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sentientcave · 6 months

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Heavy Weighs the Crown

Here we go friends! These chapters just keep getting longer. A larger plot begins to reveal itself to me. I am having a lot of fun here and I hope you are too.

Chapter 3 - Reading Between the Lines

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Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, No Y/N, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Bad memories, A spot of magic, Voyeurism, Reader description kept pretty neutral but I kind of got slightly more specific about black hair care so you're just going to have to live with it.

~6k words

The next morning, it rains.

The pitter-patter of rain against your windows wakes you up, because it sounds wrong. There’s only one small window in your room in Kate’s house, and when weather blows in it’s the sound of water trickling down and dripping off the thatch roof that’s loudest, not the rain itself. Here the sound echoes strangely in the big space, and you wake with a start, disoriented, your heart-hammering in your chest.

It feels like your life in town is the dream, trickling away faster than you can cup your hands to hold onto it. You fly out of bed and wrap a blanket around your shoulders, dashing out into the hallway, bare feet cold on the stone floor. The king’s bedroom is directly across the hall from your own, and you stare at the door, frozen and unsure if you’re willing to risk knocking, breath caught in your throat, chest tight, anxiety squeezing your ribs until they ache.

You’re sixteen and twenty-six both, living two lives out in one panicking body. You no longer belong here and you’ve never been anywhere else. Your father is alive, angry, terrifying, and he’s dead and buried where he can’t hurt you anymore. You are a tossed coin landed on it’s edge, waiting to fall.

The door in front of you opens, and you leap back on instinct, but breathe a sigh of relief when it’s John standing there, looking at you with surprise first, and then concern. “Sweetpea?” he asks, stepping forward to meet you, but leaving space between your bodies, like he knows that it would be worse for him to touch you right now. “What’s wrong?”

You press your shaking fingers to your mouth, holding back a sob. You swallow it down, pulling yourself together enough to speak. “I thought it was a dream,” you say at last. “I thought he was still alive.”

There’s no question who you mean. John reaches a hand out, an offering, and you take it, clinging to him like a life-line. He reels you into his arms, and you lean in, the solid, warm bulk of him as reliable and real as the earth below. “He’s not,” he says firmly. “I put him in the ground myself. You’re safe.”

You nod against his chest, feeling small and silly now. “I’m sorry,” you say, although you’re not sure what you’re sorry for. For showing weakness, maybe, for being lost in your own memory, for needing reassurance.

“It’s early yet,” he murmurs against the top of your head. “You should try to sleep a little longer.”

You’re not sure you could even if you tried, and even though you’re still tired, the adrenaline leaving your body cold, fatigue dragging at your bones insistently. You could maybe sleep against John’s chest, holding onto him, his heartbeat steady and strong enough in your ear to drown out the still-frenetic tempo of your own. “I think I’ll just get dressed,” you say, pushing away. He drops his arms instantly, letting you put a little distance between you.

He shakes his head, smiling at you fondly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Sweetpea, the sun hasn’t even risen. Go back to bed. I know just the thing to help. Go on.” He turns you toward your door and nudges you along.

There’s no point in arguing with him— You are tired, and although you suspect sleep will be beyond your reach, it’s cold in the hallway, especially now that you’re no longer pressed against John’s warm chest, and your bed is still warm when you climb back in.

Darkness presses down on you, heavy as grave-dirt, and you lay there, staring at the ceiling. You touch the crystal lamp next to your bed to light up the room, but that’s no better, really.

John knocks, but doesn’t wait for your answer before coming in, a dark wolf with blue eyes trotting in on his heels. “Go on, Soap,” he says, and Soap hops up onto your bed and lays down half on top of you, his head on your shoulder, tail wagging. John pats him on the head like he’s just a dog. “He’ll keep an eye on you.”

It should probably feel weird to cuddle up with a werewolf, since he’s really a man, and you’ll have to face that silly, crooked grin in the morning, but you need someone to cling to, and you’re to proud and cautious to cling to John. “Thank you,” is all you have it in you to say.

“He gets nightmares too. Usually sleeps across someone’s bed. I’m sure he’d be happy to stay with you while you’re here.” John says it simply, without a drop of judgment or condescension, and scratches behind Soap’s ear. “He’s a real good listener when he can’t talk back too.” He withdraws, tapping the light and throwing the room into darkness again.

You don’t even hear the door click shut. You bury your face into the thick fur around Soap’s neck and fall asleep almost instantly.

When you wake up again, it's with a very large, very naked man on top of you.

You yelp, scrambling back on your pillows. Johnny’s eyes snap open at your first movement, on high alert before he’s all the way awake. He scrambles too, and falls right off the side of the bed with a solid thud.

"Oh! Johnny I'm so sorry," you look down at him from the edge of the mattress, trying not to laugh. "I forgot you were here."

"It's alright, lass. I didna mean to startle ye. Ah shift back overnight sometimes. Price didnae remember to warn ye." He sits up and leans against the bed, forearms folded over each other. He looks no worse for wear, and like he slept as solidly as you did, those last few hours. There’s a faint imprint of lace from your nightgown on his face, and half of his hair is stuck straight up, the rest pressed flat. "Are ye feelin' better?"

“I am. Thank you for staying with me.”

“S’nothin’ really. Nicer sleepin’ with you than Gaz, he kicks awl night long. An’ Nox doesnae like me none, so I cannae stay with Ghost.” He grins. “Price lets me stay but he makes me sleep at the foot of the bed like a dog. Sometimes a man wants a cuddle, ye ken?”

You giggle. “I ken.”

"Really livin' up to yer name, aye Sweetpea?"

You laugh again. "Johnny, you know that's not my name, right?"

"No? What is it?" He shakes his head when you tell him. "I like Sweetpea better. Suits ye."

"Me too," you tell him. It has no connections to your previous life. It just reminds you of the pretty pink, purple, and white flowers that grow on delicate, curling vines that you like to grow over the side of the chicken coop.

There's a knock on the door, and Johnny leaps up to see who it is. You have to hold your hand up quickly to avoid getting an eyeful of things you're not supposed to see. He's absolutely shameless-- you suspect he wouldn't think twice about strolling down the hallways without a scrap on. You have a curiousity about men's bodies that you're too bashful to indulge, even if you're pretty sure that Johnny would stand still and let you look as long as you liked. Well, maybe not stand still. But you doubt he would mind.

It's Ghost at the door. He doesn't wait for an invitation to come in, but he has clothes for Johnny hung over his arm, so you don't mind. Honestly, you can bear a few overzealous men who feel entitled to your space for a few days, because after that you'll get to go home and get back to your life.

Ghost positions himself between you and Johnny, just as he had yesterday. "Price said you 'ad a bit of an episode earlier. You olright?"

"Just fine," you say brightly. "No need to worry."

"Och, let him worry, hen. He likes ta do it."

"I'm really fine," you insist.

"You want to visit the mausoleum? Might make it feel more real."

You'd be more interested in going there to visit your mother's grave, if you're going at all, but you think that you'll wait for a sunnier day. A gray, dreary morning like the one outside your windows is no balm for dark memories or old wounds. Sunshine might be. "Not today," you say. "Maybe tomorrow." You get out of bed as gracefully as possible, well aware that you have an audience. "Perhaps the two of you could step outside for a moment while I get dressed?"

Ghost glances behind him, checking to see if Soap is covered up enough for him to move, and then walks over to your closet and pulls out a screen that you hadn't noticed sitting in the corner there, and sets it up. "There you go, Sweetpea. You'll need help with all your fastenin's anyway, won't you?"

You imagine that he's smiling under the mask, more than a little smug about it, but you let it slide. "Very thoughtful."

"Try to be."

The blank face of his mask gives you nothing when you glance over, aside from that he’s looking back. It’s not the first time that you’ve wished for more insight into what he’s thinking, but there’s a gravity to his attention that you swear was never there before, and it prickles at the back of your neck even after you duck out of sight.

You choose a sunny yellow dress today, to counter the deluge outside, and remove the silk scarf wrapped around your head so you can twist your braids on each side from your brow back to the nape of your neck, pinning the lengths into a knot. You’ll have to redo them soon, but without Kate and her wife to help you, you know it’ll take hours, if not most of a day.

You walk over to where Ghost is sitting and turn your back to him so he can button it up for you. He hands you his gloves to hold while he does so, and you run your hands over the detail of white leather bones stitched on over the well-worn black leather, decoration and extra protection both. Idly, you slip one on, but your hands are so small in comparison to his that you have to stretch your hand out just to get your fingers arranged inside it properly. He stands behind you, and leans over you to gently pull them from your hands, as though to underline again how much bigger he is than you are.

The top of your head brushes his chest when you tip your head back to look at him. “Thank you,” you say.

“I’m always ‘appy to ‘elp,” he says. “I’m with you for the mornin’ anyway. Might as well make myself useful, eh?”

“Stuck minding me?” you tease, sweeping around to fold back the sheets on your bed, only to find that one of them had already done it. Ghost, most likely, judging by how neat it is. You touch his arm lightly in silent thanks, and the three of you leave your room together.

Other than insisting you eat breakfast (served in a communal dining hall, where they insist on bringing things to you rather than let you suffer the indignity of standing in a line, and watch you eat with unnerving intensity), they’re content to follow you around as you refamiliarize yourself with the castle, mapping out changes so you don’t get turned about looking for anything. You find a number of familiar faces here and there, and have an perplexingly similar conversation with anyone you know, where they welcome you back cheerfully, and grow a bit quiet and nervous when you insist that you won’t be staying long, and when you try to press them on that, you’re ushered out, told they’re too busy to chat, and that you’ll find time to catch up later.

You suspect that Ghost and Johnny are the source of their nerves, but both of them always seem to be a few paces out of (human) earshot, and minding their own business, talking about something else quietly between them.

"Where's Kyle?" you ask as you're hustled out of the the healer's work shop and back out into the hallway. It’s become abundantly clear, no matter how well they feign innocence, that your hulking shadows are making the staff nervous, and you decide not to subject anyone else to their company. If you can slip away from them later, you might be able to have an actual conversation.

“Prob’ly ‘oled up in ‘is workshop,” Ghost says. “Some weeks we ‘ardly see ‘im.”

“Wizardy shite,” Johnny adds, his tone disapproving. “As if there aren’t a thousand ways ta blow shite intae bits withoot wigglin’ yer fingers. Can blow up flour, did ye know, Sweetpea? In barrels isnae much different than black powder.”

“Still useful to have a little magic,” you say, flipping your palm over and conjuring a flame in the centre of it. It’s one of the few spells in your cache, and you’ve mostly just used it to light candles and the stove. Your lessons barely dipped beyond simple control— You’d been told that magic was no proper pastime for a lady. When you think back on it now, you think it’s more that your father never wanted you to have defenses that he could not control, or that could be used against him. A grim thought, from this side of things.

“Forgot you ‘ave a little magic in you.” Ghost holds his hands above yours, feeling the heat coming off the small flame. “Come on, pet. Let’s find Kyle. Might be enough to pull ‘is nose out of ‘is books.”

You close your hand, extinguishing the flame, and let them guide you through a few corridors and up a spiraling stone staircase.

Johnny hesitates at the door, nose wrinkling at the slight, hard to identify smell of complex magical wards that are carved neatly into the doors. You can feel the slight hum of it in your teeth. Ghost pushes the door open without knocking (you think all four of these men might be allergic to knocking), and steps inside.

You follow, and stop right there in the doorway while Ghost ventures in further. Kyle is shirtless, doing pushups over a heavy looking book. He doesn't look up, doesn't even stop when he turns the page, just continues the exercise one handed. He's in perfect shape, every muscle well-defined, putting even some of the finely-carved marble statues you've seen to shame. He has a frame for wiry muscle, but he's worked so hard that he's gotten bulky too, and although he's not as broad as Soap or as big as Ghost, it's clear that he's stronger than most men. Certainly stronger than men of his occupation have any need to be.

"What do you want, Ghost?" Kyle asks, still focused on his reading. "I'm busy, you know."

"Brought our girl by to see you, and you don't even bother lookin' up."

Kyle’s attention does snap up at that, brown eyes sliding past Ghost’s legs to you, still hovering in the doorway, Johnny a step behind, peering over your shoulder. Kyle scrambles to his feet, sending the book flying with a gesture. It settles on the desk behind him as he steps around Ghost, dusting his hands against his trousers before he takes yours, pulling you more fully into the space. His skin gleams with a thin sheen of sweat, but he's not the least bit out of breath. “Come on in, Sweetpea. Did you come all the way up here just to see me?”

“Of course,” you say. It’s a silly question, although now that you look around the space, you’re gripped by curiousity. The circular room is lined with bookshelves, each full of thick, leather and linen-bound tomes that hum with power. The whole room sings like a chorus, the sound not in your ears, but tickling the back of your mind instead. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I don’t want to interrupt, of course, if you’re working on something.” Although, now that you're looking, it seems like he’s working on many things, all at once. He has a carousel of research tomes open next to the desk, and neatly written pages laid out over the desk to dry, a stack of opened and unopened correspondence in a basket hanging from the side, ingredients measured out by a shelf full of bottles and jars of strange and familiar ingredients, and there are unlit candles set around the perimeter of an open area on the floor, a circle of iridescent tile set into the stone, pale and glittering.

“Nothing important this moment. Just studying while I wait for ink to dry. The mind grows dull if you don’t take the time to keep it sharp.” He glances at Johnny meaningfully, and receives a rude gesture in response.

“There’s more’n just books if ye want to keep sharp,” Johnny says, his voice flinty. “Isnae the only way to learn, ye know.”

You glance at Ghost. His mask looks back at you, blank as ever. “There’s a place for books, and a place for practical application,” you say diplomatically. “Wisdom can be found in many places.”

“In a pretty girl, for one,” Ghost says approvingly. “Would be good for you to crack a book once in a while, Soap. And for you to spend a little less time ‘oled up in ‘ere.” His head turns toward Kyle.

“I have a lot to do, you know,” Kyle says. “I can’t just shove everything to the side whenever I please.”

You drift closer to the desk, peeking at the tome he was referencing earlier, the pages opened to a chapter on illusion spells. Curious, you glance to his notes, humming with interest at the first page you glance at. It’s something about setting spells of illusion into fabric, weaving magic into the very stitches. “Are you trying to make a cloak of shadows?” you ask, picking up the page carefully by the edges, still mindful of the mostly dried ink.

Kyle looks over at you and smiles, but it’s all teeth. “Something like that. I didn’t know you were interested in magical theory.”

“She’s got a little sorcery in ‘er,” Ghost explains. “Maybe you should give ‘er a lesson or two. While she’s ‘ere.”

Your ears perk up at that, and you drop the paper back to the desk, forgetting it entirely. “Would you?” you ask excitedly. “I really would love to learn more.”

Kyle slips his shirt back on and beckons you over to one of the bookcases, smile turning sly and conspiratorial. “Can you give me a hand Sweetpea? I need something off the top shelf.”

You look up at the top shelf, which is well out of your reach. “Kyle, I think maybe you should ask Ghost.”

“Sorry, pet, I’m busy keepin’ Soap from pilferin’ alchemical ingredients.”

"Wasnae pilferin'! Just takin' a wee looksie. Isnae a crime."

"Soap," Kyle says pleasantly. "If I find anything missing we are going to have a long talk about it." He shakes his head lightly, sweet brown eyes finding yours, amused.

"D'ye think he means a good rough fuck?" Johnny asks Ghost, not quite quiet enough for you not to hear it. "Or an actual chat? Because that's goan ta change what I do here."

"I really don't think I can help," you say to Kyle, ignoring Johnny's query as much as you can. "Unless you'd like me to climb the shelves."

"Here." He crouches down in front of you and hugs your knees to his chest, other hand a higher on the backs of your thighs to hold you steady, and pops up. You let out a little shriek, and press your hands against his strong shoulders for support. "Don't worry, Sweetpea, I've got you. Now, can you grab that slim blue volume to the right? The one with no title on the spine."

Scanning the neat row of books, you locate the one he means and pick it up. "Ive got it," you inform him, laughing. "Now please put me down."

He slides you down his front carefully, adjusting his grip, your skirts bunching up and exposing your stockinged calves, and he holds you just above him for a moment. You loop your arms around his neck reflexively, holding the book behind him. He looks up at you, so dazzlingly handsome, you're almost surprised that he's real.

"Kyle," you remind him gently. "Please put me down."

“You sure?” he asks, bringing you down just a little more, so that your face is just above his own. “You look a bit tired today, princess. Could just carry you around for the rest of the day if you like.”

“That will not be necessary,” you say firmly. “But it’s a very kind offer.”

You hear a snort from the other side of the room, but you’re not sure if it comes from Ghost or Johnny. “Nothin’ kind about it,” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Bastard just likes the idea of bein’ pressed up against ye all day.”

“You slept in her bed last night,” Kyle reminds him. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

“Ahm no’ jealous! Yer just bein’ a fandan charmer tryna cop a wee feel, an’ ye willnae admit ta it.”

You look over at Ghost, and he shakes his head. You imagine that he’s rolling his eyes, just as exasperated by the two of them as you are. He comes to your rescue though, carefully pulling you out of Kyle’s arms and setting you back down on the floor. “Thank you, Ghost,” you say archly, shaking your crumpled skirts out with one hand.

“Sorry, Sweetpea,” Kyle says, and you can’t help but note that he certainly doesn’t sound sorry. “If you read the first chapter of this tonight, we can do a lesson in the morning. This will probably be a step up from whatever paltry lessons the old wizard gave you— I know he took offence to the idea of training you at all, the closed-minded old bastard. If you have any questions, make notes, and we can go over it.” He taps the top of the book you hold. “You can write in it, if you like. I’ve scribbled in the margins a few times myself.”

You tuck the book into your pocket. “Thank you, Kyle. I appreciate that.”

“Anything for you, Sweetpea.”

You hesitate, a bit nervous to ask a favour when he’s already agreed to take time out of his day to give you a lesson in something you’re not sure you have enough talent in to warrant. He’s cleary a busy person, and you don’t want to waste his time.

Kyle senses your hesitation, and reaches for your hand, squeezing reassuringly. “Anything,” he repeats, brown eyes oh-so earnest.

Your ears feel hot. Flirting comes as easily to him as breathing, and even though you’re sure he means little by it, by his relationship with Johnny and the claim that John has laid on you, it’s hard not to grow flustered when he directs the full force of that sunshine smile at you. “Did you ever, um, help your sisters with their hair? I’d like to have a bath this afternoon, and wash my hair, but it’ll take me ages to rebraid it alone. I would really appreciate an extra set of hands if you have a spare minute tomorrow.”

