piped up, meeting each of their eyes before continuing. “If we get it this time, there’s no way in hell we are giving it to Shoupe. It's gotta go to higher ups or some shit.” 

“Agreed.” JJ nodded, standing from his seat and grabbing his backpack, you following his lead before Pope, who was crouched in front of the library computer, spoke up.

“I think whoever this Limbrey person is, they might be related to the captain of the Royal Merchant.” He told the three of you, JJ and you sharing a look before rounding the table to stand behind the boy at the computer, a webpage pulled up — a biography for ‘Captain Herman Limbrey’. 

Well. Charleston it is, then. 

“I AM SO SICK OF THIS SHIT!” Kiara’s mom’s voice traveled through the rolled down windows of Heyward’s truck. You, JJ, and Pope were sat with the music playing lowly as Kiara attempted to reason with her parents about where she was going. 

The family of three was visible from the driveway, but you could no longer hear the conversation as their voices lowered. 

“They’re takin’ it really well.” JJ quipped sarcastically. You were sat in the middle of the two boys, Heyward’s truck not having a backseat made this drive even more dreadful. “How’d you get this rig?” The blonde asked the boy in the driver’s seat, referring to his father’s truck. “I know your old man didn’t let you have it.”

Pope spoke absentmindedly, eyes too focused on the girl arguing with her parents some feet away. “I undid the intake valves on the carburetor, made it start pinging.” 

JJ nodded his head in approval, shifting his weight in the seat. “Mm, and now you’re just gonna 'take it to your cousin Jeff’s house, just gonna get it fixed, and crash overnight’.” He suggested to which Pope agreed. “I think I’m rubbin’ off on you, Pope. Lyin’ to your old man, stealin’ his truck…”

You quickly nudged the blonde in his side, shooting him a look. He held his hands up in mock surrender and bowed his head. “Ma bad. Sore subject.”

Pope simply sighed, tipping the hat on his head. “I’d say we have about eighteen hours before my pops loses his shit. So long as we get it back before then, we should be good.” Just then, Kiara came storming in the direction of the vehicle, yelling at her parents over her shoulder.

“I’m not going to boarding school!” She shouted, JJ opening the door for the both of you to get out and allow her into the car but she paused in her tracks when her dad began shouting.

“Look at your life, right now! Look at your life!” Kiara looked around at the three of you and then back at her father, shrugging carelessly and not sparing a word. Pope then peeked his head out of the driver’s side window. 

“I, um, I promise to have her back at a reasonable hour and safe.” He threw out, holding his hand up as if he was asking permission. Kiara looked at him, shaking her head. 

“Kiara, listen to me,” Her mother started, not exactly yelling but her voice traveled clearly. “You wanna go? Then go. But if you don’t come back at the proper time, then don’t. Come back. At all!”

You turned to Kie from your place next to JJ. “Hey, don't even worry about it. It’s the same threat each time, you know they won’t go through with it.” You told her quietly, in hopes of not offending her parents but offering her some sort of comfort. 

Kiara didn’t say a word as she ducked into the car, you piling in as JJ squished himself in next to you. 

“This shit would be so much easier without parents...” She scoffed, throwing her bag down on the car floor as JJ shut the passenger side door.

You and him both shared a look, knowing Kie probably didn’t fully think about what she was saying or who was around. You both grimaced at one another before looking away.

“God, 's so hot in here.” She complained throwing her head back. “Remind me why we didn’t take your car again?” She directed the question at you. “I mean, isn’t it drive-able now? You and JJ spent like every day working on it…”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have the willpower to make it to Charleston and back just yet.” You told her with a small shrug. The girl simply groaned, trying to adjust herself in between you and Pope so it wasn’t so tight.

“Okay, could you stop moving like that? It’s making it hard to drive.” Pope inquired, pulling out of her driveway and heading down the road.

“There’s no space dude, there’s twice as many people in here than this car was built for.”

“Okay, JJ and Y/N, can you guys lap up or something?” The suggestion almost made you cough. Sitting on JJ’s lap for the next few hours did not seem like a good idea, considering recent events.

“Why can’t she sit on my lap?” Kiara asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because she’ll block the rearview.” Pope threw out, annoyance growing in his tone. 

You looked to JJ for some kind of reassurance, he simply nodded and motioned his hands for you to come on. The car was still moving so you tried your best to be careful, the blonde spreading his legs to make a little more room for you to sit between them.

Once you had yourself settled, it was almost like JJ didn’t know where to put his hands. He had them planted on his on thighs beforehand so he accidentally laid a hand on your thigh before quickly removing it.

“My bad.” He muttered nervously. You could see his face faintly in the passenger side mirror.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m the one kind of in your space, right now.” You shrugged, trying your best to come off nonchalant, as if this whole scenario didn’t make your heart go crazy. 

“You sure? I mean, I got pockets, I can just-”

“It’s cool, JJ.” You cut him off reassuringly, the blonde hesitating before letting his hand make home on your thigh. You didn’t know how to sit, if you should lean back on him, anything. But you figured if you made it awkward, it was going to be awkward. So you took a deep breath and simply leaned back into him, the boy making no protest about the movement. 

The only thing you couldn’t ignore was the growing erection that was pressing against your leg, harder by the minute. Heyward’s truck was no smooth riding vehicle, so the ride was quite bumpy. You could still see JJ’s face in the passenger side mirror and he looked mortified.

Neither of you were stupid — if you could feel it, you knew he definitely could. And if he could feel it, he felt terrible knowing you could too.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He muttered out, coming out more like a sigh as he ran a hand down his face. You shifted your eyes to the left to see Kie on her phone and Pope was too occupied with driving, probably deep in thought about how much trouble he was going to be in if his pops found out about all this.

“It’s-” You cleared your throat before speaking, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s fine. Shit happens.”

“Nah, it’s not.” He groaned. “I can try and move so you can sit more on the seat-”

You cut him off quickly. “We’ll be at the Ferry dock soon. Honestly, JJ. Don’t sweat it.” You said finally.

The action did make a small well of discomfort bubble in your stomach with your last sexual encounter being non consensual and traumatizing. Just because it was JJ didn't quell any of your anxiety but you were trying not to live life as a victim.

A few deep breaths and you were calming down.

You could understand his humiliation and had your relationship with him been in different place, maybe you two would have laughed it off. But with this newfound depth of your “friendship”, it had you both sitting in silence the rest of the ride.

“MY PARENTS ARE SO PARANOID ABOUT ME BEING A POGUE LIKE IT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN…” Kiara complained leaning against the passenger door of the truck. The four of you had it made it to the ferry just in time to catch the current ride. You and JJ, who was rolling a blunt, were sat in the back of the pick-up truck across from one another, Pope leaning on the side paying the three of you no mind. The awkwardness between you two had alleviated by the time you reached The Ferry, but the situation still lingered in your mind.

Seagulls squawked as the boat sailed the water, the sizable ship making its way slowly but surely. 

“Hey, I hear they got good weed at boarding schools, though.” He replied optimistically. “Y’know, ‘cause all the rich kids got a shit ton of money to blow.”

Kie shrugged, dismissing the blonde’s hopeful piece of information. “I’m not going to boarding school.” She protested firmly. “If they want me to go, they’ll have to kidnap me. I don’t even know what their problem is. I mean, my dad was a pogue, you know that, obviously…” She trailed off, throwing an arm out in your direction. “They’re so hypocritical and overbearing. Why can’t my parents be more like yours?”

You couldn’t contain your expression of offense at Kiara’s words, the statement flowing so freely from her lips. So carelessly. “...You want a dead father and an underlying criminal mother who couldn’t give less of a shit about you?” The question was rhetorical but you wondered how she planned on explaining herself.

“Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that.” She cocked her head as if you were being unreasonable. “It’s just that, you can’t deny that this whole thing has been easier for you without parents watching your every move and breathing down your neck. That’s... all I was saying...”

You drew your lips into a thin line, arms crossing defensively. “Okay, well, my dad was murdered and my mother probably had something to do with it. Not to mention she tried to kill me, so not having two parents hasn't really been a choice for me, Kiara. But hey, ‘can’t deny that this whole thing has been easier’ for it, right?”

“I wasn’t saying-” She tried to defend with half a scowl on her face before Pope jumped in, JJ tapping your shoulder and offering you the blunt he’d been preparing. You took his from between his fingers, taking a long drag as Pope spoke.

“Okay, can we not argue? Please? I’m already mildly seasick enough as is.” He suggested, Kiara muttering a ‘fine’ under her breath as she adjusted her ponytail. “Kie, have you tried to hit JB back on that number?”

“Like, twenty-million times.” She groaned. “Some random lady at a hotel keeps picking up the phone.” 

Pope sighed, shifting his weight. “Well, until they contact us again, we gotta keep trying to clear John B’s name. Right now? This letter is our best bet.” He concluded, rubbing his hands over his head. You turned slightly to be able to see him, offering the joint to the boy.

His eyes fleeted between Kie and the smoking object, contemplating. She simply crossed her legs and arms, offering the boy a mischievous smile. “What Pope are you gonna be today?” She asked.

He seemed to ponder for a few more moments before shaking his head, you retracting the blunt and passing it back to JJ as he spoke to Kiara. “I’m good, gotta stay focused.” 

“I’ll take that.” JJ offered himself up, plucking the rolled object from your fingers with a smile.

Kiara simply nodded, her smile flattening out into a grimace. “Good Pope…” She said. “Boring Pope.” And you didn’t miss the way Pope’s face fell.

“I’VE READ THIS LIKE A THOUSAND TIMES AND IT STILL MAKES NO SENSE.” Kie explained from her place between Pope and JJ, you once again on the blonde’s lap as Pope cruised through Charleston. You’d gotten off the ferry a few hours ago, the sun now lower in the sky. “The Limbrey’s own like half of Charleston. What do some elite Kooks from Charleston known about a murder on Kildare?”

“I’m more concerned about why Pope specifically?” JJ questioned, eyes looking up at the driver. 

“Yeah. ‘Please come alone’? That’s off-putting, to say the least.” You added, sitting almost slanted in JJ’s lap in order to lean on the door. You were both a little hazy from the weed so your nerves were a lot calmer. 

“I had the same thought.” Pope chipped in. “I was thinking it’s probably because-” He cut himself off as a cloud of smoke erupted from the hood of his dad’s truck, blinding the road ahead. “Aw, shit, come on!”

“Pull over.” Kie demanded. “Jesus, that’s a lot of smoke. Even for your dad’s truck…” JJ began cough, you using your hand to cover his mouth as he rolled up the window. When he had it successfully rolled up, he gently removed your hand from his mouth. 

“Pope, I got sensitive lungs, dude.” He coughed out. A filter of smoke filled the car, you trying to wave it from in front of your face as it made your eyes burn. 

“I’m pulling over, okay?” Pope assured, but the car wasn’t slowing down. Pope swerved to the side but instead of pulling over, the car kept going off the curb until it was cruising through a patch of grass next to a quiet farm and you didn’t miss the rim that fell off of one wheel fly by the driver’s side window.

“Every time we let Pope drive, nothing goes right.” You muttered as the car came to an abrupt stop, the hood still smoking. You heard the engine die as Pope put both hands on top of his head. 

“No, no, no…” He whined as he hopped out of the car, JJ following suit and helping you before jumping out himself.

“It’s gonna blow up.” Kie worried, crawling out of the passenger side herself. 

“It’s not gonna blow up.” JJ told her, coughing one last time and rounding the hood as Pope attempted to fan the smoke away with his hat. “You most likely unhooked the radiator, Pope.” JJ suggested, eyeing the state of the vehicle. “Damn, you knocked the entire hubcap off.”

“Yeah, the Limbrey’s might have to take a rain check for tonight.” You added, scratching the back of your neck and eyeing Pope pitifully. The boy had a look on his face — somewhere between terror and disbelief.

“There’s still, uh, public transportation?” Kiara tried to reason, not seeming completely sure about the suggestion herself. You took it upon yourself to life the hood and examine the parts yourself, picking up a little bit about cars here and there from JJ.

“Yeah, it’s definitely the radiator…” You said aloud, sighing. Pope groaned loudly behind you.

“My dad’s gonna kill me!”

“No, he won't. I’m sure-” You were about to reassure the boy before you took one glance back at the car. The smoking, hubcap-less, mess of a car. “Okay, he might. He might…”

“Look, Pope, buddy, I’m sure there’s somethin’ we can do, right?” JJ offered, putting a hand on the solemn boy’s shoulder. You took the time to pull out your phone, you didn’t have many bars out here but enough to open up the ‘Maps’ app on your phone.

“There’s a mechanic garage about fifteen miles south of here.” You announced, looking out at your three friends. “Think your dad’s truck can make it fifteen more miles?”

THE SUN HAD COMPLETELY SET BY THE TIME THE FOUR OF YOU MADE IT TO THE GARAGE. What should’ve been a mere thirty-minute car ride took nearly an hour, Pope being too afraid to drive more than twenty miles an hour and making a pit stop to check under the hood again.

The boy in question was inside, negotiating with the owner of the shop. It was some place called Archie’s Auto Repairs, right next to a gas station and rest stop. You figured you were killing about three birds with one stone – car repair, refuel, and food.

JJ and Kiara were waiting in the truck while Pope spoke to the man in charge and you went inside to relieve yourself and get snacks. You were in the gas station bathroom, finishing up with washing your hands when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Surprisingly, you didn’t look like complete shit. Your hair was a bit frizzy and you look tired but you looked better than you had in the last month. You felt better than you had in the last month. Ever since that text from John B came through, it felt like everything was returning back to it’s normal state, like your life had hit the refresh button.

And maybe after everything settles and John B is cleared, things could be different but in a good way. This new life you were building, with JJ and Marley, it was starting to make you envision you had never really seen before. A life with JJ as something more than a best friend. You’d thought about him like that a few times throughout your friendship but it was JJ. You needed him and you didn’t want to ruin something so special because you had an on and off crush. But this one stuck. Maybe it was the kiss, or the almost sleeping together, you didn’t know. But something in your head was screaming at you to give it a shot. Something inside of you was reaching for him, calling out for him.

So maybe, once everything was okay again, you could figure that out.

Leaving the restroom, you cruised down the aisles of the shops — candy bars, chip bags, and sugary drinks, the whole selection look appetizing when you hadn’t eaten in over five hours. You grabbed four sodas and two family sized bags of chips and took them up to the register, the older, gross looking man eyeing you up and down as he scanned your items.

“That’ll be nineteen sixty-eight.” He slurred, bagging your goods as you fished for the twenty in your back pocket. “You’re a pretty little thang, aren’t ya? How old are ya, darlin’?” He asked, leaning his arms on the cashier’s counter, bumping the register. You cringed, sliding the bill across the surface.

“Not old enough.” You sassed, snatching the bag from the counter and leaving out the door, the bell ringing above you as you left. “Perv.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as your rounded the corner of the shop to see the truck come into view.

Just as quickly as you rounded the corner, you hid behind it. Your heart had stopped for a moment as your registered exactly what it was you had just seen. Biting your bottom lip, you slowly peeked your head around the corner to find that your eyes had in fact not deceived you — Kiara and JJ were kissing in the trunk of Heyward’s pick-up. She had both of her hands on his cheeks, pulling his face into hers as his own gripped the side of the truck for stability.

You immediately tore your eyes away when they pulled apart, hiding behind the wall once more. You couldn’t hear them. Maybe you were grateful for that. You were torn between wanting to cry and wanting lash out on them both. But maybe you had no right, maybe you were the fool in this situation.

It was JJ. JJ Maybank. Half of the female pogue population could probably describe in detail what was hidden beneath his pants. And Kiara? Well, who would turn her down? But she was supposed to be “with” Pope and JJ was giving you all types of green lights. But maybe you were blind and couldn’t see them for the red flags that they clearly were.

But you refused to cry. But that didn’t mean you weren’t pissed. You felt a bit played, in all honesty. And by JJ of all people. And how could Kie do that to Pope when he’s less than ten feet away? They weren’t together or anything, sure. But rules of friendship and respect just seemed so thrown out of the window in the past sixty seconds. 

So, shaking it off, you rounded the corner with the bag in hand. JJ was scratching the top of his head while Kie fiddled with her fingers in her lap before his eyes found you, immediately perking up.

“And the potty princess returns!” He threw his hands up in celebration. “Ooh, did she bring snacks? What’s in the bag?” He asked, coming closer. When he reached you, you pressed the bag into his chest, attempting to keep him at a distance. Letting him have the bag and not even sparing the two another glance, you hopped into the passenger side of the vehicle, absentmindedly slamming the door shut in your silent rage. You hadn’t realized that one of your hands was balled into a tight fist. Loosing your hand, you left crescent-shaped marks in your palm.

You didn’t know how you felt or what you wanted to do about. So you just sat there, listening to the night air, the crickets, the cars that passed by. You felt like JJ had just stomped on your heart and you weren’t even sure if you could be mad at him for it. But you should’ve known.

You’re a pogue. There’s always a calm before the storm. Nothing good comes without something bad.

A COUPLE HOURS HAD PASSED. Pope had found an empty field to park the truck in — shaded by a large, thriving willow tree. None of you really had enough money for a hotel and the money spent on one would be a waste, anyway. 

Surprisingly, there was no night chill in Charleston. The four of you opted to sleep in the trunk of the pick-up, using your jackets and flannels as blankets for comfort. You hadn’t spoken since witnessing what happened at the garage, even Pope was taking weird glances at you the entire ride.

At this moment, Pope was knocked out, Kiara right behind him. You felt a snarl of disgust edge your way onto your face when she leaned over to peck the curly-haired boy on his cheek before closing her own eyes and drifting off. What was she doing?

A part of you was angry that she and JJ kissed, of course. JJ had led you on with this ruse of giving yourselves time to figure out what was going between you two — whether is was grief-driven or genuine. And Kiara had been playing tug-o-war with Pope’s feelings for weeks, months almost, and the moment he has his back turned, she locks lips with his best friend.

As a friend group, you all had your moments. But you never went behind each other’s backs. Especially never like this.

So, you slept alone. As alone as you could, anyway. You were curled up in the farthest place in the trunk from the other three, closest to the front of the vehicle itself. The pit in your stomach was finally starting to settle as the beginning of sleep started to overtake you when a warm hand curled itself around your shoulder, startling you.

Your eyes shot open as you whipped your head to the side to find JJ’s face hovering over yours.

“Jesus.” You whisper-yelled, rolling your eyes before looking at the blonde once more. “What do you want?”

At your standoffish tone of voice and straight to the point question, the boy drew his lips into a thin line, letting his hand slide from your shoulder. “Okay, someone’s grumpy.” He tried to joke, a lazy smile on his face.

You stared blankly at him for a few beats, blinking. “Goodnight, JJ-”

“Okay, sorry sorry…” He protested quickly, looking behind him to make sure he didn’t wake the other two when the volume and pitch of his voice raised before looking back at you. You shifted to lay flat on your back, staring up at JJ as he stared down at you, leaning his weight on one of his arms. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been actin’ weird since we left that sketchy ass gas station.”

You simply cocked your head. “What’s wrong with me?” You whispered in response, an air of frustration surrounding your voice. “What’s wrong with you?”

He reeled his neck back at your reversal, his face twisting in confusion. “Wh-Nothing’s wrong with me. You basically threw a bag full of snacks at me and jumped into the truck. Did I say something? Was it the potty princess thing ‘cause you know I was just messin’ around.” He guessed, taking your lack of reaction and response as a sign that maybe that wasn’t the problem. “Did I do somethin’?”

“I don’t know, JJ. You tell me.” You pressed, eyes never leaving his own. He genuinely seemed to rake his brain for answers before settling on one that made your blood boil.

“No, I don’t think I did.” The statement sounded more like  a question when it tumbled from his lips. You couldn’t do anything but scoff and roll your eyes, prompting the blonde to try and clean up his answer. “Yes? I don’t know what you want me to say here-”

“Nothing.” You snapped. You were so hurt and angry that you could feel your eyes twitching as you looked at him. “I don’t want you to say anything else to me.” You warned, shifting to turn on your side and effectively away from him. “Ever again.”

“...C’mon, Y/N. Are you just fuckin’ with me or somethin’?” When you didn’t reply, he put a hand on your shoulder, attempting to pull you over to face him. You just shook him off. “Can you tell me what I did?”

The sadness in his voice almost made all the anger fall from your bones but you couldn’t allow yourself to be the weak and vulnerable. Especially not for him. Not anymore.

“No. Now, leave me alone.” You mumbled, shifting to get comfortable for the last time, hearing him sigh and lay down himself behind you. You felt one single tear fall across the bridge of your nose before you closed your eyes. Maybe it was a misunderstanding or something, but your brain couldn’t come up with any explanation of excuse that could explain what you saw. You wanted to talk about it but then again you didn’t. But you knew eventually you’d have to, tonight just wasn’t that night. In a million years, you never thought you’d feel this way because of your best friend.

For the first time in your entire life, you didn’t trust JJ.

“THEY’VE RUN CHARLESTON FOR, LIKE, THREE-THOUSAND YEARS.” Pope explained as the truck pulled to a stop in front of a large, three-story, gated property. It was the next morning and the sun had quite literally just set in the sky. Pope had woken the three of you up at the very first crack of dawn so you could make it there ‘on time’. You’d tried to remind him that ‘on time’ would’ve been last night, but you let him hang on to hope.

It didn’t help that the truck was significantly more crowded. You weren’t eager to sit on JJ’s lap this time around and surprisingly, Kiara wasn’t eager to take your place. Thankfully, the house was only a couple hours from where you slept.

“These Kooks make our Kooks look like Pogues.” JJ proclaimed, staring out of the window and up at the large, standing building. “You sure this is the place, Pope?” He asked, in awe of the property.

“Pretty sure.” The boy sighed, opening the driver’s side door and exiting, JJ following right after as you and Kie exited the vehicle as well, closing the doors behind them. The four you walked up the black, wrought iron fence. Pope held the note in his hands, reading off the address in confirmation.

“Talk about home security…” JJ trailed off, looking at the rather sizeable, sharp points at the top of the fence.

“Are those spikes to keep people out?” Kiara inquired.

Taking a good look at the property through the bars, you noticed a couple of things. You shook your head, a look of disappointment on your face. “No.” You spoke for the first time in hours, the three of them turning to you as you pointed to a section of the yard. “The slave quarters are over there.” You explained, looking at the three of them. “The spikes were to keep people in.” Was the last thing you said before heading up the steps to the front door, the three of them following behind you.

You let Pope take the reigns when you reached the door, him knocking three times on the structure before you heard heavy footsteps coming towards it from the other side. Despite the footsteps, almost a whole minute went by before anything happened.

Pope, nervous and jittery, went to knock again — getting two good ones in before someone opened the door. A middle-aged white man with small, beady eyes and short light brown hair. The expression on his face didn’t look like one of someone who was expecting guests.

Leaning against the door frame, he eyed the four you individually before settling on Pope, an odd smile growing on his features as he pointed at you friend. “You must be Pope.” He said almost excitedly, crossing his arms. Pope stumbled for a response. “Ms. Limbrey was expecting you yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My car…broke down on the way up here.” Pope explained, trying to mask his  uneasiness. 

“Carburetor blew up in the middle of Nowheresville.” JJ voiced from behind Pope. He didn’t look nervous at all, he looked ready for anything. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He said, little emotion to his voice despite the apology.

“Yeah, she was, uh, real upset when you didn’t show up.” The man told Pope, a southern twang to his voice, almost as strong as Shoupe’s. 

“We tried to call but there’s no number on the invitation.” Kiara piped up smally, looking at the invitation as she spoke. “We got here as fast as we could…”

“She also expected you to come alone.” The male said, eyeing you, Kiara, and JJ as he said it. 

