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jupitercomet · 8 months

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summary - Jake broke your heart when he left you behind. All that remained of him were the memories of when you were in love—and the phone number he never picks up. Now he's back, ready to claim his title. And you think that that's all he wants, that he's completely forgotten about everything you were together, until he tries to fight for you too. But, this time, will you finally be worth more to him than the glory?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex and suggestive themes, my limited knowledge of boxing, no use of y/n, Jake is 6'5" because I said so

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.2k

okay, here's the start of under the hard deck: rewritten! obviously some parts of it are going to be the same, I don't plan on scrapping all the chapters I've written. it's just that some of the characterizations/pacing/plot points are going to be different. anyway I hope you enjoy (for the second time)! - bugs

one new voicemail masterlist

“Hey, Jake. It’s, um, it’s me again. I know I usually call later, but, I don’t know, today was just so long and I’m so tired and it’s only 6:00. I don’t even know what happened, it just feels like everything went wrong. A customer yelled at me this morning because his iced coffee had too many ice cubes in it— I mean who even cares about something like that? And then he refused to pay for his entire meal, even though I made him another coffee, because he was unhappy with the service and didn’t think he should have to pay for my mistakes, so Freddie got pissed and told me that if I messed up like that again, he’d fire me.

My feet were hurting the entire day too. I still wear those flats you always told me to just dump because they’re too small, and I think they really are too small now because my heels are covered in blisters. Luckily, one of the older waitresses—you remember Marlene, right? She had the big red hair that made you think she looked like Winnie from Hocus Pocus. Well anyway, she had some band-aids in her purse because my feet had started bleeding. I guess it’s probably time I got new shoes, but... But you got me these shoes—that’s why I kept them, I never told you that—and so if I throw them away—

Sorry, I’m not gonna cry. I’m still walking home, people will look at me weird. But it’s just been a really long day and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it and I just— I feel like such a failure, Jake. Nothing I do is good enough and I’m so sick of— God, sorry, I said I wouldn’t cry.

I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, I guess it’s comforting to imagine that you still care, but that’s not— You don’t have to, it’s not your job anymore so I won’t be mad if you don’t, I promise. My therapist said it’s good though. Talking about my feelings. Granted, I didn’t tell her it was through my ex boyfriend’s voicemail but, I don’t know, it helps I guess.

Anyway, I’ll stop bothering you, but say ‘hi’ to Harley for me and… And I— I hope you had a better day than me, that’s all.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise for tonight’s champ… JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN!”

The crowd is deafening, cheering at an eardrum bursting volume, and Jake craves it. The stark white lights above him, the men beneath him, still in their work clothes, trading money amongst themselves. Someone’s rubbing out his shoulders, attempting to tell him something over the noise of the crowd, but Jake’s not even trying to listen.

His opponent is, quite literally, on the ropes, leaning his entire weight on them as someone shines a flashlight in both his eyes. Jake smirks, licking the blood that dripped down from his nose onto his lips. The taste of rust fills his mouth and, though people are trying to usher him out of the ring, he waits. He watches as his opponent looks around the ring hazily, trying to piece together all the noises penetrating his ears through all the blunt force he’d taken to the head. Inevitably, the other boxer meets his eye, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his towering frame, and Jake’s face morphs into a bloody grin. His tongue traces his teeth cockily and he winks.

“Alright, showoff,” Javy shoves his shoulder, finally getting the blond to move. “You already won.”

Jake doesn’t say anything as they walk through the cheering crowd, letting his eyes rake over the ring girls who wave at him flirtatiously. One of the girls seems nervous, not meeting his eye with a deep blush on her face, and Jake smirks. He always did have a thing for the quiet ones.

“Keep walking, hotshot. I know what you’re thinking.” Javy’s voice is back near his ear and it’s clear the man is intent on making sure they both make a beeline straight for the locker room.

Ultimately, Jake’s not too hung up about it, he’d find another girl to pique his interest later in the night, but he never wastes an opportunity to tease his best friend. “No gloating or girls? You got a stick up your ass or somethin’, man?”

Javy scoffs, pushing him into the locker room with more force than necessary. “Please, if I had a stick up my ass, I’d never have put up with your narcissistic ass in the first place.”

“Ouch,” Jake grins, catching the water bottle Javy throws at him with, again, more force than necessary.

He takes a swig and Javy looks at him with crossed arms, contemplating for a moment, before finally letting out a sigh. Jake knows that look. The tongue tracing his molars. The slight tilt of his head and squint of his eyes. It’s Javy’s “I’m about to say something and I don’t know how you’ll take it” look. And, given that Javy can read Jake like a book, that look isn’t always common. He swallows another gulp of water, looking at Javy expectantly.

“Mav’s offering you a spot at the Hard Deck.”

Jake’s brows furrow, his lips stilling around the nozzle of his Gatorade water bottle, and he pulls it away from his mouth slowly. “What?”

“He wants you to come back,” Javy continues unsurely. “It’s a lot of money, dude.”

“What’s the catch?”

Javy shrugs. “Nothing that I can see. He’s offering a bigger cut of earnings, higher priority with fights. You’ve made a name here Jake, I’m not that surprised he wants you back.”

That was true enough. Since moving to Texas, Jake had reached a level of notoriety that was unattainable in California—not when he was competing with guys like Rooster and Razor just to get the time of day. It took him all of two months to make it big in Texas.

“What makes him think I’ll come back then?” Jake sits, dropping the gloves he was holding to the floor. “He knows how good I’ve made it here.”

“You and I both know the fighting scene’s bigger in Cali. I guess he thinks you’d make your way back there eventually. And that a guaranteed spot in the big leagues might incentivize you.”

Jake nods offhandedly, spurting more water into his mouth and ignoring the way his knuckles ache at the squeeze.

“You know as well as I do what this means, man.”

And Jake does. If Maverick’s reaching out to him, especially now, it could only mean one thing. He thinks Jake has a shot at winning a belt.

He purses his lips. “Did he say when he wanted an answer?”

Javy shakes his head.

The Hard Deck. It’s a good deal, Jake knows that. It’ll make winning a belt a very attainable goal, Jake knows that. If he were anyone else, it might be hard to just uproot his life and move to a different state so suddenly, but nothing was tying Jake down here. There wasn’t a single, logical reason Jake had to not accept Maverick’s offer.

He had some illogical reasons though.

Like the diner on Keller street he’d have to avoid if he ever goes out for lunch. Or the apartment complex he’d pass every day on his way to the gym. Or Charlotte’s—Jake had yet to find a restaurant on the entire West coast that could make better Chicken Alfredo. But he’d have to avoid Charlotte’s too. Those were reasons—as stupid as they are.

But they are stupid reasons, Jake reminds himself. Jake has never been one to tuck tail and run, especially when it comes to boxing. And why should he start now? Just because there’s a couple places that make him uncomfortable? Maverick was offering something big—something Jake has always wanted. Something Jake gave up everything for just to get.

“You don’t have to decide now—”

“Tell him I’ll do it.”