He grins at that, pleased to be able to help you with something that Ghost and Johnny are ill-equipped to. The scar on his cheek dimples slightly when he smiles this hard, the slight flaw in his complexion more a dashing accessory to his charm than any detractor. “Would be happy to help. Do you have everything else you need? Oil? Curl cream?”

You hadn’t thought to check what was in the cupboard in the bathroom. “I’m not sure,” you admit.

“I have some. I’ll bring them by your room later this afternoon, just in case.”

Ghost offers to walk you back to your room, leaving Johnny behind to discuss something with Kyle, although as soon as the door closes, you hear a crash and a series of colourful swear words. You glance behind you as Ghost ushers you down the stairs. “Should we—”

“No. Trust me, Sweetpea. They’re just fine, and not doin’ anything you want to see.”

“Oh.” The implication warms you from the tips of your ears to somewhere in your belly.

“You’ve got the lads all worked up,” Ghost adds, as though you needed more context. “Competin’ with each other to get a smile out of you. Let ‘em blow off a little steam.”

“I don’t understand why they’re so concerned with me, if they have each other,” you say, trailing one hand over the wall, feeling the bumps of cool stone and seams between the cut blocks as you descend. “And John has made no secret of his intentions.”

He touches your arm to halt you, and moves past, taking a few extra steps so he stands below you, the near-hidden gleam of his eyes on level with yours. The two of you are alone here, where the curve of the stairs create a private universe, a pocket of stone and crystal light casting meagre shadow. "What are your intentions?" He asks. "Are you goin' to just let 'im take what 'e pleases?"

"I intend to go home," you say. "I won't be staying."

"Olright, maybe you do go 'ome. And what'f Kyle or Johnny came sniffin' round to court you themselves?"

"They won't."

"Why wun't they? You're a ray of sunshine sweet girl. You're the only one that don't see it."

"Ghost--"

"No, hush up for a moment, princess. You've got the wrong idea. I personally threatened every man that so much as looked your way. For years. Din't think about 'ow that'd make you feel. You're beautiful. Enough to chase, enough to go to bloody war for." His body is still, save for the slightest twitch of his fingers. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. You make us all crazy.”

The surety that John would really let you go slips as Ghost speaks, something fundamental about your footing in the world shifting uneasily beneath you. You had found comfort in the idea that you were quotidian, unremarkable. That the crown alone was aggrandizing, and you could pass unnoticed without it. Now you wonder if you’ve ever gone unnoticed, or if it was just that you had been too obtuse to see. “It doesn’t matter,” you insist. It’s easier to reject what he says outright, even if Ghost has never lied to you, never given you a reason to doubt his words. The ground settles. “I will be going home in a few days, and once John has my official endorsement none of you will have to keep an eye on me again.”

“You won’t rid yourself of me that easily,” he says firmly. “Keepin’ you safe’s one of the only jobs that I do that’s worth doin’. I promised your mum I would, an’ I don’t intend to break my oath just because you don’t think you’re worth it.”

“My mother asked you to?” You had always thought Ghost’s orders had come from your father, setting the quiet, faceless, black-clad knight on your heels, as close as a shadow, only leaving your side when the king sent him off to fight, somewhere far and away. “Why?”

“Figured she could tell I ‘aven’t got an ounce of ambition in me. Used to, before I came ‘ere. Didn’t do me any good. Can’t trust my own head, sometimes. But if I can trust what’s ‘ere—” He puts his hand to his chest, head tipped slightly to the side. “— Then I know I can trust what’s in there.” He lifts his hand and taps his finger against your forehead lightly.

You blink at him, surprised by how much he’s said all at once. Abruptly, he turns around and continues down the stairs, finished the conversation. You spur yourself back into motion, sweeping your skirts up with one hand so you don’t trip. There’s no doubt that you could trust Ghost to catch you, but the risk of sending you both tumbling down the long spiral staircase has you moving cautiously.

He stays with you for a bit, offering help unbraiding your hair and unbuttoning your dress, and leaves without protest when you ask him to. Predictably, he’s quiet the entire time, as though he used up his daily quota of words all at once in the stairway.

You lay out everything you need close to the tub, and sink into a hot bath, sighing. This is perhaps one of the few things you really did miss about castle life— Hot running water. If you wanted a hot bath in town, you would either have to go to the public bathhouse, or spend a good hour boiling enough water to fill a tub at Kate’s house.

You hum happily to yourself, which turns to singing out loud, the acoustics in the tiled room too good to resist. You sing your way through a number of folk songs as you run a cloth over your skin and scrub your hair clean, hot water and soap washing away what little of the darkness from that morning that company and distraction hadn’t banished, clinging shadows in the corners of your mind scoured clean again.

You pull the plug and let the water start to drain, and stand up, wringing your hair out before you reach over to the towel you’d set aside for yourself, bracing you hand on the side of the tub.

“What are you two muppets doing?” John’s voice coming through the cracked open door startles you. And it startles Johnny and Kyle too, because they tumble through the door onto the tiled floor, landing on top of each other in a heap.

You clutch the towel to your front, unable to keep yourself from letting out a surprised shriek. It takes a moment for surprise to give way to anger, your shocked, wide-eyed gaze traveling from Johnny’s red face to Kyle’s guilty expression to John in the doorway, a complicated mix of stony anger and surprise in his blue eyes. Both emotions fade as his attention lingers on your exposed legs, crawling up slowly.

“I came to drop off— But he was—” Kyle starts to try to explain himself.

“Dinnae try to blame tha’ on me, ye fuckin’ roaster, Ahm no’ a’ fault for what yer doin’,” Johnny cuts him off angrily, shoving Kyle off of him. “Yer no’ better than me just ‘cause ye weren’t here first.”

“I wouldn’t have—”

You level a glare at him that has his mouth shutting so fast that you can hear the click of his teeth. “Get out.”

The two of them scramble up and nearly fall over themselves trying to get out as quickly as possible, mortified to have been caught. They start sniping at each other before they’ve even gotten out of earshot.

John, however, doesn’t budge from the doorway. You direct your fury at him. “John. Get out.”

He doesn’t scramble to obey like the younger men did, as is he has any more right to be there than they did. “Sweetpea,” he says evenly, as though he expects to be able to talk you down from your very justified anger with a few measured words.

“Now,” you snap. “Before I lose my temper.”

He hesitates a moment longer, but the look on your face makes him reconsider trying to have a conversation with you for the moment, and he leans into the room just enough to grasp the door handle and pull it closed behind him as he retreats.

You look at the ceiling for a long moment, swallowing down the urge to scream.

By the time Ghost comes to fetch you for dinner (unsurprising that the other three didn’t have the nerve) you’ve mostly calmed down, untangling your emotions as you do your hair. You hope that John will have news of your cousin’s witness, so you can count down the days. The longing for home has intensified, and all you want is to curl up in your bed in Kate’s house and cry. If it will be weeks, you’ll ask if you can go home in the interim, and come back when the time comes to make your speech.

Ghost helps you button up your dress. You’re so tired of needing help from them. Your ire bleeds over, and you’re snappy with him too, annoyed that you’ve had to spend so much time with men lately. Aggravated that you’re forced to rely on them for something as private as getting dressed, when they shouldn’t even be alone with you in your room to begin with.

You apologize on the way down the stairs, however. Ghost just chuckles in response. “Even when you’re snappin’, you’re a peach,” he says. “Don’t think you missed a single opportunity for a please and thank you. Can’t ‘elp yourself from bein’ sweet.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything,” you say. “I’m not angry with you, I shouldn’t be rude.”

“Think it would be a bit of a lark, you bein’ rude.”

You laugh, and it clears away some of the lingering bitterness, like sediment washing away downstream. You feel remarkably clear-headed when you enter the dining room and face the three sets of guilty eyes.

All three of them start to speak at once, and stop as soon as you raise your hand. “I don’t want to hear it,” you say firmly. “All three of you are grown men, and you should know better than to behave so shamefully.”

John frowns, not happy to be receiving the same share of the blame. “Sweetpea, I wasn’t—”

“I am not finished.” You cut him off with a sharp look. “I know I do not need to chastise any of you. All of you were in the wrong. But I share some of the blame too, allowing you all free access to my space in the first place. So here is what will change. One, I would like a lock on my door. No more popping in without permission. Two, you will all learn how to knock. Three, I would like a lady to accompany me for the rest of my stay here. It is not appropriate for me to accept assistance from any man with dressing, and I do not require shadows following me everywhere I go.”

Ghost shifts beside you. “Now ‘old on,” he says. “You need protection.”

“I need no such thing. I do not believe there are assassins waiting around every corner for me.”

“I should be with you,” he insists. “If somethin’ ‘appens—”

“What do you expect is going to happen?” you ask hotly. You’ve lived on your own for years, and your hiding place was apparently well known to everyone. If an assassin was coming to dispatch you, they would have already come. The opportunities had likely been plentiful.

“Ghost is right. You need to be kept safe.” John holds up both hands when you look at him, half a surrender and half a plea for you to hear him out. You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting. “A compromise. A fighting woman. Someone that can help you with anything you need, and can defend you if something were to happen.”

You incline your head. It’s a reasonable compromise. “That would be acceptable.”

“Farah?” Kyle asks.

“If she’ll say yes, she’d be the person I trust most with Sweetpea’s safety.” John glances at you, and offers you a little smile, like he’s not sure that you’re entirely done scolding. “You’ll like her. I’ll have her meet you in town tomorrow. Want you fitted for something nice to wear for your speech.”

“There is a closet full of perfectly nice dresses in my room,” you say. “I do not need anything else.”

“Indulge me. Your cousin’s man will be here tomorrow night, and the day after we’ll have you make your statement.” John’s smile widens, turning the slightest, inexplicable bit smug. “Want you to look your best, if it’s to be your last day as a princess, hm? And then on to better things.”

You sigh. It can't hurt to give in on this matter, since you won't have to stay much longer. “Very well, John. Although I think it’s a waste.”

The look in his deep blue eyes is inscrutable, but his smile doesn't slip. “I disagree. Nothing you let me give to you could ever be a waste.”

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Divider by CafeKitsune

#fantasy au #cod mw fanfiction #x reader #x fem reader #141 x Reader #Heavy Weighs the Crown #These bastards really are just the worst #I love writing AUs where Ghost is the most well adjusted one #Send my man to fantasy therapy (learning a trade) and see what happens #Re: Use of the term muppets - Uhhhh Muppets exist in this universe and they travel around doing Punch and Judy type shows #Coming soon to a market square near you lmao #Ye Olde Jim Henson's Workshoppe

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tofapam · 3 months

Text

AFTERWARD

Summary: Genya's S/O survived the battle fighting Muzan and how it effects her after it.

Disclaimer: Spoiler after the training arc and it contains angst with no fluff ending.

I'm sorry mate, English is not my first language

We got separated eventually, i was contradicted to believe in him at that time, i thought i could comprehend both of our trust that we build with each others from the start. He always tries his best to be better, good God he has a mind of his own, why did i think i have the authority to always save him?

Save him.

Save him save him.

Save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him.

Save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him save him SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM SAVE HIM.

I just want Genya to make a promise to me to survive, i didnt even care if i'm going to die here, im not a hashira after all, but no matter how i tried i dont have the courage to told him....

From the look of his eyes I know he waited for me to say something, but this is not a place to show expressions, I don't wanna get distracted.

Who am i kidding, i was never good at expressing my own thoughts.

He survived fighting uppermoon 4 and 5, he'll survive this war, he must be, i dont need to tell him to survived, he'll live right? I don't have to worry too much.

The battle ended 3 months ago, many flowers are putted on every grave of the people that are miscarry after fighting Muzan with the others,"Zenitsu san, don't you think its disrespectful to whine about the time we have to put these flowers on everybody's graves?" Zenitsu keeps whining, althought it die down after i tried to talk with him to make him feel less tired and bored.

A few hours later, its almost done, only one more grave. "Tanjiro, can you tell the others not to wait for me after this?" Tanjiro raised his eyebrows,"is everything alright?" I tried to explain everything to him, thankfully he understands my purpose, i gave a smile to him as a silent thank you after i saw him leave with the others.

It has been a breezy day lately, its very calming, i have been waiting for this weather to come, I put the flowers on the graves, I never dared to look at its name. I always hate this one grave personally, last time I look at its name I can't even bear to hold my tears to look at it.

I still remember our last conversation.

He thought I would be the last person to stay on his gravestone, he was wrong.

I turned out to be the first person to leave his gravestone, i respected Sanemi for staying there longer than anyone could, because I know myself, if i look at Genya's name craved on the stone more than one minute I can't hold back all my despair.

Now, it's already 3 months after the battle. I thought i finally had the courage to look at your gravestone longer than before, Genya. But no matter how many times I tried i can't help to have such a heavy emotion.

"I'm sorry we didn't have a proper goodbye,"I don't even know how many times i said that word.

For a few months i try my best to keep on living until now, Tanjiro and Nezuko tried to make me ate more saying that my proportion was too small. I just thought, maybe if i eat less i could die faster so i can meet you, but will you look at me after i die? I doubt it, you're probably already feel happy to be with your family again.

One thing that is always on my mind is, if you still alive, will we still be together?

I don't even want to think about it anymore.

#genya shinazugawa #kny genya #genya x reader #demon slayer genya #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #demon slayer

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silent-stories · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐌 - 𝟐

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie graduated and you can't not go tell his mom.

Warnings: a bit of angst, fluff

Part 1

Eddie's gaze fell on the flowers on the desk in your room as soon as he entered, and he immediately froze a few feet away from the door.

They were potted with water and tied by a thin blue rope.

They were pretty.

This meant that someone other than him had bought you flowers and the thought immediately caused him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Was it someone from school?

Was he the blond guy who always smiled at you when you entered class? Was he the blue-eyed guy who always waved at you in the hallway? Or maybe it was the jock who was always staring at you in the cafeteria?

Did you accept flowers from them? From someone other than him?

"Who got you flowers?" He asked much more shyly than he would have liked, almost as if he expected that one day you'd find someone better than him.

"Oh, no. That's not what it seems." You started explaining, getting up from your bed and walking towards him.

Eddie looked at you suspiciously. "Who?"

"Me. I bought those flowers."

"For who?" He asked again, even more confused.

You rolled your eyes. "Since when you don't trust me?"

"Sweetheart I trust you, the thing is-"

"For your mom."

Eddie suddenly stopped talking, staring at you with those big chocolate brown eyes that you started loving the moment you first saw them.

Did you really buy flowers for her?

"I wanted to talk to you about this...I wanted to ask you if you wanted to visit her again, it's been a long time since we've been there together and I thought we could go and tell her that you graduated. Because I know she would be so fucking proud of you. But only if you want too, of course."

Eddie stood silent and you immediately feared you might have said the wrong thing. "We don't have to, really. I thought maybe you'd like it but we can do another day or if you want to go alone it's more than okay and-"

Eddie suddenly took two big steps towards you and wrapped his arms around you, almost lifting you off the ground in the process, and pulled you close to him.

A smile appeared on your lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and in your hair and inspired your smell, closing his eyes. "I love you fucking so much."

You giggled at the way he was basically collapsing onto you and caressed his back with your hand, tracing imaginary patterns and running it up and down his spine.

"Does this mean you want to go? With me?" You asked after a few moments.

"Of course I want to go with you." He whispered without letting you go.

Eddie was holding your hand when you arrived at his mom's grave.

You looked down at the bunch of flowers you were holding, watching a bee fly over them and land on a petal.

You passed them to Eddie as the bee flew away.

He looked at them for a moment, without taking them, then he nodded towards the grave as if giving you permission to leave them in front of it.

You took a step forward, without releasing Eddie's hand and placed the flowers in front of the headstone, murmuring a "Good morning Mrs. Munson" before you both sat down in front of it, like last time.

"Elizabeth." Eddie said.

"What?" It was his mom's name, you knew that. It was engraved in the stone, you only found out about it the first time Eddie brought you there because he didn't talk much about her.

"You can call her Elizabeth." He added holding your hand a little tighter.

You ran your thumb over the back of it, tracing a few circles. "Okay."

"Well, mom...not much has happened since we last been here. My band isn't famous yet. I haven't found a job yet. I haven't-"

"Eddie."

He rolled his eyes.

"Focus on good things."

"I graduated. It was about damn time. They made us wear those awful green tunics and we had those stupid hats on. But I went over it, because I finally graduated. Now I really need to get a job though. My band don't make enough money when we play to five drunks and-"

"Eddie, good things." You scolded him in a playful tone.

The atmosphere was less sad than last time. It almost sounded like a normal conversation you could hear every day.

"Good things..." Eddie repeated, thinking about it.

"Y/N is still with me." He finally said.

"I'm sure you can find better things."

"But you are my best thing."

You smiled. He had said it in a joking tone but he really believed it, you knew it.

"And it's really weird that she's still with me. I mean, she must be really crazy. With all the people out there she's still with me. Taking care of me. And Wayne. And now she's buying flowers for you. Really crazy. And I love her for that."

You brought his hand that still had his fingers intertwined with yours, to your lips and left a kiss on his back. "I love you too."

Eddie smiled. "What did I tell you? Out of her mind!"

You chuckled shaking your head. "It takes one to know one."

A gust of wind blew some dry leaves in front of the tombstone, near the flowers so you reached out to gently sweep them away.

"Thanks for coming." He said after a moment of silence, his brown eyes were soft when he looked at you.

"It's a pleasure. We can come back here anytime you want." You said before your eyes landed on the photo of the woman on the tombstone.

"She looked so much like you, you know?"

You saw Eddie's body tense slightly and you immediately feared you might have said the wrong thing.

"When I was little everyone said I looked like my father." He started. "They said I had his smile, even though he wasn't a big smiler." He added the last part with a bitter laugh. "They said I had his nose. And that I was as rowdy as he was. Growing up I always wished that wasn't true. I always wished I got something from my mom too."

"People must not have given you a good look. I mean, you don't have her hair, she was almost blonde. And you don't have her smile, that's true. But her eyes? You definitely have her eyes. I'd recognize anywhere your beautiful, kind, brown eyes and you got them from her, trust me.”

"You" He said pointing his index finger at you "I know what you're doing, you're trying to make me cry again. And it's not going to happen, okay?"

You laughed at his words as he pulled you towards him to kiss your forehead before whispering a soft "I love you so much".

Then he slowly got up and held out his hand, helping you up to leave the graveyard.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

"I love you too." You said raising your head slightly towards him just to catch a glimpse of the smile on his lips.