“Well, he didn’t, so…” You added in, crossing your arms and eyeing the man up and down. “Where’s the ‘she’ with all these demands anyway?”

Pope edged in front of you when the man took a threatening step forward, JJ also shuffling forwards. “Look, these are my friends. They helped find the Royal Merchant, too-”

“The instructions were explicit.” He cut Pope off mid-sentence, eyes boring into yours as he leaned forward, his voice lowering to a condescending whisper. “Your friends…can stay outside.” He reprimanded, straightening out and turning back to Pope.

“We’re kind of a package deal, man.” JJ turned his nose up at the man standing between the four of you and the inside of the house. 

Pope turned to the blonde. “JJ, it’s okay. I got this.” He assured, sending a small nod his way. JJ took his words at face value, sending a nod in return and taking a step back. 

“We’ll be right here…” Kiara trailed off in support, sliding a gentle hand down the length of Pope’s arm. You simply rolled your eyes, something JJ didn’t fail to notice. 

“We’ll keep the car running…” You warned, eyes never leaving the suspicious man in the doorframe. 

“Well, c’mon now. Ms.Limbrey can’t wait to see you.” He said, stepping aside to allow a weary Pope into the mansion. The boy in question entered the home, not without a glance back at the three of you out on the front step, the door closing menacingly slow behind him.

“Fucking creep.” You scoffed, turning and heading down the steps swiftly.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kiara asked, running after you, watching as you walked the length of the wrought iron fence, examining the spikes. 

“What does it look like? I’m gonna find a way into this…house of horrors.” You mumbled, shaking each of the poles for a weak spot, failing to find one. You resorted to attempting to climb the fence but didn’t even manage to get both feet up onto the structure at once. 

“And do what exactly? What if you trespass and ruin all our chances at clearing John B’s name?” The girl asked, her face twisting in annoyance as you sighed and hopped down off the fence, turning to face her. Shifting your weight, you shoved your hands into your back pockets before speaking.

“Oh, like you did when you made Pope drop the camera?.” You shrugged, jutting out your bottom lip. “Y’know, the one that had the video of Ward killing someone-”

“That wasn’t even my fault!” She defended.

“I think we all collectively agreed that it was…” You argued nonchalantly, shooting the girl a grimace before walking off in the direction of the parked truck that JJ was leaning against, watching the entire interaction occur.

Before you’d turned away you could’ve swore Kiara opened her mouth to reply, but one warning head shake from JJ and her lips were sealing themselves shut. You were about to open the passenger door when JJ’s hand gripped your upper arm, the blonde staring out in front of him with a stoic yet pointed look on his face.

“Can you let go of me-”

“Does that look voluntary?” He asked, tone deep. You followed his unwavering gaze to find a blonde woman and the man who opened the door leading Pope further into the yard behind the gate. Pope was looking back pitifully at the three of you as the man pushed him forward and the woman, a cane by her side and a limp in her walk, led them both further into the greenery.

“Not at all.” You practically whispered back, attempting to take a step forward when JJ tightened his grip. 

“Hold on, hold on.” You turned to him an impatient and questioning look on your face, throwing a hand out as a way to ask ‘what?’. “They’re goin’ around the back alley.” He said hurriedly, rounding the driver’s side of the truck as you hopped in the passenger side, Kie piling in beside you. “We’ll meet ‘em on the other side.”

JJ started the car, driving it slowly in order to draw too much suspicion — with the Limbreys or surrounding neighbors. You could almost hear all three of your hearts beating in panicked unison with every turn made. You didn’t know what these people wanted with Pope, but if they didn’t drop this whole super secret act, they wouldn’t be getting anything.

Driving and driving, and still no Pope. JJ eyes were focused ahead as you and Kiara looked to the sides of the road for any sign of him. “Where did they go?” Kie asked, peering out of the window. She sounded sad. The trio of you continued driving around, Pope nowhere in sight. You were starting to get worried, extremely worried.

If the Limbreys were like the Camerons of Charleston, there was no telling what they could be doing with your friend right now.

“Okay, stop the car.” You said, putting your hands on the dashboard.

“What?” JJ asked, although he slowed the vehicle down, bringing it to a stop on the side of the road. You reached over key and threw the passenger door open before climbing over the girl. “Where the hell are you going-”

“Ouch, that’s my- Ow!” Kie shouted.

You threw yourself out of the vehicle before standing up and dusting yourself off, looking side to side before deciding to go back in the direction the alley was in. Even if you didn’t see Pope, there was a way in and there was no way in hell you weren’t taking it.

You set off quickly in the direction of the alley, Kiara and JJ calling out for you before two pairs of footsteps were trailing behind you. You passed a few people on the sidewalk, unintentionally shoulder-checking them in your haste.

“Watch it!”

“Hey! Rude…”

Reaching the alley, you made a sharp turn into the greenery. You could hear grunts and groans that stopped you in your tracks — you were no stranger to the sounds of violence. Your power walk turned into a sprint, pushing leaves and branches out of your path before reaching Pope, who was beating on the creep who opened the door.

He had him pinned down to the concrete, both of them reaching for what seemed to be a taser. Your eyes fleeted between the two brawling guys and the weapon before you decided to kick the object behind you in the direction of Kiara and JJ.

Pope delivered one last blow to the man’s face before getting up. “C’mon.” You demanded, being the first to run away, back in the direction of the truck. The four of you took the short way — hopping over a cement wall that guarded a small portion of the yard. 

The car was a few feet away since you ditched the scenic route, the four of you wasting no time in jumping in. JJ in the driver’s seat with the three of you piled in as well.

“Who the hell were those people?” Kiara panicked, out of breath as she slammed the passenger door shut.

“I don’t know but they’re crazy as shit!” Pope’s voice cracked as he settled into the vehicle. “We need to get out of here now.” He warned, wide eyes drifting in JJ’s direction as the blonde started the engine and hit the gas almost all in one motion as the vehicle leaped forward, sending you all down the road.

Near moments after JJ had hit the gas, leaving a smoke trail in his wake, you looked behind you to see a car speeding behind you, the fishbowl windows allowing you to see the driver clearly. “Creepy guy recovers fast.” You panted, looking back ahead of you and prompting JJ to peek in the rearview mirror, pressing the gas a little harder.

“Here we go now!”

Heyward’s truck was going faster than you ever deemed possible, flying down the road. “Hey, JJ, slow down. This is a one-way.” Pope warned, the truck never slowing down. JJ was too focused to hear much of anything, you were gripping the seat for dear life. “This is a one-way!” Pope got louder as JJ started to reach a busier part of the town. A car suddenly appeared in front of you, the headlights blinding.

“Car, JJ! There’s a car!” You warned, grabbing a hold of the steering wheel yourself and making a right turn before the truck could collide with the SUV. Rounding the corner, you almost collided with two pedestrians — the two heads of blonde and light-brown hair looking eerily familiar for the slightest of moments.

“Jesus, look out!” Pope and Kiara said in unison as JJ took back control of the wheel and avoided hitting the two people.

“Get out of the road!” JJ shouted as he redirected the car on the street.

“Those were pedestrians!” Kiara reprimanded, gripping the passenger door for stability. 

“That was evasive driving technique right there, y’all!” JJ patted himself on the back as you turned to look out of the rear window to see the man still hot on your trail.

“You sure about that ‘cause he’s still following us.” You warned, looking at the blonde for the briefest of moments.

“Hang on, I’ll lose him.” JJ assured you all, making a sharp turn that sent the three of you crashing into each other. Just as he turned into an empty alley, a pop sound following a hiss of air and smoke came from the truck. “I thought you said he fixed carburetor!”

“He did!” Pope said as the car came to a stop of its own.

“No, Pope, he clearly did not!” JJ retorted as he opened the door, Kie doing the same on the passenger side. The four of you got out of the truck, fanning the air and coughing.

“Number one rule, never trust mechanics.” JJ spoke mainly to himself as you all grabbed whatever you brought along with you out of the trunk of the car just as the car following you pulled in the alley as well. “Shit. Go, go, go!”

The four of you booked, the smoke hopefully giving you a bit of time as you ran through the alley. You and Kiara looked behind you as you ran, seeing the man get out of his own car and tuck something into his jacket.

“He has a gun.” You muttered, looking back ahead as you ran. “He has a fucking gun!”

Pope and JJ glanced behind themselves, past you and Kie to see the man not far behind. The squad of you picked up the pace, making the first turn available but you swore you heard someone calling your names.

The man was picking up the pace as well, getting closer to you all. “We might have to split up!” JJ suggested from the forefront of the group.

“Are you crazy?” You shouted, being right behind the blonde. “No way!” You continued, almost tripping over an unleveled section of the concrete. JJ, not paying attention, ran into a mailman, sending the packages in his hand flying into the air.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” He apologized over his shoulder. JJ led you all into another alley, this one much narrower causing you all to run in a line. The guy was falling behind, which was a plus.

Coming out of the alley, you all came face to face with a couple on a bike almost getting run over by them. But after taking a longer look at the two people who almost pummeled you all with their bike, your heart dropped farther down in your body than it ever has.

Every single one of your five senses seemed to cease to exist in this moment. You couldn’t hear anything, white noise filling your ears as your vision blurred on the edges, only allowing you to see what you could only logically explain as two ghosts standing in front of you — a very much alive John B Routeledge and Sarah Cameron standing in front of you, covering in mud and dirt and who knows what else.

Whatever breath you had been holding in your lungs released itself, the release of air allowing your senses to return, almost like coming up out of the water.

All of your expressions were somewhere in between a blank stare and a smile. You wanted to reach a hand out to see if they were real.

“...Get in. Get in! Get in!” John B broke the silence. His voice hadn’t changed. It was exactly like you remembered. The four of you did as he said, still partially in shock, piling into the bike. You, Kiara, and Sarah crowded into the cab of the pedicab as JJ and Pope pushed it from the back as John B pedaled as hard as he could. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of his back as he pedaled, unless of course it was to direct the same blank stare in Sarah’s direction. The Limbrey guy plus two other men were chasing the group of you now, JJ and Pope hopping onto the sides after it gained enough speed to ride smoothly with the six of you on it.

The entire ride to the boat, your friends were whooping and cheering. And on the inside you couldn’t be happier or more relieved at how well the universe seemed to work in your favor but for some reason, your body wasn’t so eager to show it on the outside. 

For a whole month, you’d grieved someone who wasn’t dead.

Once you reached one of Ward’s boats the Sarah knew the location of — My Druthers Too, you all wasted no time jumping into it, sailing in the direction of The Outer Banks. Back home.

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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[putschki1969]

hi, how likely do you think that SC does by contract limit Keiko and Hikaru's activity with YK in the future ? because if this reunion live is only a one off event it doesnt seem reasonable to make such long term restriction. And if it does have such restriction in the contract, it is surprising that Keiko and Hikaru would fall for that. Unless Keiko and Hikaru is sommehow being tricked or SC pull some string in a way that Keiko and Hikaru signed the contract without seeing it will come like this

Hi there!

Fair warning, I will be getting into speculative territory with my answer so please keep that in mind and take everything you read with a grain of salt. I honestly don't enjoy speculating about this sort of stuff but it really can't be helped right now since we don't have any details. I'll try my best to keep everything as fact-based as possible.

Also, I can currently not guarantee a great deal of objectivity on the matter since I am feeling very protective of the girls. There's a part of me that is really angry at Yuki Kajiura and while I realise that my anger is mostly irrational and probably misdirected, I cannot help but feel this way. Please forgive me if anything I write in this post comes across as overly harsh towards Yuki Kajiura. If you are one of her hardcore stans, this is not the place to be right now.

Without further ado, let's get to your question...

I personally don’t think Space Craft has the amount of power over Keiko and Hikaru to completely cut them off from Yuki. Keiko is still managed by Tristone and Hikaru is a freelance artist so whatever they signed, or agreed upon, it most likely won't/can't conflict with Keiko's existing management contract and Hikaru's freedoms as freelancer. While I am sure there is some sort of agreement/contract, I very much doubt that it would enforce any sort of long-term commitment that could effectively hinder them from participating in any other activities. As you say, it would be incredibly unwise for Keiko and Hikaru to willingly sign such a restrictive agreement since the costs would far outweigh the gains, especially if they really end up only doing this one concert. They have been in this business for far too long and have surely learned from a fair amount of past mistakes to not let themselves be entrapped like that. They may not have been able to grasp the full extent of their decision (or were unable to predict Yuki's reaction) but to a certain degree, they must have known what awaited them if they agreed to this reunion concert. Just like Wakana knew what she was sacrificing when she decided to stay with Space Craft. In Wakana's case, one could argue that her seamless transition into a stable solo career was worth the price of being shunned. In Keiko's and Hikaru's case, the chance to do a single concert together is hardly worth losing that valuable connection to Yuki. Surely, those decisions weren't made lightly, lots of thought was put into them. So yeah, I don't think such strong restrictions would have been part of the agreement.

As for Space Craft deliberately tricking them, I'd like to believe that they aren't this cruel. Like I have always said, Wakana has decided to stay with them (and continues to stay with them) for a reason so for me, that automatically means that they can't be as evil as so many people make them out to be. I do not doubt that the higher-ups at Space Craft are grumpy old men who regularly take their pettiness to new creative levels just to spite Team Yuki but I'd hope they draw the line at betraying the girls. Basically, I wouldn't put it past them to do nasty stuff like enforcing NDAs, prohibiting the explicit mentioning of Yuki's name or staging news article leaks to publicly embarrass Yuki but I doubt they would intentionally trap the girls in a contract that they absolutely didn't want. I really hope I am right about this because I would hate to see any of them in such a predicament.

In all honesty, I think we mostly owe Keiko's exclusion from the upcoming YKL to Yuki's wheelings and dealings. Keiko's message on Yodel made it sound like she was genuinely hoping to continue working with Yuki and was just as saddened by the announcement as everyone else. As far as we can tell, she took the decision in stride and responded with dignity but she must have been quite disappointed, especially considering she was likely not informed of this decision in advance (she probably had to find out through the official announcement).

Now why would Yuki do such a thing? Once again, I refuse to believe that Yuki would intentionally try to punish or hurt Keiko. Seeing as I can't even imagine Space Craft being this cruel, I certainly struggle to imagine that Yuki would ever be capable of such malice. And I do somewhat believe her when she says she respects the girls. However, and this is a big however, I think Yuki is a very proud (dare I say conceited?) woman. A person of her status is of course allowed a certain measure of pride but I fear it has reached a point where her wounded pride and offended sensibilities are negatively influencing her ability to make rational decisions. As far as I am concerned, this puts her on the same level as all these Space Craft execs everyone keeps complaining about. And don't get me wrong here, I am not trying to diminish Space Craft's role in all of this, they have done their fair share of fucked up things but while everyone was always quick to put all the blame on them, no one really thought to question Yuki's actions during all of this. For me, they are equally at fault. Both parties surely make it difficult for each other and have some sort of leverage they like to use to get the better of the opposing party. But looking at everything from an objective point of view, Yuki has long ago gained significant advantages over Space Craft with all her recent accomplishments so I don't know what she is gaining from continuously manipulating the narrative in a manner that makes her look like she is the only wronged party in all of this while everyone else is either made to look evil or simply thrown under the bus.

I wish she would just swallow her pride, be the better person and make an effort to differentiate herself from the people at Space Craft whose petty behaviour she so clearly disapproves of. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to recognise the hypocrisy in her own actions and she certainly doesn't come across as the type of person who is willing to make any concessions which is probably one of the main reasons the feud between her and SC still hasn't been resolved.

The higher-ups at Space Craft and Yuki are doing all of the string pulling and as long as they are motivated by pettiness, we sadly won't be seeing any improvement of the situation. The biggest tragedy in all of this is that Wakana, Keiko and Hikaru have always been the collateral damage of this childish feud. From day one, they have been caught in the trenches and forced to bear the brunt of the immature actions of their seniors. Hardcore YK stans may disagree but Kalafina isn't just Yuki's creation, throughout the years, it has become so much more and the girls have contributed just as much (if not more!) to shape the Kalafina we all know and love. How were they repaid for their efforts? First, they had pretty much their life's content, more than ten years worth of hard work and dedication, abruptly ripped from them only to be left to fend for themselves with little to no external support. Then they received nothing but horrible backlash for attempting to recreate something that was so incredibly special to them and now they seem to have been entirely abandoned for simply going through with a project that at its core was only meant to bring joy.

My only hope right now is that this unfortunate situation can be turned into many opportunities to enable some more Kalafina concerts as well as increase their solo activities. It would break my heart to just see them do nothing. I will not say that their sacrifice was completely in vain because that Kalafina Anniversary Live was obviously so important and so special to so many people (including the girls), we all had such an amazing time. But that just can't have been it, it's too high a price to pay for a single night of happiness. The girls need to get more out of this, they deserve it!

All right, I think I've said everything I've wanted to say...Over and out.

[slutdilf]

After all this time

Paring: Chris evans x male reader

Warnings: none just a fluff fic

Note: writing this gave me an idea to potentially make a part 2 to this maybe I don’t know

Requested by anonymous: Hello, I really like how you write, if possible, could you do one of Chris Evans x male reader where Chris meets the reader, they were friends from those old years in Boston but they lost contact due to Chris's career, where the reader felt things for him (and he still does), but they never confessed until that reunion? I leave the reason for the reunion to your choice, as well as whether you leave it in fluff or in smut.

it was late at night and you were scrolling through your phone on instagram. when you suddenly got a memory notification when you clicked you saw a picture of you and another slightly taller and handsome man, right off the bat you knew who it was your best friend, Chris Evans. Chris and you had been friends for a long time, you grew up together in the lively streets of the American neighborhood in Boston. You had shared countless memories exploring the city, cheering on the Red Sox, and dreaming of their future. Chris was the charming and athletic one, always the life of the group, and everyone thought he was destined for great things. you on the other hand, were quieter and more thoughtful, often appreciating Chris's infectious energy but never quite feeling like you measured up. Seeing the photo it rose a feeling you’d long forgotten. A flicker of a smile on your lips as you realise just how much of a crush you’d had on Chris. through time you and Chris had slowly lost contract as Chris became more and more involved in his career. You went from talking to almost every day to talking to every few months and slowly to almost never talking. You felt the pang of guilt in your heart for not being so direct with Chris and confessing your feelings to him. you doubt he’d even recognise you if you’d meet him again.

You were about to swipe away when you suddenly saw a follow notification on Instagram. It was Chris, he had followed you. You couldn’t believe it. Your heart was beating so fast you felt it would burst out of your chest and your mind was racing with a thousand thoughts. Without thinking you quickly opened up his page in a daze. The first thing you noticed was the number of followers he had, of course he did he was a freaking celebrity now. You’d seen so many of his projects and you knew how talented he was. The second thing you realised when you saw his most recent photo was that he had not changed a bit, still as handsome as ever.

The realisation of that fact made you pause, you hadn’t spoken in so long. Why would he follow you? The feeling of excitement mixed with fear was overwhelming but you also couldn’t help that feeling of hope growing inside you. Maybe he felt the same way you did. It was stupid to even hope for it. He was a celebrity, he could have anyone he wanted, why would he want you? you quickly shook your head clearing these thoughts from your head, your heart just hurt.

Your phone suddenly vibrated, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a notification from Chris. A message. You stared at the screen in disbelief for a moment and with a deep breath you opened up the message. Your heart skipped a beat as soon as you saw the words “Hey it’s me Chris. Can’t believe it’s been years since that photo” a smile went across your face he got the same notification of the memory of you both as well He had found you again. You typed back with shaky fingers.

You: “Hey, Chris, it’s been a while” you replied, hoping your heart rate would return to normal.

Chris: “I know, too long. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get in touch.”

You tried to think of something witty to say but your mind was blank. You had always been the quieter one among you two and talking to him now made you feel like a teenager again.

You: “I’ve always wanted to reach out and catch up” you admitted.

Chris: “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. It’s just been crazy, you know?”

You: “Yeah, I understand, the whole practically knows you at this point.”

There were so many things you wanted to say, so many questions you wanted to ask. But it felt like there was an invisible barrier between you and him, all these thoughts and feelings held back by a wall of insecurity.

Chris: “well they know of me. They don’t know me not like you did…..I’m glad I found you again”

His simple words hit you unexpectedly. You could feel his sincerity through the screen, the connection that hadn’t faded after all these years. You tried to keep your cool.

You: “Same here, I’ve missed you.”

Chris: “Me too.”

The conversation was flowing so easily, but deep down you wanted it to be more. You knew you needed to tell him how you felt, you couldn’t go through life wondering what if.

Suddenly another message from him popped up.

Chris: “We should meet up, talk in person.”

Your heart was racing again. You couldn’t believe he wanted to see you, but you couldn’t deny the excitement you suddenly felt.

You: “That sounds great, when?”

Chris: “I’m actually in town at the moment. our college is having a a reunion this weekend. I was debating on whether or not to go ”

Your eyes widened at the message, he was here in the city? You didn’t even think you’d be able to see him today and he was already in town.

You: “Really? I barely even know of the reunion”

You couldn’t keep the eagerness out of your voice.

Chris: “Well now you do. And you should go, it could be fun. Imagine all those old memories.”

There was something about the way he said “old memories” that made your heart flutter.

You: “You’re right, it could be fun. but I’ve not exactly achieved much in the years. unlike you where you’ve practically become a massive actor”

It could be a chance. A chance to finally confront the feelings you’d shoved down so long ago.

Chris: “Come on you don’t sell yourself short. I’m pretty sure that’s the same thing you said even back in high school”

He remembered that? You couldn’t help smiling at the thought that he had paid that much attention to you. Chris had always been kind, but there was something different about the way he was talking to you now. Like he cared more.

Chris: “Promise me you’ll go to the reunion.”

He was being relentless, he clearly wanted you to be there.

You: “Okay okay I’ll go, I forgot how you can be pretty demanding”

You teased, it was a natural response after all the years of banter and friendly teasing.

Chris: “Hey, you loved my persistence.”

That message made you pause. It was just harmless banter but it brought back a thousand memories. Memories of you two hanging out in the streets of Boston, your late night walks, or the quiet moments of comfort when you were both tired and stressed. He was right you loved his persistence. A part of you always had. And still does.

Chris: “Can’t wait to see you again”

Your heart was beating rapidly at those words. You were finally going to see him after all these years. You felt like a high school student again.

You: “See you there”

And with that, the conversation had ended. You set your phone down, trying to process everything that just happened. Chris had found you and now you were going to see him again. All the feelings you’d buried so long ago were starting to flood back. You couldn’t help it, something was stirring in your chest, a mixture of excitement and anxiety. But you couldn’t deny you were looking forward to it. Time seemed to crawl by after that, your mind fixated on the upcoming reunion.

Finally the day of the reunion arrived. You were nervous as hell, but also couldn’t help the small spark of excitement that was in your chest. You got ready quickly, not wanting to give yourself the time to doubt yourself. You chose your clothes carefully, you wanted to look nice. The thought of seeing Chris again made you want to look your best. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath before heading out.

The reunion was set to take place in your old college’s courtyard. When you arrived, you noticed people had already begun to gather. People you hadn’t seen in years and others you thought you had long forgotten. As you walked in, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd nervously, looking for one familiar face.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally spotted him. Standing at the far end of the courtyard was Chris. The years had only enhanced his natural good looks and the air of fame followed him like a shadow. He was surrounded by a group of people, talking and laughing. You stood there, unnoticed, feeling like a teen all over again.

Chris suddenly looked up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes landed on you and a smile broke across his face. He said a few quick words to his group before he started walking towards you.

Every step he took made your heart beat faster. He had noticed you, the way he had smiled made your knees weak. As he got closer, you tried to sound casual but you couldn’t keep the slight tremor from your voice.

“Hey, you actually came” He greeted you, that same infectious smile on his face.