Javy’s mouth snaps closed and he looks at his friend. “Jake…”

“You said it yourself,” Jake shrugs, getting up to open his locker. “This could be my chance. I’d be a fucking moron not to take it.”

Javy still seems somewhat unconvinced, saying nothing as Jake speeds through his combination lock. It’s a bit of a stalemate between the two and Jake ignores the feelings of uncertainty creeping up his spine as he pulls a hoodie over his head. His obliques burn at the stretch and he winces.

“Alright,” Javy relents finally. “If this is what you wanna do, I’ll back you. But I’m giving it a day or two before I get back to Mav, in case you change your mind.”

Jake reaches for his bag, stuffing his gloves inside, before sliding on his sweatpants. “Sure, man. I’ll start house hunting. You wanna share a one bedroom or two?”

Javy laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, and gathers his own belongings, shouldering on a jacket.

“You’re dangerously impulsive, you know that?”

“I do. I like to think it’s one of my best qualities.” Jake grins, pivoting on his heel as he heads for the exit of the locker room. He can already taste the victory champagne on his tongue and he thinks that he has a few hours before he crashes. Maybe he could find that shy ring girl again.

“Hey.” Javy’s voice stops Jake, his hand freezing on the door, and he turns. Javy’s got that look again. “You gonna tell her you’re coming back?”

It’s silent for several seconds.

“...Who?”

Javy studies him for a moment, almost like he’s looking right through him, before shaking his head. “Never mind, man. Have a good night.”

Jake nods, pushing through the door of the locker room and out of the building, not stopping until he reaches his parked motorcycle. He secures his helmet with a heavy breath. Jake knows damn well who.

Without sparing it another thought—having to forcibly remove the memories from his brain—Jake starts up his motorcycle, revving the engine a few times before he pulls away from the empty looking warehouse that served as his arena for the night. The cool wind feels good against his aching muscles and Jake loses himself in the feeling of weaving in and out of traffic. It doesn’t take him long to find the club that everyone goes to after a fight—the party limos littering the curb are very telling. Jake finds a spot to park his bike quickly, pulling off his helmet as he takes in the line of people that’s almost wrapped around the building.

He’s hardly dressed for a night out, just in a pair of shorts and a hoodie. But Jake has found that people don’t really care what he’s dressed like when they all just watched him beat another man to a pulp. This belief is affirmed when the bouncer gives him one look before shooting him a nod and letting him skip the line into the club.

The bass of the music vibrates underneath Jake’s feet, making the words of the song almost unintelligible as he surveys the packed interior of the club. Scantily clad women sway seductively from poles lining a large stage in the middle of the room. They’re all dressed in various kinds of lingerie that Jake assumes is in line with the theme of the club. What theme Jake has no idea, but whatever it is, it certainly has men lining up, bills scattered across the floor of the stage.

A loud cheer interrupts his thoughts, a group of patrons lighting up upon seeing him. They’re already drunk, even though his fight just ended, but Jake doesn’t mind as he signals the bartender for a shot of his own. He likes it better this way.

He nods in acknowledgement when one of the guys praises him on his fight—”I’m gonna buy a fucking boat with all the money you won me!”—throwing back several shots in rapid succession. He knows Javy will be on his ass for it tomorrow, but he also knows Javy won’t be the least bit surprised when Jake comes in with a hangover. He may be impulsive, but it’s predictably so.

“Hey, handsome.” Sensual giggles draw Jake’s attention and he turns to find two women dressed in skimpy tank tops and frayed jean shorts standing in front of him.

One of them is holding a bottle of tequila and a shot of her own and the other is looking at him through long, mascara coated lashes. She bites her lip as if to hold in a smile, drawing Jake’s attention to the deep red painting them.

“Wanna take a body shot, champ?”

Jake grins.

The room’s too packed for the girl to lay on any sort of table, but she already seemed to have thought of that, plucking the shot from her friend’s hand and situating it between the valley of her breasts. She looks up at Jake with a challenging smile, but Jake can’t even count the amount of times he’s found himself in this exact position, so he’s hardly thrown.

Dropping to his knees, Jake meets her eye with a smirk, grabbing each side of her chest before pulling her down to his waiting lips. The liquor sloshes around in the shot glass, some landing on his chin when it finally falls into his waiting mouth. Before the girl can say something teasing, Jake’s standing up quickly, hand wrapping around the back of her neck as he confidently tilts her head up, holding her gaze for a second before spitting the tequila back through her parted lips.

She swallows it—her friend giggling manically behind her—blinking up at Jake in a dazed surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him swiftly. Jake’s hands fall to her hips, squeezing and kneading the skin as his lips chase hers. The taste of tequila is heavy on both of their tongues, only fueling Jake’s exploration of her mouth, and when he pulls away a string of saliva still connects them.

The woman’s chest is heaving, but Jake only wets his lips hungrily. “You ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”

And just like that, he finds himself pinning her up against his front door, keeping her thighs wrapped around his hips despite the fact that every one of his muscles ache. He fumbles with the key, swinging the door open and closing it with his foot quickly. The twinkling of dog tags make a brief appearance in his ears as he carries the woman into his living room—still exploring her mouth with his own—but Jake loses track of them as he takes her up the stairs.

Their clothes litter the floor, leaving a trail of a hoodie, shorts, and a tight tank top and denim shorts combination that Jake was more than happy to take off all the way to his bedroom. He keeps his eyes closed as his fingers make quick work of her bra, moving down to bite and suck the delicate skin of her neck. His fingers fumble when she lets out a loud noise of pleasure, not expecting the volume when he’s so used to—

Her hands fist in his hair, dragging Jake back to her waiting lips as he lays her down on his bed. “You gonna fuck me, Hangman?” She breathes against his mouth. It’s supposed to be sexy, Jake knows it’s supposed to be sexy. She’s hot, and she wants him, and he took her home. She wants him to fuck her.

So Jake does.

It’s enjoyable enough. He is genuinely attracted to her physically and she was more than happy to pleasure him anyway he asked. She got him off, and she didn’t care that he hid his head in the crook of her neck the whole time, or that he could only seem to call her “angel”.

Jake cranes his neck to check that she’s still asleep. She is, body stretched out on his bed as she bunches up most of his duvet under her arm. Her cheek is squished against the pillow, flakes of mascara dusting her cheeks. Jake watches her for another moment before getting up slowly. He grabs his phone from the nightstand, sliding on a pair of sweatpants quietly before sneaking out of the room without another glance.

Harley’s laying on the couch when he pads into the living room—something the doberman knows he isn’t allowed to do—but Jake just scratches him behind the ears as he sits down next to him, too tired to reprimand him.

“Hey, buddy.” Remote in hand, Jake flicks through channels, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He turns to the dog. “You wanna watch F1?”

Harley lets out a breath through his nose, resting his head on his paws, and Jake takes that as a “yes”. The two sit in silence, watching the cars race around the track as British commentators talk about tire quality and team tensions and other things Jake currently doesn’t have the energy to pay attention to.