He turned towards the grave before starting to walk away. "Bye mom." He said in a sweet tone.

You turned around one last time too. "Bye Elizabeth."

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff

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xxlady-lunaxx · 4 months

Text

Room for two | {ObaMitsu}

Theme: Fluff

Note: apparently I've been lax in writing fluff so ive been demanded to write it to pay back for all the angst

Spoilers! post-muzan's death

begins in reg.AU and then switches to modern

×××

They were buried together. Sanemi saw it with his own eyes. He was allowed out of bed for the funeral, though supported by Tengen's sturdy arm. Apparently, Obanai had been holding onto Mitsuri for dear life—rather, death—and they had been unable to be seperated. The thought made Sanemi's heart ache for them and he wondered what had happened in the moments before their death. Had Obanai been able to tell her finally? If so, Sanemi was glad of it. At least he'd have some sort of final rest before he drew his last breath. Nevertheless, it hurt him to watch as the coffin was lowered into the ground and the stone engraved with their names was placed upon the freshly packed earth.

The coffin was large and specifically adorned beautifully. The Ubuyashiki's had left money to the side to buy the gravestones and coffins to be gorgeously made for each and every Demon Slayer who had deceased in the past thousand years. Kiriya and the others had made sure that the same money was used to buy coffins for the Demon Slayers who had died fighting Muzan as well, keeping the tradition.

This particular coffin was built large enough to have room for two as both Obanai and Mitsuri were tucked inside. It looked pecuiliar, two stones over one grave. But it fit. They had always been close to one another, despite their obvious differences and neither wanting to tell the other how they felt. They had been close. And they would be even through death.

Sanemi leaned against Tengen, letting himself relax slightly.

"Are you tired?" Tengen asked, shifting their position.

"I'm fine. I want to stay here, still," Sanemi murmured.

"Alright. Tell me if you want to go."

"I will."

Words were spoken for the two Hashira and Sanemi watched as bundles of flowers piled up all around the grave, decorating it and making it look as alive and colorful as the two had been. As they were. People started leaving as the sun slowly made its descent down the sky and still Sanemi stood, watching the grave with a melancholy smile. Finally, he stood up, almost tipping over from the sudden movement.

Tengen, startled, quickly held onto him before he fell.

"I'm ready to go," Sanemi told him.

"M'kay," Tengen replied, taking his arm and guiding him out and down the path, back home.

×××

"There won't be any room!" Obanai whined as he eyed the ferris wheel.

"Oh, don't be a pussy," Sanemi groaned, rolling his eyes. "Kanroji's going to be back from the bathroom any second now, you have to ask her to go with you before the place closes."

"Why are we even going at night, then?" Obanai protested.

"Because the lights of the city will be turning on and it'll be more romantic so you can ask her out," Sanemi explained, crossing his arms. "She's coming, now. If you don't ask her now, I'm going to set her up with Tomioka."

"He doesn't even—does he like her?" Obanai asked with a sudden panic.

Sanemi laughed. "No. But he's like you in some ways. While you're too scared to ask to be her boyfriend, he's too scared to turn down someone's offer to date him. Honestly, you two should be best friends with all your similarities. Now, go ask her out because Tomioka is right there and I'm not afraid to get him."

Mitsuri walked up to them, giving Obanai no time to snap at Sanemi before he seemingly disappeared, leaving the two alone.

"Eh? Wasn't Shinazugawa here?" Mitsuri asked, confused as she looked around.

Obanai blinked. "Oh- Uhm, he went to go on a ride with Tomioka," he said. That's what you get. Now Mitsuri will think Sanemi and Giyuu are being all lovey-dovey.

Through his peripheral vision, he saw Sanemi roll his eyes from behind a random tree. He smiled contently to himself, then gathered up as much courage as he could to deliver the question.

"Oh! Okay!" Mitsuri said. "Will we be leaving soon? I think it's going to close in a bit."

"Uh... Do you wanna go on the ferris wheel together?" Obanai mumbled, his cheeks burning red already as he awaited rejection.

"Just us?!"

Obanai nodded.

"Eeehhh?! Really?!" Mitsuri squealed.

Obanai's gaze was set on the ground and he was unsure if this was a good or bad reaction.

"Of course!! I would love to!!" Mitsuri responded, practically vibrating with excitement.

From surprise, Obanai's head snapped up. "Really?"

"Yeahh!! Oh, we should go now before they close up, hurry!" Mitsuri urged excitedly, taking his hand in her own and running off towards the ferris wheel. She all but dragged him there as they gave their tickets over.

"Are the two of you going in together?" the person handling the tickets asked.

Mitsuri nodded. "Yep!"

"Right. It might be small but it's the last round we're going tonight and there isn't enough time to wait for the two-person ones to be open, if that's alright."

"Yes, it's fine," Obanai spoke up, deciding that they would go now or he would die.

"Very well."

The door was opened and they both clambered inside. There were seats on either side of it but it was, as informed, tightly spaced. For a moment, Obanai had a sense of claustrophobia. Then he remembered Mitsuri was only a foot or less away from him and his panic turned into a flustered one as he remembered that Sanemi was forcing him to ask her out.

The wheel started to move and Mitsuri smiled at Obanai.

"I'm happy to go on this with you. I wanted to go earlier but I thought it wouldn't be as fun by myself and I forgot," she explained.

"Oh. I'm happy to go with you, too," Obanai said. Then realized that was probably stupid to say since he was the one who asked her in the first place and corrected himself. "I mean, I'm happy you acepted my offer."

Mitsuri beamed.

They waited a bit as they were slowly moved up. As they started to reach the top, Obanai drew in a breath deciding he would tell her now. At least she couldn't run away from him in here.

Mitsuri was gazing out of the window, eyes wide in awe. The sun was setting and, as Sanemi had said, lights were flickering on all over the city. From up here you could see the whole city stretching out before them. The lights from the buildings and cars were scattered about and it looked as if they were stars, a whole sky waiting for him to tell her.

"It's sooo pretty," Mitsuri murmured, her breath fogging up the glass.

Obanai nodded but, in his mind, Mitsuri was far more beautiful than the view.

They reached the peak of the wheel, sitting above what seemed like everything. A burst of ecstasy of being here with Mitsuri, of being up here, hit Obanai and he let the words flow from him as quickly as he could, before he freaked out. The wheel would round back up again since it went around twice, but the first time was the best and he wanted her to know now.

"Mitsuri?"

"Yes?"

"I... like you. Like... romantically. A lot. And I wanted to know if you would maybe consider... being my girlfriend?" Obanai asked. He was sure his voice was too quiet to be heard, especially through his mask. Yet Mitsuri's eyes widened at the question and for a moment she said nothing.

They were already making their way back down, half way there. That was fine. At least he'd told her at the top.

Then Mitsuri all but fell onto him in her excitement, forgetting they were in such closed quarters. She squeaked, ended up bonking her head twice as she tried to get up until she managed to sit across from Obanai again, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she hurried to say, averting her eyes.

"It's fine," Obanai said, resisting the urge to smile. She was adorable. Oh god. "Ah... So your answer? Also—please don't feel obligated to say yes or whatever," he said quickly, remembering what Sanemi had said about Giyuu. "You can say no if you don't want it."

"Oh! Oh, no, no," Mitsuri said, shaking her head.

For a moment, Obanai figured she meant about his question and his heart sank. And then she said, "Uhm, uhm, I would love to be with you! As your girlfriend! I really would! If you would take me as... as yours, then I would definitely date you."

Obanai's eyes widened as he struggled to process this. "Really?"

She nodded enthusiastically, face dusted pink as she caught his gaze. "I lov- I mean, I like you too, and I have for a bit... It's embarrassing, but I've admired you for a while now and I didn't know if you would see me as anything but a friend, so I didn't ask," she said.

The ferris wheel was going up again and Obanai took her hands in his own.

"That's... how I've felt about you," he admitted. "But I'm happy you feel the same..."

Mitsuri nodded again, her embarrassed smile turning sweet. "Of course I do! You're so cool, Iguro-San, I don't know how I wouldn't like you!"

Obanai's face turned pink at the praised and he glanced down. "I thought myself unworthy of being with someone as amazing as you, really."

"Eh? Really?!" Mitsuri exclaimed. "Ah- I'm so flattered right now, I think I'm going to melt the ride..."

Obanai laughed gently, looking back up at her. "I think we both will, then," he said quietly.

"Iguro-san?"

"Yes?"

"Ehm... Can I kiss you?" she asked nervously.

Obanai took a moment to process this. Then he nodded, tugging his mask off.

Mitsuri smiled nervously before she leaned closer, her eyes fluttering close. Obanai copied her movements and then—

Then he felt the plush of her lips on his own and the slippery feeling of her lip gloss. His hands moved blindly, cupping her face. His heart felt afire, as if it was burning for the endless affection he wished he could communicate to her as they pulled apart.

They seemed to mirror each other with their mouths slightly ajar, eyes wide and cheeks red. Then Mitsuri laughed softly, happily and Obanai followed her example, feeling exhilerated. He glanced to his side and realized they were already almost all the way down. Mitsuri noticed too and pouted for a moment, then smiled again.

"Well, we already saw it once. And it was fine we didn't get to see it again," she said, handing him his mask.

Obanai agreed. "It was better the second time around," he teased, putting his mask back on. The ferris wheel was stopping slowly, letting off each passenger.

Eventually, it stopped at theirs and Obanai stepped out. He held out a hand for Mitsuri and she took it. They walked away to where Sanemi and Giyuu were talking by, neither letting go of the other's hand.

Sanemi grinned when they arrived and Mitsuri parted from Obanai to go talk to Giyuu while Sanemi confronted him.

"I saw you two kiss," Sanemi said, waving his phone to show a picture of the ferris wheel. He zoomed into the part where Obanai and Mitsuri sat and Obanai flushed, realizing that Sanemi had somehow gotten exactly where they had kiss. They had been at the very top, then, and Obanai decided that he had been wrong about being at the top the first time was better. The second time was definitely best.

"Shut up," Obanai huffed. "And delete that picture."

Sanemi hummed. "No."

"Then send it to me."

"I can do that," Sanemi said, tapping on his phone to send it. "Anyway, I'm assuming you two are dating now?"

Obanai nodded, a smile curving his lips without him realizing. "Mhm. Also I told you there wasn't enough room. The one we went in was supposed to be for one person but they ran out."

Sanemi shrugged. "Looked like there was just enough room for two. Especially with you both just getting all on top of each other and kissing."

"I- We only kissed once!" Obanai whined, pushing Sanemi lightly.

"Mhm. Well, count on me not being around when you two kiss more. I can't handle that."

"SHUT UP!!!"

×××

« Word count: 2024 »

HELP THE WORD COUNT WASNT ACTUALLY ON PURPOSE 😭🙏

also y'all can ignore the fact that the first part was technically a lil angsty, I don't wanna talk about my inability to write only fluff

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lunafreya24 · 2 months

Text

A Passion of Ice and Fire

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon/Cregan Stark

Chapter 5: Jace speaks to Baela about his time in Winterfell and what he discovered there. Their betrothal hangs in the balance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacaerys made the short trip to his cousin’s chambers. When he arrived, he found the door slightly ajar, with only a handmaiden inside.

“Excuse me, have you seen the Lady Baela?” He asked her.

“She said she was going for a walk, Your Highness.” She responded sweetly.

“Thank you.” He said, leaving the room. He knew her normal route well. They had often walked it together. It was one the few times they could be fully open with each other. He walked until he found her sitting on a flat rock, looking out onto the sea. She reminded Jace of his mother so much in that moment, he knew she would make an amazing queen one day. That is if she still wished to marry him after hearing what he had to say.

He approached her. “May I sit here?” He asked bashfully, Baela looked up at him and nodded, sliding over a little so they could share the most even part of the stone.

Jace took a deep breath, trying to find the words. “I’m sorry,” he began.

“What for?” Baela countered.

“For my callousness earlier today. I didn’t mean to be that way; I just didn’t know how to face you after what has happened.”

“What do you mean Jace?”

“While I was in Winterfell… I…. discovered something…. about myself.”

“Discovered something?"

"Yes. Something that will make see me...... differently."

"Jace, I don’t understand. Just speak plainly.”

“I slept with another man.” Jace blurted out, shutting his eyes and feeling his cheeks flush from admitting his actions so bluntly.

“What?” Baela questioned, in shock.

Jace rushed to defend himself. “I did not do this to hurt you. It just…. happened. I don’t know how to explain it. I understand if you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry. I am a bit stunned though.” she said, laughing a little.

Jace visibly relaxed at her words. “I can understand that. I just hope this doesn’t change our friendship.”

“Oh no, of course it doesn’t. You and I have been close friends for over a decade now. It will take much more than this to break us.” She said with confidence.

“That’s good to hear.” Jace paused before continuing. “And what about our betrothal?”

“What of it?”

“Do you still wish to go through with it?”

“Are my wishes anyone's concern? Do they even matter?”

“They matter to me, Baela. My mother said she would speak with you if you were unhappy. She, of all people, understands our situation.”

“Thank you Jace, that means a lot to me, but I think this betrothal is the best thing for everyone. And besides, our choice of spouse was never truly ours to begin with. Now our families and our legacy will be secured. We’d be far from the first royal spouses that didn’t love each other romantically. And at least we are fond of one another. I would much rather be married to a friend than any of the other possible suitors. Nothing but spoiled children fresh off of their wet nurses and fat grouses old enough to be my grandsire.” Baela relented. They shared a laugh together. Jace felt his body completely relax. Despite his worries, he had expected this kind of response from her. They both knew the importance of duty and the sad fact that marrying for true love was a privilege, not the custom.

“You’re right. And I still wish to marry you as well. I think you will make an incredible queen one day. But I still wish for your happiness. You would be allowed to find your real love with whomever you wish." Jace said, gently taking her hand. “I only ask that you are careful who you lay with, if only for your own safety.”

“You as well." Baela said, a touch of fear lacing her voice. "Especially after what happened to your father. Both of them.”

“I know.” He acknowledged. They both knew the grave danger of such things. Jace sighed and rested his head on Baela’s shoulder. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the crashing of the waves against the beach.

“Does this other man have a name?” Baela asked, breaking the silence.

“Lord Cregan Stark.” Jace whispered, not lifting his head from her shoulder. He could feel Baela turn her head, her gaze burning right through him.

“Lord Cregan Stark?” Baela asked, astonished. This story was getting crazier with every word. Jace picked his head up, hardly suppressing his smile after seeing Baela’s stunned expression.

Quickly, her gaping turned into a mischievous grin. “Tell me everything!”

#jacegan #crejace #jace x cregan #cregan x jace #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #the wolf of the north #cregan stark #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd season 2 #hotd spoilers #house stark #house targaryen #brokeback winterfell #baela targaryen

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nthspecialll · 17 days

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The slaughter of the old

In Red Dead Redemption two you can find two referneces to vikings, both of which are points of interest laying in Mufree Brood land and at first glance there is nothing wrong, but when you look into it, it tells a gruesome tale.

The Old World Scrips is a stone you can find about as west as you can possibly travel on the map, and while half of it remains untranslated, the other half tells of friendly folks.

"We arrived by boat. Beautiful land, gracious people. So we left them to live in peace" Is the meaning of the text in the middle, the text in the snake looks to be a mix between Elder Futhark and Younger Futhark, however when translating it just comes out as gipperish to me and I haven't seen anyone have any luck online either.

The second thing which can be found is the Old Tomb which is a half, open, half closed alter tomb, something where you can find the Viking Helmet, the Viking Hatchet and the Viking Comb.

Now the thing about this place is that it makes no sense at all.

This very clearly looks like a sacrifice but vikings weren't keen on human sacrifices, it wasn't a common practice and when it was done, it was done very differently. One of the largest amount of human sacrifices by vikings in one spot was seven in Trelleborg Denmark, which is the remains of a massive old viking fortress. If we look at the pictures, there are clearly more than seven people here, and even with seven, it was over a longer period of time, with those seven people were also over two hundred animal remains. It was not common.

And the few sacrifices that were made were not done like this. Vikings either hung, strangled or drowned their victimes and they would afterwards be thrown into water, often wells as there is a connection between wells and nordic mythology. Which is why you can find a bigger amount of bog bodies in Denmark such as the Grauballe Man and the Tollund Man.

Now my second thought was, maybe it is a burial ground, just a regular one. But vikings did not bury people like this, regular people were just buried like you would to this day, rich people were buried in grave mound, and I highly doubt that this is someone that the vikings fought as they probably would not make this for enemies and also they said they would leave the people in the area to live in peace.

However the vikings were still in that tomb, their things are all over the place, but I see it more possible that the vikings were the victims, not the perpetrators.

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption two #john marston #red dead fandom #rdr john #nthspecialll

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callofdudes · 8 months

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Call of Duty's How to Train Your Dragon pt1.

A/n: Is this finally being created after @itsscromp finally got my brain worms wiggling again? Yes. Is this also a get better fic? Yes. Is it an entire script for a move? Also yes.

Yes, it's also just shy of 20K words so... This half of the post is only about 12K. If you like httyd/cod crossovers you've come to the right place. But if you want to give it a chance and have a shit ton of free time. I'd also be honored.

Hiccup: Y/n. Astrid: Ghost. Fishlegs: Gaz. Ruff/Tuff: Soap. Snotlout: Graves.

I will reblog with the second half of the fic. Cred for the divider used goes to @straywords

This is Berk. It's twelve days north of Hopeless, and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death.

It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery.

My village. In a word, sturdy. And it's been here for seven generations, but, every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets.

The only problems are the pests. Even if they carry away all our food… You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have…

Y/n opens the door of the large house structure, watching Vikings go running by, a monstrous nightmare stalking across the ground, talons digging into the stone. It turned it's gaze on the door, letting out a stream of fire from its gut.

Y/n quickly slams the door shut as fire flicked up between the cracks and fades into dark smoke.

-dragons. Most people would leave. Not us. We're Vikings. We have, stubbornness issues.

Y/n rushed outside, smoke billowing into the clouds from the fire torching into the wooden buildings.

My name's Y/n. Great name, I know. But, it's not the worst. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that.

Y/n falls back against the ground with an earth quaking tremor as another dragon flies into the area. Several Vikings greeting them. You. This is you. Flabby skin tight arms wrapped around thin layers of barely noticeable muscle.

Clothes seeming too big and too small, hands as soft as a newborn despite the experience in the forge. The only place you ever seem to be helpful no doubt.

What a life a Viking like you lives. You're bloody useless! Even a newborn baby could wield an axe better than you could.