“Yeah, I said I would” you tried to sound indifferent but your voice was betraying you. You looked up at him, and for a moment it felt like time had stopped. The years apart seemed to fade away, and it was just you and him, standing there in the middle of the courtyard.

Chris looked at you, his eyes studying you intently. “You look good” he said finally, a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t place.

“You don’t look too bad yourself” you managed to respond, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest.

Something about the way he was looking at you made you feel shy. It was different from before. But before you could speak again, he was looking around.

“Come on, I want to show you something”

he said, taking your hand in his. The gesture caught you off guard, but you were too flustered to object as he led you through the crowd.

He guided you through the crowds, his hand around yours. The contact of his skin against yours sent jolts of electricity through you, bringing back a flood of memories of your childhood together. You tried to focus on anything but the feeling of his hand holding onto yours but you were hyper aware of every little thing. As he pulled you along, you couldn’t help but feel like you were following a familiar path.

You realised quickly where he was leading you. It was to the spot you two used to spend a lot of time in. It was a quiet bench, away from the hustle and bustle of the campus.

When you were younger, it was often this spot that you and him would escape to. Sometimes simply to talk away from the others and hang out. it became a nostalgic spot. memories rushing in your head as you thought about all the stuff you’d talked about sitting on the chair and just rambling about crushes, dreams, fears and the things you wanted to do.

He stopped, gesturing for you to sit on the bench beside him.

You sat down next to him, the cool air of the evening bringing back waves of memories. You were acutely aware of the way he was looking at you, a small smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you remembered this place” you said, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was racing.

"Of course I remembered.” He chuckled, looking around. “How could I forget? We practically lived here during our school days.”

There was something in the way he looked at the spot, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. It was as if he was reliving the memories just as vividly as you were.

The silence that followed was comfortable, as if the years apart hadn’t diminished the connection you had. He leaned back, resting his arms on the backrest of the bench, his hand nearly touching your arm.

“Remember how we used to talk for hours here?” he broke the silence, his gaze still on the scenery around.

You smiled faintly at his question. Those memories were some of your most treasured. Many nights spent sitting on this very bench, talking about dreams and ambitions, hopes and fears.

“How could I forget?” You replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "We talked so long our voices always hurt the next morning”

He laughed heartily at that. "Yeah, those were some good times."

He finally looked at you, that warm smile still on his face.

"Seems like you remember all of it,” he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

You tried not to show how his smile affected you, nodding slightly.

“Of course I do. I could never forget any of it.” Your voice lowered instinctively, the sincerity coming through.

His smile softened at your words, a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t place. He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words, before speaking again.

“You know, those memories here... they mean a lot to me. And part of me was hoping you'd be here tonight.”

You were so stunned by his words that you forgot to breathe for a moment. Part of him was hoping you’d be here? Your heart was in your throat now, the air was crackling with tension.

"And why’s that?" You managed to get out, your voice betraying your nervous excitement.

His hand shifted on the bench, his fingers lightly brushing against your sleeve. "Because you’ve always been important to me."

He was looking at you intently, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was almost like a confession, but his eyes held more than just simple friendship.

Your heart leaped into your throat. His words, the way he was looking at you. Could it be..

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. “I-“

The words got stuck in your throat and you couldn’t get them out. A part of you wanted to say everything you felt, to finally confess after all these years, but the fear of rejection was holding you back.

Chris noticed your hesitation, his gaze now questioning but not leaving you. He moved subtly closer, his hand now gently wrapped around your shoulder, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

The feeling of his touch was both comforting and overwhelming. You looked up at him, the feelings you’d suppressed for so long bubbling inside you.

"No, it’s just-" you paused, looking down. "There’s something I need to tell you."

You braced yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. This was your chance, now or never.

He seemed to sense the seriousness in your voice, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "What is it?"

He looked slightly worried now, his eyes locked on yours. The silence between you was almost deafening.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. This was it. No more holding back.

"Chris, I-" the words got stuck in your throat again.

The feelings you’d kept hidden for so long were finally bubbling over, and the thought of rejection was scarier than anything, but you had to force the words out.

"I've always-“ you inhaled, gathering your courage. “I've always had feelings for you.”

The words hung in the air, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t dare look at his face, suddenly regretting the confession.

There was a silence that lasted for what felt like an eternity. And just as you started to fear the worst, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You have?”

You nodded hesitantly, looking up at him. He was staring back at you, his eyes wide and something like wonder there. There was something unreadable in his expression, a mix of emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. But he was still listening.

"Ever since high school," you admitted. “I never had the courage to tell you.”

He was still silent, processing your confession. But instead of the rejection you feared, he looked more like he was in shock.

"Ever since high school..?"

The question seemed to be more to himself than you, but you nodded again, the weight of the secret finally lifted from you.

He looked at you for a moment longer, his hand still on your shoulder. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

His laughter caught you off guard. You had been fully expecting denial or dismissal, but his laugh wasn’t mocking. It sounded like he was in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe what you’d told him.

You watched him, confusion written all over your face. “Why are you laughing?” You finally asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable

He shook his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just..”

He trailed off, taking a deep breath before meeting your gaze again. He looked almost amused, a hint of disbelief still on his face.

"Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

His question caught you off guard. “Wait, what?”

You stared at him, not quite understanding what he meant. Had he been waiting for you to confess? The thought seemed impossible.

But he was looking at you intently, his hand still on your shoulder, a faint smile on his lips. He was serious.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years,” he repeated, his eyes never leaving yours.

His confession hit you like a truck. For years? He’d been feeling the same way but never said anything? You were completely stunned.

"You.. you’ve felt the same way all this time?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled faintly, giving you a gentle nod. “For as long as you did, I’d imagine. You just finally said it first.”

You were still trying to process his words. The fact that he had feelings for you this entire time was almost too much to grasp.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

He chuckled lightly, his hand subconsciously tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Probably the same reason you didn’t. Didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

His thumb was now tracing the outline of your collarbone. The gesture wasn’t sexual, more thoughtful and absentminded.

His touch was sending tingles down your spine. Hearing that he’d been worried about ruining the friendship made your heart flutter. The realisation that all the feelings you’d pushed down had been mutual for all this time was overwhelming.

“So then, what now?” you finally asked, your voice betraying the mixture of emotions within you.

His fingers curled around your shoulder, gently drawing you closer to him.

“What do you want to do?” he replied.

You didn’t need to think about the answer. You looked up at him, your body now almost touching his.

“I want this,” you answered breathlessly.

His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but you could sense the hint of longing in it.

You nodded, your heart racing in your chest. “I’m sure,” you said, feeling his fingers on your skin. “I want you.”

He pulled you closer to him, his hand now on your lower back. The distance between you was gone. He looked at you, his eyes burning with an intensity you’d never seen before.

“your sure?.” He spoke, his voice low. “it’s gonna be intense. there’s gonna headlines. flashing paparazzi cameras every time we go out. travelling the world with me to film.”

You looked up at him, the warnings in his voice clear. He was right, being with him was dangerous. It would change your life.

But at that moment, you realised you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about the possible trouble, the headlines or the cameras. All you knew was that you wanted him, and you wanted everything with him.

“I’m sure” you repeated firmly, your voice filled with determination. “I want everything with you.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes now sparkling with a mixture of surprise and excitement.

He raised his hand slowly to your face, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw before cupping your chin. He leaned in towards you, his breath warm against your skin.

“then I’m not letting you go” he said, his voice low. “not after all this time.”

The words sent a shiver through you, his breath against your skin making you weak.

"You better not," you replied, your voice soft but filled with conviction.

He chuckled lightly, his hand still holding your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

"Don’t worry, I won’t," he said, his voice filled with promise.

With that, he leaned in closer, his lips finally meeting yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was testing the waters. But something clicked inside both of you, years of suppressed feelings and denied affection finally bubbling over.

The kiss quickly grew more passionate, his hand moving from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer to him.

The feeling of his lips against yours was electric, a wave of emotions crashing over you. Your hands moved of their own accord, grabbing the front of shirt, pulling him closer while desperately kissing him back.

He responded enthusiastically, his hands holding you tightly against him, the kiss getting more and more heated with each passing moment.

His tongue teased at your lips, asking for entry, and you let him in without hesitating. The kiss grew more intense, his hands moving to slide through your hair, his actions now filled with a hunger that you reciprocated.

It was all-consuming, years worth of suppressed feelings finally bursting free.

His arms were around you now, holding you tightly against his chest. One of his hands was tangled in your hair, the other was caressing your back, his long fingers drawing small circles on your spine.

The kiss was deep and searing, a tangle of lips and tongues, filled with years of pent-up desire. It was like coming home. You both pulled back to catch your breath your forehead pressed against his.

He looked at you, his breath ragged, his eyes darkened with a mix of passion and something akin to awe.

"Why-" he said between breaths, his hand still tangled in your hair. "Why the hell didn’t we do that years ago?”

You laughed, your own breaths still ragged, your heart racing in your chest. You placed a hand gently on his cheek, running your thumb over his lips.

"We were stupid" you whispered, a smile on your lips. "All those years, all the time wasted."

He chuckled, leaning into your touch. “I could have been kissing you for years and you had to go and wait so long.”

He moved a hand to your cheek, mirroring your gesture as he traced your features with his thumb. His touch was gentle, almost reverent.

"Still, it’s better late than never." He added, a hint of a smile on his lips. you put your head on his shoulder. his hand around you waist. As you cuddled on the bench together watching the sunset. your heart racing at a speed you couldn’t even comprehend. You’d finally gotten the man of your dreams. The man you wanted for so long. almost instinctively you nuzzle your head into his neck and you say the words “I love you.”

He froze for a moment at your words, the atmosphere becoming even more intimate. It was silent for a moment, before he spoke, his voice a soft whisper in your ear.

"I love you too."

His words were simple, but they sent a rush of warmth through your body. He held you tighter, his chin resting on your head. The world around you almost faded away, the only thing that matter was the two of you now.

[lovingdabeessss]

What do you think the relationship between Blake's parents and Yang would be like?

I’m gonna start this off I think maybe they would’ve been wary of Yang at first

If they met her they’d love her but they didn’t really get that chance after all of team Rwby fully DIED

If they started to piece together that the reason Blake came home so devastated and that she left her team at all had something to do with Yang it’d probably cause lots of concern

Cause when people talk about them in beacon they’d probably talk about how inseparable they were, how they were always hanging out, how they were the best partner team, completely in sync, they loved each other, they were in their own little world

Then after beacon fell it’s like there’s this time skip of stories that tend to start like: “when they started getting along again” “after they made up”

So something happened

And the other major relationship that Blake had that was that kind of closeness and had that great of an effect on her was Ad*m

So they were probably a little worried

Especially because Blake clearly loved her team based on the way she joined them and they probably saw at least a bit of their volume 5 reunion which was telling of something who knows what but definitely something with Their staring at each other exclusively and the tensions when yang came back up with the relic

There’s a possibility of something really serious happening between them!! could’ve been a big mutual fight, Yang could’ve been weird and evil, or just kind of manipulative, or she could’ve been fine but their was a incident, Blake could’ve even done something (unlikely she’s their angel but she was very distraught so they wouldn’t hold it against her gotta love loving parents)

They were definitely curious when Blake came back to them they were definitely more curious when Blake left but they just got her back so they didn’t want to push her to much

But then Blake fucking DIED and so did the rest of her team and now they have nothing

Their daughter is gone, she had been gone for years but she was alive it was awful they were miserable they missed her but she was alive that’s what mattered that’s all the mattered they could keep going knowing that even without knowing anything else like if she was safe or happy and then they got her back and everything was right in the world and she brought her weird friend with her (I love sun) and she was suffering but she got better and she worked through so much and she changed the white fang for the better and it was amazing

But now she’s dead and she’s never coming back and all they have is other people’s stories about her

And other peoples stories include Yang so so heavily

And so they barely got to know their daughter

And they definitely don’t know this random girl

But they’re going to figure them out because that’s all that’s all that they can do anymore

They’d probably ask sun about her, someone who they assume would know and also would be their least insensitive option as he was more Blake’s friend even if it doesn’t feel great as their essentially trying to dig up dirt on this DEAD young girl who died SAVING PEOPLE

And sun clearing it up talking about “no, Yang loved Blake she adored her she did anything for her she was the only one who could get her to rest she cared for her so much”

But the thing is as far as I’m aware Yang and Blake haven’t talked about what happened with Adam with anyone. obviously everyone knows Yang lost an arm and lots of people saw them bleeding in the middle of a crumbling beacon but that doesn’t give context. They don’t know Adam cut yangs arm off or stabbed Blake. They don’t know what happened In their dorm right before the fall when Blake doubted Yang at her lowest moment (it was VALID for Blake just bad timing!!)they don’t know about them killing Adam. they don’t know how Yang convinced Blake to rest

There’s a lot of really specific reasons for why their relationship happened as it did that no one alive knows the true full context of

A really fun idea to me is that maybe ilia knows about the arm chopping thing because I think it’s possible Adam possibly bragged about butchering Blake’s new favorite person

Maybe they bond with qrow who they probably thought was Yang and rubys main guardian/ parent because he was the one who was with them and maybe he sheds a small amount of light on Yang and who she is but they know he’s biased

Overall I think they figured out a lot of really great things about her, that she was always there for Blake during beacon getting her food and keeping her stable, that she’s a devoted older sister and friend, that the reason she wasn’t with her team when they were broadcasting was because she was in a giant whale grim fighting Salem directly

But they’re parents and they worry

But once they all come back from the dead and they actually meet Yang I think they’ll LOVE her

Especially because if they bring up these concerns Blake will definitely go to hell and back to explain how great Yang is and how much she loves her

Once they get through all possible concerns they’re SUPPERRR welcoming into the family kinda vibe

Very kind very happy yangs very confused

I think Yang would be really casual in the beginning of meeting them still very polite because they’re Blake’s parents and also kind of royalty but not your traditional meet the parents sort of thing become I don’t think she would’ve thought about the fact Blake might want that

Like I’ve said it before but I don’t think yangs going to go out of her way to actively tell people especially her parents that she’s dating Blake honestly she probably believes “team partner” is a sufficient enough title and people can just pick up that it’s also a romantic partnership totally normal for team partners

(Team strq probably still refer to each other as a team instead of family despite having actual children together so that’s yangs perspective )

I really doubt it would’ve occurred to her that Blake would want her parents to meet her romantic partner so that they can get along and with the intention of gaining approval for said romantic partner (not something Blake needs but definitely something she’d like)

Not that Yang needs to put up any particular acts or be super nervous so it’s great

The person the most nervous about meeting Blake’s parents is for sure Weiss

I think that in the end Blake’s parents would try to make Yang feel more like part of the family and they’d just end up with a really really nice and positive relationship

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 19 🍒

"Hungry Heart"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 6,022

Summary: Going to Jackson for a wedding seems like just a friend doing a favor for a friend, but old acquaintances and new attitudes don't always make for a great combination.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place June - December 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of divorce, language, No Smut, mention of infidelity, post-divorce strife, Ellie is kind of a delinquent (will be discussed in next chapter), brief glimpse of lumberjack!Joel, forced proximity, mutual pining (mostly on Joel's side), Joel tries to be an authority figure and Ellie ain't having it

Author's Note: thank you to everyone who's stuck around to read this and been very patient with me! my birthday was last week so there was a lot going on, otherwise I would have had this out earlier. So.. we've got these two together again, but the reunion isn't exactly a happy one..

Series Masterlist

June 2023 San Francisco, CA

It's not until you're seated in a booth at the trendy new sushi bar downtown that you begin to doubt your agreement to meet Sarah while she's in town for a work conference. You'd said yes initially, then waffled about it in the coming weeks, and now you're drinking sake to fortify yourself. Your therapist told you it's a bad idea to mix alcohol with reacquaintances, but you're already refilling the ochoko when you look up for a moment and spy Sarah approaching you through the crowded restaurant.

You've never thought about what she might look like. A part of you imagined that you'd be sitting down to dinner with the same kid from twenty years ago. But Sarah has grown up, in her thirties, a successful attorney. And, from what you gathered by spying on Joel's Facebook account years ago, she's also a mother.

"Thank you for meeting me," she says, embracing you the way women always embrace each other, something you never got used to because of you lack of female friends. She smells like expensive perfume, the kind you spray on yourself at Sephora just for fun, and is dressed in a white maxi dress with blue floral print. She looks amazing, and you silently berate yourself for wearing black distressed jeans, a Rolling Stones tee and your lucky red Converse.

"You're all grown up," you remark, a hint of sadness in your tone.

"You look beautiful," she says in return. "You don't even look like twenty years have passed."

Little does she know you spent forty dollars on a concealer to hide your undereye circles, and were talked into spending another twenty on something called a lip oil that makes your lips sticky and tastes like cheap pineapple, which you wiped away on the restaurant napkin as soon as you sat down.

Settling down to small talk, you neglect to look at your menus, annoying the waitress who stops by to take your order three times and ultimately just comes by to refill your drinks.

Sarah lives out east in Boulder, Colorado, practicing law alongside her fiance Theo. They have a son together, ten year old Finn.

"Theo proposed when I got pregnant," Sarah says. "But I wanted us to build a foundation first, construct our little family. And when the time was right, I proposed to him."

She shows off pictures of Finn, sharing the funny and cute anecdotes that parents do, and when she asks about Ellie you do the same: Ellie in the hospital, just hours old, wearing a tiny knitted pink and blue hat as she glowered at the camera; Ellie at four, playing T-ball, one of just two girls on an all-boys team; Ellie at ten winning the school spelling bee.

Being an Army wife gave you the opportunity to see the world, experience things you otherwise wouldn't. Japan, Germany, Italy.. you were happy that Ellie got to experience them too.

But even that couldn't save your marriage to Justin.

There were infidelities on both sides, and when you found out about his, it was almost a relief to discover he was not Nice Justin, just a man who had affairs. In the midst of your own liaisons, you felt vindicated, though the fun wore off easier than it had in your youth.

Filing for divorce was only difficult considering Ellie. Justin didn't fight it, handing over full custody. It was the only part of the process that broke your heart. Now you were just repeating a history of broken families. Once the divorce was finalized it was like throwing up after being nauseous for so long, just good to get it out of your system.

("I kept my married name, just to piss off the new wife," you tell Sarah, who snickers in response. "That's understandable.")

Settling in San Francisco where you like the neighborhood and the schools, life seems easier.

"Ninth grade history," you answer when Sarah asks what you teach. "I introduce Romeo & Juliet to kids who are the same age as those characters."

And now, with the niceties out of the way, there's nothing left to talk about but the past.

You've been dreading it.

"I never apologized for what I did," she says.

You nod, inviting her to continue.

"You probably know this by now, but I was the one who called your mom."

Of course you knew it all along, but hearing it is a different thing.

She got her number from your phone when you weren't around. And, unable to get the picture of you and her dad out of her mind, she dialed it one day and explained to your mom what she saw.

"Why?" you ask.

She averts her eyes a brief moment. "Deep down I always knew there was something going on with you and my dad.. the day of my party when I walked in on you, it was a rude awakening. It's one thing to know something is going on, and another thing to witness it. And later, when you left, I realized I'd taken it too far."

Sarah goes quiet and so do you, despite the chatter in the busy restaurant.

You ask, "Did Joel ever find out it was you?"

She nods. "I told him later.. after he started seeing that awful girl you were friends with."

That part of your life, the bubble of jealousy and despair in which you made your home, seems so long ago. "Hailey," you remind her.

"Yeah.. she didn't last very long. Dad broke things off when he caught her stealing from him.. and when that happened I realized he was just better off with you. But.. by then it was too late."

By then you were already apart. The damage had been done.

"Was he angry at you for what you did?"

Sarah shrugs. "It was a silent kind of angry. You know how he is. We avoided each other for weeks until it became impossible. And by then.. you were gone."

You take a moment to reflect on your memories of Joel. "How is he?"

She smiles, as if she knew or even hoped you'd ask about him. "He's good. He's in Jackson now. Wyoming. Tommy's there with his new wife.."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. "And, uh.. your stepmom?"

She looks blank for a moment. "You mean Tess? No, they divorced a few years ago. She was nice, it just didn't work out."

You don't know whether to feel sorrow or relief at this fact, but for once you decide to be petty and let the relief take over, hoping he went through a fraction of the pain you endured.

Sarah toys with her salmon roll. "I'm sorry," she says, nodding to herself as if giving herself strength to do it. She looks you in the eye and you catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be. "I'm sorry. For starting everything."

So many times you've imagined what it would be like if you hadn't been found out by anyone else. Would you still have stayed in Austin? Would you and Joel have had more time together?

"It's in the past, right?" You manage a smile, happy that this is out in the open. A part of you feels like a weight is lifted. Things may not have happened the way you wanted, but now you can reconcile the things you can't control anymore.

"This is probably the wrong time to say this," Sarah continues, "but I'd like to invite you and Ellie to my wedding this December, in Jackson. You won't have to worry about airfare or hotels. Theo and I will cover your ticket and.. well, everyone's staying at my dad's. He has a huge house in town, enough for close family. I'd really love it if you would come."

"Justin, you're really fucking me over, do you know that?" you try to speak as quietly as you can into the phone while laying out outfits for the Jackson trip. "Ellie's going to be brokenhearted. You told her you'd have her the entire two weeks."

On the other line Justin sighs, the new, younger Mrs. Williams can be heard in the background. "I promised Svetlana first. We really need this time together," he whispers as well, likely not trying to instigate another argument with his wife.

You have some choice words for Svetlana, but are interrupted when Ellie quietly walks into the room, well aware that the discussion is about her. "I'll call you back."

"Let me guess.." Ellie sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going with Dad for Christmas.."

There's no point in lying to her. She's a sharp kid. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, kiddo. He and your stepmother are taking an extended honeymoon in Malta," you tell her gently.

"You mean Slutlana?"

"What? Ellie, that's rude. Don't say that." You pause. "Don't say that to her face, at least."

She's quiet, and at times like this you regret that she's essentially living the life you lived at fourteen, always wondering when Dad would come back, if he even wanted to spend time with his own child.

"So.. I'm going with you?"

You nod. "Thank god your probation is over. It'd be nice if you paid Marlene a visit, or at least called her," I said, speaking of the parole officer assigned to Ellie after a particular incident. "We should send her some Tiff's Treats or something, she deserves a gift after putting up with your delinquent self." You playfully toss a tee shirt at her.

"Can I say bye to Riley?" she asks, hope evident in her eyes.

"No," you're adamant on this one thing, as lax as you were before the trespassing situation.

"Mom, my probation's over. I'm not gonna get in trouble just for talking to her."

"I don't care. I'm not going by the judge's rules, I'm going by mine." You pause. "You'll just have to come with me to Wyoming."

Sarah had gone to the trouble of sending a beautifully embossed wedding invitation, done in traditional cream and gold, with photos of the two of them as children, as teens, and one gorgeously done couples photo. Theo's cute, and Sarah seems happy with him.

"Boring," Ellie says in response to the wedding festivities. "Why would anyone want to get married?"

You decide not to give her a response. At her age you didn't understand the fuss about weddings either.

Forgoing Sarah's offer of paying for your flight, you rent a Chevrolet Suburban for the drive over.

"You do realize we'll be driving for over fourteen hours, right?" Ellie says, helping you put the suitcases and bags in the roomy luggage hold.

"Yep. I checked it out on Google Maps."

"What happens if you get tired?"

"We'll drive during the day and find a rest stop or a motel at night," you shrug.

"You know.. I could take over the drive sometimes," she offers.

"Okay, kiddo. Why not?"

She brightens. "Really?"

"Absolutely fucking not." With a smile you open the passenger door and she hops in, grumbling,

Only so much music can suffice a long ride, and somewhere outside of Reno, Ellie busts out a dog-eared copy of a book Justin had given her as a gag won the spelling bee.