Normally, he does. But after an hour too many at the club and a couple rounds in the sheets with a woman whose name he still hasn’t learned, Jake can only rub at his eyes tiredly, focusing on the brightly colored screen before him through slow, tired blinks.

“What do you think about going back to California, Harley?”

The dog perks up slightly at the sound of his name, moving just his eyes to look at Jake, and his tail thumps briefly against the couch cushion.

“Yeah?” Jake chuckles, scratching Harley’s head again. “Me too.”

A tire screech sounds through the speakers of his TV set up and he turns the volume down slightly, holding his breath to hear if there’s any stirring coming from the upstairs bedroom. Maybe he should have gone for Shark Week instead.

Jake knows he should get up, ice a few things, maybe have a bite to eat, go back to that pretty brunette in his bed. But he doesn’t quite feel up to it yet. One of the cars collides with a barrier, the crackling voice of the driver almost unintelligible through the broadcast. He could just sleep on the couch maybe, though his back would pay for it tomorrow and it would only leave questions with the woman he brought home. A car slows at the pit stop and the pit crew move like lightning to switch the tires. He could… Well, he could—

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck it,” he breathes, already reaching for his phone in his sweatpants pocket.

His fingers fumble with the passcode and he scrolls through his apps quickly. The F1 he’d put on is forgotten, serving as white noise instead. Not even Harley is paying attention to it—the dog opting to snooze lightly instead. Jake knows that he should ice his side, that he should turn the TV off, and go back to the woman in his bed, and sleep. He knows that he should do all those things. Instead he bites his lip as his thumb makes its last press on his phone screen.

“Hey, Jake. It’s, um, it’s me again…”

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mountain-maiden · 3 months

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Sweet Nothing

Summary: Joel comes home from patrol in need of comfort and reassurance.

WC: 2.7k

TW: 18+ MDNI, Oral (m receiving), men whimpering, religious imagery, Taylor Swift references, author went to catholic school during formative years, author has never enjoyed giving head and didn't know how to write it :/

This is the first fanfic I've ever posted so please be nice to me!!

The snow crunches beneath Joel’s boots, yielding to the solid weight of a man on his way home. Moonlight filters in through the clouds, guiding him to your shared abode as the rest of Jackson sleeps soundly. It had been a extra long patrol, his late return made even more devastating by the knowledge you had most likely made dinner for two and eaten alone.

His hand warms a pebble in his pocket, your pebble really. You had picked it for him during a patrol together last July, claiming the warm brown of the rock matched the honeyed irises of his eyes. He remembers how he scoffed at the notion but here he was months later, clutching the small stone for some semblance of comfort. You had rediscovered it a couple months ago, borrowing his jacket and marveling at the tiny stone that had made it all this way, stowing away in his pocket.

“Does it ever miss the river sometimes?” You had asked, a small smirk playing on your lips as you slipped it back into his coat. He’d been found out, yet he had never really minded your small discoveries.

He could never simply lay back and bare his soul to you, but with each calloused layer you peeled away, Joel found himself eager for you to reach his core. To peer into the depths of his soul and deem him still worthy of your love. He didn’t expect God to forgive the sins he’d committed, had stopped praying for that long ago. But at the altar of your hips, he’d get on his knees and beg for absolution until he dissolved into the dust he knelt on. Joel didn’t believe in much these days, but he believed in you with an intensity that could rival the most devout priests of the days of before.

Finally, he is bathed in the warm light of your home, bleeding through the blinds and blanketing the snow covered path to your front porch, beckoning him inside. Joel opens the door and immediately all the tension he had been carrying begins to dissipate. The warmth of your home melts the frost from his bones as he kicks off his mud coated boots, discards his soaked through socks, and hangs his threadbare coat, eager to see your face.

He find you in the kitchen, humming a tune he remembers from right before the outbreak, something Sarah had made him listen to, probably that Taylor Swift she was always going on about. Your whirl around when you sense his presence, eyes lighting up as you realize it’s Joel standing in your kitchen.

“I like that song,” He smiles, walking forward to embrace you, “Sarah used to listen to it a lot.”

“She had good taste,” You loop your arms around his neck, pulling him in, “Never would have taken Joel Miller for a swiftie.”

He can feel you chuckle at your own joke, but he feels no need to defend himself. Instead he focuses on the feeling of your body as he holds you against him, as tight as he can without fear of hurting you. It’s a ridiculous notion, but Joel finds himself hoping if he presses himself to you just right, he can meld your two beings so he’ll never have to be without again. It’s a selfish thought, you have a life outside of him, which is why he doesn’t voice it, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

Eventually you pull away to inspect his face for any sign of injury, but all you find is Joel doing the same to you. It’s almost comical how the man will be on patrol in the dangers of the wilderness for days and still worry for your health while you lounge in the safety of Jackson’s walls.

“I missed you,” Joel whispers, and he means it with the entirety of his being. The words incapable of expressing how devastatingly incomplete he felt without the melody of your laughter accompanying his meals, the bite of your scolding when he was reckless, the warmth of your body pressed against him at night.`

“I missed you too,” you smile, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair, smoothing out the greying strands that had become tousled by the wind during his journey home.

“I saved you food,” you gesture to a closed tupperware sitting on the counter, “Do you want to shower while I reheat it for you?”

“I- Um, would ya mind joinin’ me?” Joel asks, suddenly feeling shy as if he’d just asked for your hand in marriage instead of company in the shower.

“Not at all,” you take his hand and walk to the bathroom, unable to hold back a small grin at the knowledge Joel craved your closeness just as much as you craved his.

You enter the small room and sit Joel on the closed toilet while you fuss over the water temperature. When you deem the water an acceptable heat, your attention returns to Joel’s seated form. You reach for the bottom of Joel’s shirt and he begins to protest.

“I don’t need yer help takin’ my goddamn shirt off,” He huffs, no real heat to his words as he lifts his arms to aid your efforts.

“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean you don’t want it,” you tease, “it’s okay Joel, we both know you’re a big softie in disguise.”

He grumbles some form of an argument but makes no real effort to convince you. Instead he quickly becomes distracted as you kneel to unbutton his jeans, belt already discarded on the floor beside you. You pull his jeans to the floor and look up to meet his heated gaze, a small smirk playing on your lips. He holds back a groan as you peel off his boxers, removing the last barrier between him and your mouth, and watches in dismay as you stand up.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later Miller, now get in the shower,” you instruct before beginning to remove your own layers.

Joel shakes his head and laughs as he steps into the warm stream of the shower. He lets his head hang as he feels the water cascade down his back, removing the days of sweat and grime from his skin. You pull back the curtain and step in to join him, immediately reaching out to loop your arms around his neck.

“Hey Darlin’” Joel gives you a lopsided smile, letting you know he was finally starting to relax.

“Hi baby,” you giggle, “Come here often?”

You watch in delight as he chuckles and pretends to pull away, “Didn’t realize I invited a dork into my shower,” Joel snorts.

“Oh please, you knew full well you were inviting a dork into your shower,” you laugh, reaching up to tip his head back and let the water run through his hair.