You rush up one of the paths along the hills of Berk, multiple Vikings looking at your sorry figure and asking why you were out during a dragon attack. You only ever caused trouble. When you weren't being useless you were being an expensive clumsy step.

“What are you doing here!?” One Viking says before you rush past.

“What are you doin’ out??” Another.

“Get back inside!!”

You're grabbed up swiftly by the collar of your shirt, your stubby feet dangling above the ground. A dragon's fiery breath drawing a line in the road, barely were you saved from its wrath.

“Y/n?! What are they doing out again-?!” He looked at you, baffled. “What are you doing out?! Get inside!”

That's Stoick the Vast. Chief of the tribe. They say that when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off of its shoulders.

You watch as the large burly man grabs a cart along the road, swinging it and throwing it violently at a deadly Nadder in the sky. The dragon struggled and went down as it burst into splinters.

Do I believe it? Yes, I do.

While the others rush to the scene to take the dragons on, you cower and rush into the smithing shop nestled near the middle of the town road. The only place not burnt down by now.

Immediately putting on an apron and stumbling about.

“Oh, nice of you to join the party, I thought you'd been carried off!”

You turned briefly to another large man, his appendages having some work done, what with missing both an arm and a leg. Always wondered what kept him alive… it clearly wasn't his limbs.

“What, who me? Nah, come on! I'm waaaay too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all…” Your lack of any muscle is incredibly. Being born into the generation you were, how you managed to stay the same length and width of a stick was quite the sight. “...this.”

You moved a rather large weapon and opened the smithing window, a Viking immediately grabbing a weapon from the desk before you could take them back to the smelter.

He hums. “Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?”

You roll your eyes a tad and sigh.

The meat-head with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber. I've been his apprentice ever since I was little. Well... littler.

You look out the smithing window as Stoick tackles another dragon. A dragon landing on another roof and blowing fire into the scorching wood. It crumbling beneath its talons.

See? Old village, lots and lots of new houses.

“FIRE!!” A Viking shouted, followed by four teen rushing out with buckets of water.

Oh, and that's Gaz, Graves, Soap, and... Ghost. Oh, their job is so much cooler.

You watch the group walk from a fiery explosion as Vikings pass by, led by the snappiest rackater of them all.

Ghost may have been a hard head who bullied your entire existence in a subtle way that made you feel like you were the problem, but that didn't matter.

Graves was a real hard ass. Always following said lead teen around like he was gonna get a chance for even a morcel. Considering no respecting person in the village would take that…

There was Soap. They say he had a twin, but, had. Considering no one knows what happened or where said twin ended up. Easiest to say Odin didn't want them to live the hardships.

Or they got eaten by a dragon.

Gaz, well, no one really knew what his problem was. He was a tad odd, but damn smart, and somehow more popular than you, skellington.

You lean out the smithing window, a hooked hand pulling you back in. “Oh come on! Please, let me out! I need to make my mark!”

“Oh you've made marks all right, in all the wrong places!”

“Please, two minutes. I'll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better. I might even get noticed!”

“You can't lift a hammer, you can't swing an axe, you can't even throw one of these!” Gobber lifts a bola to express his exasperation, only for it to be pulled from his hook and thrown at a dragon, taking it down.

“Okay, fine, but this will throw it for me!” You smiled excitedly rushing back into the shop, showing off your cool canon mechanism.

“See, now this right here is what I'm talking about!” Gobber sighed, exasperated. Watching you fiddle with your contraption.

“Mild calibration issue-” You fiddled with some levers and the string on the draw.

“Don't you- no- Y/n. If you ever want to get out there to fight dragons, you need to stop all... this.” He gestured vaguely to you, looking you up and down.

“But you just pointed to all of me?”

“Yes, exactly! Stop being you.” Gobber smiled, thinking you were getting it. Poking you in the chest.

“Oooh…”

“Ooooh, yes.”

“You sir, are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much, raw... Viking-ness... contained? THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.” You pointed your finger up, brow turning down angrily.

Gobber looked bored at you. “I'll take my chances. Sword. Sharpen. Now.” He dumped the sword into your frail hands, leaving you to your devices.

One day, I'll get out there. Because, killing a dragon, is everything around here.

You can look out the smithing window while you put the sword on the grindstone, sparks flying from the blade as you contemplate your options of execution.

A Nadder head is sure to get you at least noticed. Gronckles are tough. Taking down one of those would definitely get you the spot light. A Zippleback? Exotic. Two heads, twice the status.

And then, there's the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the best Vikings go after those. They have this nasty habit of setting themselves on fire.

You watched from the window as one crawled up the wall of the tower and onto a catapult, lighting itself up and scaring off the Viking manning the device.

Stoick slamming his hammer into its face to ward it off from the top of the tower.

But the ultimate prize is the dragon no one has ever seen. We call it the-

There's a high pitched whistle across the sky. Vikings retreating desperately as they call out.

“NIGHT FURY! GET DOWN!” The Vikings rush to get down. From nowhere a catapult is torn apart with a plasma blast.

This thing never steals food, never shows itself, and... never misses. No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why you're going to be the first.

“Man the fort, Y/n. They need me out there!” He attaches an ax piece to his hand, rushing to the door.

“Stay. Put. There. You know what I mean.” Gobber runs off, leaving you in the shop. You tore off your apron and ran back to your catapult set up. Steering it out the doors and running up the hill along the catapults.

Vikings yelling at you to get back and go inside. You can't be trusted outside when the island is in chaos. They can't trust you not to make chaos.

“Y/n!” One yelled.

“I know! I'll be right back!” You led your catapult on wheels up the old path, Stoick pinning down a group of Nadders.

The others fought while you reached the edge of the cliff. Looking out at the darkness, a surprisingly peaceful corner of the island away from the chaos feet away.

You opened the catapult and set it up, the small aiming needle and the leader strap that held in the bola aiming around. You looked at the night sky, out at all the stars.

“Come on… Give me something to shoot at, give me something to shoot at.”

You watched the sky. Hearing the low cry of the dragon. Seeing the dark figure blacking out the stars, the only possible way you could see the creature that blended so easily into the night.

Attempting to track the shadow with the scope of your catapult.

You heard the dragon make its move, dive bombing from the sky and shooting a plasma blast into a nearby fire, knocking the tower down. As it cleared the explosion you clenched your eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

The catapult blasted you back on your butt, hearing the cry as the creature went down.

You hit it. For once in your miniscule life you hit it!! A dragon!! A night fury!!

“I hit it!! Yes! Did anybody see that??” You turned around, a monstrous nightmare creeping up on you, its narrowed face making it look like a devilish thing.

“Except… for you.”

It growled at you and you screamed, attracting the attention of Stoick. He sighed in exasperation, pulling away from the tied down Nadder heads. “DO NOT let them escape!” He commanded some others as he rushed to your aid.

You ran and stumbled from the dragon that stalked after you, firing at you. Hiding behind a pillar as your heart pounded in your chest.

You just killed a dragon and now you're dead. You're a goner. Oh you should have stayed inside.

It blasted a fiery blaze against the pillar, and you briefly squeezed your eyes shut. Slowly forcing one open and inching around the corner.

The dragon growled as its head turned, coming around from behind you. Before it could fire, Stoick slammed his fist into its face, getting the attention onto him.

It belched out the last of its flame, looking weakly down at the splatter and up at Stoick.

“You're all out of juice.” He clenched his fists and punched the monstrous nightmare, bullying it until it retreated desperately back into the night.

You tensed up, feeling the burning hot metal of the pillar crunch and crumble. The wooden pole leaning and the flaming bowl of coals on top spilled as it toppled. Falling to the side and crashing into a fire gust of ashes into a small pool of water.

Vikings gathered around you as you timidly looked up at Stoick.

Oh, and there's one other thing you should know…

A woman cried and gasped, the coals flickering and landing across the ground and the dirt. Your shoulders tensing and rising with each noise. Slowly turning to Stoick who did not look happy.

“Sorry… dad..”

You and the others all watched as the dragons flew by, the sound of the sheep they'd captured from the island sounding off as they left.

Slowly pursing your lips you turned to your father. “Ok but I hit a night fury-”

Stoick grabbed you by the back of your collar, dragging you off effortlessly.

“Ah! It's not like the last few times, dad! I really actually hit it.”

“You guys weren't around. I was alone when I hit it. I had a clear shot.”

Gobber watched regretfully as you were dragged. “It fell just off Ravens point I say let's get a search party out there-”

“Stop!” Stoick interrupted you, making you purse your lips again silently as he now stood you in front of him. “Just stop.”

“Every time you get out, trouble follows. Can't you see I have bigger problems?? Winter is almost here, and I have an entire village to feed.”

An awkward pause before you speak. “Well between you and me the village could use a little less of that? No?”

A Viking behind you silently disagrees as he rubs his round stomach. No, no, the village can stay well fed. They like it.

“This is not a joke! Y/n!” Stoick sighs. “Why can't you just follow the simplest of orders??”

You bounce on your feet. “I-I can't stop myself. I see a dragon and I have to just kill it.” You twist your hands, looking up at him.

Yeah, right. Like you could ever kill a dragon.

“It's who I am, dad.” You say, sighing. You're full of crap.

Stoick rubs his face. “Ey… you are many things y/n, but a dragon killer? Is not one of them… get back to the house.”

He looks up at Gobber, motioning him. “Make sure they get there.”

Gobber comes over and gently hits your head.

“I have their mess to clean up…” Stoick walks past as Gobber leads you sulking home.

To make things worse you passed the other teens, Soap snickering with Gaz. “Quite the performance.” Gaz commented.

“Wow, I've never seen someone mess up that badly.” Graves leaned in your face. “That helped.”

You sulked by, noticing Ghost admiring his axe in the background, leaned up against the stone ledge.

“Thank you, thank you. I was trying.”

As you pass Gober grips Graves helmet and shoves him back, making him choke. “Ow-!”

You two walk back to the house, your annoyance stewing. “I really did hit one.”

“Sure you did.”

“He never listens.”

“It runs in the family.” Gobber replied.

“And when he does it's always with this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich.”

You turn just before the door, making a mock impression of your father, raising your eyebrows in anger. “Excuse me, barmaid! I'm afraid you brought me the wrong offspring.”

You raise your arms in annoyance, doing wild gestures. “I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms. Extra guts and glory on the side. This here, this is a talking fishbone!”

“Now, you're thinking about this all wrong. It's not so much what you look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand.” Gobber offers you a smile, to which your expression drops.

You sigh flatly. “Thank you for summing that up.”

“Look, I'm trying to tell you to stop trying to be what you're not.” Gobber says as you open the door to the house.

“I just.. wanna be one of you guys..” You say, closing the door behind you.

Gobber sighs sadly, starting to leave, giving you space.

All the space you needed to sneak out of the back of the house. Immediately rushing down the back of the hill the house was set on…

“Either we finish them, or they'll finish us! It's the only way we'll be rid of them! If we find the nest and destroy it, the dragons will leave. They'll find another home! One more search. Before the ice sets in.”

Stoick looks around the Meade hall, slamming his knife into a map on the table, seeing all the hesitation.

“Those ships never come back!” One Viking calls out from the end of the long table.

“We're Vikings, it's an occupational hazard. Now who's coming with me?”

“Today's not good for me. I've gotta do my axe returns.” One mumbles.

Stoick leans back from the table. “Alright. Those who stay behind can look after y/n.”

Immediately every hand at the table went up. And Stoick nodded. “That’s more like it.”

Gobber sat at the table, finishing off a tankard of drink. “Alright, I'll pack my undies.”

Stoick came over to him, sitting next to him at the table. “No, I need you to stay here and train some new recruits.”

Gobber mulls over his cup, before replying sarcastically. “Oh, perfect. And while I'm busy, Y/n can cover the stall. Molten steel, razor sharp blades, lots of time to themself... what could possibly go wrong?”

Stoick sighed, slouching slightly. “What am I going to do with them, Gobber?”

“Put them in training like the others.”

“No, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

They look at each other, Stoick leaning his arm on the table. “They'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage!”

“You don't know that.” Gobber goes back to his drink.

“I do, actually.”

“No, you don't.” Gobber points a finger at him.

“Listen, you know what their like.” He got up from the table. “From the time they could crawl, they've been… different.”

He walked around the table by the fire against the wall.

“They don't listen,” Gobber chokes on his drink as he listens. “They have the attention span of a sparrow.” Stoick goes on.

Gobber looks into his drink for his missing tooth which he previously choked on.

Stoick is still on. “I take them fishing and they go hunting for- for trolls!”

“Trolls are real!” Gobber points his drink arm at Stoick. “They steal your socks. But only the left ones… what's with that??”

Stoick sighs. “When I was a boy.”

“Oh here we go.”

“My father told me to bang my head against a rock and I did it. I thought it was crazy, but I didn't question him.”

Stoick turns. “You know what happened??”

“You got a headache.”

“That rock split in two. It taught me what a Viking could do, Gobber. He could- He could crush mountains, level forests, tame seas!” He gestures loud. “Even as a boy, I knew what I was, what I had to become.”

Stoick goes and sits at the table again, slouching. “Y/n is not that kid.”

“You can't stop them, Stoick. You can only prepare them. Look, I know it seems hopeless.” Gobber gestures his drink arm.

“But the truth is you won't always be around to protect them. Their going to get out there again. Their probably out there now.”

And he was right. Out the forest at Ravens point, he exasperatedly crossed another X in your book. You'd been searching everywhere for this damn dragon, eventually giving up.

“Oh the gods hate me…” you snapped the book shut. “Some people lose their knife or their mug, not me.”

You scuff your feet. “I manage to lose an entire dragon.” You walk down the path, angrily slapping a tree branch that comes right back at you.

Turning your attention to the part of the part that is disturbed. A large dirt train plowed through the land.

You frown, following it up to a small hill. As you climb it, your eyes land sight of the dragon. You gasp, your heart racing as you immediately duck down.

Your eyes go wide as you hide behind the mound, panting. What do you do?? What do you do??

You sat up, immediately searching for your knife. Grabbing it out shakily and holding it like your life depended on it.

You slid down the hill, hiding behind a large rock before poking out. Seeing the dragon tied up and caught in the net you'd flung it into.

You disastrous human. How could you? How could you do this?

You smiled though, shocked, in pure shock. “Oh wow, this- this fixes everything!” You walked over, putting your foot on its shoulder. “I have brought down this mighty beast-”

The dragon bellows in pain, shrugging its shoulder to push you off, making you jump and scramble back.

You shake and pant as you hold your knife out in front of you, walking closer. You can see the dragon's blue green eyes on you, staring at you.

“I'm going to kill you, dragon. I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father. I'm a Viking. I am a VIKING!” You hold the knife down, pointed at the beast.

The night fury breathes heavily, clearly scared as it stares at you with a sharp gaze, awaiting its horrific fate.

You raise the knife above your head, steeling yourself for the moment, peeling an eye open to look down at the dragon. It still stared at you, helpless, and scared.

You readjust the knife, taking a deep breath. The dragon moans, laying its head down and closing its eyes. Scared, but knowing it's fate.

And that breaks you. It's the last noise of distress going unheeded to any cruel human that would have found him.

You attempted to shoo the thought and claim its life, but instead.. you couldn't. You groaned, slumping the knife handle to the top of your head.

You slumped, rubbing the side of your face and looking at the knife, then the dragon. No, no you couldn't do this.

“I did this…” You slowly back up, returning to leave, but looking back at those ropes.

You went back, and you started to cut. The dragon’s eyes shot open in an instant, looking over as you sawed the blade through the ropes and pulled it free.

As soon as the last rope that freed its legs was off, it jumped at you, growling in your face as it pushed you to the ground.

Your head hit the edge of the rock as its claw kept your chest pinned. You gasped for air, looking up at the dragon, into its sharp eyes.

The dragon growled down at you as you leaned your face away, your heart pounding. The dragon leaned his arm off your chest, slamming you down and roaring in your face.

It turned and dashed, flying off, taking off lopsided and flying into a tree. It wailed when it hit the ground and then tried to take off again, wailing in pain as it flew into the fog.

You slowly reached for your knife, clutching your heart as your eyes remained blown wide.

You tried to stand, your knees shaking like a deer and weak. You felt wheezy and like you would vomit at any moment. Not making it far before hitting the ground with a thud and falling unconscious.

It was late by the time you came home, walking into the house to see your father, Stoick stoking the fire, waiting for you.

You slowly closed the door, seeing him and attempting to rush by and head upstairs. Going full hands and knees rushed, but it was futile.

“Y/n.”

“Dad, uh…” You swallowed awkwardly, your thoughts immediately rushing back to earlier that day and the shit you'd probably get into if he knew you let a night fury free…

“I uh, have to talk to you, dad…”

Stoick stood, coming over. “I have to talk to you too, y/n.”

Both of you took deep breaths.

“I've decided I don't want-”

“I've decided it's time you learn-”

“To fight dragons. What??”

Stoick clears his throat. “You go first.”

“No, no you go first.” You started to sweat a little, gripping the stairs, feeling your collar getting tight.

“All right.” Stoick sighs, massaging his knuckles. “You get your wish. Dragon training. You start in the morning.”

“Oh, man, I should've gone first!” You panicked a lot, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, looking away.

“Uh, 'cause I was thinking, you know, we have a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings, but do we have enough… bread-making Vikings, or small home repair Vikings-?”

Stoick leaned over, picking up an axe. “You'll need this.” He hands it to you, making you huff with the weight on your incredibly toothpick durability, q-tip quality arms.

“Gah-” you panicked, looking at him worriedly. “Dad, I don't want to kill dragons.” You protested.

Stoick laughed. “Of course you do.”

“Rephrase… Dad, I can't kill dragons.” you held the axe, your legs weak and your stomach churning sickeningly with the thought of being ignored in this.

“But you will kill dragons.”

Your worry grows, gripping the axe. “No, I'm very extra sure that I won't.”

“It's time Y/n.”

“Can you not hear me!?” You ask desperately and exasperated.

“This is serious, y/n.”

He gestured. “When you carry this axe, you carry all of us with you.” Stoick picks the axe up from your arms and adjusts it.

“Which means you walk like us.” He bunches your shoulders together and fixes your slouch. “You talk like us. You think like us. No more of…. This.” He gestured vaguely to you.

“You just gestured to all of me.” You pouted.

“Deal??” Stoick asked, making your heart sink at once again being completely ignored.

“This conversation is feeling very one-sided.”

“Deal!?” Stoick repeats.

“Deal…”

“Good.” He nods to you, not even touching you. He picked up his sack for the voyage and his Viking hat.

“Train hard. I'll be back. Probably.”