"Oh no, Ellie, for god's sake, not the puns," you whine dramatically.

"Yes, the puns," she grins. "How else am I supposed to spend my time on this boring-ass road trip?"

"Brace yourself. We've only been on the road less than four hours."

She groans, slumping forward in her seat, revived shortly when she decides to recite every single pun in that damn book, and when you give her that Mom look, she simply grins and tells you, "That's what you get for turning down a plane ticket."

Three days later you arrive. Jackson Hole is picturesque, especially in winter, as it it was just made to be the snowy backdrop on a postcard or a highlight on Instagram.

You turn down the main thoroughfare of the town, a light dusting of snow already falling from the heavens as you peer out the window, frowning in concentration as you try to familiarize yourself with the location. Ellie's buzzing in your ear like a mosquito, singing along to something on the radio. You turn the volume down. "Quiet down, I can't see."

She nearly bursts at the seam with withheld laughter. "You want me to quiet down... because you can't see?" she teases.

"Ellie!" you groan. "We're already late for lunch with the family."

Promising yourself you'll settle in a hotel after what you hope will be a painless reunification with Sarah and the rest of the Millers, you find your destination and drive up a perfectly paved driveway. Joel's house, a craftsman-style facade done in red brick and accented with carved gable peaks, looks exactly like a house Joel would own.

Parking close enough on the curved driveway without blocking in any other cars, you take a moment to rest, stretching your neck and shoulders.

"Should've let me drive," Ellie says from her seat as you both start to disembark.

There's a smart remark on your lips but when you turn to her you're distracted by a figure at the side of the house.

Someone's chopping wood, splitting logs with precision, though not necessarily speed. He's wearing just a white tee shirt, jeans, boots. You let your eyes linger on his physique. Who is that? you wonder.

As if he can hear your thoughts or sense your presence, the figure turns and wipes the sweat off his brow.

You know him in an instant.

Joel.

Your heart feels like it's going into arrhythmia.

"Come on, Ellie," you hurry her up the walk and to the front steps.

"The bags--"

"Fuck the bags." You press the doorbell nervously, willing Sarah or anyone to open quickly.

"You made it!" Sarah practically mauls you as she greets you, giving both you and Ellie a hug.

You're swept inside where it's nice and cozy, the air scented with pine and gingerbread. Christmas garlands are strung over every doorway, along the staircase railing, the windows, and the fireplace.

"Was my dad out there? I told him he needs to start getting ready. I don't want him coming to the luncheon all sweaty," Sarah says.

"What? No. I didn't see anything.. anyone," you stutter.

"I'm happy you're here, because we're actually going to have lunch at the Tipsy Bison instead. It's Tommy's bar, you probably passed it on the way up here."

"Oh, uh.." you're distracted by Ellie precariously sloshing a winter themed snow globe, the thought of Joel is still spinning around in your sleep-deprived brain, and Sarah is still talking to you like you don't look completely zoned out and anxious.

To make things worse, Joel comes in, carrying most of yours and Ellie's luggage. His white tee sticks to his sweaty skin, his face pink with exertion and dewy with sweat, his hair dark with more gray now than ever, and on his beard too. His eyes, those dark depths you've lost yourself in so many times, peer into yours, and for a moment you forget to breathe.

"You left the trunk open," he murmurs, as if it's a quiet admonition, a secret he doesn't want to tell.

"Oh.. thank you. You didn't have to do that." Your nervous glance at him gives your blushing away because you see his face redden as well.

"Dad, can you believe she has a kid now?" Sarah says excitedly.

There's a jolt of fear when you realize father and daughter are going to be in the same room, and neither of them knows it.

"Uh, Ellie, this is Joel Miller. He's, uh, Sarah's dad, and I used to babysit Sarah.. a long time ago.." Being put on the spot, you falter your words.

"Put 'er there, Joel," Ellie says, holding out her hand for him to shake, which Joel does, the start of a tiny smirk on his lips.

"We all lived in Austin together, with your Aunt Sofia. I mean, we didn't live together but we were neighbors," you babble, feeling even more blush creep up your neck. "Way before you were born, kiddo."

Meanwhile Sarah's eyes dart from Ellie to Joel to you, and back again, slower each time, as if she's piecing the puzzle together. Her eyes linger on Ellie, her expression unreadable before settling on you. You quickly glance away.

"Let me take that from you," you motion to the luggage Joel's carrying.

"Nah, I got it. I'll show ya to y'all's rooms." He hefts the suitcases and bags like they're nothing and heads upstairs. You have no choice but to follow him, sneaking a little glance at how his great his ass looks in his jeans.

"Nice place you got here, Joel," Ellie remarks, eyes skyward, surveying the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "Do you always address your elders by their given names?"

"Ellie," you whisper harshly. "Mind your manners."

"Damn, sorry," she mutters back.

"Sorry, Joel. She's--"

"Hey, why do you get to call him Joel?"

"Because I'm an adult," you say under your breath.

"He's older than you. Like, a lot. Like, Grandpa Bob's age."

"Stop it," you say through clenched teeth as Joel clears his throat.

"I can put y'all next door to each other--"

"I call this one!" Ellie claims the first door on the left, grabbing her bags and leaving Joel to lead you a little further down the hall.

"'M afraid this one is right across the hall from mine," he mumbles, leading you inside the comfortably decorated bedroom to set your things down.

"Thank you," you murmur, heart thrumming in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone with him in fifteen years. "You.. have a really beautiful home here, Joel."

He looks around, eyes darting anywhere but yours. "Thank you, that means a lot. Built it myself-- well, with Tommy's help."

"Really?" It's hard to pretend you're not impressed. "Must've been a lot of hard work."

"Yeah, it was. But she's sturdy." Joel gives a sturdy pat to the wall, and you can't help looking at his hand, the way his thick fingers splay out against the dark green wallpaper. Those are fingers that used to find their way inside you, curving just so in order for you to come quickly while his lips and tongue worked in tandem to--

Ellie's voice comes from the other room. "Wow! You guys have cable? Do you have HBO?"

"No Euphoria!" you shout back, scoffing when she quiets again.

There are too many questions on the tip of your tongue, too many things you want to say but not when you're so nervous that your hands are shaking. Staying quiet is easier. More awkward, but easier.

The room fills with unspoken words and missed chances as the two of you shift uneasily, not knowing where to start, not knowing if you should start.

"Didn't know ya had a daughter," he grumbles. "Not 'til Sarah told me."

"Yeah. Ellie's.. precocious."

A ghost of a smile graces Joel's lips as he looks at you and for a moment in time you feel eighteen again.

"How old is she?" he asks.

"She turned fourteen this past spring." God, please don't let him do the math, please don't let him do the math.

Instead he gives a low whistle, wears a teasing smile. "You look good for bein' the mom of a teenager. You still look beauti-- still look the same," he finishes.

You're thirty nine now and in possession of all the complexities that come with your age. There's more gray in your hair than you care to admit (which Ellie tells you not to dye because it "looks cool"), and there are a few more pounds on your person and a few more lines on your face than you're happy with, but his compliment warms you nonetheless.

"You look.. good.. too." Jesus, how did this man age like fine wine? If anything, the past two decades only served to make him hotter. It's unfair.

He takes a step forward, his face determined, lips pursed like he's still calculating his decision. "I.. I wanted to say--"

This time Sarah comes up, dressed for the cold, putting on her gray gloves. "Dad, get in the shower already," she scolds him. "I'm taking her and Ellie to the Tipsy Bison. We'll see you there."

Joel's eyes set on you. "I don't mind takin' them."

You open your mouth to speak, even though you have no idea how to respond. "Honestly, I'll drive me and my daughter. And we can get a room in town."

"No way, Jose." Sarah loops your arm through hers. "You're staying with us and that's final. So, will you let me drive you, or do you want to wait for my dad?"

Waiting for Joel.. it seems you've spent the majority of your youth waiting for him.

"Can we go with Sarah?" Ellie asks, solving the problem for you.

In truth you would have liked a moment to rest, to sleep, to puzzle over the strangeness of the day so far. You're almost a thousand miles from the home you've made after your divorce, under the same roof as the man who changed your life in ways good and bad, harboring a secret from him and his family. Not to mention Ellie's ignorance of her origins.

Sarah herds you and Ellie into the Tipsy Bison, a spacious bar establishment on Main Street, part of the scenery you must have driven by without noticing upon driving into town. Inside is the typical decor you'd expect: neon lights advertising every brand of beer and alcohol you can imagine, taxidermy mounts of bears, bucks, and elk. Pool tables are at the far left, dartboards to the right, a couple of foosball tables as well. There's a stage beyond the pool tables, ready for a band or DJ, a makeshift dance floor in front of it, and colored lights remain still overhead, their brightness dulled and stilled by the daytime.

There's a homey, cozy feeling as you glance around. The bar spreads along the far side beyond a range of tables and booths, boasting a wide variety of booze. Working behind the bar is a face you haven't seen in awhile: Tommy.

He comes out to greet you, his smile and bright and joyful as you've always known him to be, and part of you feels guilty that the last time you were together you'd been drunk, making out next to his truck, after meeting in a bar just like this one.

"Hey you!" He envelops you in a tight hug, and you start to feel better. Bygones are certainly bygones in his case.

"Tommy, it's good to see you again," you smile, pulling away to get a good look at him. "You've hardly aged. What's with you Millers, are you all vampires or something?" You cast a playful look at Sarah, who's bringing her fiance and her son to meet you.

Tommy shrugs, a playful grin on his lips. "You're more than welcome to join our Legion of the Undead," he jokes.

You're introduced to Theo, Sarah's husband-to-be, who's on the quiet side, a contradiction to Sarah who's chattering away about him, and Finn, who's an exact replica of his dad, eyeing you and Ellie with a shy smile.

Ellie manages to find a friend in him as you and the others get to catching up. You're introduced to Maria, Tommy's wife, the roundness of her baby bump just barely showing. She oversees the caterers as they start setting up for lunch. Tommy and Sarah talk about you like you're a part of the family instead of someone who knew them for a summer and changed things forever, even in some small way.

"Sarah tells me this is your place now," you speak to Tommy, who's behind the bar and pouring you a drink.

"Sure is," he says, sliding the drink across the bar to you. "Don't know anyone who orders a gin and tonic in the middle of winter," he says, teasing you.

"I'm eccentric," you smirk, taking a sip of the crisp, slightly bitter drink.

"Should be you behind this bar, Cherry," he winks.

"Oh god, no one's called me that in forever," you groan, doing a quick check on Ellie to find her attempting to play pool with Finn.

"How's business?" you ask him.

"Good, good," he nods. "Just glad to be settin' down some roots, buildin' somethin' for when the baby comes."

"Congratulations," you smile. "You and Maria seem like a good fit."

"Well.. y'know.. can't fuck around forever," he chuckles, then he spots someone at the entrance.

"Hey, brother!" Tommy raises his hand in greeting and you stay still, wishing you could sink down into the ground or better yet, become invisible completely.

The old-fashioned jukebox ends a Fleetwood Mac song and drifts into "Hungry Heart" by Bruce Springsteen starts, the catchy, melancholic combo of piano, drums, bass, guitar and saxophone wafting throughout the bar. You keep your eyes on your drink, willing for all of this to be just a dream, some intrusive thought you've put incredible detail into, prolonging your grief over lost love.

But there he is, a barstool between you, giving you your space while ready to jump up at a moment's notice if you want him closer. Your casual glance gives you away when you stare too long at him, clad in a green flannel shirt, his gray tee peeking beneath. You could swear it's the same flannel shirt you wore at the cabin, in the days when you were younger and carefree, before bad things happened to separate you.

Joel catches your look, lips twitching into a smile as his hands wrap around a glass of whiskey.

"So, what took you away from Boston?" you ask, putting your lips to your drink so you're not tempted to ask too much. It's an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"Lot of things," he mutters, staring into the amber liquid. "But mostly I followed Tommy out here."

"I was in Boston with him for awhile." Tommy shakes his head. "Hated it. I'll never set foot on the East Coast again if I can help it. I came out here, met Maria, started a family."

"And Sarah was already out here, buildin' a life. Just made sense for us all to be together again."

You look at both of them, glad the conversation isn't just between you and Joel. "The house is amazing. Joel told me you both built it."

The look of pride on their faces is endearing.

"We did, and mine too, across the street from his," Tommy adds.

"What happened to the contracting business?"

"We expanded it," Joel answers, a twinkle in his eye though his expression remains serious. "Made a nice chunk of change. Got branches in Oklahoma, Arkansas, even as far as Georgia."

That would explain the six-bedroom house, the fancy week-long wedding rituals that Sarah has joyfully swept you up in, and the catered lunches. The Millers have become quite financially well-off.

You listen to the brothers talk about some of the adventures they've been on, the good and the bad that has passed and ultimately brought them here, with you, once again.

The lunch spread is impressive: Texas style barbecue of ribs, brisket, and chicken; side dishes of beans, potato salad, grilled corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, and mouthwatering desserts of pumpkin and pecan pies, cheesecake, banana pudding, and peach cobbler.

You haven't realized how hungry you are until you realize you have to remember to force yourself to eat slower, accidentally spilling a little barbecue sauce on your shirt. Embarrassed, you wipe it away, glancing at Ellie and finding her doing the same thing, just shoveling forkfuls of food in her mouth.

"Easy there," Joel's voice booms from across the table. "No one's gonna take it from ya," he playfully chides.

You were so absorbed in your lunch that you didn't realize he was right across from you. "Ellie," you scold her quietly. "Slow down."

"This is slow for me," she answers.

"Mind your mama," Joel says gruffly, his tone is authoritative.

She looks up at him, in annoyance and surprise. "You don't tell me what to do."

"And you don't talk back like that." Joel's voice gets a little more strict.

"Joel, stop," you intercede, your voice just as terse. The chatter around the table has dimmed but it's obvious everyone has their focus on you three.

"The kid obviously needs some fuckin' manners."

You scoff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His eyes lock with yours, dark and cold. "I see where she gets it from. I guess that's what happens when a dad ain't around to teach some respect."

"Fuck this," Ellie mutters, pushing back from the table and throwing down her napkin, quick to get up and leave.

Your face is flaming red with both anger and embarrassment as your gaze burns through Joel's. "There's something wrong with you. Seriously," you mutter before getting up to go after her.

Joel goes after you. Sarah goes after Joel.

"Ellie!" you call out, watching her walk off in the direction of the house.

"I'll get her," Sarah volunteers, gently touching your arm. And then you hear her speak to Joel under her breath, something like "You're ruining it," before she hurries up to catch Ellie.

It's you and Joel now.

"Babygirl," he starts, his voice low.

"Babygirl?? Fuck you!"

Joel goes pale, obviously not expecting that. "I deserve that. I deserve for you to hate me."

"Hate you? No, you deserve worse than for me to hate you! How dare you yell at Ellie like that? I never once saw you treat Sarah that way."

"She never acted like that," he huffs.

"Do us both a favor and just stay away from us for the rest of the week. I'll see about getting a motel tonight, just.. fucking leave us alone."

He mutters Christ, and reaches for you, pulls you to the side of the building. "I'm sorry, all right?"

"Yeah? Tell her that." You could easily leave. He's not restraining you, but you stay. "Is that all you have to apologize for?"

He looks guilty. "No, of course not. I've been trying to talk to you since you got here--"

"Fifteen goddamn years and I don't hear anything from you? And now you.. what, you expect me to fall into your arms like I'm a stupid fucking teenager again? Go to hell! Nothing is that simple anymore!"

You hadn't meant for all your rage to come spilling out, it was just supposed to be about Ellie, but now that you're face to face with him, you can't help wanting to rage at him. Joel backs away from you, his eyes on the ground, hands on his hips, jaw set.

"Longer than that, actually," you softly correct yourself. "San Antonio.. you fucking left me. On my birthday."

He steps forward, not ready to back down. "I went to jail for you. On my birthday."

"I didn't ask you to do that! I didn't ask for anything but for you to love me! And you stopped!"

"No, I didn't," he whispers, arms hanging at his side even though they itch to reach out for you, hold you, make it better again.

"Don't say that," you warn him, backing away. "Don't insult my intelligence, Joel. You don't know what I went through after you left me. My heart was broken for years!"

"You were just a kid. I.. I thought I was doin' right by lettin' you go."

"I wasn't better because of you breaking up with me. I got worse! So much worse!" You don't dwell a lot on the past, specifically the college years that are now mostly a blur of hookups and hangovers, but now it all comes rushing back. Joel was your safety net and he took all that away from you once you started to freefall.

"Bullshit. You got married," he says bitterly.

"I did that so I could feel normal again. I tried to save myself. But it didn't matter in the end because he didn't love me either. Though I have to say, my divorce hurt a hell of a lot less than your abandonment."

Joel starts to look his age. The lines in his face deepen with worry and regret as he absorbs your words, mulling over everything that has happened. "I'm sorry--"

"Besides, you got married too! So please don't play like you're such a saint. You hardly look the part." Your anger has warmed you, given some spice to your blood so that you don't even feel the cold anymore. You roll your sleeves to your elbows, fists curled, adrenaline pumping as you finally tell him everything that's been locked away inside your heart.

"I don't accept your apology," you grunt, adding, "And don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again!" You storm off, wishing you'd brought your jacket but it would mean having to walk past Joel, back into the restaurant and out again, and you're already walking away. It seems one of you is always walking away from the other.

It's snowing again when you find Sarah and Ellie, further down in front of a storefront, steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands. Both are smiling, chatting, seemingly getting along. You know you should reprimand Ellie, tell her to apologize to Joel, but how can you be a hypocrite that way when you won't even talk to him yourself? All you can think about is leaving, going straight to the motel and picking up your things at Joel's later.

Sarah talks you into staying, warning of bad weather coming in soon. She apologizes for Joel, and you apologize for airing your grievances so publicly.

"Just don't do it at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow," she smirks. "Then I'll have to leave your ass out in the snow."

That evening you and Ellie keep to your rooms. You use your phone for distraction when your attention span keeps drifting from your novel, but even technology isn't the answer. There's only so much Merge Mansion you can play, and not even True Detective can hold your attention for long. You decide to rewatch Narcos (for the plot, you tell yourself) when Ellie knocks on your door.

"What's up, kiddo?" You press pause and scoot over on the bed, offering her to get comfy next to you.

"Have you seen the news?"

You're on Do Not Disturb and haven't gotten any of your usual notifications.

"There's a blizzard coming tonight. Sarah says sometimes the main roads get snowed in and we won't be able to get out."

Oh Sarah Miller, the purveyor of bad news. "She told me something like that. How long do they expect conditions to last?" You're already checking your phone.

"Could be days, maybe even up to a week," Ellie shrugs.

"Great," you mutter. "So we're stuck here even after the wedding?" It's the day after tomorrow.

"Please don't make us go to the motel. Sarah's really cool and really nice. And I even like Theo and Finn.. even Joel isn't so bad so long as he stops talking to me like a dad."

That night, as the blizzard blows in, turning everything outside completely white, Joel tosses in his sleep in his room across the hall from yours. It's not the howling winds keeping him awake; he's lived here long enough to get used to such natural disasters.

There's something you said to him, earlier outside the bar. It was an explosive moment, with words exchanged like bullets. But in the midst of it all he took away that one sentence: don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again.

Our daughter?

dividers by @saradika 👑

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[itsabouttimex2]

Can I ask how the lmk characters would react if your childhood cat ran away and I mean that you’re very very very close to the cat.

Because my childhood cat Leo just ran away and I’m having a massive meltdown because of it and crying so much.I already watch one cat die I can’t lose another and your work’s always bring a smile to my face and I really need something to get my mind on something else right now.

(I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Trouble with pets is never fun. I hope things get better.)

Missing Pet Reactions

Sun Wukong, Mei, Sandy

Sun Wukong has never really had a “pet”- but he does have a whole mountain of monkeys ranging in age and disposition. I imagine he understands quite well the panic of one going missing for more than a few minutes.

So he sympathizes. He understands.

And the moment Wukong sees the tears beading in your eyes as you desperately recall the circumstances of your pet going missing? He’s on the move.

Even if the Great Sage didn’t have his Golden Vision ready to track down your pet, he still has the power to create clones en masse. A storm of ginger simians down every street and road, knocking on windows and doors with their bold hands.

The real deal will stay beside you while his clones “shred” the city with haste, taking a moment to calm and shush you with the biggest grin he can manage.

While they search, Wukong encourages you to snack on whatever you'd like in his pantry (though it's nothing but junk food...) to keep your stomach full and settled. He’ll bust out a peach soda for you and settle in with a blanket, and wait out the literal handful of minutes that it takes to his clones to return your pet to you.

Mei has her own way of “tearing” the city apart, mainly through her use of her expansive follower base. All it takes is one text and there’s a few thousand eyes on the streets, looking for your little fur baby.

She’s also personally out on her motorcycle, zipping up and down backroads and busy streets to find your furry friend and bring it home.

The dragon girl is split pretty fifty-fifty between taking you along and leaving you behind, but will lean either direction depending on how hysteric you are. She might just throw you onto the couch and slam the door behind her as she races out, throwing you a credit card and instructing you to order something for dinner.

It’s not that she wants to leave you all alone in this state of distress, but Mei prioritizes your safety above your comfort, as it happens. And besides… if you’re fear-snacking on pizza and soda by the time she gets back (with pet in tow), then the two of you basically get to celebrate together immediately. Win-win!

…she’s absolutely recording the tearful reunion, though.

Oh, no one is going to be more on your side through this than Sandy. His dozen therapy cats? His little Mo? The big blue softy so sympathetic to your plight that he has to fight back a few tears of his own.

Now, I have no doubt that one or two of Sandy’s cats have gotten out here and there, only to be quickly returned by the call of dinner or his frantic pleas- the ex-soldier knows all about luring little wayward pets back home.

Freshly popped tuna cans and cats treats are scattered about the yard and deck, and then Sandy puts out two chairs and a platter of snacks to go with the tea he brews for you.

For this gentle giant, it’s only a matter of waiting- he knows to stay calm, to calm you down, to just… wait.

Out of all three, his plan works the best, just because there’s not a frantic chase or a surplus of noise to make things worse, or to frighten the cat further. In less than an hour, you’ve got your buddy back.

So basically, Sandy has the knowledge + temperament to get your cat back without harm or a pointedly long lapse of time spent futilely looking in the wrong place. 10/10!

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

62 - Reunions and Realizations

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

Length: 17.9k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, past character deaths, mentions of sexual violence and rape, reference to traumatic childbirth

Notes: If y'all thought I wasn't going to shoehorn in this dumb little moment between Jon and Tormund from the show, you were sorely mistaken. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

“What were you doing down there?”

Strange the first question to be asked of you here of all times and places, yet your slight tilt of the head had not indicated that you were returning her question with skepticism. Imagined you did, you were not the easiest person for one to reunite with. But then again, much like her sister, Sansa appeared to be torn between two images as she stood before you. One vastly older and one none changed from the final days you had seen of her. You could even sill picture it.

Her orange red hair down loose in pretty waves to match the gentle shade of violet her dress was, made herself with the collar decorated with flowers all along the edges to match the brightness of the city she then lived in. You wondered how quickly those pretty flowers faded for her once her father was gone. Quickly no doubt. But now she was not that. Her hair was longer, flat and done partially up in the back halfway but not a trace of snowflakes sitting there as was in yours, like her hood had been up until just now to hide where she stood.