“And, I actually prefer the term comedian,” you continue, stepping behind him to reach the shampoo and conditioner.

“Comedian my ass,” you hear Joel mutter as you pour the shampoo into your hands.

The steam from the shower envelopes the both of you as Joel stands beneath the warm water. Your fingers tracing slow circles against his scalp, melting away his tension. It wasn't just the physical weariness from the patrol; it was the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders, the burden of surviving in a harsh post-apocalyptic reality. And, as your fingers worked through his hair, you could sense the tough facade he tried to hard to maintain slipping away.

"Joel," you whisper, your voice a soft caress, "you don't have to do it all alone. You have me."

He sighs in a mixture of relief and vulnerability, his guard down in the sanctuary of your embrace.

"You've been taking on Tommy's patrols, fixing everyone’s houses, looking after Ellie," you continue, tilting his head back to rinse the soap from him hair, "but you can't save everyone."

His response is a low murmur, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily silenced by the soothing rhythm of your touch.

"I can't just watch. People rely on me," Joel croaks, his voice raw with the admission of his own limitations. How could he explain his selfish motives, how it wasn’t about helping them, but saving his soul? How could he explain the weight of his past, how little time he had to redeem himself, how little time he had to become someone worthy of your love?

"And who do you rely on?" You ask, hands reaching around to his front, tracing patterns on his abdomen. "You don't need repent for surviving, Joel."

Finally, he turns to face you and you press a soft kiss to his mouth, relishing in the restrained groan he lets out. You pull away to find his eyes glazed over in lust, gaze fixed on your lips. Apparently you take too long to reconnect the kiss, because suddenly Joel is surging forward, capturing your mouth in a desperate kiss.

He kisses you like a man starved, teeth colliding, tongue demanding entrance to your mouth, pressing your back to the cool tile of the shower wall. Fitting his thigh between your legs, you can feel his length hardening against your hip while you grind on his thigh, letting out a soft moan at the feeling.

“‘Atta girl, so good for me.” He murmers, words spurring you on as you let out small whimpers of frustration, the angle just off, or the pressure not quite right. Joel shifts to get to his knees desperate to taste you, but halts when you grab his arm, tugging him back up.

“Just, let me,” you sink to your knees, Joel’s broad shoulders shielding you from the spray. You press light kisses to his hips and he can’t stifle the soft whimpers that escape while you continue to tease him, lips brushing everywhere except the place he needs you most.

“Fuck baby, Ple-” He chokes on his words when you suddenly take as much of him as you can into your mouth at once. His eyes rolling back as he fights to keep his hips from thrusting forward.

His fingers find purchase in your hair, not to guide you but to ground himself as you send him to what he imagines is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. A sinner such as himself is never going to see those pearly gates, but in the tight heat of your mouth he can’t find it in himself to regret any of the sins that paved his path to you, his own personal salvation.

You continue to take more of him with each pass, using your hands to make up for the length you can’t fit, encouraged by Joel’s mixture of soft gasps and choked moans.

“Fuck baby, I’m not gonna last long” He warns.

Joel's words only motivate you further, bracing yourself with his thighs, relaxing your throat and taking him deeper into your mouth. He can feel himself hurtling towards the edge with each passing movement, his hips bucking involuntarily against your ministrations.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart, so perfect for me,” endless praise spills from his mouth as he feels his climax approach, knowing he can’t last much longer.

“Gonna swallow for me, pretty girl?” He knows you can’t answer, he also knows the answer is already yes.

He feels the familiar pooling of warmth in his gut and all the warning you get is a drawn out groan before he’s spilling into your mouth. Joel towers over you panting, bracing himself against the tile of the shower wall as he recovers from the waves of pleasure still crashing over him.

“So fucking good to me,” Joel murmers, reaching down to help you off the slippery floor of the shower.

“Not doing anything you don’t deserve,” you give him a quick peck before turning the water off, having used beyond an indulgent amount.

You make to step out of the tub but Joel pulls you back in for a searing kiss, battling his irrational fear that the second you leave the shower, he’ll discover you were just a figment of his imagination. An angel bestowing a temporary blessing on a man built more of sin than flesh.

When he pulls away, you leave to fetch a pair of towels and return to dry him off. Joel is ashamed of how underneath your attentive care he allows himself to feel loved, how your patient hands wipe away not just the droplets of water but also the misdeeds of his past, leaving behind a glowing trail of love. He knows he doesn’t deserve any of this, but he’s taken plenty of things that didn’t belong to him in the time before you met, and he figures your affections for the man you believe him to be, a good man, can be his one last stolen good, his perfect crime.

“I love you,” you run your fingers along the broad expanse of his shoulders, before cupping his face, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“I love you too,” Joel whispers, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your shared room, forgoing clothes and crawling into bed.

“Can I return the favor?” Joel asks, beginning to position himself further down the bed before you grab his arm and pull him back up.

“We’re both tired Joel, you’ve been awake for days, lets just sleep. Yeah?”

“You’re too good for me baby,” Joel brushes a stray hair from your face, “I’m hopin’ you won’t figure that out for a long time though.”

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes at the man above you, “one day I’m going to get it through your thick skull that you are a good man, Joel Miller.”

“My skull ain’t that thick, you wound me Darlin’” Joel clutches his heart dramatically before draping himself over you, resting his head on the soft cushion of your chest.

“Aw baby, it’s not a bad thing, a skull that thick has made you real hard to kill,” you chuckle, softly tapping at his head in jest. He lazily swats at your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling himself closer to you.

Minutes pass in silence, you assume he’s fallen asleep and are about to reach for your book, when you hear the soft rasp of Joel’s half asleep voice.

“Sometime’s I think the end might be comin’,” He murmurs, burrowing his face in the valley of your breasts, determined to mold his body to yours, “Everyone’s up to somethin’.”

You frown at his sleep-muddled words, clearly not meant to be voiced, and stroke his hair, “Yeah, there’s been a lot of push and shoving.”

You wait for a response and when a few moments pass in silence, you grab your book and begin to read, hoping the rustling of pages isn’t enough to wake Joel. You get lost in the story and hours pass before you are closing the book and turning off the lamp, preparing to sleep. You have to resettle into the pillows and the movement causes a disruption in Joel’s slumber, a quiet groan leaving him as he attempts to get closer again.

“I might be too soft for all of it,” He murmurs, pulling you into him so he can hear your heartbeat as he drifts off. In his sleep addled state, Joel had confessed his greatest sin. The softness you cultivated within him, intertwined with the fear that perhaps he was already too late for redemption. He could carry the weight of regret every day, but it was growing hard to ignore the feeling of futility when faced with trying to mend a lifetime of mistakes in the few years he has left. Why endure the struggle for redemption when he could find heaven in the warmth of your embrace? A sinner too complacent to repent.