“And I'll be here… maybe.”

“Welcome to dragon training.” Gobber says as you all enter the ring. A large stone pit tug into the groups full of armory and cages with chain domed across the top.

Ghost leads the group of teens into the ring, holding his axe firmly in his hand. He looks around, parts of his slightly long blonde hair hanging in front of his sharp brown eyes.

Such a warm color, such a cold stare. “No turning back.” He said to mostly himself, the others checking out the place.

Oh and there's you in the back. Toothpick.

“I hope I get some serious burns.” Graves says.

“Yeah, I'm hoping for some maulings. Like on my shoulder or my lower back.” Soap commented with a grin.

Ghost spoke up, tilting his head. “Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it.” He already had a few. From dragon fights? No. But scars nonetheless. He wanted a scar from the dragon's he killed.

Even if he would have to force the mark.

You mumbled sarcastically from the background. “Oh yeah… pain, great.. love it..”

They all look back, simultaneously looking at you with disgust, while Ghost just scrunched his nose. “Oh great, who let you in??” Graves complains.

“Let's get started! The recruit who does best will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village.” Gobber said, motioning you all into the middle of the rock pit. Closer to your doom.

“Well, Y/n already killed a Night Fury, so, does that disqualify him or…?” Graves smirked at you antagonistically.

“Can I transfer to the class with the cool Vikings?” Soap added on to the taunt as they walked away without you.

Gobber got closer to you, smiling softly. “Don't worry. You're small and you're weak. That'll make you less of a target! They'll see you as sick or insane and go after the more Viking-like teens instead.”

With that Gobber explained the essence of dragon training. Behind each of the doors is a dragon. The training sessions will focus on an aspect of fighting. The person last standing against the dragon is to be the winner of the round.

Whoever wins in the end?? You get a brag tag for a good chunk of years.

Gobber went on. “Behind these doors are just a few of the many species you will learn to fight! The Deadly Nadder!”

“Speed: eight; Armor: sixteen.” Gaz finally spoke up.

“The Hideous Zippleback!”

“Plus eleven stealth times two.”

“The Monstrous Nightmare!”

“Firepower: fifteen.”

“The Terrible Terror!”

“Attack: eight; Venom: twelve!”

“CAN YOU STOP THAT?! And... the Gronckle!” Gobber snapped, getting to the last door. He hooked his interchangeable arm to the latch.

“Woah, hang on- aren't you going to teach us first??” Graves asked in disbelief.

Gobber shrugged. “I believe in learning on the job.”

He pulled the door open and released the Gronckle. The others tensed up and watched the thing as it flew toward them, eyeing them all like snacks.

It swallowed some of the rocks set out and blasted it's fiery molten liquid at you four.

“Today is about survival. If you get blasted... you're dead! Quick! What's the first thing you're going to need?”

“A doctor!?” You cried worriedly.

“Plus five speed!?” Gaz countered.

Ghost eyed the dragon, then around the ring. “A shield!”

“Shields! Go!” Gobber instructed, Ghost being the first to turn and run for one.

“Your most important piece of equipment is your shield! If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take the shield!”

You rushed to grab one, picking it up and heaving up the heavy thing. You attempted to find the arm strap, searching rapidly before Gobber came over.

Exasperation filled as he lifted it up and shoved it gently into your chest.

Graves grabbed a shield with skulls on it, Soap frowning. “Hey!” The only shield left being one with flowers.

“Take that one, that one has flowers.” Graves teased, pouting his lip at Soap.

“But- ah!” Soap was thrown to the ground when the Gronckle’s tail hit him in the side.

“Soap, you're down.” Gobber called.

“What…??”

“Shields are good for another thing. Making lots of noise. Throw the dragon's aim off!”

You, Ghost, Graves, and Gaz all start banging your shields, the Gronckle's eyes crossing and trying to shake the disorientation off.

“All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?” Gobber asks.

You all circle around the dragon, it's eyes trying to focus on anything. You rush back to a corner, hiding back behind one of the armor walls, holding your shield in the crack.

Pussy.

“Uh, five??” Graves replies while he rushes away.

“No, six!” Gaz counters.

“That's correct. Six. One for each of you.”

The Gronckle gets its surroundings back and blasts molten at Gaz’s shield, making him cry with surprise.

“Gaz, you're out!”

Gaz gulps and yells as he runs for safely of the out zone.

Gobber notices you. “Y/n! Get in there!!”

You attempt to move away from your wall only to get a blast thrown at you. Fearing you scuffling back away, Gobber ones over and pushes you into the ring again.

Ghost faced the Gronckle as it came around again, ready to take it down, distributing his weight well.

Graves came right up behind him, rolling his shoulders. “So, anyway I'm moving into my parents' basement. You should come by sometime to work out.”

Ghost rolls his eyes and starts to move, Graves looking surprised. “You look like you work out!”

The Gronckle fires it's shot for Ghost at Graves, hitting his shield. “Graves! You're done!”

Ghost rolled over next to you, both of you the only two left. You looked nervously over at him. He's so cool. Just a tad taller than you. Lanky but you can see he has muscle definition on his arms.

He's just.. ah! A real Viking. That's what your dad wants you to be.

“I uh.. guess it's just you and me now huh?” You ask him nervously.

He glowers before lifting his head. “Nope, just you.” He dashes out of the way, the Gronckle fires.

“Gah!!” You raise your shield to take the blow meant for Ghost. The shield knocks from your hand, barely missing you.

Without shield and one shot left you run back for your shield, the Gronckle hot on your track. The shield rolls away from you across the ground, looking back and you panic seeing the dragon right there.

“One shot left! Y/n!” Gobber calls.

It manages to corner you to the wall. Face right against your chest. Your heart pounds, your limbs feel cold and rigid, and on fire all at once.

It opens its mouth and down its throat the molten glow of its last shot, before a hook pulls it away. It blasts it's shot into the wall and you cover your head, curling up.

Gobber drags the dragon back away.

“And that's six! Go back to bed, ya overgrown sausage!” He shoves it back into the pen and closes the door.

“You'll get another chance, don't you worry.” He says to you as he walks back over, bending down. “Remember: a dragon will always- always- go for the kill.”

He grabs your arm and picks you up. You looked at the wall where the charred remains of the burn flickered down the rock incline…

Leading you back to the site of the crash, your curiosities got to you as you picked up one of the rocks on the bola. Where you'd freed the night fury from.

“So… why didn't you??”

Why hadn't the dragon gone for the kill. You would have stabbed it, you had a weapon for crying out loud! It had every opportunity… and it didn't.

You place the bola down, standing and hopping over a log. Walking the path down to a split between two rock digs. You slipped through the small passage, which opened up.

The tall rock face harbors trees and a small lake. It was nice… peaceful. The tall walls of rock keep it hidden and closed.

“This was stupid.” You say, moments before looking over and seeing a couple of black scales resting down the dirt incline down into the small crop.

The dragon.

You kneel down and pick one up, looking it over before hearing a roar. In an instant you jump back in fear as the Night Fury dives up over the small passage, climbing at the walls.

It's claws dig in, scrambling frantically and attempting to flap its wings and get over the edge of the rock.

You watched as it wailed and gave up, falling back and gliding awkwardly over the pond and landing on its side across on the other side.

Pant, scared but fascinated. Watched the dragon moan in sadness and pain. You hop down from the ledge, scrambling onto another rock stool and watch the night fury as it moves about.

It tries several more times to fly. Flapping its wings and hopping up but never managing to pull itself over the ledge. Crying angrily as it lands.

Your eyes widen, pulling out your sketchbook. No Night Fury had ever been recorded, you had to do this. Wow wow.

You quickly sketched up a drawing of the dragon, watching it snarl angrily.

“Why don't you just.. fly away??”

The dragon snarls and shoots a plasma blast at the ground.

Looking at the dragon you notice it only has one tail fin, while your drawing has two. You rub away the charcoal with your sleeve, your curiosities only growing.

The dragon tries to fly, swerving along the rock and slamming down onto the ground. It whines in pain, it's nose near the water's edge. Noticing some fish. It perks up in hope, diving its head into the water, but the fish are fast enough to escape its attempts.

It whines, still hungry.

In a moment of weakness, you feel bad for the creature. Why was this happening, why was it stuck here?? Your pencil rolled from between your fingers.

Your eyes widened but before you could grab it it fell down the steep rock. Bouncing on the rocks and attracting the Night Fury’s attention.

You froze, and it froze. Both of you are looking at each other. It glares at you, growling low. But it looks.. curious in a way.

When you finally make your way to the Meade hall it's late. You'd spent all your time watching the night fury and becoming so fascinated that you didn't care to come back. Until now.

Walking in and seeing the other teens gathered around Gobber. Talking over strategies and what happened in the ring.

“Now, how did Ghost go wrong today??”

“I mistimed my somersault dive. It was sloppy. It threw off my reverse tumble.” Ghost said with some sarcasm as he poked at his food.

“Yeah, we noticed.” Soap mumbles.

“No no, you were great. That was so… “Ghost.”” Graves said, once again attempting to land an unflattering attempt.

“He's right, you have to be tough on yourselves.” Gobber notices you walk in soaked, coming to the table. “Where did Y/n go wrong?”

“Uh, they showed up??” Soap said.

“Their didn't get eaten??” Graves said.

“Their never where they should be.” Ghost said, watching you with a nasty look as you scoot yourself over to the next table, knowing you weren't welcome around them.

Gobber walked over to you. “Thank you, Ghost.” He smacks Soap and Graves in the head. “You need to live and breathe this stuff. The dragon manual.” He holds up a book.

Leather bound with a dragon symbol burned into the front, tied with string to keep old pages together.

He cleared a part of the table and put the book down. “Everything we know about every dragon we know of.”

Thunder crackled overhead, Gobber sighed, knowing lightning to come. “No attacks tonight. Study up for tomorrow.”

“Wait, you mean, read??” Graves frowned, crossing his arms.

“Well maybe it would do you some good.” Gaz spoke up.

“Shut your mouth, I don't need to read nothing! Why read words when you can just kill the stuff the words tell you about??”

“Oh! I've read it like, seven times. There's this water dragon that sprays boiling water at your face. And- And there's this other one that buries itself for like a week-”

“Yeah, that sounds great. So there's a chance I was going to read it…” Soap starts.

“But not now.” Graves says, causing Soap to glare at him a little.

Even if they all were irritable brats at the age of sixteen, they all had some kind of friendship with each other. Some kind… more than they had with you. Because you're a loser.

Your eyes drift back over to Ghost who hadn't said a word about the book while the others bicker. Dragging his knuckles along the side of his tankard.

You could see the scars that started just before his wrist guards hid them away. Occasional Knicks and scratches along his arms and biceps.

Must have been from falls or accidents because he'd not properly fought a dragon or a hunter…

The others move from the table to go back home. You get up, going to the book by where Ghost sat. “So I guess we’ll… share??”

“Read it.” He pushed the book, getting up and walking off.

“Oh, uh, all mine, then. Wow. So, ok, I'll see you…” You looked up as the door shut. They were already gone…

The hall was dark with only you in it. You sat down at the table with a candle and opened the book.

Dragon classifications. Strike Class, Fear Class, Mystery Class.

You started to read. Reading through the book, the endings of each of the entries being extremely deadly: kill on sight.

Each page. Extremely deadly: kill on sight.

You continued to flip the pages. “Burns its victims, buries its victims, chokes its victims, turns its victims inside-out.”

“Extremely dangerous, extremely dangerous, kill on sight, kill on sight, kill on sight…”

Through every page of every class. Until you got to the end.

You flipped the last page. At the top it said Night Fury. The page being otherwise almost completely empty.

“Night Fury: Speed, unknown. Size, unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon.”

You hesitated on the last part. “Your only chance: Hide and pray it does not find you.”

You pulled out your sketchbook, dropping the sketch of the Night Fury on the page. You had found a Night Fury. It had let you close. It .. hadn't killed you.

You stood the next day in the training ring, in the middle of a training session. Holding your shield and axe, you shifted from one foot to the other. Surrounded by a maze of tall builds all put together for the Deadly Nadder to find and kill you.

“You know, I just happened to notice the book had nothing on Night Furies. Is there another book? Or a sequel? Maybe a little Night Fury pamphlet?”

The Deadly Nadder jumps atop one of the lofts, firing at you, taking off the head of your axe. “Gah!”

“Focus y/n! You're not even trying!” Gobber scolds.

“Today is all about ATTACK! Nadders are quick and light on their feet! Your job is to be quicker and lighter!” Gobber continues.

Gaz gasped, running away as the Nadder searches him out. Throwing spikes from its tail at him, sinking into the wall above his head and his shield. “Ah!! I'm really starting to question your teaching methods!!”

Gobber, undeterred, continues. “Look for it's Blindspot. Every dragon has one. Find it, hide in it, and strike.”

You rush by as Soap turns a corner, coming face to snout with the Nadder. He gasps, holding in a breath as it moves its head, attempting to stay in the Blindspot.

“Steamin’ hell… this thing stinks.” He wheezes. “Do you ever bathe??” He gags, trying to cover his mouth.

The Nadder turns its head, growling and spitting fire at him. “Ah!”

“Blind spot? Yes. Deaf spot? Not so much.” Gobber grins, leaning his face against his palm as he watched from above the chain net.

Seeing Ghost running through the intricate maze, you hanging on his tail like a mouse finding safety with the cat.

You pause, looking up at Gobber. “Hey, so how would one sneak up on a Night Fury?”

“No one's ever seen one and loved to tell the tale.” He snaps his fingers. “Now get in there!!”

“Y/n.” Ghost whispers your name. You turn to see Ghost kneeled down by one of the platforms, Graves behind him, nodding to you to be quiet. You skip over, hiding against the wall.

Ghost pokes his head out, seeing the Nadder coming around. He hides again, taking a deep breath and preparing himself before rolling forward on his shield.

He pushes off, hiding behind the next wall, Graves following and doing the same. When you attempt it, the shield does not follow your small body through the roll, trapping you against the ground.

The Nadder sees you, and runs. “Gah!” You scramble up and run. The Nadder roars and flies up on top of the walls, jumping down in front of Ghost.

He readied himself but Graves pushed him aside. “Watch out babe, I'll take care of this.”

“Hey!” Ghost growls at him, seething at him as he throws his weapon, completely missing.

The Nadder growls, Ghost glaring at him. “The sun was in my eyes, Ghost.” The Nadder roars, Ghost making a run for it away from that meat head.

“What do you want me to do?? Block out the sun? I could do that, but I don't have time!” He dodges the attack, running after Ghost as the Nadder makes chase.

Graves continues rambling, looking back and making a swift turn down another aisle. Ghost looks back, gasping and crying as the Nadder is seconds away from him. He dashes around the corner and turns, slamming into the wall.

The Nadder follows, roaring at him as Ghost scrambles and runs, the walls starting to knock over from the collision.

You were still rambling to Gobber like an idiot. “Like so they take the daytime off?? Like a cat. Has anyone ever seen one, napping??”

Gobber looks up from his bored expression as Graves run by.

“Y/n!”

The walls of the maze collapse, the Nadder snapping at Ghost’s heels as he jumps up across one of the falling walls. He jumps to another wall, and you're right in his landing path.

“Y/n!!” He yells, and jumps. You scramble back, falling on the ground as he lands with a thud on top of you.

“Ooh,” Soap teases.

Ghost glares at you, shoving your face away and attempting to stand, his axe lodged in your shield.

“Hey, why- let me… why don't you…?” He shoves your chest down, standing up, his knee between your legs causing you to gasp in pain.

He does not care. Grabbing his axe angrily trying to pry it away. The Nadder turns back, readying its shot for you and Ghost.

Ghost sees it and grows more panicked, grabbing his axe, his foot landing on your cheek. “Ow! Ow! Ow!!”

He attempts to pull his axe away as the Nadder comes closer.

He finally pries it from your arm and swings his axe at the Nadder’s face, your shield splintering.

The Nadder cries in pain and turns, walking off. Ghost pants, looking off in panic as he grips his axe.

“Well done, Ghost.” Gobber commends.

Ghost doesn't respond, the interaction having a grip on his core. Before his fear replaced with anger and he turned to you, curled up in the fetal position.

“Is this some kind of a joke to you!? Our parents' war is about to become ours!” He points his axe at you. “Figure out which side you're on.”

Back to trying again with the Night Fury. You head down to the cove, bringing a new shield. Propping it between two rocks and tossing a fish into the open. You slide under it, crawling on your hands and knees.

Once on the other side you attempt to pry the shield out but it's stuck. You sigh, heading over to the fish and picking it up by under the fin.

You look around, slowly walking into the open. Feeling slightly panicky, but you've had decent luck with this dragon so far. What with it not eating you the first time.

Perhaps it was wise enough to know you weren't worth it. You'd be more of a chew toy than a hefty meal.

You walk along the pond, looking around for the night fury, aware it had eyes on you minutes earlier. It peers out from a rock as it watches you pass. It's eyes focus on you, tail swishing.

Finally it comes down from the rock, and you see it from your peripheral. You gasp, gripping the fish tight as the dragon comes down and around, sniffing the snack in your hand, growling at you.

You hold the fish out. Would it take it?? It cranes its body sideways like a cat, tilting its head and sniffing the treat.

It's pupils softening before growling and jumping back. Your hand retreats with the fish, gasping softly.

You pull your sweater open, your knife tucked into your clothes. When you reach for it, the dragon snarls.

You gasp, feeling your heartbeat picking up again, slowly removing the knife and dropping it.

The dragon's ears go down, growling away, and you kick the knife away into the pond.

Afterwhich, the dragon relaxes, pupils softening again. It sits, ear flicking. It continues to hold its body arched like a cat as it comes over when you extend the fish again.

“Ah, Toothless.” You say, seeing his gummy mouth and lack of teeth. “I could have sworn you had-” His teeth suddenly snap out and he snatches the fish from your hands.

Your eyes widen as he scarfs down the snack. “-Teeth…”

He enjoys his snack before looking back at you, lowering his head and coming over.

“Ah, ah.. uh, I don't have any more.” You stammer, backing up and tripping over your heel back against a rock.

Toothless gurgled, looking at you before starting to regurgitate his food. You tense up, cringing a little when he spits up part of the fish in your lap.

“Ugh…”

He sits back, looking at you expectantly. His eyes move from the fish, then to you when you do nothing.

You sigh, hesitantly taking a bite of the food, retching it up, putting a hand over your mouth and forcing yourself to swallow it.

Toothless perks up, you shudder and look up at him, attempting to smile after that…. Delicious cuisine.