She clutched something under her cloak tightly in her hands but from the hidden shadows you could not see it. Choosing instead to answer her question as uncomplicated as possible, “I had someone I needed to see.” Sansa asked no further question, nor did you expect her too. But, she stood awkward and there was her other side. The bright blue eyes so much like Catelyns looking at you in an uncertainty, but also the hint of the child you left behind. Something that wished to reach out, but the woman in her did not know how too. “Sansa, I know things here aren’t what-”

Finding her voice, Sansa spoke up with a question of her own, changing the subject nearly to it’s complete opposite end. “You saw them take Lady back.” You only blinked once in a heavy manner as if attempting to bridge the gap of what she meant, before Sansa continued as she took a step forward. “That night at the inn. You were the last one to see Lady before they brought her back here.” That time you nodded, but only once again, assuming rightfully that there was more on her mind. “Where did they bury her?”

Voice gentle as you spoke, you did not need her to answer the question you knew would follow. “The lichyard. I can show you.”

The lichyard was a small graveyard at the back of the entrance to the crypts near the far castle walls. Used to bury typically servants of the old Kings in the North, but exceptions made many times over to bury others which did not fit. Traditions only meant something it keeping them meant dishonouring those whom passed. Only the Kings and Lords of Winterfell with their immediate family surrounding them, were buried in the crypts and only the highest with statues. Ned Stark had made Lyanna an exception.

Sansa walked close to your side but not quite the degree you could comfortably reach out to her in any way, she was silent and stiff looking around. You didn’t linger in once spot for long, you knew right where to go. The headstone was simple, already coated in snow like a cake doused with a powdery sugar, half covering the lichen growing across the stone all eventually were taken over by.

Her name was etched across it but too was covered by snow. You didn’t rush her with moves or words, simply crouching down to the space and brushing off what was hiding her name plain as day. The wolf carved into the stone under her was not quite as large and fierce as that of the direwolf sigil of the Starks, but then again, much like the smooth and underdeveloped features of Lyannas statue, Lady had died too young to grow into anything which could stand out amongst stone.

Pushing your self back up you moved only feet from Sansa as she looked in silence. A tenseness in her figure and jaw clenched tight as if holding back the urge to let anything come up, as no doubt the woman in her did not wish for you to see the water forming behind her eyes. You would not offer words in her fathers defence, you did not know how she felt of that anymore and would not make assumptions when she stood before the memory of what her remaining siblings all still had. “He made sure she made it here. Lady was born here, she deserved to rest here.”

Sansa only nodded, and seemed to grip whatever she held in her hands tighter. Her voice just as strained as the rest of her gave off the impression of. “You spent time with her after she was gone.”

Only the assurance you could give in such air, “Your father knew the last you saw of her would be a far better memory then that. Even after I-” Forcing your words to be much less blunt and straight forward for once, you sought something a little less harrowing to think of. “After I took care of her when getting her ready to come back here, you still wouldn’t have wanted to see that. If you haven’t been there before to watch an animal die, a companion you love dearly was not a good place to start.”

Sansa nodded, only then finding the courage to come closer. Not rushing her in any way your eyes trailed along as she made her way, kneeling down on the cold ground in front of the headstone. Not reaching out or anything, but her grief was her own, not for yours to judge. Now more then ever before did you understand the Starks connections to their direwolves were something different then an owner to their pet, and you felt that guilt of how she was the only living one whom had long lost hers so permanently.

“I hardly even spoke to him after that. I told Septa Mordane I never wanted to speak to him again, that I would never find it in my heart to forgive him.” Slowly kneeling down beside her, your hands resting gentle on your thighs, eyes bright and wide looking over to hers, the same on her towards Lady but in a far more held back manner. “The last few months he thought I hated him-”

Cutting her right off, your voice was stern. “He knew you didn’t hate him, Sansa. He knew why you were upset, and he never blamed you for it. Your father more then anyone understood how painful it was for you. You begged for mercy in front of the court for him, you pled for his life right before he died.” She nodded but again, you refused to push her for anything further. Where her mind was and what she was thinking or even wanted, you had no idea.

You certainly had no idea what it was which ran through your head, certainly not after the night you had forced yourself into. But, she came to it on her own. The thought, the pain you considered of how long had it been since Sansa faced the reality of what occurred that night, of what it all had spiralled into before it was too late. Pulling it from her cloak, there sat the doll. It looked the way you hoped, as close to what the original looked like as possible. Clutched tight in both hands, your eyes drifted to it as hers did.

“You remembered.”

You nodded knowing she couldn’t see regardless. “I did. I know you weren’t happy with it when your father gave it to you, but it would’ve been one of the last things you truly had from him. Leaving it behind in Kings Landing made sense, how you left there, but it was still something your father gave you. Still a reminder-” Finishing for you, saying it was a reminder that they were family and he had still loved her. “Coming back here hasn’t been easy I imagine, but I thought maybe having just one thing from your father again might remind you that this still is your home no matter how different returning is then you expected. You still belong here with your brothers and sister.”

A hand gentle running through what strands of her hair loose down her back sat, you felt the almost indescribable lean back of her into your touch as her own hand ran much more noticeably over the yellow hair of the doll. “I told him I hadn’t played with dolls since I was eight, and here I am. Eighteen and I’ve carried her around with me for hours.”

The huff of a laugh that left you just barley managed to leave her. “You didn’t have much of a chance to experience the rest of a childhood. None of you did. I think it’s fitting you find part of that, now that you’re home.” The name almost left her lips as you cut it off. “I didn’t give this to you, to bribe you to talk about that. I had it made, to remind you that you’re home, truly home. It’s been a long time I know since you’ve been allowed to think that way, I just want you to remember that.”

Heart breaking at the waver in her voice, the girl you knew came back out. “I still dream about her. That we’re running or she’d curled up with me on my bed. Then I wake up and she’s gone.” Voice cracking as her words faded out, the hand in her hair grew more firm, as you had pulled her the slightest bit closer. The rest of her followed as muscles stopped tensing in her, and something else much needed for her heart begun to fill and shake instead. “Cersei killed her and I blamed everyone but her for it. I wish I never went on that stupid walk with Joffery, we’d have never run into Arya and none of that stupid fight would’ve happened, and Lady would still be here.”

Her body suddenly turning, you felt her fall much more into your side as you wrapped an arm around to gently hold the back of her head keeping her close as you could from where you both sat. The tears fell freely much like you heard through the muffles of her door that same night, but these fell without hangups or hiding. Not right now, with you.

You knew Arya and Jon both would have their own issues to handle with her, but in that moment, Sansa was but that little girl who clutched at your leg growing up always begging her mother to let you stay and be her big sister everyday. That little girl by the time you came to Winterfell with the Kings Company had already felt long gone, but even if only for that very moment in front of Lady’s grave, was Sansa still just that little girl.

A little girl who had never quite come to terms with losing the direwolf she was bonded to in a way no one but the other Starks could ever possibly understand. Just as no one understood what it was like to live without that bond when only having her for months.

For now, you had no doubt Jon wished to handle Petyr Baelish, so you as best you could from just the support love could offer, would try to handle Sansa. Bring her down enough that the rest of her siblings had a chance to reach out as well.

You didn’t know what he had told to her in lies, but you know she would tell you all one way or another in time.

The day she had, one moment you felt a stunning realization fall over you, the next, you felt as if flying through the air falling from one sight to the next. Eyes to eyes to eyes, you felt as if you had never stopped but certain words echoed in your head the longer they flashed by.

“He saw us.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“There’s only one dagger like this in all the Seven Kingdoms.”

“He killed your father, he murdered the Hand of the King.”

“Tyrion Lannister. The imp.”

The room was tied, Sansa and Arya both closest to Bran by his side as he gasped for the air you too awoke in need of. On the other was you, as if fallen to the ground sat up partially by Jon keeping you upright and Theon on the opposite. Your name coming firmly from Jon but your eyes only flew up to meet Brans.

Putting together what he saw as you were, his voice breathless still from where he sat spoke through the noise of his siblings as if to you alone in the room. “That’s what it was trying to show us.” Your nod was slow as your mind caught up to your present, the feeling of touch against your skin only barley starting to come back. Neither of you acknowledged the ask from Sansa of what was going on.

Moving passed it, you suddenly felt the wave rush over you. More then even Bran had put together, you had the information that none of them had. You had the information that only one man left alive other then you had, but you were smart enough to put it together which was why-

Shooting up suddenly, Jon and Theon both nearly yanked you back to them the moment you turned to the door, a mutter breathless on you and deaf to their protests as you threw it open and walked out of it, not even bothering saying you needed a moment. One hall then the next, the a door pushing open as you stepped out into the cold of the evening.

Shining in your eyes, forcing a squint, you felt the shiver of cold seep through your thinner clothes and shiver within your bones. Lungs stung filling with the wold air and yet all your mind did felt as if it burned and burned. Overheating like a furnace too worked through and leaving you exhausted and dizzy but it’s flames were memories and it’s smoke was the words which followed.

You knew of those days, Catelyn had told you all when she had arrived at the army camp at Moat Cailin. You knew what Lysa Arryn had done and the lunacy she nearly prevailed with, but yet those details did not at all match what you knew now. Two murders and one failed attributed to the malice of one man, and yet all of it spun a web you had never considered before. He murdered your father, that was what Lysa told little Robin. Lysa put him on trial for the murder of Jon Arryn, but you knew better. You knew the secret Jon had died for and none of that led back to Tyrion Lannister. Tyrion would not poison the Hand of the King to protect a secret that had nothing to do with him, and now that you knew who did it and why, you certainly realized that Tyrion would have not a single reason to want to murder Bran. One Lannister tried to push him out a window, and when that did not work, he was framed by another with a well calculated plan of another.

But more death had come, more fell to the wayside and it was all but forgotten in contrast to the betrayal he stood for in the throne room. Jon had pointed out as Sansa spoke of the day she escaped in suspect. “If Joffery just died, how would he have known it happened or that you fled the scene of his murder, or that you’d be accused?”

Sansa had been honest, and she felt no better saying it then when she learned of it. “Because he killed Joffery. He and someone else, I don’t know who he never said, but he..had someone gift me a necklace, one of the stones had a vial of poison on it and that was the one...” Her hand had traced up as if to go through the motions of a memory she was realizing was part of it, but had saw fit it seemed to not bring it up, for now at the least as she continued. “He knew he had to get me out that day, because he had used me to carry the poison that killed Joffery and Cersei would find out. He knew she’d accuse me of doing it and-”

Jon too, had put together that final piece. “And if Cersei hated Tyrion then she would’ve accused him of helping you.” Littlefinger had wanted Tyrion to be accused, because then fleeing away with Sansa made him look that much more guilty and put more pressure onto trying him then finding her. It was all clever in a rather horrific manner. Every single person in the room had reason to want Joffery dead, but the manner Sansa described it was obscenely a cruel way to die.

Yet that was what had you lightheaded, palms cold against the snow covered stone trying to force the world to cease it’s floating spin. That was three times Tyrion was accused of a crime, and twice Littlefinger was to blame for pointing the finger. But three times he was accused. You all knew the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn, Lysa had said as such in her letter to Catelyn. But she accused Tyrion, and Tyrion wouldn’t have murdered him for Cersei and Jaime’s secret. Lysa accused him because she was told to accuse him. It was foolish to go against Tywin Lannister in that accusation towards even his most hated son, but still he had set the Riverlands on fire for it. Lysa was not right in her mind, but she was not stupid. She wouldn’t accuse him for the sake of it, she accused whom she was told to accuse.

Now she was dead. Everyone involved in the act or uncovering the mystery of Jon Arryns murder was dead, and everyone involved in the act or uncovering the truth of the attempt on Brans life was dead. All but two.

It was that which had you out there. Muttering a whisper you barley could hear over the beating of your heart in your ears. “It was him this whole time.” From the moment the bells tolled signifying the death of the Hand of the King, to the night you stood before the demonic shadow of Catelyn Starks echo was one person always behind it. You hadn’t even heard your name being called or the figure throwing the door open.

Almost jumping the moment he grabbed your arms, you spun with a gasp as Jon steadied you by your upper arms repeating your name firmly. But you were just as lightheaded as seconds before, eyes wide looking up to this grey ones both concerned and angry together did you say what had led you out here in the first place. “It was never about Sansa.” His brows furrowing asking what, before covering that up and trying to pull you inside saying it was freezing out here, you stayed in place as if the thick bog of a swamp had plastered your feet from being able to move. “Barrowton, the Brotherhood, none of it was about getting rid of me to make putting Sansa’s claim up easier.”

Jon cupped the side of your face, the worry growing in him the longer you stayed in such a high strung state like this. “Darling, what are you- what did you see?”

If one asked what yourself and Jon had learned so far North, both of you knew the answer was, too much. This time felt the same, you saw too much and realized what you truly were in this situation. “Littlefinger. He isn’t trying to use me to side against you for Sansa’s sake..he’s trying to convince her to get me as far away from you as quick as she can.” Jon again tried getting you to tell him what was going on, but knew in this state you struggled to form anything close to thoughts well put together as you rambled in hopes he followed. “He wants to isolate me, just like he did in Barrowton. He needs to get me alone because thats the only way he can even try to kill me.”

Jon leaned down to meet your eyes, repeating your name firmly as your skin felt like it shaking under his warmth against the cold. “I know it’s not easy, but I need you to tell me what’s going on, because even Bran isn’t sure what it is you realized that he didn’t, seeing the same things.”

Inhaling deeply, your eyes closing as long as it took to try and will your heart to slow down just a pace enough to feel Jon more then just his warmth, but perhaps that was the cold too kicking a numbness in. “You and Sansa both have parts of his story, some idea of the crimes he’s committed but he knows you both don’t have the full story. He knows you both together could only come up with just enough to possibly find a rightful accusation towards. But he needs me either gone or dead, because I’m the only person left he’s afraid of.”

For a while, you knew your father was a smart man about how he handled what he knew. Jon Arryn, the man he uncovered the truth of Cersei’s children with mysterious died, and he no doubt could sniff out the lie it was only a fever which took him. He fled to Dragonstone and closed off any ability to get to him because he knew too much. Stannis Baratheon was the one man Petyr Baelish feared because he saw through every bit of his weasely facade and would stick his head on a spike before the night was out if he had his way.

But you were even more dangerous then your father to Littlefinger. Because if you were not alive, no one would be able to know the truth of the sins he’s cast out upon the world and people you’ve known and cared for. You could recall Lord Varys telling you and Ned Stark that Jon Arryn was killed for asking too many questions, but you knew why your life had been the target this time. You were the one with all of the answers for those with those questions. “I’m the one person left who knows exactly how many crimes he’s guilty of. He tried to kill me, because I know things he’s done that no one but me is alive who could put it all together.”

Looking up to the cold, Jon turned slightly to pull you into his side. “Letting you stay out here and freeze any longer won’t help, will it?” The shiver ran down your spine, finding the rest of you as Jon pulled your head closer, leaving a kiss firmly at the hair on the side of your head trying to keep you as close to his warmth as possible.

If anything, it did strike those in the room now, that when you were in the same position as Sansa before, it was so far removed from what so closely looked like an interrogation. The white fur once Jons, wrapped around you properly so you could warm up from how strikingly cold your skin had gotten in the unknown time Jon spent trying to follow in your fleeing footsteps. He now sat beside you, to keep his own body temperature helping yours as well as not willing to move away from where you could stay in his reach.

The commotion having woken little Eddard up, the eyes of his siblings tried not to stare at how of all people Jon was the last they expected to see as a father, let alone sitting with his own son in his arms with such a natural ease it was as if he had prepared for it his whole life. Reading each small noise from the baby and moving accordingly, normally giving him part of his fingers to try to reach out and hold with what little grip his tiny hand had, or shifting him a bit more to rest against his side against his torso and facing a bit up to see you.

You had noticed each one as they did but in a very different reading. Trying to put your life at risk, you knew it would not stop there. Restraint was not best suited for a man like Littlefinger. He had shot and hit the target of killing a King before, and you knew what reason would he have to stop this time? Killing the King of the Seven Kingdoms was a far grander pull off then killing the King in the North. Those thirsty for power would not stop at you, they would not stop at Jon, and they would next go for the small bundle snuggled into Jons arms. The one thing you had done in your new life that mattered, given Jon the one thing he truly never thought he would deserve and you refused to let anything take that from him.

The story was new to most, and some details expanded upon to others. A life long passed you, but so deeply woven like a spiders web but the source was the insistent singing of a mockingbird. More then once you needed something to soothe your throat, you weren’t sure you had done this much talking since the night you stood in Moat Cailin refusing to give up your plight to defend Jons life and honour of all the freedoms he had only just acquired for the first time in his life.

Only much more was at stake as you spoke. Bran knew enough to fill in some details, putting together from what he and you saw together slowly in a calm fashion. Arya more then once was visibly shaking in an anger only held back from what you knew was a lack of manner to lash out on. Some of this, Theon knew, he was there to give specifics that you nor Bran could on your own, from his own perspective through his own eyes. Jon did a better job at hiding his anger then Arya, but there was a growing darkness in his eyes that looked more wolf then man as you spoke.

The only whom did not speak a word, was Sansa. So far removed from a single shred of these events, it was all new, and all in a shock she hadn’t seem coming. The danger, the lack of trustworthy she knew of Petyr Baelish paled in comparison. She too sat in silence though, watching the harmony at work. Arya, Bran and Theon all spoke up, all added to the story and conclusions working off of the others theories, but more then that, she watched you and Jon.

Forcing herself not to do it, not to fall down the hole she had before of what to think of Jon. In her worst interpretation, Jon spoke over you and for you. Taking control of your talking instead of allowing you the freedom to slowly let it come out, but yet you could build off of his finished thoughts with ease and he never spoke against it. She felt unsure if he was letting you speak your mind or not, but he had told her as much. That there were things about his relationship with you that she would not understand, but it was full of conflict.

He could sense it too, the way she tried to still figure out what she was looking at, looking for. Still seeking the worst answer, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. Couldn’t allow you to worry about anywhere close to that right now. The facts were out in the open, if you knew too much against Littlefinger and his plan at creating a divide between you and Jon did not work, he could once again resort to violence. To getting others that is, to do violence for him.

By the evenings close, all had much to think about, and Jon had much to plan. He was going to do this the way his father raised him to. Fairly, with honour and justice and without rushing into things with impulse. But then that wave would wash over him once more, almost in a mocking to ask which father did he mean. Jon knew what father he meant, but it felt as if that unshakable darkness did not.

His mind couldn’t be a mess right now, he needed to find a way to clear it and quickly. You almost did not help in that matter, coming up behind him, your hands running up his back and attaching to his shoulders before Jon simply wrapped them around his front for you. Gentle against him as you both stood beside your slumbering son by the open window. “You’re certain we’re ready for this?” Barley turning to glance at you, did a wave of guilt hit, the worry he thought you meant in doubt. “I only mean, we’ve just started to get Sansa to open up, I’ve only just started to-”

Gripping your hands tighter, the intention was clear as you cut yourself off. Jons low rasp almost flying into the cold air and out the window as opposed to finding its way to your ear. “I have everything else ready, we have him right here. Everything he’s done, I won’t let him run this time.”

Nodding, your head moved to rest against his back, something much more calming falling into your senses at his warmth as if the thought of what was to come in certain days did not also fill you with a rising dread. “What if I’m not up for this?” Affirming without thought that you were, you sighed deeply. “We think I am now, but what if I get up there and I don’t know what I think I do?”

He did not falter in his tender hold on your hands against him. “That’s why Bran is there. If you can’t, he can. But you were there for more of this, the other Lords will understand better if they hear if from you firsthand.” Only a nod once more, the feeling of Jon raising up one of your hands to press a kiss to hit, holding it against him there as if pondering leaving another.

You on the other hand, rose up on your toes to press your lips gently to the back of his neck, exposed through fallen strands of dark curls not still kept up from the day. If that was a very well hidden shiver you felt, then you only added to it by pressing another, then another until Jon mumbled your name both in warning and a chuckle vibrating from within his chest. “How did you do it? Convince them to come forward?”

A certainty was thick in Jons voice however, you could see from even behind his grey eyes wide and bright looking out to the starry sky of night beyond Winterfell without any doubt. “He betrayed my father, he tried to hurt you, my sister, my brothers. He’s used nearly every one in my family against each other, it should’ve stopped the day my Uncle Brandon beat him in a duel.”

“So you’re ending it now.” Jon was the one to nod that time, your head returning to rest against his back in a surprising degree of comfort. “Fighting has never worked against him. Perhaps you’re the only one smart enough to use his way of doing things.” Jon only muttered it was practical, not smart but your lips moved into a small smile. “I promise, you are far smarter then you’re giving yourself credit for, Jon.”

The smile on his face was so much brighter against the starlight shining in. “Coming from you.” Muttering in a jest what that was supposed to mean, Jon finally turned you both. Now sideways from the open window, Jons hands found themselves attached to your hips as yours rested high on his chest. The smile shined as beautiful as it always did in his eyes. “Married a smart girl, is all.”

If you had it in you to tease, it was for another day. Not so late at night and not so crawlingly close to what Jon had prepared for, since even before you both left beyond the Wall. Everything you both saw out there, but your nerves raced for this coming here and now of all things. “I’m not doubting you-”

Jon leaned forward, nudging your nose with his. Hot breath dancing across your face with every word. “I know, darling. You’re allowed to be scared, but it’ll be alright. I promise.” Nodding, Jon left your hip, two knuckles tilting your head up so his lips could gently press against yours. His kiss soft and chaste, but your hands wound around the back of his neck as his arm moved to pull you from your lower back further into him. His other keeping you by your jaw tilted to his kiss alone.

Only interrupted by the small mutterings of the bundle below, Jon let out a breathy but heartwarming laugh as he rested his forehead to yours. “That sounds like hunger to me.” Asking almost with a giggle how would he know that, Jon pressed one more kiss to your lips. “He’s my son, that means he has my appetite.”

You could almost roll your eyes, he loved to hint at how he was right all along. He said he knew it was a boy, and he was correct. But finally, it didn’t bother you. You would give him a daughter, and this time around you found yourself actually looking forward to it. Little Eddard didn’t have much of a plan for so long out there, but you both would go into little Lyanna with many. But, Jon for now, was still right.

The thought coming into your head as Jon sat down beside you undoing the laces keeping your dress closed, as you held the baby. Something Maester Wolkan had said, and how in more ways then just winter was what he said clearly true.

Eventually, the Starks are always right.

The morning next, sun hiding behind the clouds in the sky seemed to be making it’s way closer to the middle of Winterfell signifying it was reaching mid day. The warmest hour which the castle would ever get for a long time was right at the peak of morning as it bled into the afternoon and the hustling noise around the courtyard was at it’s busiest. For quite a while now, Jon had walked through with you by his side.

As friendly as Jon was with his people, you were quiet and not disruptive but never shied away from the respect you always gave by his side. Though, what was proving to be disruptive, was how utterly simple it became for attention to wander from task to task to give their greeting to the still small and shy baby you carried warm in your arms beside Jon. Trying to keep a respectful distance from you, Jon was clearly shoving down the urge to keep you pulled close each time you strayed too far from him. Speaking to one person and you another, you felt Jons eyes on you flicker each instance he couldn’t stop himself.

But you allowed the distance, Jon was busy with men far more important then the growing normal of gushing the older women adored giving. Little Eddard was shy, always making noise in protest when someone got too loud or close to him, shifting him up to rest against you, so he could hide in your neck and shoulder with hands grasping what he could pull close of your hair. He never quite put the strands in his mouth, but would keep them in his little fist, and that would always sit close to his mouth, the way an infant would do so with a toy acting as a soother, but just what he had of you.

Sometimes, he would simply refuse to come out from hiding. Tucking himself further into your neck and the blanket warm around him because he didn’t like so much attention so loud and close and so attempting to be physical. Unable to escape the cooing of a group of girls, eventually it seemed you had found saviour in Jon making eye contact with Selyse and gesturing to you.