In the delicate balance of vulnerability and resignation, he clings to you, his sanctuary in the face of an irredeemable past. In your arms, Joel finds reprieve from the crushing guilt, thoughts consumed by the comforting rhythm of your heartbeat. God might demand repentance for entrance to heaven, but all you’d ever asked of him was sweet nothing.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you

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zilabee · 1 year

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Just stumbled on this brilliant post over on Meet The Beatles For Real. It's a german article in Bravo Magazine interviewing the women that worked at Apple. The wonderful keeper of mtbfr then typed the whole lot out and google translated it into english - all love to her for the wonderful work she does on that site.

I've not copied all of it over here, just my favourite bits... but that is most of the bits.

Janet Lumley - Kitchen maid (16) I have been cooking for the Beatles for half a year. It is fantastic. I cook just as carefully for the four of them as I do for my own family. John is the pickiest, he is vegetarian. Paul is the hungriest and has even brought his plate back to tell us how good it tasted to him.

Sally Burgess - Press Secretary (21) John, Paul, George and Ringo only have young, funny and talented people around and it flatters me to be a part of it. Although we work hard, the atmosphere is casual and fun, better than any other company in the world. And every day something new happens. You must learn to quickly adapt to any situation. Once however, it even became too much for me and I just crawled under my desk.

Debbie Wellum - Receptionist (20) I have decided that I have the most exciting Apple job. I have to catch all the teenagers who want to speak to my bosses. Recently, a group of Italian scouts were here, all of whom claimed to be cousins of George Harrison. But I didn’t fall for such a dirty trick. I wouldn’t trade in my bosses for anyone else in the world, even if they had really had so many cousins!

Sally Reed - Secretary (20) I've been a Beatle fan before I started here eight months ago. The four are no longer for me, but I've learned to respect them as businessmen and superiors. I work in the production department; the Beatles are always nice and easy going, even if everything else is wobbling around them. They have a professional attitude which is a very different attitude to these things than a normal human; sometimes I wish I could have some of that.

Dee Meehan - Assistant (25) I have to listen to all the tapes that are sent to the Beatles from people who want to make a career out of music. A tough job, but whoever has worked in the pop industry, knows what is going on, especially if you have the Beatles as bosses. Paul is the best; he always knows exactly what he wants. George and Ringo are always nice and polite, but sometimes John gets on my nerves. But he has improved a lot recently.

Amanda Hull - Tea cook (39) I am responsible for tea and coffee, which is used a lot with us, because Apple is a hospitable house. In a little chamber, I have a two burner stove, on which is always a pot of water and a pot of coffee standing. The tea is always fresh, otherwise it will be bitter. With Paul, I make sure that he does not get too much sugar. This is not good for his future children.

Linda Bristow - Assistant Publisher (22) I work for Apple music publishing. Of course I'm a Beatles fan, but I do not fall into a swoon every time they come through the door. Just to be a fan is not enough for a job at Apple. There is plenty to do and you have to know something too. But as for us, we are paid well and have the best bosses in the world. My favourite boss is George. He is for me the most beautiful thing. But I cannot tell him - because he would be pissed.

Carol Padden - Press Secretary (23) Of course, I'm a Beatles fan. Who isn’t? It's easy to work for such pleasant, young handsome men instead of old thick, bad-tempered men who are constantly, trying to flirt with you. Such a thing does not exist in the Beatles. I have never heard any girls complain that one of the Beatles had flirted with her!

Barbara Bennet - Secretary (24) My best experience with Apple was when Paul gave me a little Yorkshire terrier. He had heard me gushing to a colleague about this breed, and a few days later he had one in tow. But once when I visited my friend Colin Peterson the terrier ran into the city by himself. I never saw him again, although I'd put up a lot of ads.

#I love Sally Reed - “the four are no longer for me...”#(I love that she respects them as businessmen)#I love Sally Burgess - “I just crawled under my desk”#I love Dee Meehan - “John gets on my nerves”#I love Amanda Hull - “Apple is a hospitable house”#(I love her being weird about Paul)#everyone here is fantastic no criticism well done and long live #bravo magazine #the beatles #meet the beatles for real #beatles #apple

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legitalicat · 3 months

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Out of Time

Chapter 5 - "Oh Brother, I've Returned"

an: While it does not fit this chapter entirely, I listened to "Brother" by Madds Buckley a lot during this chapter. As an older sister who moved out when my younger sibling was under 10, I feel the guilt of being gone while your siblings grow up without you. I highly recommend that song.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: "It is not a ridiculous notion to fear what we do not know. Yet you cannot let your fears keep you from them."

TW: Anxiety, profanity, angst, dead daddy issues, literal bone crushing hugs, substance use, fear of addiction, detailed descriptions of Viserys I death, descriptions of severe pain, Vizzy is not a good parent, Aemond and Jace making a scene at dinner AGAIN, very large and physically intimidating men, Jaehaerys being very much a brother, Joffrey and Luke being little shithead brothers,

Romantic Pairings: Very brief focus on Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, Very brief focus on Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader.

Other characters shining in this chapter: Ser Erryk, Jaehaera Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Joffrey Velaryon, Aegon iii, Viserys Targaryen ii, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Hightower

Word count: 6.6k (oops)

The fuzzy feelings disappeared by late afternoon. A bright side was that I was absolutely starving when dinner time came. When I stood from my bed, I found I still had no pain. It was great to be able to walk across the room in less than five minutes.

I met Ser Erryk just outside my room. He greeted me as he always did, cheerful and just seemingly grateful. He spoke to me of the apparent menu for the night. We were to have braised goose with roasted chestnuts and cabbage.

“You like goose?” I asked him as we walked.

“I do, princess. It is greasy, so unappealing to some. I believe your mother is among them,” he said, smiling at me.

“It was a joke of sorts, between her and my father. A discussion they had before they were married. She likes to have it every so often as a way to remember him,” I told him.

It was true enough. The reason why Ser Laenor was who claimed us was apparent to me when I thought of him. He was never without the company of a male companion. When we first went to Dragonstone, he brought a young knight. Joffrey is named after a knight he knew in his youth, whose death devastated him in unimaginable ways. He loved them both deeply and in a way he could never love Mother.

It was known to her before they married, so when she spoke to him of the marriage, she assured him it would not impose on his life. She equated it to taste, saying like her, he preferred roast duck to goose. There was nothing wrong with that. Some people just like things and that was that.

After his death, I found Mother would request goose for our dinner. When I pointed out that he had never picked it out himself, she told me that was the point. The goose was meant to represent their effort in marriage, and for her it was a way to honor him. She had so much love for him, and he for her, even if it was not the type of love she shared with my blood father or even Daemon.

I truly believe they were soulmates. Most believed that soulmates were romantic, that it always ended with love and sex and all those things that made people gooey inside. There was not a person alive, though, that could convince me Mother and Laenor did not belong together in life even though they were not in love. You cannot have a best friend like that and tell me that the gods did not design you for that person.

Often I think how there was nobody better than Laenor to have been with her. Yes, my father and her loved one another in a way most wouldn’t understand. Yes, Daemon seems an equal match for her now. And yes, Laenor had loved his male companions the way he perhaps should’ve loved the one he married. But they understood each other on a fundamental level. They never begrudged one another, never showed anything to us that wasn’t pure love and respect for not only us but one another. Even if it were not romantic love, they were made to love each other.