You smile awkwardly. Toothless frowns, before attempting to smile back. His lip twitching and showing his gummy smile that he gives you.

Your eyes widen a little. This… was not a kill on sight dragon. This wasn't something you'd slaughter for sport.

He was smiling at you. Why, from all the dragon's you'd ever been taught about, the most deadly was smiling at you. Sharing his food…

You slowly stand, extending your hand, to which Toothless’ smile drops. He growls, and flies off, crying as he spirals against the wind, only able to drift and hit the ground a ways away.

He huffs against the dirty, slowly getting up and shaking himself off. He walks over to a small hill, blasting a controlled amount of heat against the ground, charring it into a nice warm bed.

He looks up at a bird in its nest, chirping and flying away. And then… he sees you. How unsightly. No one wants to see that before bed.

He groans and curls up. Folding in his wings and wrapping his tail around his face to keep him well hidden and secured.

You smile, inching a little closer. You boldly reach out to touch his tail, but Toothless is one step ahead. He lifts his tail, huffing at you.

You quickly stand, wobbling on shaky legs and awkwardly walking away from him. Toothless stares dully, getting up and moving from his spot, somewhere you surely couldn't get him.

Hanging from… a tree. Such an odd dragon.

You let him be. Sitting on a rock a couple feet away. Wasting away the time until the evening rolled around and Toothless slowly came out of his nap.

Moving his tail and looking over at you, drawing in the dirt with a stick.

He gurgled, hopping down and quietly coming over to see what you were doing.

You rested your cheek against your fist, aimlessly drawing a little figure of Toothless in the dirt.

Toothless watches curiously, purring a growl and getting up on his back legs. He waddled away. You look back when you hear the snapping of a tree branch.

Toothless comes back with his own drawing stick, purring and trailing it around in the dirt.

You watch him in shock and surprise as toothless drags the stick around, smiling and clutching it tight in his mouth.

He purrs as he swirls and twists around, finally finishing his creation of spirals and mapping trails between you and him.

You finally stand, looking around at what he's created. All the lines and the paths. You walk out toward one of the lines. When your foot steps on it, Toothless growls.

It shocks you a little, looking over at him and quickly taking your foot off the line. Toothless raises his head, purring at you in response.

You put your foot on the line, and he growls.

Taking it off, Toothless purred.

You did it a couple of times before understanding. It's trust. Toothless is offering trust. You smile softly, stepping over the line, aware of where your feet when as he stepped around and over the lines.

Finally stopping with your back to Toothless. You sink a little, feeling a warm breath fan across the nape of your neck and down your back.

You turn and look up at him. Toothless’ gaze is soft. You pant softly, reaching your hand up. Toothless pulls his head away slightly, growling a little.

You pull your hand back, looking into his eyes. So you turn away. Closing your eyes and extending your hand again.

Toothless’ eyes soften. He looks at your palm, leaning his head forward and hesitating, before gently leaning his nose into your palm, closing his eyes.

You exhale softly in surprise, feeling it. Toothless… trusts you. This was trust.

You looked up at Toothless. His eyes narrow again. He pulled away, wriggling his nose and huffing before dashing off.

The incident didn't leave your mind. Even when you went home, you couldn't face anyone after the thought of Toothless.

Sat atop the watch tower with Gobber and the others, roasting food over the crackling fire while he went on about a tale.

You weren't particularly listening, your gaze focused on your fingers, slowly turning the stick that was jabbed through your fish.

“...And with one twist, he took my hand, and swallowed it whole!” Gobber waved his stick, with a whole chicken on the end of it.

“And I saw the look on his face: I was delicious. He must have passed the word, because it wasn't a month before another one of them took my leg.”

Gaz frowned in concentration, digging into his food. “Isn't it weird to think that your hand was inside a dragon?” He motioned one of the meat legs toward Ghost, who glared and shifted away.

What was that idiots problem. Ghost was close to biting his arm off.

“Like if your mind was still in control of it, you could have killed the dragon from the inside by... crushing his heart, or something.” Gaz continued, Graves staring at him from across the firepit as it grew silent.

“Right…” Graves muttered. “I swear, I'm so angry right now! I'll avenge your beautiful hand and your beautiful foot. I'll chop off the legs of every dragon I fight. With my face!”

“Un-unh. It's the wings and the tails you really want. If it can't fly, it can't get away. A downed dragon is a dead dragon.” Gobber said, snapping a leg off his chicken.

Your eyes slowly widen. Toothless. Toothless was down. That's the first thing you'd listened to all night. Pulled from your stupor of pointless thoughts.

Gobber yawned and got up. “Alright. I'm off to bed. You should be, too. Tomorrow we get to the big boys. Slowly but surely making our way up to the Monstrous Nightmare. But who'll win the honor of killing it?”

“It's gonna be me! It's my destiny, see??” Soap rolled up his sleeve, showing his arm.

“Woah, your mom let you get a tattoo??”

“It's not a tattoo, it's a birthmark.”

“I've known you literally since we were babies, and I've never seen that.” Graves replies.

“Yes, it was. You've just never seen me from the left side until now.”

After hearing what Gobber had said about dragons, your interests turn to the forge. If you're going to get Toothless out of there alive you'd need to help him.

It wouldn't be on his own…

Ghost watched you, cold gaze following as you walked away from the fire and back down the watch tower.

You headed to the forge quickly, pulling out your sketchbook and laying it out on the table. Alright, now for something that could help Toothless. Time to get to work.

You worked long into the night. Heating the forge and putting together a device that you knew would help. You worked until your eyes were heavy and the sunrise poked over the edge of the water.

Finally putting out the flames and grabbing what you could, you headed back to the house. Stumbling inside and slumping into your hard bed for just an ounce of sleep.

After a bit of rest and recuperating you headed out a few hours later, ready to help Toothless. Your plan was foolproof. And you brought along a giant basket of fish just for it.

When you got back to the cove, Toothless was waiting for you. “Hey Toothless, I brought you some fish.” You set down the basket and kicked it over with your foot. “We've got some salmon, some nice Icelandic cod…”

Toothless began to sniff through the fish, nudging through to find the good stuff.

“And a whole smoked eel…” You slowly stepped around the pile when toothless growled. He backed up, snarling at the pile.

You tilted your head and reached in, pulling out the eel. Toothless saw it and expanded his wings in defense, roaring loudly.

“No, no no no! It's ok!” You quickly threw the eel away and placed out your hand to him, your contraption firmly under the other.

He huffed and you wiped your hand on your coat. “Yeah, I don't much like eel either…”

And Toothless went sniffing through the pile of fish again, wolfing down a few without wasting time.

“That's it…” you slowly backed up behind him. “That's it. Just stick with the good stuff.”

You slowly set up the wing you'd made. “And don't you mind me I'll be back here… minding my own business…”

You attempted to wrangle Toothless’ tail. Strapping the belts around it as he dug around the basket. Having to sit on his tail and gently spread open the fabric.

When you finally got it hooked on, you sat back. “Hey, doesn't look half bad.”

Toothless’ head perked up as soon as he felt it. A weight on his other tail. He slowly patted his feet into the ground. He could fly… he could fly.

Toothless spread his wings, and took off. “Woah! Whooaa!!” You gasped, seeing the ground suddenly falling away from you. You leaned down, grabbing and holding onto Toothless’ tail tightly.

“No no no!!” You cried as Toothless darted for the coves edge. You watched wide eyed, your adrenaline pumping.

The tail had closed and was flailing in the wind, Toothless starting to lose air.

Oh fuck oh fuck. You managed to pry one sweaty hand from his tail and pull it open. Toothless caught air and zoomed up into the sky.

“Oh, my…! It's working!!” You cried as Toothless flew away from the island. He twisted in the air, flying back over the cove and back across the pond.

“Yes! Yes! I did it!”

Toothless looked back. What the?? Why is this toothpick still hanging on to me!?

He twisted upside down and flicked his tail, tossing you into the pond and flew away.

Losing control of himself, he shrieked as he slammed back into the ground across the lake. He looked at the folded in tail angrily.

You swam above the water furiously, smiling. “Yeah!” You splashed.

The next day at training you were faced with the Hideous Zippleback. Teamed up with Gaz, your goal was to work together to disarm the two headed dragon of its abilities.

One head spreading flammable gas, the other head lights that gas.

“Razor sharp, serrated teeth that inject venom for pre-digestion. Prefers ambush attack, by crushing its victims-”

You frowned at Gaz, gripping your bucket tight. “Would you please stop that!?”

As more gas filled the arena, Graves and Soap turned back to back, looking around for any sign of the dragon.

“If that dragon shows either of his faces, I'm gonna- there!” Graves spotted something through the gas, both him and Soap frantically throwing their buckets of water.

The gas cleared, and there stood hell itself. A soaking. Wet. Ghost.

Oh.

“Oh it's just Ghost, we thought you were a dragon!” Soap shrinks back, smiling like an awkward idiot.

“Well, clearly,” he snapped coldly. “I am not!”

“Well, your butts big like a dragon.”

Graves hit Soap with his elbow. “Not that there's nothing wrong with a…” Ghost was already marching toward him.

“dragon-esque figure- Ow!”

Ghost punched him hard in the nose, sending him back. He landed on his butt, before he could get up something snatched him into the gas.

Ghost put his arm in front of Soap. “Wait.” He whispered.

There was a cry and Graves ran from the smoke. “Ow! Ow!”

Gaz gulped, you and him still back to back. “Chances of survival are dwindling in the single digits now…”

One of the dragon's heads peered out from the smoke and came toward you two. Sharp yellow eyes trained on Gaz.

“Woah, Woah!” He scrambled back as it cornered him, and he threw his bucket of water onto it.

The dragon rippled a growl, gas billowing from beyond its maw.

“Oh… wrong head.” He smiled awkwardly. It drenched Gaz in gas, Gobber calling out for him, and Gaz made a run for it.

Leaving you the last one with a water bucket. Both of the heads now coming around, the dragon facing you from both sides.

One of the heads created sparks between its teeth.

“Now y/n!” Gobber said.

You raised your water bucket. “Eh.” You threw it up, the water barely hitting the dragon. “Oh come on…”

You. Are completely… and utterly useless… be thankful you have a dragon now or you would not survive let me tell you.

The dragon surrounded you. “Y/n!” Gobber yelled, coming over.

But I admit, what you lack in physical strength you make up in your capacity to learn.

Standing up slowly, the dragon snarled and whipped back. You pulled the eel from your vest, holding it out to them.

“Back! Back!” You snapped, the dragon snarling and backing away from the eel.

“That's right! Back in your cage!” You corralled it back in, slamming the door shut with all the might you had. Which isn't much.

The others watched. Ghost’s signature glare burning into your skin. This was fucking ridiculous.

You clapped your hands together. “So uh… are we done??” They all stared at you wordlessly. “Because I uh.. I got some stuff to do so I'll just… yeah. See you tomorrow!”

You smiled, spending the rest of the day at the forge. Creating some more things you could use in your adventures with Toothless.

Putting together a saddle.

You brought it to Toothless and when he saw it he smiled. Perking up and running away. “Hey!” You laughed, running after him.

Toothless gurgled and fled around the ground as you chased after him.

After getting the saddle on you learned pretty quickly you'd need some way to hold on. After a failed fly test force Toothless to panic and throw you off his back into the water again.

No problem, just a little waist retainer was all that was needed. Hooking it onto the saddle and having another go.

The second time was slightly better. You'd tied a rope around your ankle that would help you pull the tail fin open.

Toothless roared when you tried again, losing control in the air just after getting out of the cove.

“Hold hold ha!!” You cried as Toothless squirmed and fell into a bed of tall dragon nip.

You stumbled, looking around the tall grass and going back to see Toothless rolling around comfortably in the grass. Relaxing fully in total relaxation.

Huh. Odd.

You picked up some of the nip, looking at it curiously. Again, it's best you have a bigger head than bigger biceps.

When faced with a Gronckle for the next training exercise, you ended things quickly. It crashed into Graves and went for you. You held up the dragon nip you had taken and it immediately slowed down.

The Gronckle crashed to the ground and you rubbed the dragon nip against its nose.

The villagers gathered around the top of the pit to watch you in awe, the village elder also noticing how much you'd suddenly improved your dragon prowess in recent days.

After which all the teens were gathered around you. Well, almost all of them.

“Wow, how did you do that??” Soap asked.

“I never would have thought about that-” Gaz piped up.

“I've never even seen a Gronckle do that!” Graves blurted.

Ghost trained behind, watching as you laughed awkwardly. “Oh I uh, I left my axe in the ring.” You turned, bumping into Ghost as you did.

He jumped, pushing you lightly and you went around him. “Sorry, sorry.”

They watched, the others smiling excitement. Ghost glaring down your whole existence.

Spending more time with Toothless, you began to introduce the fondness of scratches and pets. Scratching the patches of scales along his neck and ear fins.

Toothless groaned, leaning up into it, turning his head and closing his eyes. You scratched under his chin and he went limp, falling to the ground with a content exhale.

The next day, back in training.

Ghost yelled, throwing his axe at the deadly Nadder that turned, running back over to you two. It roared loudly, pushing Ghost to the ground, skinning his upper arm.

You readied yourself, quickly dropping the axe as the Nadder ran to you.

Ghost scrambled back up, grabbing his axe. His heart pounded as he lifted it and ran. You noticed him and turned quickly to the Nadder.

You reached up, scratching behind its ear, down to its chin and right… there.

The Nadder dropped, happily out for a nap.

Ghost panted, lowering his axe in disbelief. You smiled at him and shrugged.

This continued on. Spending time with Toothless you learned he was just like a cat.

Using a hammer to shine a light across the ground, you watched with amusement as Toothless chased after it. Hopping and purring to catch it.

Training faced you with the Terrible Terror. Which admittedly you didn't expect it to be as small as it was.

“Meet the Terrible Terror.”

A small door attached to the main door opened, like a cat door. The tiny dragon scuttling out, licking its eyeball, staring at you all.

“Aw, it's like the size of my- ah!!” Soap jumped back as the Terror jumped at him. You all scattered as Soap landed on the ground, the terror chewing on his nose.

“Oh I am hurt, I am very much hurt!”

The Terror perked up, seeing a light moving across the ground. It flicked its tail, smiling and rushing from Soap after the light.

You guided it with the shiny part of your shield back into its small hut, closing the door with your foot.

“Wow, he's better than you ever were.” Soap rubs his nose, looking at Ghost.

After which you spent more time working on a harness and a better string attachment for the tail fin.

When rushed through the woods up ran into Ghost, throwing his axe into different trees, training his aim.

He raised his axe, pausing when he saw you. You two looked at each other, and then you rushed off. You couldn't let him see Toothless.

When Ghost turned to follow after you, you had somehow already disappeared.

Fuck!

You began to work on the positions of your contraption with Toothless. Strapping him to a tree stump so you could write down the number of each foot turn.

Able to move your heel and shift the position of the tailfin through the rope.

“Position one.” You shifted the lever, writing it down on your little piece of paper. “And position two.” He shifts it, Toothless' wings catching air and the rope snapped.

“Gah!” You gasped as you were thrown back to the ground.

Toothless groaned and rolled over, pulling you up by the waist, the waist retainer stuck to the clip of Toothless' saddle.

“Oh brother…”

Forced to drag Toothless back to the village while still tangled together, you snuck past a few guards and led him into the smithing shop.

You looked around for something to pry the hook open, Toothless shoving his nose in a basket. When he flicked it off, it hit one of the weapons on the wall, causing noise.

Ghost who was passing, heading back, begrudgingly home, heard it.

He walked over to the smithing window. “Y/n?? Are you in there??”

Both you and Toothless looked up. You quickly dropped what you were doing and pushed yourself out the smithing window, looking at him.

“Ghost- hi, Ghost. Hi, hi… hi Ghost.” You fumbled with the waist trainer. Toothless sniffing around and pulling you back against the doors.

Toothless looked around, spotting a sheep. The sheep spotted him, immediately rushing away.

“I normally don't care what people do but you're acting weird.”. Ghost points an accusatory finger. “Well, weirder.”

You huffed, stumbling back. The trainer lifted you off your feet. Ghost stared at you as the doors of the smithing window gave in and sucked you back. Ghost immediately rushed over and opened it, seeing the smelter empty.

You and Toothless sneaking away and flying off. That. Was. Way too close…

That day was the day your father arrived back. One of the boats with several holes in it and barely survived. Their search for a nest of dragons once again produced no fruit.

Gobber was there when Stoick arrived back. “Well, I trust you found the nest at least?”

“Not even close.” He growled, walking past with a fixed frown.

“Oh. Excellent.” Gobber said sarcastically, following Stoick.

“I hope you had a little more success than me.”

“Well, if by success, you mean that your parenting troubles are over with, then... yes.” He took a basket of supplies over his shoulder while he walked.

Various different Vikings congratulating Stoick on his kid actually becoming vikinglike. Can you imagine that eh?

“Their gone??” Stoick asked.

“Yeah... most afternoons. But who can blame them? I mean the life of a celebrity's very rough. They can barely walk through the village without being swarmed by his new fans.” Gobber replied.

“Y/n??”

“Who would have thought it eh? He has this… way with the beasts.”

Stoick’s eyes widened. Yes. What he'd been waiting for your entire life!

Off somewhere near the edge of the island, you were busy with Toothless. Having written up your complete cheat sheet, you secured the small paper with all of your positions to Toothless' saddle. Slowly gliding through the air.

“Alright bud we're gonna take this nice and slow” You looked over the sheet. “Here we go, here we go. Position…”

“Three. No… four.” You looked down at the foot pedal and positioned it, the tail fin opening. Toothless looked down at it, wiggling his head and getting used to it.

The gentle glide turned into a slow fly, Toothless guiding with your help through the winds, his wings catching air flawlessly.

Toothless flew you up into the air, passing some clouds. You held on, looking back at the tail fin. “Alright. It's go time, it's go time.”

Toothless roared and dove down toward the sea stacks littering around the island ocean.

“Come on buddy! Come on buddy!” You encourage. You held onto the saddle tightly when Toothless flew down over the water, the waves lapping up to touch his belly as you went by.

You looked up as you passed through two connected sea stacks, watching the birds startle and fly off. “Yes, it worked!”

The tail was holding up so far.

You flew up away from the water, attempting to make a turn and throwing Toothless into a sea stack. He growled and flapped violently. “Sorry!” You winced.

Barely recovering you saw another stack, attempting to pull him up sharply and hitting another. He growled again. “It was my fault.” You cringed.