Your mother coming up behind, hands guiding you by the upper arms with a polite smile and dismissal not easily argued against in her voice. “She appreciates your good will, but there is always much to be done in the life of a Queen.” A muttering of a thanks in your whisper as she kept a guiding grip on you until a respectable distance away, closer to where Jon had made his way in work outside. A jest on your mothers voice seldom heard, “And you wondered why we kept you inside most of the time as a child.”

Turning to look at her, you raised an eyebrow. “Because cooing and grabbing at my son is a common past time for women?”

The jest from your mothers tone though was not a single thing compared to the unfiltered teasing that came from your right from Maege’s sudden appearance. “No, because you grab everyone's attention all day. Good and bad.” Your head whipped up and over to give her a questioning glare when she shrugged with a smirk on her face. “I assure you, your grace, no one is quite as silent and uptight as you while also managing to always be the bloody centre of attention.” Muttering that you didn’t try to do so or enjoy it, she shared a glance with Selyse. “You left Winterfell for almost seven moons and came back with a newborn son. Tell me, in what version of our world would that not make you the centre of attention?”

Your tone dropped, dry and as flat as one could manage without looking at either woman on your sides. “No one crowds around Jon this way.”

Mage again had the simple answer always right at the tip of her tongue. “He’s King. How many people would risk getting on his bad side by pestering him day in and out. That’s what he has you for.” Her and your mother both laughed when you so dryly thanked her for the compliment, but your eyes looked to Jon in the distance.

You never saw him truly as Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, but there was no doubt how he got there. He could laugh and joke with his people as much as he too could walk up and jump right into business and waste not their time nor his. He ruled a leader as if he were born to it, but was he? That was a mystery not even your gift of sight could answer, what intentions lay behind his birth truly. Thankful to all the gods, that Jons own son held a meaning straight forward. Born because his father and mother were in love, and tried to bring him into this world for love alone.

A far cry from a bastard boy born for a purpose never told to him nor understood. Yet you thought, the blood that preceded his birth was not so different then the blood shed after little Eddards. But the closer you came to seeing that blue eye and smooth voice with changing intentions, the more you would hold your son a little closer, a little tighter, and part of you wishing you could go to Jon to feel the same for you.

Jon had compared what Ramsay had done to you, to what Rhaegar Targaryean did to his mother, but Benjen Stark had compared what Euron planned to do to you with what Rhaegar Targaryean did to his sister. No matter which way you looked, the truth cold or burning in blood was doused with the same things. How many chances remained for you to escape Lyanna Starks fate? Twice now, it couldn’t be many more.

You could only hope you did not leave Jon to fight the winter storms alone when you did so.

You had vaguely noticed your mother seemingly making some form of gesture towards Jon as if to tell him something not long before finding your way up away from the crowed more onto the landings less busy above. Asking Maege to give you both a moment, with none but you both up there glancing down to the sights did she broach the topic.

Her voice low but with a purpose. “We won’t be able to hide him.” Your brows narrowed, hands gently adjusting the baby more comfortably against you as she took as a continuance. “He is biding his time by not bringing it up, and when he does he will use it to try and paint you as a traitor. You know as well as I do that he has either already figured it out, or knew he was here in the first place.” Asking what was she suggesting with a tightness in your throat, your mother took no personal slight of it. “I put him into hiding to protect him. He isn’t happy he’s been in the equivalent of a prison cell, but he’s been safe. But he won’t be safe for long if we let Lord Baelish dictate the narrative. We need to prepare for the inevitable.”

Low and careful, both of you were aware the full truth being talked around in case of any prying ears. “Are you suggesting I make him reveal himself in front of the court?” Your mother only lowly chastised that you know better then that, giving you the space to come up with the same solution. “I never brought him here for anything like that. Not for my own gain, not to undermine father, none of it. I brought him back here because if he’s with me I know he’s alive and safe. Whatever he wishes to paint me as for doing so to my people, that won’t change anything. Bastard born or not, he might be the only chance to keep the family line alive.”

Cutting through just as low, your mother made a point you had already long since considered. “Naming him legitimate will only cause further troubles between him and your father’s claim.”

Nodding, you glanced down to the still open but heavy hooded eyes of your son resting on your shoulder, hand still keeping strands of your hair close before looking back up to the courtyard. “Being related to the heir of the Iron Throne doesn’t always mean it will come down to that. If I went down to him right now and asked if he wanted it, he’d no doubt look at me as if I’m an idiot. If it weren’t for Arya, he wouldn’t want anything to do with highborns at all in the first place.” Glancing to your side, you caught the question ready to come out and put an end to it before it could form words in her mouth. “Don’t ask me, mother. I really do not wish to even consider a thing about that.”

The unexpected flat jest of words coming from your mother always continued to surprise you in your new times with her. “He’s also your blood. Meaning you know too well what men in this family can be like.” Nodding with a grimace, if you did not think about it you never had to imagine it. It was like attempting to consider Shireen ever having a crush on a boy, you wouldn’t care for them no matter how innocent or good willed they were. Shireen was younger then Arya was now when- but still you never could consider her getting older and being interested in boys.

Speaking up with an exasperation on your voice, it almost made your mother smile in amusement. “Seven hells, is this how you felt when I left for Kings Landing?”

If one could speak even more flat then before, your mother pulled it off without effort. “I felt that way since the day you returned home saying the two closest friends you made in this place were Lord Eddard’s sons.” Your eyes dragged narrow and almost bemused in question as her eyes trailed to the baby down to Jon. “You married one, and had a son with the other. I’m not so sure you can argue by worries were unfounded anymore.”

Not much of a refute could be found. Inhaling deeply, smothering a small smirk you looked back out to the courtyard changing the subject once more back to the more pressing matter. “He’s our blood, so you and I when the time comes have to protect him. We stop hiding him, Littlefinger will name him anyways when the time comes. But he’s our responsibility to keep safe. Ser Davos was the only one to protect him last time, but this time we need to protect him as a family.”

You didn’t need her verbal agreement to know she and you were on the same page. It was but a rare but growing sense of solidarity between mother and daughter not often found in your life, let alone with the woman who did truly birth you. You never had a true stable dynamic of a mother and father no matter which family you lived with, and you failed to keep safe those you loved in both. Three uncles dead, five Starks dead, your own sisters blood on your hands and those were only such direct family.

You couldn’t even consider the death in Kings Landing, what Joffery had done. How many were killed and how few you had ever known the names of. One still lived, but you knew the other. Little Barra ripped from her mothers arms and murdered in front of her, you dared not imagine her screams and cries being forced to watch. You hoped her screams and little Barra’s final cries haunted the ears of the gold cloaks who did it for the remainder of their lives.

There were less of you then there were Starks now, you had to protect what was left of you all, no matter against who or for what. The image of a tall blonde struck within your mind, but you shoved it away. A man as the Hound had not survived a fight with her, and you were none the warrior he was, but if it came down to it? No, you thought. What is here in front of you, handle that. Nothing more, not yet.

It was hardly any time later when the courtyard had become a scene of it’s own, only in different ways then the last two times the return of a Stark came through. You had remained out there for some time on your own, the air not freezing yet but cool enough that you felt the freshness in your lungs, the blanket around little Eddard snug against your front keeping him warm and sleepy, also adding to your yet unwillingness to move.

Some of the approaching riders had been expected, or more accurately, one had. But the guards familiar with those coming and going the more the gates were kept up and closed, the more they knew who was easily welcome. You hadn’t yet moved from your spot watching, the noise surely to come was not one that was conducive to keeping the little one relaxed against you, but the sight surely was one of interest in various ways.

As you had always seen him, a man of the Nights Watch, did Benjen Stark ride into the courtyard, the figure at the back of his horse one which, even at your great distance, did you hold the baby just the slightest bit tighter to your front. She had ropes around her wrists kept at her front with no fuss, and no fight in her eyes but one of a kind of defeat. But Benjen climbing off his horse, she didn’t make any move to climb off either, staying put knowing her fate well before coming here.

With him though, some additions to the company which you had not seen in some months, but the striking feeling inside that their own reunion was going to be a far less strainious one then that which surrounded most of his others in the past weeks. Men around familiar with both found an ease in greeting, especially for Benjen. This was his home, it still was no matter where his duties had come to lay in his life, and there was a degree of ease which could exist in him this way.

But still for now, you stayed put. Eyes trying not to stare at just one in particular.

Jon knew his uncle was set to arrive sometime soon, but the day hadn’t been set. Seeing him out there, and again at Castle Black, that was one thing. But as Jon stepped out into the cold of the courtyard by the main gate did he feel something odd, not so far from where they had last stood together in Winterfell but the circumstances so vastly different. That did not stop of course, the feeling of relief that he had made it.

A grin felt forming on Jons face, did he move, making way to greet his uncle. Though, not the only one with plans it seemed did another ride with him, with plans of his own. If his Uncle Benjen had seen this coming, the amusement derived from it was not any less substantial. The one thing too Jon knew, was that if being a King did not change one thing, it was how he was treated by his closest friends. Certainly in front of others, causing only more to laugh along side his uncle.

Within mere feet of embracing his uncle did Jon feel as if he had been thrown to the side by a great sized boulder. Though, this boulder moved more then the a normal one and was far more eccentric then nothing. With all his strength, Tormund had nearly tackled Jon as if he man was hiding just to take him off guard out of nowhere. Pulling him steady though, both felt that same relief from months of unknown since the last they saw one another.

Were the Jon from years ago to look forward and see he and Tormund greeting again, grasping the other by the arm with a genuine feeling of missing the other, he’d have not a clue what life was in store for him. But it was, and without any bother of formality did Tormund not hold back. “My little crow. Was starting to think we had lost you.”

Sighing out with a nod, letting the memories to accompany that truth sit free Jon could barley get out, “Almost.”

A proper hug shared between both of them, did Tormund have the decency to let Jon address the bigger issue nearby. Though, what he understood of the situation, Jon did not yet know but no doubt would be telling the man in great detail come nightfall.

Jon and Benjen greeting each other much the same albeit less forceful, did he hold Jon by the arm turning towards where she sat on the horse. “Yara.” She barley gave any indicator of return, but Jon did not blame her. There was no hiding what she was here because of. He could register her own slipping upwards and flickering around as if seeking something but not yet finding it.

Benjen getting more to business out of the way, “What should we do with her?”

Glancing back over, Jon thought for a moment but knew whatever he did was only temporary, there was far more behind the simplicity of others within the cells down below then her. “Put her in one of the isolated cells away from the rest.” Looking to Yara and back. “Until I figure out what to do with her long term.” Many he knew would just say to execute her and be done with it, but Jon was aware again, there was much more going on.

And judging by the approaching voice, firm and projecting without any doubt did whatever guilt sat in Yara visibly begin to eat away at her. “I’ll take her.” Jon nodded, and one returning from Theon there was not the animosity he once feared. He had told Theon the truth, all of the truth of what happened, including Jon being the one to kill his uncle, but Theon had come to a conclusion after much thought. Saying that Jon was the one who told him he was a Greyjoy and a Stark, that one family tried to hurt the other on purpose instead of in defence. That there was no question about what was right there, no matter how genuinely Jon tried to place responsibility on his own shoulders.

Yara’s voice was the hint of mocking it had been for much of what Jon knew of her, and yet something so distant it sounded like it almost was meant to torment herself with it and not others. “Brother.”

Theon’s short answer as he helped her down to her feet, but keeping a not so kind hold on her still tied up person, was a bit cold. But that was between them, not for Jon to judge. “Let’s go. Not keeping you out here to make a scene.” If Theon caught it, Jon didn’t know, but he certainly did. The ever so subtle glance she took upwards finally.

Jon following her eyeline, did he spot you higher on the landings, the baby held high on your person in your arms with narrowed eyes looking down. Unblinking but not with the confidence that Theon or Jon would’ve, but with a hesitation and weariness that flared something up within him to go to you, no matter what else he had to handle here and now. Yara said not a word to you, nor you even doing anything but watching and following her retreating figure until she was out of sight. Only then did Jon see you look down to the baby, and disappear into the warmth of the castle finally.

Whatever he did with Yara, Jon wasn’t about to give her the kind of freedom Theon had the right too all those years ago. This was different, had any one of Yara, Victarion, or even Eurons men succeeded, Jon would’ve been desperately planning a war all of his own choosing to get you back, and there was no room to doubt if she played an integral role in almost allowing that. What she did to help him and you after was one, but nothing could be easily forgiven to a wolf almost having his mate taken from he and his son.

A son, it seemed, Benjen had told Tormund about. An arm wrapping around his shoulders, Tormund tugged Jon into his side as they both watched where you had been seconds before. Rumbling low but with a tease so thick one could grasp it in their hands he started already. “Do you want to tell me how the fuck you went out there with her alone, and came back a daddy?”

Jons eyes only looked, a bit darker to Benjen, clearly hiding a very poorly covered up smirk, his defence as unbelievable as was his false attempt to look casual over it. “I didn’t say anything he wouldn’t find out about eventually. Not my fault you never open up.”

Cracking out from Jon almost without a single thought, was his tone dry. “Coming from you.”

Both had a laugh, but Jons attention drawn back to the large man at his side guiding him towards the door inside. “Come on, you can do all your noble shit later. I’m going to need every detail about how the fuck you two have a newborn.” Jon jesting back he assumed Tormund knew how that process worked only had a grunt leaving Tormund in place of a laugh. “Trust me, little crow, I do. You and your girl had been married what? A few months before you put a baby in her and my daughter’s sack of shit husband can’t even get anywhere near doing the same after two fucking years. What’s the point in calling him Longspear if he can’t even use it for the one reason he’s got it?”

If Jon did miss one thing, it was the easy manner Tormund had about almost anything he could speak his mind on. And in the current days where he was surrounded by having to watch what he says and did for the various spying eyes, it was a breath of fresh air he desperately needed.

The opposite side was the truly that, opposite. An unforgiving contrast as one did not know what to say and the other wanted her to say nothing. Theon guided his sister down into one of the isolated cells of the dungeon, releasing her restraints, but the moment she tried, “Theon-” Did he close the locking bars behind her and turned without a seconds thought. “Theon, please, just listen to me-”

Cutting her off with a yell, he didn’t even turn back or stop walking away. “What did you do?” He knew but he wanted her to say it. But the answer was so much less then what he deserved to be told.

“Almost something very bad.”

The echo of the door closing behind him was painful as she stood alone in the cell, but then the guilt set in. She wouldn’t have come and gone without any fight had she not understood her crimes were no ones to answer for but hers. Theon knew it too, but even worse, Yara had almost done it to the one person who acted like the sister she should’ve been to him.

Yara hadn’t done a thing to earn that loyalty, and had not a clue if she could ever recover at this point.

But sisters in one way or another, with what she had done it was you who had every reason to be checked if you were alright. But you sought out Theon, you cared about how he felt here, not to be coddled when you weren’t the one with a family so tormenting as the Greyjoys.

It was frustrating, the degree to which you were not one who could sneak about this castle. Even up on the cold of the battlements, you still were not the one to speak first unseen or unknown. “I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Jon when he told me the truth.” Pausing mid step, your gloved hand braced against the wooden door frame open to the high winds, Theon leaning against the edge looking out to the wintery sight below as he continued, but not with any anger in his tone. “Two of my uncles hunted you both down all the way north of the Wall, trying to kill him so they both could try and separately kidnap you. And the first thing you both want to do is apologize for? For what?”

You hadn’t expected the swiftness he turned to look at you, the narrowing in his eyes challenging what he knew you had come to say. Mouth opening then closing more then once, you swallowed down the uncertainty in how the air suddenly moved and pushed out into the cold more, the firm coverings of the baby keeping him well protected now both kept covered and tucked away close within the warmth of the fur cloak around you both with many feet still between you and Theon. “For your sister, for what happened to Vi-”

Theon almost scoffed, looking at you almost as if about to call you an idiot and his tone backed up the emerging theory. “Jon killed my uncle, because he and my sister tried to kill him. Because they had their men already kidnap you. All because my other uncle ordered them too. Why should either of you be sorry for that?”

Baffled almost by how much he was willing to dismiss what occurred, you did not understand. “Theon-”

He however, had much he understood and thus subsequently a significant amount to say. “Jon told me. The day after you lot got back, he told me what happened himself. He killed my uncle and so he took responsibility for that and my sister. Didn’t leave anything out, wanted me to know exactly what he did because it was my blood he did it too. Then, this afternoon does Benjen Stark show up with my sister as a prisoner with him. So I asked her what she did, and do you know how much she told me?”

You shook your head no, and the answer Theon gave of what she said in response to being asked what did she do, you perhaps had understood the anger here was not directed where you had come to apologize for. “All she said, was that she almost did something very bad. Nothing else. Just that. As if that tells me anything. Jon told me everything, and you were about to apologize for everything.”

Shaking his head, jaw twitching in frustration he looked back out to the cold sight of the wolfswood. Stepping closer, standing beside him with a safe distance from his uncertain demeanour to your quiet voice. “Neither Jon nor I want you to simply accept what happened-”

The scoff bordered on a mocking laugh but towards himself. “I don’t. I’m angry. Jon killed my uncle, because he tried to kill him. My sisters a prisoner, because she tried to kill him too. And all of it happened, because for some bloody reason, Euron wanted you.” Your eyes blinked heavily as if to shoo away the heavy sting of reminder. You had yet to go back to the connection so blatantly made now, you weren’t at all ready for that. So, you stood allowing Theon to speak. “Yara, Victarion, even Euron. They’re my blood, but if I was going to chose them over you I would have long before now. So don’t do what Jon did. Don’t apologize for it.”

A heavy nod, you did not say much else if only out of a lack of knowing what response was appropriate to the strange state he was in. You too, had a feeling Theon was being far more blunt about it with you, then he would have been to Jon. Theon had little qualm about informing you when he thought you were being daft or stubborn, so you thought to give no more reason to garner another lecture about it.

The snow falling against the ground was gentle for once, and the light still bright in the sky above spoke that if would not last much longer, leaving a fresh untouched coat to shine in the moonlight as dark would soon encroach. In the cold winds bringing it, it stung against your cheeks but otherwise well hidden in layers and fur, you were much more quipped to stand out here in this way then years prior in little on purpose.

When anything came into the air again, it was a question which sunk down your throat to strangle you from within. “Only thing Jon wouldn’t answer me was, what does Euron even want with you in the first place?”

All the answers, but that you still did not know. Your shrug registered to the side of his vision just enough it needn’t not require elaboration. The scoff was not directed towards you, but a terrifyingly blue eye was behind your eyes making you feel, for once, as if he was too close. It was uncomfortable, what you knew from dreams and visions and yet now the differences which made his identity not clear, were also similarities detectable in Theon beside you.

The smallest of mannerisms likely all Greyjoys shared, and a despising feeling festered in your gut at the strangers audacity to share it with Theon of all people. Too you knew, it was still difficult giving him a name, as if speaking it even in the private of your mind would bring him back into your world and take what he wanted, no matter what that extended to possibly being.

Theon asked another question, “How did he even know you two were all the way out there or where to tell the others to find you both?” Within a single flash in front of you, it was as if the eagle flew by your very face as his caw screeched in your ear. You knew, but you didn’t want too. Jon was right, a mind more then just a bird existed within the eagle, but it no longer was the mind of a man Jon killed.

Somewhere, somehow, it was overpowered by someone much more terrifying then a man named Orell could have conceived of being. “You’ve been through this part before.” The glee in his voice and shine in his eye as he realized you would not fight against his strength on top of you. He had recognized what someone like Ramsay had done to you, and it only served to excite him more. As if he had just learned, he wouldn’t even need to take time like Ramsay had to, to break you in.

You dared not tell Jon about that part. Though part of you wondered, if you didn’t need too. A Greyjoy already once broke your personal secrets, and told the truth of horrors done to you, to Jon. Neither said it was Theon or what he told him, but you had a feeling Theon sometime between arriving at the Nightfort and the night you learned you were with child, did he tell Jon some of what you spent months hiding from him.

You had little doubt, should this Euron find his way into your life here, he’d speak of what he almost did as well. But unlike Theon, it would be far more like Ramsay. Taunting you in front of Jon for what he refused to say he had done, but enough to anger the White Wolf into something blindingly red and rageful. Surrounded by men using their usage of you, to torment Jon solely because they felt the better men by doing so.

No, you did not wish for Jon to know about that dream just yet. Considering you could see the upturned gaze of Ghosts eyes from down in the courtyard below, Jon was not joking about not letting you out of his sight. If you told him the truth about this one, you may never leave Jon or Ghosts side ever again.

Theon at the least, did not need solid answers to connect much of that on his own without even a sliver of the extending detail you withheld from everyone else. “My uncle died trying to bring you to Euron. And after everything Ramsay did, if stopping all that from happening to you again at the hands of my uncle meant Victarions life? I’d have killed him myself.” You said nothing, not did he need you too. “Yara’s my sister, but I barley knew her. Even before. Then I came back, and..” Theon took a moment, and still you did not speak of what she told you. That day was not yours to intrude on, it was his no matter how much he had told you of it, the second night of your return. “You’re the sister I chose. So you and Jon need to stop trying to pretend like you two have shit to apologize to me for. You don’t. Neither of you do.”

All you could muster was a simple ask. “You didn’t ask her anything else?”

Theon however, gave once more that laugh as if speaking to you like about to call you an idiot. “If I had something to say to her, I’d have done it when she tried begging me to come back to Pyke last year. But I didn’t then, sure as hell don’t now.” Only for another moment did quiet sit between, when as his usual, did Theon find a way to drag out the easily amused side of you in an instant. “Remember when we first met? And I called you a contentious bitch?”

With a dry quickness, it would’ve taken many off guard at the language coming from your mouth were it not Theon. “I believe the phrase you used was contentious cunt, actually. Bitch was the word you used when trying to talk your way out of Lord Stark getting you into trouble.”

The laugh Theon let out was low and mostly breathy, but you joined too. Both looking out to Winterfell as if strangers to that life before. “Right, and I remember it not working. If I didn’t hate you enough already, the man treated you like his daughter.” His mind almost connecting names one to the other, looked more down at you with a narrowed question in his eyes. “Speaking of, how long have you been back and yours hasn’t come to meet his grandson?”

Nodding down to your alone person, you shrugged a shoulder with an ease in your gaze. “Sons are a touchy subject within my family. I don’t really know how much to blame my father for not knowing what to say, even in writing. Not good at communicating the members of my family are.”

“I’ll say.”

Your mouth fell open in offence in an instant as you looked at him incredulously. His shrug of bemused indifference only caused you to lean over and shove at his side with yours, much like a child. All alone, was the only time Theon ever considered returning the gesture. The baby being his only cited reason why he didn’t retaliate, it once more became easy to forget that somehow, some way, he was so closely related to the growing phantom haunting your dreams.

“You let him take a pregnant woman all the way out there?”

Jons elbow was propped up against the table they all sat around, hand pinching the bridge of his nose as his face twisted in frustration. It has so far, been a constant debate about this. About what he had done and if it was right regardless of what he had to do. He wasn’t happy or proud of himself for it, but it had to be done and explaining that to his own companions over and over was getting to be an exhausting ordeal.

On the other end, Sam and Tormund were actually both on the same sides just with vastly different ways of explaining themselves. Gesturing to Jon, who had been silent for some time now, Sam raised his voice in his own defence. “You try telling him he can’t do something once he’s made his mind up. What was I supposed to do? Stand in front of his horse and tell him no? Because I tried that before and he knocked me to the ground.”

Jon only moved his hand enough to take a long, bitter sip of the ale in front of him before letting it thud to the wooden table. Hand that time pressing more against his forehead before letting it run the length of his face. He didn’t even need to say anything, Tormund piped up right away. “He couldn’t wait a few more moons for the baby to be born before running off to get himself killed?”