“Ser Laenor was a good man. I think he would be proud of who you are,” he told me. “I truly believe that.”

Sometimes I didn’t know how to feel about Ser Laenor. He was not my blood. His opinions on me truly held no bearing in the grand scheme of things, as he was never who I had to impress. My inheritance would’ve never come from him.

But anytime I heard he would be proud of me, I wanted to beg for more. Blood or not he was my father. He was the man who claimed me. He loved me. How could I not want him to be proud of me?

“Thank you, Ser Erryk. I appreciate it,” I whispered, trying to not let my voice crack under the emotion.

We continued walking along without speaking any further. I could hear music and laughter as we approached the Small Hall. Don’t let the name fool you, though. Located in the Tower of the Hand, it had to be smaller than the Great Hall where the Throne sat, but this hall still held over two hundred people if so desired. With a family so large, it made sense to have our dinners here.

Erryk went to open the door but I reached out my hand to grab his before he could. The sounds of the ones I love being happy on the other side of this door terrified me. We were all mostly happy that night, the night I disappeared. At least we were for a moment in time.

My finger tips went numb and my bottom lip was trembling. It had been hard enough just being alone with those I’ve had time with already. But to see all of them, all at once, felt like it was an impossible task.

I had yet to speak to any of my brothers other than Jace. Trying to face the very distinct possibility of Little Aegon and Viserys disliking me felt like my stomach was being tied in knots. Joffrey was fourteen now, what if he didn’t like me either? Or if Luke was angry with me, somehow blaming me for being gone, I don’t think I could take it.

So much time had been lost. I was newly eighteen when I disappeared, now Jace and I were fast approaching twenty four. Aemond had been nineteen, Helaena twenty, Aegon twenty two, and Luke just fifteen. We all had so much time together. But Joffrey had only been nine, Little Aegon four, and Viserys only two. I had missed such a grand portion of their lives, even more when thinking of the year I was in King’s Landing beforehand, I didn’t think I could fit.

“We can go back if you wish,” Erryk said quietly to me. “I will make some excuse as to why you remain in your rooms. They needn’t know.”

“What kind of person is scared of their family for no reason?” I whispered to him, looking at him as a tear slowly rolled down my cheek.

It would maybe make sense if they had been terrible to me. But even the worst among them treated me as though I was golden. Alicent, who had undoubtedly been abhorrent to Mother and my brothers to the point she demanded all of us be brought to her when Mother was fresh from her labors, had loved me. I could distinctly remember sitting on her lap as a small child while my grandsire told Jace and I about the Kingdoms the would one day be ours.

“The first time Arryk and I went home after we were appointed to the Kingsguard, I was certain our parents would shut the door in our face,” he told me. “How could they not? I mean we were the only two heirs to our house and we both took an oath that forbade us from having lands, having a wife, having children. We effectively ended our house with us. But all our parents cared about was that we were happy and safe. It is not a ridiculous notion to fear what we do not know. Yet you cannot let your fears keep you from them.”

I could not look him in the eye. Part of me was so ashamed to feel as scared that I did. To me, it was a ridiculous notion. I’m the blood of the dragon, how could I fear anything?

He put his other hand over top mine, that still held onto him like my life depended on it. That was what let me meet his gaze. He truly looked at me with nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“When you were a girl, it is not that you were fearless. It is that you have always loved so fiercely your own fears did not stop you. When you sabotaged the soil stores so that the garden bugs would not die, you faced your mother, Queen Alicent, and your grandsire with tears in your eyes. You were scared of being in trouble, of having done something wrong. Even so, you held Helaena’s hand and explained why you did it. The night of Aemond’s injury, you were scared to anger everyone in explaining what happened. Yet, what mattered to you was the truth and so you told the truth,” he explained to me. “I offer again that I can take you back to your room and I will tell them you were not feeling well.”

The faith he had in the person I am felt comforting. At least there was one person who knew truly who I am. He had no reason to make me fit a certain mold. It was not like with Aemond or Jace in which he needed me to be this perfect representation of a person. He did not need me to understand the darkest parts of him like Aegon did. It was truly like he was a friend.

“Do not stray far from me,” I said quietly to him.

Releasing his hand, I stood straight and readied myself. He opened the door and stood to the side.

When I stepped into the room, for a moment nobody really noticed me and I just got to watch. Viserys, Little Aegon, and Maelor were all running around the room in a game. Mother and Alicent were speaking to one another, smiling. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were animatedly discussing something with Aemond and Helaena. Luke, Jace, and Aegon were all hunched over the table as they laughed about something. Joffrey was in the corner of the room sneaking a little cake.

They were all so happy. Was this truly what it was like all the time now? Had the wounds of the past been so forgotten we could live like this?

Surprisingly, the first to notice me was Jaehaera. She very obviously lit up upon seeing me and got up from her chair near immediately. Wasting no time, she went to the empty chair in between Mother and Alicent and grabbed a bouquet of flowers that had sat in it. It was then others took notice of her movements and all their eyes shifted from her to me.

When I began feeling the fear bubbling up inside me again and my fingertips once again felt numb, I just focused on Jaehaera. This little girl who was so happy when she noticed me, a little girl I adored so much, was now running to me with these flowers in her hand. They were a pretty assortment, consisting peonies, tulips, and lilies.

“Mumma says you like flowers so I picked the prettiest ones,” she said happily when she stopped in front of me. She very proudly held out her bouquet so that I could admire her work.

I smiled softly at Jaehaera as tears welled up in my eyes. “They are lovely, thank you little one,” I said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Carefully I took the bouquet from her and held it in my hands.

They were not flawless flowers. One of the peonies had not fully bloomed while another had already begun to lose its petals. The lilies had been slightly crushed against the weight of the other flowers. I noticed the tulips had little teeny insects crawling around on them, which Helaena and her children no doubt saw as an added benefit, and as such there were teeny holes in some of the petals. But there was not enough gold in the world that could convince me to rid myself of this bouquet. Despite the flaws, I could not think of it as anything less than perfect. Erryk took them in his own hand before he arranged for a serving girl to take them to my room and put them in water.

She took my hand in hers and began pulling me along to the table. Even in her excitement, she also seemed to be careful with me like everyone else had been.

“Do you want to sit next to me??” Jaehaerys said loudly when I was in arms reach of the table. It caused Jaehaera to stop her path, therefore stopping me.

“Inside voice, bubba,” Jaehaera said softly to him before looking at me. “Excuse him. He forgets we all have ears.”

“That’s okay, Luke was like that too when he was little,” I said to her. It caused them both to grin from ear to ear.

“Did you hear that Jae Jae? I’m like Luke,” he said, noticeably quieter this time, but just as excitedly.

“I am just glad someone else knows about brothers,” Jaehaera said with a giggle.

“I would like to point out that I had no choice but to be loud to make sure I was heard over Jace’s big mouth,” Luke said as he stood from his seat.