He hit you with his ear. “Yeah yeah, I'm on it. Position four- uh, three.” You shifted the foot pedal and took off into the sky. Soaring up over the sea stacks and into the fluffy clouds.

“Yeah!! Aw this is nice. The wind in my -” the paper attached to the saddle flew off and into the wind. “Cheat sheet!” You reached back to try and grab it.

“Stop!!”

Toothless flapped his wings, halting as best he could, sending you forward. The hook on the waist belt and the saddle came off.

“No!!” Toothless saw you and panicked, falling back and scrambled. “No!! Oh no!!” You yelled as you fell and spiraled in the sky down toward the sea.

Toothless roared when he saw you falling faster than him. “Oh, gods! Oh, no!!” You cried your lungs out.

“Alright! You gotta kind angle yourself!” You flipped onto your back, trying to help Toothless. “Okay, no, no, no... come back down towards me! Come back down-- YOW!” Toothless’ tail smacked you as you fell.

You flipped onto your front, reaching out to grab the hook on the saddle, just out of reach.

Toothless wailed and cried when you finally grabbed it, managing to pull yourself on. Reattaching and gripping the saddle, angled downward.

The cheat sheet hit you in the face and you grabbed it, putting it between your teeth. You zoomed straight toward a downward plain of trees, trying to pull Toothless back up.

He roared and whined, zooming down at an angle over the trees, his wings catching wind. As you zoomed down to the bottom you pulled the cheat sheet again. With all the wind you couldn't read anything on it.

Looking between the sheet and some sea stacks, you tossed the sheet,grabbing the saddle and readjusting the foot pedal.

Toothless roared and zoomed to the side, making the corner before you could hit the stones.

You zoomed through the various passages, shifting the foot pedal again through the fog. Coming shooting out the other side into the clear open air.

You panted, blood pumping with adrenaline. “Yeah!!” You raised your arms. Toothless smiled and shit a blast into the air, ruining your celebration. “Come on…”

You were pummeled into the fire, pushing your hair back and covering your clothes in specs of dirt and char.

You flew with Toothless some more, your adventure leading you back to a sea stack, there you got some fish and made a small fire.

Toothless laid down, retching up one of his fish heads while you leaned back against him, cooking your own dinner over the fire.

“Uh, no thanks, I'm good.” You refused the fish head.

Some small dragons spotted you and flew over to your little set up. Those tiny Terrible Terrors. Toothless growled, protecting his fish as they came over, snapping at one.

You watched as one of them grabbed the head of the fish Toothless had belched up and shot at another dragon who tried to take it.

Toothless watches unimpressed, when his food started moving. One of the dragon's trying to sneak a fish from his pile. Toothless growled, grabbing the fish in his teeth and pulling it back.

The Terror whined, causing toothless to bellow a low laugh.

The Terror squeaked and stood up, snapping at Toothless.

You looked between the two as it stood up on its back legs and inhaled. Before it could do anything Toothless shot a small blast at it, inflating it and it puffed out smoke, whining.

You chuckled. “Not so fireproof on the inside are ya?” You tossed one of your fish. “Here ya go.” It scuttled over and wolfed it down quickly.

Licking its eyeball and cautiously wandering over to you. It whines, curling up beside you, purring softly.

“Everything we know about you guys… It's wrong.”

Unfortunately it won't let me post this much so to read the rest of it please see the reblog I did for the rest of the post. ❤

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lavendertales · 2 years

Note

Hello! May I request a thing where after the 5th episode Joel gives Ellie a hug and meets up with Reader! After? Idk plenty of angst and hurt/comfort for both Ellie and Joel like first maybe Reader sees Ellie and Joel hugging then come back into a safe house. Then Joel starts to open up with Reader. Idk do whatever you think would be lovely thank you ❤️ I love your writing!

God this episode ruined me😭

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED EPISODE 5!!!

We go down together || Joel Miller x gn!reader

summary: after the motel incident, you find that both Ellie and Joel are completely shaken up, so you tell them to take a break.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst, mentions/talk of death & loss. fluff sprinkled in there too.

gif: @tomshiddles

It all happened too fast; in the blink of an eye, you watched Joel and Ellie lose two good friends because of a freak accident. A freak show, really. It was no one's fault; but you knew that both would take the blame upon themselves, let guilt swallow them whole.

Even so, you planned to do anything possible to ease their pain and conscience alike.

The three of you left the room Henry and Sam lied dead in, carrying their bodies outside as you began their burial. It was silent; a silence that allowed for dark thought to swarm in and take you by storm. You didn't fight it though. You figured a moment or two of silence is more than welcome in this situation.

Ellie walked towards where Sam had been buried and placed his writing pad atop of it, with the words I'M SORRY written over it. You held your breath, resisting the urge to cry. You knew she took his death harder, having grown closer to him and treated him like a little brother.

She walked away, leaving you and Joel in complete silence to gaze at the graves. Joel remained his usual stoic self, though you could see on his face that he was pretty shaken up by the event, too. Both Henry and Sam's demise was tragic, but the speed with which it all happened and the deep love than ran between the two brothers who could not live without the other was beyond touching; hence why it made everything seem so much more shocking and painful.

"Which way is west?"

Ellie was asking Joel. You watched them closely, and when Joel pointed to his left, Ellie started walking in that direction, never once looking back. You timidly gazed over at Joel, and when your eyes met, you saw sadness in them. He may have been hardened by the harsh reality, but Joel still had care and love left in his heart. He was simply reluctant to show it.

"Go," you muttered to him. "Go after her."

He stared at you, as if not understanding what you were telling him. You placed your hand on his arm, gently, and Joel drew in a sharp breath to steady himself.

"I'll finish here," you told him.

He nodded, handing you the shovel and following Ellie. He may not have been good with words, but currently there was a kid around him that was in tremendous pain, and Joel surely knew how to handle that. It may have been a long time, but his parenting instincts were still buried within him.

You placed some stones around the graves to mark them, then carved an H and an S out of the soil. The more you stared at the I'M SORRY pad, the more you crumbled yourself. Henry and Sam were going to go to Wyoming with the three of you. They were free of Kathleen's revenge hunt. They could've started a whole new life there.

Now it was all gone.

You peeped in the distance and saw Ellie nodding, then, a few seconds later, headed into Joel's arms. And Joel actually hugged her: it was a genuine, real hug. Arms around her, head resting on hers and everything. You thought how long had it been since he last hugged someone. Was it his daughter, as she died in his arms and he clung onto her lifeless body?

The thought sent shivers down your spine. You didn't know that much about Joel or his past, but he did manage to tell you about his daughter one late night. Your heart broke for him, thinking how awful these last two decades must've been for him.

But now, with Ellie... you saw the way he looked after her. You saw a little spark in his eyes whenever she told bad jokes to make him laugh. You didn't ask him much of anything, to be honest. You chose to respect his privacy. After all, it's not like you were a couple or anything. You were just... there. A traveling companion, nothing more.

But you did care for him. And for Ellie. And that could get you in trouble eventually.

You heard Ellie's wail, and came to realize she was crying in Joel's arms. Unable to take it, you walked towards them and gently put your your hand over Joel's, which was cradling her head at his chest.

"How about we stay here for another day?" you proposed.

Ellie looked up, her eyes and cheeks reddened by the tears she let out. You looked mostly at her.

"Don't think that's a good idea," Joel said cautiously.

Then you looked at him. "We pick a different room, opposite of... that one. We're not in a rush, right? There's no one here. I think we can afford one day of mourning and just... being present. Hm? What do you think?"

Joel had to admit, it was a bit hard to snap out of this one. Normally he'd walk right away from a distressing death, but Henry's and Sam's was downright traumatizing, especially to Ellie. Maybe spending today in each other's company was just what you all needed.

"Would that be okay, Ellie?" you asked her.

Sniffling, Ellie nodded in agreement, breaking free from Joel's touch. He quickly clenched his fingers, flexing them as if trying to get rid of something, but you didn't mention that.

Maybe this was the first time he hugged someone in a very long time.

"How about you go pick a room and we'll be right there?" you asked Ellie again.

She started walking towards the motel, leaving you and Joel behind to gaze at her. She was a special kid, that much you could both agree upon. Only when you heard Joel's exhale did you turn to him, noticing the hardened and pained expression residing on his face.

"Thank you," he told you.

"For what?"

"For... bein' here. Means a lot. And... for taking care of Ellie. She could probably use someone more experienced to take care of her."

You made a funny face at him, like you couldn't believe what he just said.

"You remember what Henry told you, back in the tunnel?" you said. "'You may not be her father, but you were someone's'? You got all the right instincts and skills to do this, Joel."

He shook his head, deep in thought. "She's not my kid. And I sure as hell ain't her dad."

"I know. But sometimes caring for someone and protecting them runs deeper than blood."

Joel looked at you, analyzing your face as if he was about to say something else. He didn't; he merely looked at you, his face softening in the slightest.

"I see the way you look at her," you told him. "And I know you said she's just cargo—"

"She ain't so bad. Weird, but... not so bad."

You smiled faintly, and even Joel seemed to chuckle at his own words.

"The bad jokes remind me of Sarah," he said out of the blue.

You held still, almost holding your breath as well. It was rare to see Joel Miller talking openly about himself, if ever, so you didn't want to startle him in any way.

"She told bad jokes too?" you asked.

Joel chuckled, a more hearty sound this time. "Sometimes. Most of the time she was just sassy. And hella feisty. Like a forty year old in a kid's body."

You chuckled too, momentarily forgetting the troublesome morning you've had so far.

"They would've gotten along, I think," he continued mindlessly, staring off into the distance. "They would've been good friends."

There was nothing you could add to that. All you did was listen to him and breathe into the air, trying to calm your heart and your mind alike.

"We should go," you said after a little while.

Joel swung Henry's backpack around his shoulder when he noticed you standing still in spite of your words.

"Joel?"

He looked at you, waiting for a follow-up. He didn't expect to see you inch closer and wrap your arms around him, thus pulling him in for a hug. It was the second time that day that he felt another human's embrace after what felt like an eternity, and it was... good. It was warm. You were warm.

He found himself reciprocating, wrapping his own arms around your torso to keep you close. Neither of you was sure how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough to have Ellie peek from the motel room and see you two embracing in the field. She was going to rush you, ask you what was taking so long, but instead, she remained quiet and stared at you and Joel finally pulling away from each other and sharing an unsuspecting glance at the other.

Well. Unsuspecting for you two, blind fools. But even in the midst of all the pain and sorrow, Ellie saw. She knew. She could only hope that after today, maybe soon, you and Joel will start seeing it, too.

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quitealotofsodapop · 9 months

Text

Hey Mac, we thought you were dead;

Sequel to this post on Macaque being back in the "Century Stone Egg Au".

After the pregnant Monkey King breaks his shock, he'd run to embrace Macaque, even if he'd just been super close to clawing his eye out (again) and that they're last meeting was a huge fight. He only holds back because he's honestly a little scared/worried how and why Macaque is there. Wukong is immediately trying to apolgise for his violent reaction, but Macaque just laughes out; "Nah, it's my fault. Should've asked first." It's only with the shadow monkeys' breathy, almost *fond* laughter that Wukong realises that Mac is truly there for peace. Mac's interaction with PIF further confirms this.

The reincarnation gang + the dragon couple are super sketched out though. Pigsy is the one to loudly ask "How do you know it's him and not some weird copycat?", mostly cus he's legit worried for Wukong in this moment. Somebody's dead partner don't just show up one day!

Wukong responds with his Gold Vision + its hard to fake the way Mac smells. The gang still refuse to leave the two alone together until they recieve a decent explaination.

The fact that Macaque literally looks like he crawled out of the grave quickly gives everybody a bad feeling, and they def force Mac to sit down and explain how tf he came back to life before he's even allowed smell Wukong.

Macaque: "I may have agreed to do something... kinda stupid in hindsight." Wukong, : "Mac... look at me. What did you do?" Macaque: "...ok don't be mad." Wukong: "I'm preemptively seething." Macaque: "I accepted a deal from the White Bone Spirit." Wukong: "I'M FURIOUS!!!" *starts throwing whatever's closest at Mac* Macaque, dodges a pillow: "Pfff! Calm down, it's not like I'm actually gonna do it! She brought me back to life to release her from a tomb or something and I chucked the key away the second I got back." The whole Room: "..." Wukong: "Mihou... thats the stupidiest thing you could have done!" *summons hair clones to throw stuff at Mac* Macaque, now failing to dodge fruit: "OW! Why are you upset!? We both know nothing good will come of letting that demon free!" PIF: "Mihou, if this Bone Demon was able to bring you back from the dead, then she has the power to track you down and recind her offer." Macaque: "...so you're saying that I have to fufill her deal, or I might get dragged back to Diyu?" Wukong and PIF, at the same time: "YES!!!" Macaque: "Shit." The Whole Room: *covering Red and Mei's ears* "LANGUAGE!!" Tang: "You should work on that before the baby gets here.

Oh you better believe Mac's in the doghouse until they can figure out how to resolve the LBD business deal. PIF calls up her lawyer to go over the exact terms and conditions.

Fire Star: "Ok, I've got good news and bad news." Macaque: "Bad news first." Fire Star: "The Lady Bone Demon's geas is airtight. You will have to open her tomb *slash* free her spirit in order to keep your place in this mortal realm - less you be recalled at a later date for a task of similar value or until she makes you redundant." Pigsy: "Translate for the non-lawyers please." Fire Star: "Either he does it, or she makes him do it, or she just takes his soul." Macaque: "Shit." Wukong & PIF: *glaring daggers at Mac* Macaque: "So what's the good news?" Fire Star, slyly: "Those are the only conditions to the geas. There's a reason you need lawyers for these kind of things nowadays. She didn't stipulate say... where to release her. Or whom would be present to greet her when her tomb opens." Everyone: *shares similar delighted/scheming looks* (*a few hours + a few calls to a worried Nezha later*) Macaque: *unlocks LBD's tomb* LBD: "Freedom! Freedom! Fr-" All of Wukong's allies in the Heavenly Army + Diyu officials:

LBD: "Oh bother."

As the Bone Demon gets carted away for conspiracy to destroy the world, she gets yelled at by all of the Underworld/Diyu officials that now have to deal with the fallout of her actions.

King Yama: "Do you understand how much paperwork I have to do to mark this monkey as alive!? He doesn't have a death date! It's been blotted out! I'll be correcting his files for months!!" Macaque: *high fives Fire Star for the solid lawyer-ing*

As far as Hell/Diyu is concerned, Macaque performed a service and was paid upfront. They don't want the headache of trying to take him back if his mate (someone who's trashed Hell before) wants to keep him.

Wukong is still super-mad at Mac for a variety of reasons, don't get hom wrong. But he's atleast glad in the moment to have his mate back. And glad that LBD is gone for the forseeable future.

#century stone egg au #stone egg talk #pregnancy tw #shadowpeach #sun wukong #liu er mihou #six eared macaque #lmk pif #lmk princess iron fan #lmk pigsy #lmk lbd #lmk s3 spoilers #lmk #lego monkie kid

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skyfallslayer · 1 year

Text

A Stitch In Time || Prologue

-Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader-

Series Masterlist

° Series Summary: A Time Heist mission goes wrong, and some of the Avengers end up in the 1950s. Desperately clinging to their lives, they wind up in a place subconsciously. And unfortunately for Steve, and especially to Bucky, they find themselves face to face with someone they wish not to see.

° Chapter Summary: Worried about how his mission may go, Bucky visits a ‘touchy’ place, and recalls the short life he had with you.

° Date: 7/20

° Rating: Teen

° Word Count: 4,569

° Warning: Talks about death/dying; Reference to Suicide; Guilt; Child Abandonment; Talks of Fertility Issues; Alcohol; Allusions to Depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

° A/N: The only excuse I have for taking so long to get this out is because I had an expected mental health break. One that was needed. But I'm back! And I'm slowly updating some of my other stories! So be on the look out for those! Also, let me know if I missed any warnings! Enjoy!

The freshly wetted grass squished underneath his boots with each and every step. His shoulders were slacked, but his wrists were tense as he held the delicate bouquet with both of his hands. He was always nervous to be here, even though he’s done it so many times after finding it, the nervousness never went away. The nausea never stopped too… or the guilt… the fear… the sadness. Nothing ever stopped like he so desperately wanted to. Was this a curse he was stuck with for helping to bring another child into this cruel world?

He reaches the end of his line, just a few short inches away from where his toes could touch the stone; The stone etched with words and numbers that made his heart ache. And when his knees felt weak he lowered himself to the ground, sitting back on his heels. With a bittersweet expression on his features, he removes the old lilies and replaces them with your favorite, pearly white ones. The ones you always smelled like when you came back from playing in the park. Who knew he would miss such a fragrance?

He takes a deep inhale through his nose, and exhales quietly, gathering his thoughts. “Hey, baby girl. It’s been some… time since I’ve visited. I honestly thought I should wait until your half birthday, but…” He trails off, frowning. “But uh, I’m heading off on another mission tomorrow, a… potentially dangerous one.” He chuckles dryly. “You know the deal with those.”

He pauses like he’s waiting for your answer he knows he won’t get, letting the hot summer wind touch his face and through his chocolate locks. He waited for that as his cue to continue on.

“Uh… so…”

It hurts to even think about it.

“I was just…”

Should he even say it?

“Wondering again if it goes south I can…”

Should he repeat what he always says to your grave?

“Be next to you?”

Another pause, this time it felt more painful. It always hurts to be here. It always hurts to say those words because it wasn’t like he had a death wish, it wasn’t like he was afraid of death, he just… didn’t know if he deserved to be next to you. You were his whole world and he fucked it up. Fucked it up so bad that it makes him more anxious to want to hold you, and hug you, and kiss you, and just talk to you. He loves you.

He’s loved you since the very beginning.

Bucky would have fallen back in shock if it wasn’t for the small bundle in his arms. His ex-girlfriend had just said some words that he didn’t need to hear right now. Couldn’t even comprehend it.

No, it wasn’t, ‘Can we get back together? I made a mistake’.

No, It wasn’t, ‘The baby isn’t yours’.

No it was–

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asked, disbelief etched in his words. There was also an underlying sense of anger and betrayal, because–

She couldn’t be serious...

Right?

He watched the woman standing in front of him roll her eyes, snatching her purse from his living room’s couch while responding, “I don’t want her. I only had her because you wanted to keep the baby after finding out I was pregnant.”