Why Sam and Tormund of all people were arguing as if they disagreed on the matter, Jon had no idea but they went back and forth regardless. Glancing over to the living quarters where he knew Sam and Gilly slept, part of him wished he told her and little Sam to stay. Maybe they wouldn’t be going in so hard on him were the two of them still there. Enough time had passed that little Sam had grown big enough that he could sit on someones lap all on his own, and it never failed to make Jon smile that the toddler could look at Jon and feel comfortable enough to do so without even asking.

Though, Jon was fully aware that could fall under the possibility of him using little Sam as a shield during this conversation. But Gilly took the both of them to find you, recognizing the three seemed to have things to talk about that Jon didn’t necessarily think appropriate in front of her. The discussion apparently, had continued around him.

“I still don’t understand why you had to bring her, and not ask Edd to give you rangers used to being out there to come with you.” Tormund piping up to include himself and his own people in that scenario when Jon had his fill of being quiet.

Voice raising to something slightly more stern, both recognized the frustration behind it. “If I could’ve left her behind, I would’ve. I didn’t want her out there, I didn’t want her near anything out there but I had to. There was no choice.” Sam softened a bit, moreso recognizing that gloss over his eyes which always seemed to come about in pain of mentioning you. Tormund though, Jon knew understood possibly more then Sam what the things out there were Jon didn’t want you near. “She was barley two months, if I waited until our son was born then you’re asking me to abandon my wife and newborn child and I wasn’t-”

Cutting himself off, he refused to allow the thought to come forward. That was not an option, allowing you the comfort of having your entire pregnancy and labour here where it belonged to happen, only to leave and possibly never come back right away. That wasn’t even what his father did to his wife. His father had gotten Lady Catelyn pregnant right before leaving for war, he probably didn’t even realize until the end he was to have a son when he came back. This was asking Jon to go through the whole nine months with you, be there when you gave birth with the proper care and comfort midwives and a maester could provide you with, and hold his son his arms before leaving you both behind.

He could leave right now and find you, but still, the thought of doing that made Jon feel ill. The thought that he would miss these first precious weeks. Waking up over and over because his son needed something, gently shushing you into not waking up unless the baby needed feeding. Getting you ready in the morning the way he liked, working with you to dress the baby before getting to be the one to wrap him around your person to keep the baby attached to your front. Miss watching you feed little Eddard from your own breast because you refused to let the wet nurse anywhere near him? Feeding the baby had a routine, even when Jon wasn’t there he knew the routine by heart.

He could still recall one night out there, before reaching the Wall, everyone had settled in camp for the night as you had to feed the baby. Just at the very end of gently burping him did just the slightest bit of spit up come out from such a small thing, and the only reaction you both had was to laugh gently. Jon cleaning you without a second thought as you cleaned little Eddards mouth and soothed him gently in your arms before the sensation of it coming up upset him. Naturally by the time you had just let your head fall on Jons shoulder to sleep, did he decide he needed to be fed again because he spit up half of what he ate an hour prior.

If he thought about it, he could still see the way the others tried to pretend they weren’t watching. The way Bran and Benjen both looked at him almost in an awe of what Jon of all people had now, what his life looked like after being separate from them for years. He could see the way Meera glanced between you both and Bran and Benjen. The hiding of a sadness mixed with envy in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed back into the fire. He knew the feeling of loss in her but too the feeling of being surrounded by family and being all alone.

Yara was too, but Jon knew Meera was almost more hostile towards the Greyjoy then Bran was. Jon has asked her about it, and she explained it almost a bit ashamed. She knew Bran had more of a reason to distrust her, considering that the Greyjoys never actually managed to take anything in Greywater Watch because of how difficult the lands were and as she put it, “Our Keep always moves.” But she also said that she didn’t know much of Euron Greyjoy, but she knew enough that anyone who had tried to help him take you was as bad as him. And separating a father and newborn son from a mother who just gave birth was nothing short of evil.

His voice more of a husk as he pulled himself back by a force into the present discussion. “The plan was to get her home before she gave birth. I never planned to keep her out there and force her to-” The second cut off for himself Jon downed an even more bitter amount which spoke volumes of how he struggled to discuss this the further he had to think of the night.

Tormund gestured to Sam with the mug in hand, “Your girl gave birth out there too, right?” Sam confirmed she did, but did add that in a fairness, she had her sisters all with her and she gave birth at home in her fathers Keep. That Gilly had to raise her son the first months out in the outside North, but she gave birth at home with family. “What about her man, where was he?”

The look Sam and Jon shared, a thought all who knew despised discussing, but Jon took the reigns for Sams sake. Putting it as bluntly as possible, knowing a man like Tormund no doubt wouldn’t need an elaboration on what it meant. “Gilly was one of Crasters wives.”

The laugh the man let out, a single sound almost in a disbelief as something powerful took over like speaking on a long since piece of gossip. “That dirty daughter fucker?” Jon nodded with a look of disgust partially falling over it as it would for many, but Tormund continued. “That crow lover who gave up his own sons to those things?”

Jon and Sam perked up in a moment, the former asking, “You knew about that?”

Tormund nodded. “I knew it, because Mance knew it. Anyone who was anyone knew Craster was giving his sons up to those things, as if fucking your own daughters wasn’t shit enough.” Shaking his head as that more serious wave hit him, Jon knew again that Tormund was well aware that was not just any strange choice the man made one day. “No one knew why, we just knew he did it. You managed to not only woo one of his girls, but took her for yourself? You’ve got more balls then I gave you credit for, Tarly.”

Jon could almost smirk. He wasn’t wrong, Sam was indeed far braver then his father ever saw in him that was certain. For a moment, he almost could hope it wouldn’t come back around, only the talk of Sam and Gilly did not last long. Sam of course, was the prime culprit as he brought you back up. “Jon had to be the one to deliver the baby himself, all on his own.”

Asking if he knew anything about delivering a baby, Jon could only gruff out not much, as Tormund looked at him more seriously, regardless if Jons eyes were glued to a spot of nothing on the table. “Women where I’m from are tough, you know that. But even the best of them have more then enough people around when they give birth. Woman in the clans I grew up in, they go into labour on their own, the men all get their asses up and either move her somewhere with help, or go out and drag help to her. We don’t have your medicine and maesters, but women still all work together when it comes to it. But you two doing it on your own?”

Jon interrupted, that same dark feeling in the put of his stomach of a horrible few hours returning to the surface as it reflected in the way his face twisted. “I delivered the baby, but she was alone.” Neither man said a word. “Something was wrong and she was in so much pain.” Jon finished off whatever was left in the mug as Tormund didn’t hesitate to refill it for him. “I know it hurts but something was wrong that night. I couldn’t comfort her, or even help her. I had to let her suffer through it like torture all alone because I had to focus on the baby.” That darkness that time fell so much closer to a burning self hatred. “We didn’t do it together. I was right there, but I still made her do it all alone. I never would’ve made her go out there if I knew that’s how she was going to give birth. In a cave hundreds of miles from home all alone, screaming in so much pain she genuinely couldn’t even speak. I never wanted that for her.”

Let alone what came after he thought. All the way he dragged you through and back in such harsh, freezing lands, what you both found when you got there...He knew some people would never understand why Jon brought you knowing you were pregnant, but no one hated it more then Jon hated himself for it. Sam finally asked what he hadn’t yet, what he wasn’t sure Jon was ready to say. “So why did you? You said you had no choice, what left you with no choice but to bring her?”

Out of everything they had known of you, of what lurked out there, Jon knew they had not prepared for the answer he gave them. “Because they demanded it.” Tormund asked who, but he knew. “The Others. One of them wanted me to come all the way out there, go to their lands, and they demanded I bring her. They wanted to see her for themselves.” Again the ask of why, but spoken by Sam that time. It took Jon a good long moment of silence to say a word again, but he knew the answer had left out details they’d have no possible way of connecting on their own. “Because she was pregnant with my child.” His own emphasis on the fact that is was his child specifically, not at all the implication of her being pregnant in general.

Tormund asked how they would’ve known that, but Jon had no idea truly. That wasn’t a question of priority by then. Sam however, had the real question with the real answer Jon didn’t know how to go into. “You’ve fought them, you’ve killed them. Maybe they called you out there the same way Lords on opposite sides of a war can sit down and discuss terms, when the solider are all still out there killing each other. But what would be so important about meeting the woman whose carrying your baby to them?”

Jon learned too much, if he couldn’t comprehend it in his own thoughts, how was he supposed to explain it to anyone else? That wouldn’t help them, that wouldn’t prepare them, it was something to haunt few and stay secret. Like it had done so for thousands of years, Jon could only wonder through where did that knowledge stop? Which was the last to know that truth, and why not pass it down? Why leave the rest of them in the dark to it all?

Interjecting into the silence, Tormund asked, “If they wanted her to come with you, why attack her? You said she was attacked by wights twice out there. Why attack her if she was so important?”

Summarizing, Jon was aware they sensed he was talking around something, not to hide, but as if attempting to find the right way to speak it into existence. “It’s like Sam said. The wights are just soldiers, and soldiers don’t know the difference between whose important whose not. They just attack the enemy like their told.”

“The first time sure, but you said they attacked her twice. How many were there the second time around? Six? Seven if you count the baby. Nine adding in those wolves of yours. Why attack only her the second time?”

Opening and closing his mouth, Jon was physically stalling from saying anything further when a stroke of luck granted his struggling mind a mercy. The door opened and there was no better time to interrupt then that very moment. Before that though, the trail followed to get to that opening door was not filled with a path full of nothing of importance.

As you made your silent way down the halls of the crypts, you had the worry festering in the back of your mind that you had no right to invade on his privacy down here.

You did not know him the way his nieces and nephews did, but you could not shake that feeling of a long forgotten care that you had not experienced in years until the night he rescued you from the Ironborn. Your intention was to be as quiet as possible, but little Eddard had a mouth of his own and seeing his mother so tense and quiet for so long had drawn him out to make a small babble as if to grab your attention and cheer you up.

Within an instant, your feet stopped where you stood and a tight, closed lipped smile came over as you breathed a little laugh through your nose at the timing. Turning his head, Benjen Stark looked over to you with his brows raised in an amusement, not hesitating to speak up and break that uncertain silence. “I assume you meant to be more quiet then he let you?” A nod of yes, he reached a gloved hand out, waving you over. “Come closer at least then, I know it echos but there’s no need to shout.”

Coming within a foot or so, he laughed to himself saying wolves don’t always bite, indicating your needless gap as he, almost in a manner like Robb or Jon, just tugged you closer in a comfortable manner, with a more tender grasp not to jostle the little one. “I didn’t want to intrude I know I shouldn’t be down-”

Benjen did not even allow you the chance of finishing. “You’re family. You do belong down here.” Biting your tongue, your eyes cast downwards as you stood next to him for a moment. The firm way he said it without hesitation, still it felt strange of a thing to allow. Calling you family. It was odd when Jon said it to you the day you both stood down here to bury Rickon, and it still felt odd now.

It seemed in his journey, he hadn’t actually gotten very far. Beside where you stood was the statue tall and stern of what you had assumed was Lord Rickard Stark, which meant the large statue before you, even in stone radiating a dashing charm as beside him too was that of his brother, the tomb Benjen had been visiting as you approached was that of Brandon Stark, the one eldest of the previous generation of Stark siblings.

Much like Robb, murdered horrifically far before their time, but unlike Robb, got to rest here memorialized in stone as he deserved. You dared not look at the empty tomb a statue of Robb with the loyal Greywind deserved to stand. A statue would be pointless. There was nothing to bury. An echo of a resting place Robb will never have. At least you thought, Brandon could be visited. No one visited Robb but the carrion crows whom picked apart what the Freys did not desecrate of his body, and the maggots which laid rest the rot left behind until only bones were scattered to the wind.

A low rasp just like Jon though, muttered through with a careful respect through the only flickering sounds of torch flames along the walls. “I was only a boy the last time I saw most of them. Thirteen years old. Brandon was getting ready to marry Cat, so most everyone was down south. I wanted to go, but my father told me what he always told us. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. So I stayed here, and for a long time, I didn’t understand why none of them came back. I didn’t even know Lyanna had been taken until I learned my father and brother were murdered by the Mad King.”

Your eyes looked up to the statue of a man with the reputation of being both hot blooded and dashing, yet again, a feeling deep within you of how much your mind forced you to not look to where the tomb of Robb did not rest.

Benjen continued, the understanding that your silence was not of an awkwardness, but that of a respect to allow him to get out what he needed in his time. It was the same you knew with Jon, let him say it at his own pace or he may never go back to the topic. “It’s not easy to handle. Spending a year not knowing what was happening. The war started with my father and brother dead, and ended with my sister dead. Ned came home suddenly the head of the entire family, with a wife and two sons of his own. I probably had just had my fifteenth nameday when I left. Robb had just turned one, Jon hadn’t even reached that yet. But I left. Ned had a whole new life to figure out and I just couldn’t see where I belonged in that yet.”

Only one question in prompt, your voice was as much of a whisper as could be. “Why the Nights Watch?”

You had heard his answer many times, it felt as it if was the one ingrained in the heads of each member his family. “The Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years.” With a pause he found the real answer. “A year before the war, the tourney of Harrenhal, I met a brother of the Nights Watch, told me he travelled the Seven Kingdoms looking for recruits, and it was the first time I had someone able to tell me about what they did, what it was all for. He told me the vow, the one we all swear the night of our initiation. Out of everything he said, I never forget one part. The shield that guards the realm of men. After the realm took away almost everything I had, it felt more important then ever, finding a purpose to guard what was left.” His eyes glanced to you, flickering down to the brighter wide eyes of the baby, now looking up at his back.

Catching the exchange, the curious bright eyed look was so striking as little Eddard looked up at him. “Do you want to hold him?” The very second you even slightly shifted him, did the baby make a protesting noise, turning to hide into you again, causing both you and Benjen to laugh. Running a hand over his head, your voice was a soothing lull towards him. “Come on now, you’ve met him before.”

Slowly turning to face him a little better, Benjen moved just as slow to not startle him. The chuckle still present on his tongue though. “He’s more shy then I last saw him.”

Prompting the baby to look more at Benjen again, those bright eyes shined a smaller flash of familiarity, a small coo of question leaving as the baby looked back up to you who nodded with a smile, resting your head at the side of his with a playful whisper just for him. “See, you’ve met Benjen before, you’re safe with him.” A little hand reached out just barley, causing Benjen in return to pull his gloves off, giving him a small grasp of his own hand as if letting an animal sniff them before accepting anything. Your voice speaking back that time to the man himself, “He’s had a busy week. Presenting him to the Lords and Ladies only meant suddenly everybody wishes to come close or try and hold him, it’s been a bit overwhelming.”

Finally little Eddard allowed Benjen to take him, keeping him held carefully in his arms with a smile, patient to receive one from the baby right back as you both stood there. “You got bigger.” Little Eddard hadn’t made any noise, but not shying away from him was a better sign that he was beginning to remember who this was. Changing the subject swiftly, you suspected he had taken advantage of the easier state you had fallen into for honesty. “Tell me something, what’s all the fighting I’ve heard about between my nephew and niece?”

He did not need to elaborate, it was painfully obvious what he meant, but the truth was of no use hiding. Arms crossing over your front, you glanced towards the statue in front of you once more as if using a distraction. “Petyr Baelish brought her here under the assumption that because Robb was gone without..and not knowing Bran was even alive, it would mean Robb’s crown would pass to her.” Benjen specifying the obvious that it wasn’t as it to prompt you further. “No.”

It was almost easier to explain to Benjen then it had been when more then one Stark so directly involved in the issue was looking at you intently the first time, and never once did he find himself disagreeing. “Good. Never liked the Lannisters, never trusted them. Robb taking away any chance of them getting the North was the right thing to do.” Muttering quietly that Sansa did not make it easy to remember that, Benjen was straightforward about it in a way it seemed he could sense you needed to hear. “She didn’t choose to marry him, but she still did. By law, she’s a Lannister if she likes it or not. You give those yellow haired pricks even an inch to try and take this place, they’ll run with it. My nephew didn’t disinherit her from the family, just his line of succession. There’s worse things to come home to then just no crown. I thought she’d understand that.”

“She should. Or does. But Sansa isn’t the problem, and she’s not the one who will kill to get what he wants.” Meeting your glance, there was only one question on Benjen’s mind and you were grateful to be down in the crypts as you spoke it. “Actually, I came down here to ask you something.”

Asking what, you could see where Ned Stark rested from here, and maybe you thought, it was time he heard the full story too. That is, before everyone else will. One thing at a time, and right now, that one thing was drawing closer and closer to the forefront of what to deal with.

Jon, Bran, Benjen, all of you had different pieces of a story with intentions to come together and put it all together to find a conclusion before it was too late. Petyr Baelish however, needed everyone with their separate sides to stay apart to keep everyone else but him in the dark. But that was why he tried to have you killed after all. Not for Sansa’s claim, not for anything for anyone but himself. You needed to act now, because you and Littlefinger both knew you were the only one aside from him who could pin more on him then he ever had previously thought possible. Or at least, that’s what Jon was now banking on him thinking. Afterall, everyone else was either loyal to him, or was too scared of him to betray that loyalty.

“Don’t admit anything, don’t say anything. He might do whatever he can do divert attention from himself, and you are the best way he could try.”

Asking in a frustration as he walked beside you, the most he complained he had stretched his legs in a week or something close to that. “So why bring me out there, huh? Why go all this trouble to hide me when none of it matters?”

Your eyes tore to the side at Gendry in a firmness and not any hint you were not being extremely serious about this. “The less we could keep you in his attention the better, but he still knows of you and no doubt heard you were here because of me. If you corner an animal enough, they will find the one way they can to bite back and knowing I know who you are and have not said anything about it means he could try and use that as his only way out.” Asking what that has to do with showing his face, you almost snapped interrupting him. “I kept you hidden here for your safety, my mother hid you for your own safety, I will not have him using me hiding you from my own people as proof I am keeping you secret for my own gain.”

You were likely, the most nervous of all of them. Jon had told you he was handling this, and you knew and trusted him, but it did not change how much you were to be at the centre of both. Of what accusation the crime towards him was to be, and what Littlefinger could point to you for in desperation when he finally realized how cornered he had made himself. Perhaps you had felt too similar to last time.

Secrets behind you that were legitimate and fair, and how easily they could be spun into painting you as a traitor, how quickly situations could turn on you. No matter how much you told yourself to trust Jon, you still could feel it. You worried you were all rushing into this, but Jon had reminded you. How often did you think you had more time then you did, only to realize the enemy still cut that time even shorter out of nowhere?

Jon had put it plainly, as long as he thinks he has Sansa on his side he will stay, but as soon as he realizes he doesn’t have the hold on her he thought he did, he has no reason to stay and everything he’s done he will get away with the moment he leaves the North. Something Jon would not let happen.

You could see Arya’s eyes dart over wide and in question the moment you appeared in the main hall with Gendry, but both of you only made your way to where Selyse was standing off to the side, when coming up behind you, was a warm and low voice in your ear all of the sudden. Jons hand on your lower back with a quick ask, “Where’s the baby?” Telling him with Gilly, you could see a little less tensity in Jons eyes when you looked up to him. Keeping him with only those you knew to trust right here and now until it was dealt with. Looking to Gendry then yourself, he was less gentle in a single switch of breath when not directed towards you alone. “Whatever happens, don’t do or say anything if he brings it up. He’ll take any chance to get himself out of this, and he’ll use you two to do it.”

Your mother was the only one with a voice it seemed out of the three of you. “Are you sure we aren’t rushing into this?”

Grey eyes flickering to where Sansa and Arya up behind the main table pretending to look as casual as possible, then to where Bran sat at the tables end. Both he and Meera standing behind him giving him a nod with more confidence then you still felt.

Looking up to him, it was clear Jon held no waver in his eyes. A look something flying before your eyes, was just as sure as Ned Stark stood in the throne room declaring Joffery had to claim. If Jon could read your hesitation, he did not encourage it with any words. “He’s had years to try and plan this, to try and manipulate my sister against me. I’m not waiting to see which member of my family he tries to have killed next to act.”

Guiding you with him up to where you both sat in the meeting hall, Jon was no less serious but something soothing waved up your spine like a shiver as he murmured into your ear again. “I need you to trust me.” Quickly whispering at you always will, Jon pressed a kiss to the side of your head. Hand slipping up to the back of your neck almost in a massaging manner. “We can’t wait any longer, he’ll run the moment he realizes he doesn’t have Sansa on his side anymore and I’m not letting another person who hurt the people I love get away with it.”

Where she would sit beside him, Jon much more even toned asked Sansa if she had it, only to be directed with a brighter look in her eye to Arya beside her. “Arya has it. I knew where it was, but I’m no thief-” Arya glaring up at her arguing she wasn’t either, but the mocking tone of her older sister was far less aggressive then it would’ve been years ago. “Okay I’m less of a thief then you are, happy? It’s supposed to be a compliment.”

“Well you’re still bad at them.”

Jon ignored both of them, moving passed and kneeling more down to his brother, a hand cupping the side of his head. “Are you sure you want to be here for this? All of this? No one will blame you for not wanting to hear about what happened.”

Just as confident as Jon was walking into this though, both brothers held the same certainty, as did the confidence of Meera behind him. “I’m staying. No one’s ever told me the whole truth about that night anyways, good time as any to learn it.” Jon only pulled his brother closer, a small kiss left to his forehead before looking up to Meera, firmly telling her not to hesitate to get him out if it’s too much. “Jon, I’ll be fine.”

Nails tapping at the top of your own chair, you hadn’t even noticed when Jon made his way back to you. “I’d ask if you’re sure you’re ready to do this, but I know the answer is no.” A huff of a laugh left you, not quite reaching your eyes when he turned you to look up at him, the hand on your cheek just barley letting his thumb run over the skin he could reach. A whisper asking once more, if he was sure he wasn’t rushing into this, but Jon nodded. “We might be, but we have to do this, and it has to be now.”

He knew you did not doubt him, but the plan was made so swiftly that you struggled to come to terms with it all, almost a complete opposite of whom you were the last making such grand claims at the side of a Stark. Nothing of that confident highborn girl you were now that you stood as a Queen. “I don’t mean to question you-”

Tilting you up to meet his eyes closer, Jon kept you looking at the brightness of his eyes. Wide and grey as if entrancing you to calm by their very nature. “I’ve been planning this long before he got here, and I’m not letting him leave here until we handle this. I’m not letting him leave period. Not after everything he’s done, what he’s been trying to do. I’m not asking you to stop being worried, I’m only asking you trust me.”

One hand of yours reached up, sitting higher on his chest as Jon almost uncharacteristically grasped it gentle holding it against his chest uncaring of the public nature the affection looked for once. “I trust you.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Nodding, Jon pulled you by the back of your hair close, that time the press of his lips to your forehead was followed by gently tilting your head just enough to leave another on the bridge of your nose. “I told you, I’m protecting you from now on. This is part of that.” Hardly a voice existed as you spoke only for his ears, a worry of what if he still had some of his own, but again, the confidence and calm in Jon was the one thing keeping you from seeing the betrayal so swiftly forced upon you so many years ago. “Darling.”

Dropping your head with a sigh, Jon let a grin sneak out as he cupped both your cheeks to turn you to look back up at him. Your only defence against the handsomeness gracing your eyes was a simple, “I love you.”

Just the slightest hint of teasing, Jon ran his thumb over your cheek again. “I know you do.” If that was meant to make you both roll your eyes and smother a grin, it worked, and there was no hiding it from his watchful, adoring gaze.