When Luke stood I realized he was taller than me. Not near as tall as Aegon, but a noticeable few inches. It caused a great stirring of emotions in my chest. I had anticipated my brothers growing taller than me, in fact it surprised me that Jace was only my height and not taller. Yet, not being here to notice it happening caused an ache.

Especially with Luke. He was only three years younger than me, so I did not remember his birth or his little years quite like I remembered Joffrey’s, Little Aegon’s, or Viserys’. That didn’t keep me from remembering bits and pieces, though. Like, I used to help Mother pick out the clothes he wore as a baby as though he was a doll. I snuck out of bed one night when he was a newborn so that I could sleep next to his cradle. I could remember the first time he got sick and, instead of going to Mother and Laenor, he crawled into bed between Jace and I and leaked snot all over my chest.

The bad parts, the good parts, all of it was not something I would trade for the world. Despite having more conscious thoughts when the younger three were babies, Luke was my baby. To me there was nobody better. He was as good and pure as a person could get. If Mother thought I was the best parts of both my fathers, Luke was the best parts of me. He was every good thing in this world rolled into the sweetest package.

“Now you can’t hold sweets over my head and keep me from getting them,” he said playfully.

“No, but I can still sit on your head until you cry,” I responded. My own ear to ear grin spread across my face. I did not care that it hurt my lip as the skin stretched. Luke was worth it.

“I cried one time! You were crushing my ear!” he defended adamantly.

“I maintain to this day that you should not have taken my book,” I told him with a shrug.

“Hadn’t he already handed it back to you when you sat on him?” Jace asked me.

“I don’t recall asking for your input, Jace,” I said quickly causing Luke to laugh.

Luke was truly a man now. His laugh was deeper, as was his voice. He was twenty now and by no means could he be confused as a child.

He wrapped his arms around me in a near bone crushing hug. Even with the pain shooting through my ribs, I could not ask him to ease up. The world felt right the moment he hugged me. Like the years had not passed without me.

I noticed he smelled like the sea. Salt water and open sky, with just a trace of the smell of the wood the ships were made of. If I had to guess, he spent a lot of time in Driftmark now, preparing himself for when Grandsire Corlys was no longer able to hold the Driftwood Throne. When he was little and we suffered the loss of both Ser Harwin and our Aunt Laena, he feared becoming Lord of Driftmark as he knew the death that would precede that moment. If he had been able to move past that fear, I was grateful.

“Are you a sailor now?” I asked as I pulled back from him.

“Only sometimes. Grandsire has spent two years teaching me how to,” he answered. He had a shy, goofy little smile on his face.

“And I would imagine he regales you with stories of the Velaryon blood ruling the seas every moment of it,” I joked.

“Would he be him if he weren’t the proudest man alive?” he asked.

My three Velaryon brothers and Mother all chuckled at that. Genuinely speaking I could not think of a prouder man alive. Our grandfather had held House Velaryon miles above any house, including Targaryens. I think it was because the Targaryens were dragonlords making him think we were handed power, whereas Velaryons seemed to build everything themselves. There was a pride to be held in that, of course. But Westeros was not conquered by shipmasters, now was it?

With this laughter, I took a moment to look around, turning around the room, and settling to look at Joffrey. Fourteen certainly was not the age of a man but compared to the nine year old I left behind he might as well have been. My little Joffrey, whose birth was the first I truly remember, making the three of us older ones so excited. We were downright annoying when it came to him.

Jace had decided we needed to pick the egg for him ourselves. Without uttering a word to anyone, we snuck away from the dragonkeeper charged in teaching us our lesson that day and delved far into the Dragonpit. Luke excitedly picked the egg from one of Syrax’s clutches. As the three of us had been given one, with only mine not hatching, we had to give the baby an egg that came from Mother’s dragon. Our father found us as we were trying to carry the red hot cauldron to the Keep. With his help, and the enlisted help of a few keepers, we awaited the arrival of the baby eagerly.

We took turns stoking the flames underneath it to keep it warm while we waited for Mother. And when she returned, followed closely by Laenor with the baby boy in hand, Luke and Jace both desperately wanted to get close to him. Laenor and father had to practically bat them away so that our baby brother could meet our father.

For myself, I can only remember looking at my perfect family. While in that moment I had not been told the truth of my birth, I knew. It was not so much a moment of realization that none of my brothers or I looked like Laenor, instead favoring Mother’s sworn shield. It was not even hearing the rumors and embodying them as a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. No, all it took was me seeing how Laenor yielded in that moment to Harwin and seeing the way this mountain of a man became so soft when gazing upon Joffrey for me to know. He was a man who was granted love in undeniable ways and he was a part of our family.

Joffrey looked the most like our father. The four of us all had his hair color and his complexion, of course. Jace and I got his eyes, according to Mother, and I could agree. The colors were the same on all four of us, yet we got the shape. I could see on Jace the little crinkles in the corners that our father had. Luke had his smile to the point that when our father died, I desperately worked to make Luke smile for days so that I could feel the embrace of the man who created me. Yet Joffrey had it all. His eyes, his nose, his smile, even the height and bulk of him. There were traces of Mother, like in the angles of his jawline or the placement of his cheekbones. But one could be forgiven if they thought Harwin Strong walked the halls of the Red Keep again when seeing Joffrey.

How cruelly ironic. The one who only got a few meetings with our father was the one who looked to be a trueborn Strong and not the dirty little secret I always felt like. The one who would never know our father or Laenor and the way they both loved us, who was robbed of the perfect family I loved so much, was everything I begged to be. A perfect embodiment of the father I prayed returned to me sat before me in the form of the last of his children.

“Joffrey, I believe Y/N would appreciate if you could come closer,” Aemond’s voice said from somewhere out of my view. I believed he may be behind me, with Jaehaera on my left and Luke still to my right. I could not be bothered to check.

Joffrey nodded and placed the sweet down on a nearby table before walking closer to me. He wiped his hands against his pants, highlighting to me that he was wearing Targaryen colors of black and not Velaryon ones. I could see the crumbs fall to the floor as he walked. It was almost enough to make me laugh.

“Have you been so short your entire life?” he asked when he stood in front of me. He was taller than Aemond even, wider around the middle, broader along the shoulders than Jace. It was terrifying when one realized most of that was probably muscle, and most likely he had more growing to do.

“I would like to point out I am perfectly normal height,” I said, huffing a bit. “You are just tall.”

“To you. To me, you are short. Perspective, sissy,” he said.

My heart caught in my throat. It wasn’t that I had anticipated him to forget me or all the time I had spent teaching him of the world. But hearing him call me sissy and confirming that I still had a place in his heart made my own ache in unexpected ways.

Wrapping my arms around his middle, I pulled him into a tight hug. It was a hug he returned eagerly, holding me as tight as I held him. Just as with Luke, I couldn’t be bothered to care about any of the pain coursing through my body.