He nearly doubled over when he heard the disgust in her voice. “So you’re just going to leave?” Bucky asked, seeing his ex now putting on her winter coat. “But our daughter needs a mother figu–”

“YOUR daughter.” His ex snapped, poison on her tongue. “That baby–” She points furiously. “That baby is a spitting image of you. All the way from the shape of her face to the way she smiles. Everything. Which is fine by me, I don’t want someone looking like me out in the world.”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak as he followed her behind as she walked towards the front door. Unfortunately, she beats him to it. “As for a mother figure, you’ve got three sisters and a mom. That baby can pick up skills from them.”

She swings the door open, letting in the cold breeze of February. Snowflakes flew in, sticking to her clothes and curly hair. Bucky immediately stood sideways and drew you as far away as he could from the freezing air.

(Was she trying to freeze you?!)

“Dottie!” He called out from the doorway, stopping her on the porch.

She wasn’t even going to look back at him, wasn’t she? Or even look at you? Did she truly not feel anything?

He doesn’t know why but his voice cracked, and although he and his ex’s relationship was always rocky, and they both knew that whatever was between them wasn’t going to work out, he still doesn’t want her to leave him alone with a one week old.

“Come on…” He continued, quietly. “At least stay for a couple months until I can do this on my own.” His lower lip quivered slightly. “Please?”

He felt you shift a bit in his arms, probably from the weather, and waited for her to turn around…

But she never did.

“Goodbye, James.” Dottie said, before trailing across the snow covered path to the sidewalk.

Bucky watches her disappear into the night, his feet glued to the floor even when part of his mind told him to run after her. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t want to go after her, thinking that maybe she’ll change her mind if actually begs, but the mere thought went out the door when you started to get fussy and cry.

Something deep within him kicked in, probably that parental instincts he’s heard about from his own parents, and all his attention was turned to you cradled in a lilac colored blanket.

“Hey…” He whispered, readjust his hold so that he could gently brush their–

No.

That’s officially gone out the window.

It’s just his daughter. His.

He readjust his hold so that he could gently brush HIS daughter’s cheek. To brush your cheek like a soft paint brush across a canvas. “Hey. Don’t cry.” He says, soothingly.

He makes a soft shushing sound as he closes the front door with his hip, before carefully guiding himself to sit near the fireplace. He lays you cautiously in his lap, almost in awe as he sees your eyes peeking open for the first time.

(Y/E/C) eyes.

So beautiful like the world itself. He almost wanted to start taking pictures.

Maybe later though.

He chuckles sadly, tears in his own as he brushes your cheeks again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I got you.” He said, smiling down. “I got you, baby girl.”

You cooed quietly, staring back at him with a bit of curiosity. The look you were giving him melted his heart, but it also made him feel like he didn’t deserve any of this.

“I’m sorry…” He croaks, sniffling. “It looks like it’s just going to be me and you, doll. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

You made the cute sounds that took his breath away again, taking up his whole surroundings. However, if it wasn’t for his military training, he probably wouldn’t have even heard someone tumbling down the stairs. Bucky glances at the living room entrance, finding a certain skinny blond that he called his best friend. He saw his chest move slightly, and could almost hear him panting from here.

“S-Sorry.” Steve exhales, leaning against the door frame. “Your mom sent me down here when we heard everything go quiet.”

Bucky smiled a little. “She got worried?”

Steve copies him with a chuckle. “Yeah. She wanted to make sure you hadn’t run off with her grandchild.”

The brunette shakes his head. “That sounds like my mother.” He turns his attention back on you, but from the corner of his eye he could see his friend shifting uncomfortably, almost hesitantly, in his spot. His smile grows. “Come here.”

“What?” The blond said, genuinely confused.

“Come here, Steve. You can see her.”

He stiffens up a bit, looking unsure. “H-Her… A-Are you… are you sure?” Steve asked, pointing towards the stairs in the hallway. “I-I shouldn’t be the one seeing your baby first. Shouldn’t I–”

“Get your ass over here, Rogers.” Bucky said, almost wishing he could free his hand up and drag him by the ear (he was always so timid and too cautious sometimes).

Not even daring to question his best friend’s wish, Steve wandered over and took a seat on the couch next to Bucky. He leans in close, examining the small bundle in the soldier’s arms.

Steve’s big blue eyes lit up with joy. “Wow, Buck. She’s adorable.” He said, as you scrunch up your nose to show off your cute, chubby cheeks.

“She is.” Bucky said, fighting back the stinging sensation in his eyes again. He now wonders…

(Is this what it's going to feel like all the time now?)

After a moment of silence, Bucky threw his friend through another loop. “Wanna hold her?”

Steve held his hands up in defense almost immediately after those words left his tongue. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”

“I trust you.” Bucky holds you out a little, a reassuring look on his face.

Steve raises a cautious eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Bucky laughs. “I’ll show you.”

Bucky then takes his time showing Steve how to hold you, giving him pointers and readjusting everyone once and awhile until he has you in a good position. The blond’s nerves seemed to vanish into thin air when he started to see that you were looking at him with the same curious eyes you made at your father. Those eyes of yours could melt anyone’s hard shells at this point.

Steve chuckles, and grins as he gets butterflies in his stomach from you. “What’s her name?” He asks, sparing a glance at your dad for a split second. “Did Dottie ever give her one?”

Bucky shakes his head sadly. “No.” He said, his voice feeling rather small at the moment. “No she didn’t. I’m tasked with giving her one.”

“Have you thought of any? I know you were looking through some books a few weeks back.”

“I have and I think…” He takes another good look at you, making sure the name was the right choice. “I was thinking… (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” The blond repeats back, testing it out like an echo chamber for his friend who nodded back.

“Yeah. (Y/N).” Bucky tests it out his lips as other names start to form. “(Y/N)... Stevie Barnes.”

He looks up in surprise. “Stevie?” Steve asks in disbelief again.

Bucky smiles. “Well, I heard Stevie is the girl version of Steve, so…”

“But…” His blue eyes look away again, looking completely torn.

Your father raises an eyebrow over this. “But what?”

“You’re flattering me way too much, Bucky.”

“Am I?” Bucky asked, tilting his head, slightly puzzled.

“Y-Yes!” Steve said, shaking his head. “Y-You can’t– You shouldn’t name your kid after me.”

Now it was his turn to be even more confused. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m– y-you have sisters! Parents. Y-You should name her after them. Not me.”

“But, Steve, you’re my brother. Besides…” Bucky shifted in his seat, knowing what he’ll say next is touchy. “I know… the doctor said you might not be able to have kids so… think of this as me… giving you a small piece of that.”

Silence befell, the subject was something that really hurt Steve when he heard it the first time; Hell, it even hurt his mother who was present at the time. It kind of haunted him for a while because what could he offer to a person who wanted to share his life?

Steve stares at him for a while before tearing up, laughing quietly and looking away. “Jesus, Bucky. You’re making me cry.”

A chuckle. “Well don’t, ‘cause I’ll start crying again.” Bucky says, making them belly laugh.

The blond sniffles and tests the name out on his own. “(Y/N) Stevie Barnes.” He looks back down at you, his smile returning fully. “Not bad, Buck.”

Your father looked at him teasingly. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Steven?”

“Nothing.” Steve replies, holding back another laugh as he watches you start to drift back to sleep. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

“Thanks.”

A few moments more passed before you were carefully placed back in your father’s arms, where all he did was stare back at you as you pulled yourself to sleep. His happy face started to falter, and there was a heavy amount of doubt in his ocean blue orbs.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Steve.” He finally admits before swallowing the lump in his throat. He soon felt his friend’s hand on his leg, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Bucky. You’ve got your family and you’ve got me.” Steve said, honestly. “And you know this. However, don’t doubt yourself, you got this. You’re going to be a great dad.”

Bucky’s lip curled up a bit, not caring that he was about to cry again. “Steve Rogers. The man who always knows what to say.”

“What can I say? I try.” He asked, coping with his expression.

“And you think I’ll be great? Even with me being a soldier and everything else that comes with it?” Your father asked, doubt was still just lingering on the surface no matter what he did.

Steve gives another gentle squeeze. “I know you’ll be great. I know you’ll do anything to make sure she’ll be okay. So don’t worry too much, okay? (Y/N)’s going to be lucky she has you.”

Bucky hums, truly grateful for a friend like him.

And without an ounce of hesitation, he bends down slowly and kisses your sleeping forehead.

“I already loved you so much, (Y/N). I hope you realize that.” He whispers, lovingly. “And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

He swears at that moment he saw you smile.

Bucky brushed his flesh fingers against the words in the stone, tracing your name and important dates. February 23rd, 1936. A snowy, snowy day. Cool and crisp. Although he had to wait and wait until you were a week old to hold you, a week old to realize he was on his own, a week to realize that he truly loved you. No upcoming birthday surprises could top this one. But if he loved you so much then…

Why were you cursed to be underground?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When Bucky got back home to his apartment, he found himself subconsciously grabbing the bottle of scotch in his cabinet. Although he knew he couldn’t technically get drunk, the feeling he got after a couple glasses was close enough. Sometimes… he liked the quietness in his home, the time to relax, untouched and left alone to be himself; But most of the time, after so many years of being alone in his head, he loathes being alone. Friends and family were everything to him growing up. You were everything to him growing up.

He still wonders what it would be like if you were here, running around, asking him twenty questions, painting his toes, etcetera. He always wondered what you were like when you got older, the side of you he never got to see. He always wondered what those short years did for you.

Why did he have to get taken from you so soon?

You dove around your grandparents and aunts’ legs as you made your way out of the house, ignoring how your father’s duffle bag, that subconsciously you hated, was laying on the porch steps. You stumble around a bit on your five year old legs, before finding the person you wanted to see.

“Uncle Steve!!!” You yelled, throwing your arms up.

“Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, teasingly. He wastes no time to scoop you up, and carefully holds you close to him (it’s been years and he’s still afraid he’ll drop you). “Have you gotten smaller?”

You scrunched up your nose at him, shaking your head. “No.” You giggled at the silly nickname, and it all was because you were pocket size.

“No?” Steve said, tilting his head, all cocky. “Are you sure?”

You giggled again. “Yes.”

He grins. “Just checking.”

A sigh came from inside, before the two of you saw your father exiting his parents house, all dressed in his neatly ironed uniform. He looked miserable as he gazed at his bag on the porch.

“Ready?” Steve asked, readjusting his hold on you as he frowned himself.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky mumbled, not ready for what’s yet to come. However, when he faces you his whole expression changes for the better. “And there’s my little girl!”

“Papa!” You yelled, holding your arms out. He takes you in his arms, hugging you gently. “Are you leaving, Papa?”

“Oh, baby doll, I am.” He said, pulling back to look at you. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He taps your nose. “Okay?”

You nodded slowly and smiled. “Okay!”

“Good.” He gives you a big kiss on your head, before peppering your face with some more making you laugh. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

“I love you more.”

He gives you one more kiss and one more hug before transferring you over back to Steve. They both give each other a strong hug and pat on the back, smiling bittersweetly.

“Be safe, Bucky.” Steve said, trying to hide his concern.

“I will. You too. The both of you.” Bucky said, grabbing his bag and making sure his voice was stern.

“We will. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

He bid them goodbye, and you and Steve watched him walk down the path to the military jeep parked nearby. It was chilling almost to watch, and your five year old mind couldn’t quite comprehend the heavy feeling you felt underneath the surface.

“Uncle Steve?” You asked, prying his eyes away from the moving vehicle.

“Yeah?” He said, softly.

You looked at him all puzzled, something wasn’t adding up. “I thought you told me you were going with him?” You swear he mentioned something like that to you yesterday. Right?

His eyes look away from you, almost like he was recollecting himself before giving you his answer. “I am. But not yet.” He replies, honestly. His orbs finally meet yours again. “Not until I know you're okay.”

“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side with curiosity.

“Sure am.” He smiles once more. “Now, what do you want to do? You want to see what Grandpa and Grandma are doing?”

Your eyes light up at their names. “Yes!!!”

He laughs at your enthusiasm. “Okay, okay. Let’s go see them.”

Bucky throws a bottle of scotch across the room, shattering somewhere. He didn’t care though. It’s not like he even batted an eye.

Five years old.

That was it.

That’s the last time he ever saw you.

And that hurt like a bitch.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He doesn’t know when…

But everything suddenly just…

Clicked.

Memories of his flooded in like a broken dam. He starts to recall who he was before and after the fall. Before and after the war. Before and after everything. So as he made his way to Siberia with his friend, Steve, he remembers something that was like a knife to his heart.

“I have a daughter.” Bucky said abruptly, cutting Steve off.

When he was on the run after the helicarriers fell, he remembers his time growing up in the early 1900s. The (multiple) times he saved his best friend’s ass from being picked on, or the way he took his younger siblings to the park, or helping his mother bake, or fixing the car with his dad. But there were a few memories he was confused by for a long time.

First he only heard little laughs, or someone trying to sing a child’s song. Then he saw little toys and dresses. Then he saw a little face with big, wondrous eyes. It didn’t take him long to realize who she was.

He met with his friend’s eyes quickly, almost getting choked up by an emotion that had been under lock and key for so long. “...I have a daughter… don’t I?”

Steve, who seemed taken back by his sudden string of words, opens and closes his mouth a few times, before settling his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Yes, Bucky. You do.”

Bucky looked away, the confirmation sending his mind spiraling again, and the Captain could tell. He decides to approach this carefully since he knows his friend isn’t hundred percent in his right mind yet.

“Do you remember her?” Steve asked, watching him nod slowly. “What do you remember?”

Bucky thinks long and hard about this. What did he remember about you?

“Uh… I remember she was tiny… always tiny.” He chuckles quietly, making Steve smile. “She uh… had um… (Y/H/C) hair that was kind of wavy when she got older. Um… big, bright (Y/E/C) eyes. She… she um… smiled a lot… I think?”

“Yeah, she did Buck. All the time.” Steve said, patting his shoulder gently as he could see the joy it was bringing to his friend.

Bucky laughs again. “Uh… you used to call her by a weird nickname. What was it? Uh…” He purses his lips. “Po… Potato?”

Now it was the blond’s turn to laugh. “N-No. No. Close… Starts with a P, though.”

“Um…” His eyes light a spark. “Oh. Yeah. I remember now. We took her to her first Halloween pumpkin patch when I could hold in one hand because she was so tiny.”

“Yep. That’s what I called her.” He says with a nod. “Your Ma tried to dress her up like one.”

“Oh, yeah, she did.”

And then it got quiet, and Steve saw the bright light in his friend’s eyes go out when the wheels started to turn again. He held his breath, knowing what he was recalling next.

Bucky swayed on the balls of his feet a bit, looking at the floor. “She was five the last time I saw her.” He says, bittersweetly. “I remember, the night before, I took her to Coney Island, and we just played games and ate until our bellies ached. I got her a stuffed bear on the ring toss…”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort because he knew there was no stopping any memories of you.

“She was with you when I left. I gave her hugs, and kisses and…” His voice starts to break. “I love you’s…. Um…”

“Bucky–” Steve begins, hating how hurt he looked.

“Steve. W-Was that last time you saw h-her too?”

Steve closed his mouth, thinking to himself. He couldn’t lie. He was a terrible liar which the brunette always sees through. So what was the point of even trying?

Cap shakes his head. “No. I saw her when she was nine. ‘Bout to be nine.”

“N-Nine?” Bucky asked, just above a whisper. “W-Why?”

“Um…” He swallows. “I had to…. I had to tell your family about, you know… the train… and you.”

The Soldier went distant. “O-Oh…”

“I wanted to make sure I was the one to tell them.”

“Oh…” Bucky started to get teary eyed. “D-Did you tell her?"

Steve held his breath again. It was like his mind started to relive that day.

You looked so happy to see him, but he watched that expression vanish when you saw his sadden face. It hurts to take you by the hand and into your room. It hurts to see how you’ve grown, and to think he got to see it and not your dad made the situation a whole lot worse.

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was hurt.

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was still at war and won’t be home for a while.

He wanted to lie and say everything was going to be okay.

But he couldn’t, and felt like it was his duty to tell you what happened to your father, to his best friend.

He knew if the situation was reversed, Bucky would be doing the very same thing now.

And when he did tell you, he hated how you kept on denying it. You called him a liar, and god he wished he was.

“I-I did…” He said, feeling his eyes sting as well.

Bucky jaw clenches. “A-And?”

Steve looks away for a second. “She cried for three hours.”

“O-Oh…” Bucky looks away too. “I always h-hated when s-she cries.”

With his hand still on the brunette shoulder, he gave him another comforting squeeze. “She…” Cap chokes, his memories flooding in all at once. “S-She um… she gave me her blanket, the one that she came home with. She um, wanted me… to promise to come back to her. But um… I failed at that, I guess.”

Bucky frowns. “Steve–"

“I tried finding her, Buck.” He finally looks at him. “When I came out of the ice, SHIELD managed to give me some of my things from the war. I kept the blanket in my chest, so… I tried finding her, because I didn’t want to break that promise to (Y/N), but…”

“You didn’t find anything?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He whispers, exhaling shaky.

“Not exactly?” Bucky asked, wanting an answer. “What does that mean?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look all messed up. Especially since he couldn’t make eye contact again. He swallows a lump in his throat and says, “I’m so sorry, Bucky…”

“Sorry about what?” Bucky couldn’t understand what was happening and it was honestly starting to scare him. “What are you sorry about?”

“(Y/N)...” He sighs quietly, and forces himself to look in his best friend’s eyes. “Pneumonia. She, uh… got pneumonia in ‘54 and passed.”

Now the knife has dug deeper, chilling his bones too. “She’s dead?” He said, barely audible.

“Yeah. She’s dead.” The Captain replies, dispirit. “I found the spot where she’s buried. I can take you there if you–”

“Thank you, Steve.” The soldier says, ignoring the blond’s confused state. “I mean it. You were always so good to her, and to think you never stopped looking after all this time means A LOT to me. Do you understand? You helped my daughter when she was at her lowest, and you even found her for me. I thank you for that.”

Steve smiles bittersweetly. “No need to. I said I’ll always be there for the both of you.”

Bucky returns the gesture. “As will I.”

“Now, let’s finish this, shall we?”

“-Bucky.” Steve says, touching his shoulder and getting a small jolt from the man. Surprised eyes fell on him as he returned with concerned ones. “You ready?”

“Uh…” Bucky looked around quickly, remembering it was standing in the locker room changing. He didn’t even realize he had zoned out. “Y-Yeah.” He said, zipping up the front of his Quantum Suit. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Steve tilts his head, the worriedness never vanishing. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s get this mission completed.”

And those were the words that would change -everything-.

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@navs-bhat @liarasstuff @justmewoo @thed1v1n3

@luckyzipperscissorsbat @like-a-domino @kissesofdeadforme

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