But as the other Lords begun to filter into the meeting Hall, Jon turned so you both faced the front, a hand pressing against your lower back as if to ensure you always felt his presence. By the time the final so called guest walked into the room, unlike many meetings always free for the smallfolk to watch did the doors behind him close, as did the ones to rest of the castle halls at the end of the room, and the side doors beside the high table where this particular time, the only ones stood up there, were not the main council. Just wolves all taking a seat, followed by the others with one main in the middle of them finding himself standing out all of the sudden. A question on his lips as he looked around, “Your grace-

Interrupted only by Jons voice, far less soft and much more cold and projecting without leaving any room to question him on the order. “Lord Petyr Baelish, step forward.”

[m4rs-ex3]

s7 spoilers ✨✨

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ok

"death alive" fucking snipe me the insane death motif that seems to be present here is killing me pun intended

GRAAAHAHAHHGROWLS IM SO EXCITED I CAN TEVEN

"i don't want to be separated again"

"i don't want to be separated again"

stop it right tf now bc this is literally what i have been wanting one of them to say so badly. also smooch. dear christ

the fact that terry wants so badly for him and claudia to be free that he is pleading with fucking archmage aaravos himself. like ik they're partners in crime atp but still my guy has balls. the dedication. poor thing 😭

aaravos fucking leading claudia on with even more hope of viren being saved - his own backstory making the way he's manipulating her grief 10x more twisted - and terry seeing right through his bullshit..... im foaming at the mouth

fuckin.g- FOR ME?!?!?!?!?!?

CALLUM SOBBING OVER EZRAN??? (dreamer's nightmare was prepping us for this huh)

SOREN APOLOGIZING TO CALLUM?? (for what i do not know) EMOTIONAL CALLUM/SOREN HUG DEAR GOD ALL IVE EVER WANTED

the making of a primal stone, more moon magic, a quest for an ingredient, insane biblical imagery... once again, FOR ME??!?!?!?!??!

"AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!!"

NECROMANCY!! just what this show needed omg

astrid my love. i was a little worried post-s6/pre-date announcement that we really wouldn't see that much, if any, of the celestial elves, but oh ho ho i can't believe i ever doubted you tdp. like you're telling me that astrid is tired of watching, of being the wise observers (especially now that her own brother has been so far removed from, well, being a non-all-seeing prophet), and that all she wants is to, for once, do something about all the tragedy she knows is coming and hasn't been able to do anything about? christmas fucking morning i tell you

goddamn the true extent and emphasized tragedy of katolis has been brought up enough that you just know they're not messing around

NO STOP SEEING SARAI AND HARROW NEXT TO GROWN AND CURRENTLY FCUKED UP EZRAN IS GOING TO FUCKING DEMOLISH ME

obviously ez being angry is just wow omg teehee but just. immediately being so vengeful and wanting to "destroy him" with zero hang-ups is.......... yeah wow omg teehee

"it's great!" i genuinely trust that with my life

ok hello this will most certainly be the most incredible visual to ever exist holy shit. also this is making me realize that we've never actual seen ez on the throne in arc 2 and i mean that's insane enough

this is incredible what can i say. i can see it now: rayla shoving worms in his face like "JUST EAT THE FUCKING WORMS ITS GOOD FOR YOU ASSHOLE" and runaan fighting her like a toddler refusing to eat his vegetables (except it's the opposite bc it's a vegetarian father refusing to eat his grubs)

i love how out of touch aaravos is (makes sense after centuries underneath inside of a rock) bc in what world is this normal. i highly doubt they have snow white or the bible but still it's just human nature to be weirded tf out by that. also yes @zuppizup ur so right his affinity for fruit being played on is amazing

also corvus: yeah yeah uh huh right and what exactly is your name, sir? aaravos: ah yes my name! it's uh uhh i mean it's uhhhhhhhhhhh. jofus

TWO IN THE FIRST EPISODE (which worries me but anyhow) IN THE FORM OF A GOODBYE AND A REUNION AND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE TOO???? AS A TREAT??????????

i'm all for ezran ripping runaan to shreds but i can't exactly say i see the correlation here. although that is kinda funny. it's like when i can't find my phone or smth so i just look at my dog and go "whiskey did you eat it" (she's been asleep this whole time and also she has never eaten/chewed on an object in her life)

also help inigo montoya ahh

ok 1) i, much like everyone else, kinda presumed that the tension would mostly be between ezran and callum and he wouldn't really hold anything against rayla, but the act of straight up arresting him really makes me wonder how rayla's gonna react 2) i really need to see callum's reaction (mainly out of defending rayla, but also because i can see him kinda being like "HEY i JUST freed him bro fuck you") and 3) the way that it is emphasized that soren is the one to arrest him..... idk i just figured that between his love for rayla, his own daddy issues (+the fact that viren was the one to imprison him so it would kinda be like righting his wrong), and that harrow was in fact not his father so compared to ezran he'd have a lot less resentment (he was of course still his king and soren had to actually watch it so still some but like. comparatively) i didn't think he'd be this combative but i'm certainly not complaining. the more angst the merrier

AW YEAH BOYS SHES COMING TO KATOLIS!!!!!

this has been your incoherent, feral mars commentary.* thank you

[kaizokuniichan]

Attention Part 4 - Beef

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Afab Reader (referred to as she/her) x Trafalgar Law

Summary: Law and Zoro finally face off in a slightly heated discussion about you

CW: Brief mentions of slavery and violence, slightly toxic male “Bro” like behavior. You are the prize after all.

Previous Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Next Chapter: Part 5

Word Count: 2.2k

MDNI. Even though this chapter does not contain any explicit content, the rest of the story does. Please respect this disclaimer.

I was originally going to present this chapter as a two-parter because I didn’t want to leave it as a cliffhanger, but the first part is completed and I’m still working on the second part and I wanted to finally release something for this story. I hope you’ll enjoy this little snippet and I will try to complete the next part soon. Happy Reading!

(Divider by @/cafekitsune and banner by @/eelnoise

Law couldn’t be more thrilled. Somehow, blessedly, you would be staying with him.

More simply, it would be you and the other remaining Strawhats on the journey to Wano, but the details of your failed rendezvous were irrelevant. For now he could at least continue enjoying your company.

Re-coordinating the plan was difficult, though having dealt with the Strawhat captain made Law more skilled at adapting to irritating deviations. His crew was a godsend for they were practiced in anticipating his needs before even being asked. Their reunion had filled him with the realization of how close he’d been to never seeing them again. Would they have forgiven him? Would they have even cared? Would they harbor any resentment for him abandoning them? It took great difficulty to prevent himself from falling down a rabbit hole of self-loathing, but it was combatted with his gratefulness for having such dedicated and devoted people in his life. He’d also internalized your guiding words which reminded him that there wouldn’t even be a dependable and trustworthy crew of his if there weren’t a great captain to lead them.

His mind and heart had been a jumbled mess on the days leading to Zou. A shard of his heart was being taken away, and he feared it would make the rest of him collapse in a way his own Devil Fruit wouldn’t be able to fix. He’d dreaded the moment he’d leave you behind—even more so when you’d clung to him, rendering him frozen with your unshed tears, a suffocating lump lodging in his throat. He’d never seen you look so small and defeated, shriveled as your vivacious essence was drained. Any doubts of your feelings for him were wiped clean when you’d whispered softly how guilty you felt for wanting to stay with him.

Despite your anguish over your blasphemous confession, a part of him— more mountainous than he cared to admit—was delighted that he’d somehow nestled himself within your heart. He’d kissed you so fiercely, pilfering the breath from your lungs, and uttered thankful praises against your lips for painting his world a little brighter—saturating it with your sweetness.

Now that your time together was extended, he had the luxury of hosting you within his domain. Almost daily he struggled with the task of remaining discreet and careful not to further exacerbate the brewing tension between you, him, and Zoro. Not so secretly Law wished the mossy-haired swordsman had joined the others in their rescue of their cook, though he soon realized how futile that would have been given Zoro and the Cook’s contentious relationship.

What was even more concerning was Zoro’s audacious hovering—the man never let you out of his sight. Evidently you and him had engaged in some sort of tryst and now he’d magnetized himself to you and was digging in his heels. Law had taken for granted the minimized scrutiny he’d had aboard the Sunny and how greatly it’d worked in his favor. Now back on the Polar Tang he was forced to maintain the veneer of a respectable host. Ultimately he found himself lying awake at night, wishing to carry you back to his quarters and lavish you with his mouth and body every second of every day it took to reach Wano.

The question now was: where would everyone sleep? How would they divvy up the common areas? The Polar Tang was quite large, but it was uncertain if it could comfortably house 8 guests. The easiest solution was to drag in the spare cots from the infirmary and send all of the men to the men’s quarters.

With strained indifference he’d sent you and Robin to stay with Ikkaku, whose keen eyes took notice of him lingering in the doorway as you settled in. Between her and Robin he felt far too exposed, but it was understood that they’d never mention anything about it. Not to him anyway.

As the sun dipped into the horizon amongst brushstrokes of apricot and magenta, the mighty sub made its descent, hurtling deep into the ocean’s depths. While the Heart Captain sat in his office a soft knock wrapped at his door.

“Hey Captain,” popped Bepo’s head from the doorway as Shachi squeezed past to join him, “that one Strawhat guy was looking for you earlier.”

Massaging his temples, Law prayed that no one else had tampered with anything else of importance.

“If it’s their shipwright tell him we’ll arrive at the next island in a few days’ time, so he can get the materials to fix that tank Long Nose-ya busted.”

Bepo scratched his head as Shachi struggled to hold in his snicker—he’d been complicit in pranking the sniper after all.

“No, it’s that green-haired swordsman who’s been wandering around all day and knocking things over with those swords of his. I think he’s lost but he won’t tell anyone where he’s trying to go.

He’s probably looking for you, Law thought to himself, remembering how you’d spent most of the day sleeping.

“Figures. Bring him and his astronomically pathetic sense of direction in here.”

“Who’re you calling pathetic,” came a grunt from the other side of the door before Bepo stepped aside.

“Actually Captain he’s right here.”

“Yes I see Bepo, thank you. You both can leave. And Shachi, stop encouraging the Strawhats from wreaking anymore havoc. We have too long of a journey together. We can’t afford anymore repairs.”

“Aye aye sir,” Shachi saluted, failing to wipe the shit-eating grin from his face as he ushered Bepo out of the room and closed the door.

Law and Zoro were finally alone, which had never actually happened before they’d arrived at Zou. Much to their surprise they’d formed a delicate alliance, one that stemmed from their disdain for the ludicrous mourning over Kanjuro’s crude drawing and their shared excitement for meeting a ninja. They’d become tentative acquaintances—save for the awkward chill that surged between them whenever you squeezed in to link your arms with theirs. Side-glancing each other over the top of your head, they reluctantly folded as you guided them along.

Zoro leaned against the desk a few steps from where Law sat, who frowned as the force of the other man’s weight knocked over his lamp.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking anything but.

“What is it that you want Zoro-ya.”

Taking a moment to answer, he ran his finger over the hilt of Wado Ichimonji.

“Where’s she sleeping tonight?”

Setting down his pen, Law swiveled around to face him.

“Somewhere you’ll never be able to find.”

The perilous edge in Zoro’s eye made him snort.

“Relax Hercules. She’s with Nico-ya in Ikkaku’s room.”

Blowing out a breath, Zoro shifted on his feet. “Surprised you didn’t drag her to your lair.”

“Are you saying I’m Hades?”

The genuine befuddlement crossing Zoro’s face prompted Law to trudge neatly along.

“I might’ve thought about it but i figured it would be inappropriate to grant her the privilege in front of everyone.”

Zoro smirked and Law relaxed, leaning back in his seat.

“I would if I could though.”

Zoro glanced aside to the disorganized pile of books stacked in a corner.

“Everyone knows you know. Even your crew.”

“I know.” Law laid his hands over his stomach, drumming his fingers. “But I can at least maintain the illusion that we’re all keeping it professional.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m lookin grab her right now and take her to that...observation aquarium-thingy she likes so much. Makes for a very romantic setting.”

With a scoff Law turned back to his desk. “Good luck finding it.”

A bark of laughter whisked the tension aside as Zoro removed his katanas to lean them next to him against the desk. Carding a hand through his hair he turned to face Law properly.

“I can see why she likes you so much.”

Law’s brow twitched as he was unable to tamp down his confusion.

“She likes people who give it to her straight. Bet you’ve said things to her that most people would consider rude.”

He was momentarily stage-hooked to his first encounter with you and smiled.

“One day I basically told her she looked like shit. Like she hadn’t slept for a week.”

“I see,” Zoro replied, concealing his laugh with a fist over his mouth. “Did she...ever tell you why she has so much trouble sleeping?”

Of course you had. It’d been one of the very first offerings of yourself you’d entrusted him with.

“Almost every night for weeks on end, without even breaks sometimes, they forced me to participate in those underground fighting rings under the threat of being sold as a slave to a Celestial Dragon. All thanks to my shitty parent’s debts. And ever since, I’ve been like a prisoner in my own mind. I don’t think you realize how much you’ve helped me.”

“Yeah, she told me.”

Zoro scratched his jaw.

“She still has those nightmares you know, even now. But I imagine you’ve provided the perfect late-night distraction for her.”

Law’s eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I thought she was with you during all of those late nights. You both seem so close after all.”

“Well. Shit,” Zoro shook his head, “I guess we were both missing our opportunity.”

“I guess we were,” Law affirmed with a wry smile.

A blanket of comfortable silence settled before Law turned back to re-open his book.

“Looks like I’ll have to work harder to find a way to steal her away.”

Zoro’s head snapped back to him, eye gleaming with careful warning.

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Law’s face gave away nothing as he flipped the pages of his book.

“You sure? I can be very convincing. My crew seems to like her already. I’m sure she’d fit right in.”

“She’s not the type to abandon us just because she fell a little for your pretty boy charms,” Zoro muttered, leaning closer.

“Well it seems your Mr. Cool act hasn’t been enough to keep her full attention, so you never know.”

Zoro’s mouth curled in a taunting sneer.

“I definitely had her attention a few weeks ago in our kitchen. And I was also smart enough not to cut it short by the way.”

Law snapped his book shut, bristling as he stood up.

“She told you about that?”

“Not directly. I could just tell. She said it was good though.”

His body eased with relief. He’d been worried he hadn’t given you enough during your last encounter. It was good to know you’d at least liked it. He’d give you so much more if you let him.

“Well luckily I have ways of bringing her to me discreetly, if she wishes. And we’ll have plenty of privacy for me to service her properly.”

Zoro leaned closer, not quite touching his nose to Law’s but close enough to feel the heat from his body.

“Don’t think it’s gonna be that easy to take her just because you made her cum.”

Law countered with unwavering eyes, “I don’t know if you’re trying to offend me Zoro-ya, but this thing between us is much deeper than just satisfying her sexually, and I think you’re underestimating that.”

“I’m not underestimating shit. That’s why I’m telling you. I won’t back off, and I’m guessing you’re not either, so this ain’t personal but I’ll fight you for her if I have to.

Their aggressions squared off until Zoro shifted back to tuck his katanas safely back into his haramaki.

“You’re lucky you’re too noble of a guy to play around with her heart, otherwise I’d have to slice you up just for wasting her time.”

Law remained stood at his desk, arms folded.

“And I know you’re too honorable of a man to sacrifice the greater good of our alliance for some non-beef with me. It’s nothing personal on my end either.”

Fully finished with the conversation, Law sighed and held out his hand. “I’m sending you back to the men’s quarters now since I do not trust you to find it on your own.”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me so you can-“ but his reply was cut short as he was teleported out of the room, replaced with a dirty sock that flopped to the floor.

Collapsing back into his chair, he threaded his fingers behind his head. Considering Zoro’s accusation he now considered actually teleporting himself to Ikkaku’s room and stealing you away. Before he could talk himself out of it he focused on a discarded hairbrush and landed softly on the carpet. You were still sound asleep in your bunk, tightly wrapped in your blankets. As he approached your bed he considered an item inconspicuous enough to swap himself with without being too obvious that his presence had been the reason for your absence.

Settling on a pen, he bundled you up in his arms and swiftly warped back to his room, setting you down on the bed just as your eyes cracked open. His heart fluttered as you gave him a dreamy smile.

“I was wondering when I was going to see you.”

[romainlettusdinnerparty]

The fact that byler makes perfect sense and works within the frame work that is already established in the show is actually astonishing and should completely erase anyones doubt. I’ve been apart of many fandoms and have seen many ships created and a lot of them seem cute and to work in concept but when you place them back in the context of the show it falls flat. It doesn’t hold up. Byler not only makes sense going forward for s5 but it fits throughout all of the prior seasons as well. Milkvan’s love to call us delusional for digging too deep or whatever but we didn’t even ask for it to happen. Byler was essentially dumped in our laps in s2 at a time when that ship wasn’t even on anyone’s radar. This isn’t just a headcanon that we went too far on. It was brought to light by the show itself. If the writers truly meant for milkvan to be endgame and to live happily ever after than s2 should have been written differently. Why have El be separated from her supposed one true love and place Mike with his so called best friend [who seasons later will be canonically in love with him] for a whole entire season? An entire season where Mike is super attentive and comforting and supportive all while being superglued to Will’s side. Holding his hand and sleeping by his bed. Saying very sweet things like “it was the best thing I’ve ever done”, in regards to asking Will to be his friend.

oh very interesting!! im gonna play devils advocate for a sec but not cuz i disagree, just cuz i want look at it through another lens.

ok so i feel like you could almost say the same thing about mike and will in s1 - why keep a relationship that is going to be so important (one of the most pivotal parts of the show from our byler perspective) apart for a whole season? the start of the show no less. there are two easy rebuttals to that - to build tension for their reunion and to showcase the sheer force of will mike displays when looking for will. that alone tells us a lot about their relationship. now i think these points could also be applied to argue against your point about mike and el being separated for a whole season. it absolutely does build tension and you cant deny that the scene where they finally reconnect doesn't make for great tv - its compelling stuff! we haven't seen anything in their relationship to negate that yet. now, i don't think that second part of that rebuttal is as applicable as it may seem on a surface level. while mike is absolutely affected deeply by losing el, he does not show anywhere near the amount of dedication he did in looking for will towards el. even after he has reason to believe she's still alive. it's been almost a year and he hasn't rallied any troops.

even while season one is arguably more milevin focused (not exactly my argument but), we still see mike prioritize will over el time after time. especially when it comes to her health and wellbeing. notably, at the end of the season when el is drained after the bath and mike still insists on her using her powers to find will. contrasting with season two when will tells them to close the gate, that will solve everything, and mike is the one to put together that doing so will kill will, which he refuses to let happen.

i want to go back to the tension piece because a really important part of that is the payoff - s2 byler vs s3 milevin. after a whole season of trying to get back to each other, mike and will are glued to each others sides. we get to see the devotion mike shows will when he's not even there in action And we get will's reciprocation. mike keeps will safe but doesn't treat him like a baby, he's there for him at every turn, refusing to leave his side. He's kind and encouraging. He opens up about his own troubles to make will feel less alone. and for will we can clearly see mike is his favorite - he's the only one he confides in about dart and the shadow monster, mike makes him feel safe to the point that its him will calls to when he flashes into the upside down, and they just generally share a connection that we don't see with any of the other boys. payoff good! mike and el in season 3 are a bit of a different story - after the gravity that is given to their relationship in the first two seasons there is a very noticeable shift to this very specific frivolousness they're treated with in s3. this is showcased so clearly with how easily the fight and break up and the lack of stake that holds, how el refers to mike as her "first boyfriend" with the implication she will have more experiences in the future, and how all the alone time we see them spend together all they do is make out - there's no real emotional connection between the two of them. all that ever existed was the tension and now that its gone theyre just two people who committed to be in a relationship at age 12. and theyre 14 here so like i cant blame them. personally i love s3 for how well it depicts the epitome of being an annoying 14 year old in a relationship,, like genuinely i think its incredible and im obsessed. but you can just Feel the difference between mike and el and mike and will. there's so much more weight behind everything between byler. mike and el may have made a connection in s1 but they aren't it for each other and the show knows that and they want us to know that.

to tie this back in to what your original point was miss anon,, milevin doesn't just not work cuz they kept them separated for a whole season, they dont work cuz the show refused to pay off the choice to keep them apart in the way they were able to perfectly pay off the tension built into byler's narrative after They were separated for a whole season. on purpose. byler makes perfect sense. on purpose!!!

yay!!

[noyoyoy]

The Reunion

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Male sleepy reader

Maybe a series?? Not sure, let me know if you want me to continue this.

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Growing up with M/n, Simon knew how much it took to wake M/n up, it was damn near impossible. He slept all the time.

For the little while Simon went to school he met a wonderful boy with H/c hair and E/c eyes, droopy eyes that always looked tired, a slightly pouty frown when he rested his face. Simon didn’t understand why he was so tired all the time, but he did know that he would become the boys personal pillow. M/n slept. Constantly. To say he was always tired was an understatement.

He slept anytime and anywhere, falling asleep in the span of 5 seconds. In class, on the bleachers, a bench, a tree branch, on Simon, you name it, he slept there. They consisted of small naps, normally lasting the whole class hour until someone woke him and he had to go to his next class, that someone was always Simon. Simon and he grew very close, despite the sleepy boy rarely being awake, he trusted Simon, a lot.

When Simon stopped showing up to school, M/n noticed. He noticed more than anyone else (mainly because Sinon had no friends other than M/n.) M/n was worried. He didn’t exactly have a phone to text him with, and he doubted Simon had one either. He missed him. He slept more and more, sometimes skipping school just to sleep, hoping that when he woke up Simon would be back next to him, his head resting on his shoulder. But that never happened. He never saw Simon again.

That was until he joined the military. Shocking, I’m aware, the boy who slept in class and just barely passed school due to his friends, joining into the military.. yep. He heard Simon talking about it one time he wasn’t asleep, he guessed Simon thought he was. M/n was aware that Simon didn’t have a great home life, but when je heard his family had been slaughtered and he was missing, his mind went into overdrive. ‘What happened to him?’ ‘Is he okay’ ‘how did this happen’ he thought everything at once and he didn’t know how to get an answer.

He wasn’t in the 141, no. He wasn’t THAT good, he still slept a lot. His code name eventually becoming ‘Sleepy’ he met Simon again when the 141 requested he be sent over for a mission, he was the top ranking of his ‘class’ so it was only fitting that when they requested the strongest, sleepy was sent. They weren’t impressed when he showed up though, the uninterested pout he had at all times, his slight eye bags, well it wasn’t a surprise he was called sleepy. Ghost.. well Ghost caught his attention.

Those brown doe eyes, dark but also soft under that mask. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere. Wasn’t Simon dead? He lost hope after he heard the news, being killed after being kidnapped, but that didn’t exactly cause him to just up and leave the military. You work in years of 4 you can’t just up and leave anyway. Just because he slept didn’t mean that he wasn’t perceptive. He noticed everything, even the slight tense of Ghosts muscles when he introduced himself.

“I’m M/n L/n. Code name: Sleepy. Pleasure to be working with the best of the best.” He said, his tone was firm but also sluggish, it was clear that he didn’t want to be there. Ghost knew he’d much rather be sleeping.

After he was shown where he’d be staying, he walked up to Prices office again. Knocking on the door with a “Captain, it’s sleepy.” “Come in” price repeated to him voice muffled by the door between them. Opening the door he noticed Simon, ghost, standing to the side of him. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” M/n said with a small raise of his brow. “Of course not, would’ve let you in if you were.” Price said, glancing at the man in the Skull mask before looking back at the man. “You need anything?” “I did, however I’ll just come back at a later time when it’s just you in here.” M/n said and looked at Ghost. “I can step out.” Ghost said, standing up and walking past him. That voice.. the same just deeper, gruffer, he missed hearing it.

“Could’ve said goodbye Simon.” He let slip. Freezing when he realized he said it out loud. He felt the aura in the room change, the sound of his shoes coming to an abrupt stop. Prices voice hitching in his throat, thinking he let in a traitor no doubt.

“What did you just call me.”