Luke and Joffrey had so much of me in them. Luke was my baby and Joffrey was my sidekick. Where one clung to me the other did just the same. For the longest time you could not find me without them. I did everything for them to ensure their lives. Luke and I spent hours just standing on the deck of our ship so that I could help him overcome his fear of the sea. I was the one who taught Joffrey to read, and then taught him as much as I could of politics and history. Both of them spent so much time with me in the gardens of Dragonstone as I tended to the flowers.

When I finally convinced myself that I could let go without him disappearing, I pulled away from his hold. Concern drew itself onto his face. If the empty yet extraordinarily heavy feeling in my head and the fire spreading through my chest had caused me to look as I felt in this moment, I would imagine I’d look much the same as he did. In truth I could not care to look at everyone else. Leaning forward to lean against Joffrey, I tried to steady my breathing.

“Let’s sit you down,” Luke whispered from behind me. I can only assume I nodded as he and Joffrey both supported me to sit me in the chair between Alicent and Mother. The last note of music that filled the room just moments ago echoed from every wall before the room fell into silence.

“Y/N, you mustn’t overdo it, sweet girl,” Mother said quietly, pressing a cooled rag to my head.

“I couldn’t tell them to stop, mama. My babies still love me,” I whispered to her, gripping her wrist to still her hand. The suddenness of my movement caused me a blinding flash of burning pain.

“Perhaps we should order some milk of the poppy,” Alicent suggested, looking between Mother and me.

“No, no,” I begged her, tears springing to my eyes.

Let me be clear and say I understand the benefits of the medicine. It is extremely effective in easing pain and in large enough quantities, could incapacitate an entire Dothraki horde. Though I dare anyone to watch their grandfather wither to be but a living, skin covered skeleton and he can’t even acknowledge his breathing because he is so addled by the shit.

I am not stupid enough to think back on his life and legacy and think him a good King nor even a good father. But I do know, factually know, that he was a man who loved his family dearly. A man who was taken advantage of in his deepest grief and never fixed the mistakes made in those times. A man who deserved more than to die so slowly while his brain, his very capable and beautiful brain, wasted away because of the only treatment for his pain.

When you watch a man go from being able to tell you about the Kingdom he loves, that one day you will rule, to not even being able to remember your existence, it changes things. When you watch him become so frail and thin that being turned the wrong way breaks his bones, yet remain so puffy under the eye and in his fingertips because of the poison, you may refuse it too. His younger children may not have cared, of that I will not speak on. But I cared, and it terrified me.

Would he have been in so much pain constantly if he hadn’t taken it so regularly? What if he was being treated for an ailment that was caused by milk of the poppy? And if that was true, how much would it take before I could not exist without it?

“Y/N, you cannot live in this pain,” Mother said to me.

“I cannot live like that,” I corrected her.

“Your grandsire was very sick for a long time, you will heal in mere weeks. But you cannot heal if you live in this pain,” Alicent said. Her voice was just as quiet and soothing as Mother’s as she petted my hair.

Very slowly, I adjusted my body in my chair to look to Aegon. He was watching me with silent tears in his eyes. But when our wet gazes locked together he understood what I needed. He did not need anything else from me. He understood my pain as I did his.

After pushing himself to a stand from his seat, he wasted no time in getting to my side. All the while he was reaching in his sleeve to pull out the pouch with the biscuits. Within a moment he was by my side, kneeling to be able to look up at my face.

“Stars?” he asked me. It took me less than half a breath to know he was asking how severe my pain, if it was enough to make me see stars. He knew it went beyond feeling knives in my body but he could not tell further.

“Lightning,” I muttered to him.

He had once theorized the lightning that extended from the sky during the worst of storms would be the most painful thing to be hit by. It was on a late night adventure, one that quickly turned into a two day adventure, that he had dragged me on not long before I had Vhaela. We mounted Sunfyre together and flew to Harrenhal. Quick enough flying on Sunfyre, though it took nearly all night. When we had arrived, a storm had come overhead, and we watched as lightning struck the large castle no less than three times. The stone was surprisingly mostly unscathed, save for the burn marks permanently etched on its side. When we spoke of a human withstanding just one strike, he said you’d nearly die from the pain alone.

It was how I knew he would understand. This was not the pain I experienced falling from my bed when I was six. This was a burning, pulsating pain that caused me to lose parts of my sight. A pain so severe I could not breathe properly.

He helped me eat a significant bit more than what I had earlier. Mainly because every time I moved myself I was hit with another flash of pain. It was just easier to allow his help.

“The larger portion may not quicken the effects but it will help manage your pain better,” he said quietly to me. “Tell me what I can do in the meanwhile.”

“Stay right here and have everyone return to their joy,” I whispered to him as I took his hand. “At the least I wish to see everyone smile.”

He nodded softly and looked to Alicent. Within a few minutes, the music started back up and not long after that the chatter started up again. I would have to be oblivious to not notice the worried looks Mother and Alicent still gave me. Though those looks were nothing compared to the way Aemond and Jace were glaring at Aegon.

Genuinely speaking, it was a lot like watching children. It was as though Aemond and Jace had never once considered that anyone else would want to play their game. They only considered each other and knew what to expect from them. But now they viewed Aegon as a competitor.

Was Aegon a competitor? Sure he had said earlier how he loved me, that I was the only woman he loved. But he did not put his hand forward. He did not express a desire to be with me despite the love he held for me. I could no more count him as a contender for my heart as I could Ser Erryk.

Where Aemond and Jace looked on at him in anger, Aegon paid no mind. His eyes were focused solely on me. And every time I met his gaze, I gave him a small squeeze in the hand.

Six songs passed before I felt any relief. At first it wasn’t noticed until I could take a full breath. It was when I turned my head to watch as the food was brought in that it became clear that I could now manage. It seemed it became clear to Aegon, too, as he left my side and took his place back across from Luke.

Luke, Jace, and Aegon took the seats on the end of the table nearest the windows. Luke and Aegon on the very end, Jace beside Aegon. Joffrey took a spot next to Luke. Then beside Joffrey sat Aemond, and beside Jace there was Helaena. Next to Aemond was Alicent, with Jaehaera across from her. Then you had me and I was sat across from Jaehaerys. To my right was Mother, and across from her sat Maelor. There was two empty seats on Mother’s other side, and across from them was Little Aegon and Viserys. Then a singular chair that looked down the whole of the table sat on the very end, also empty, and that was closest to the kitchen.

Alicent lead us all in prayer. Truthfully, I probably should’ve paid more mind to the words she was saying. It mattered a lot to her, Helaena, and even Aemond. Yet, when I looked down the table and saw Aegon watching my every move, every thought from my head left. So instead, I looked directly at my plate.

The juices that flowed from the goose glistened in the candlelight that danced against every surface in stunning opposition to how the dark gravy absorbed light. The cabbage and roasted chestnuts sat to the side of it, looking decently appealing on their own. There was a basket of bread placed down for every four people. All of the adults, save Aegon and I, had a large cup of wine sitting in front of them. If Aegon and the children had the same as me, we all had water. Once Alicent was done saying her prayers, the only sound to be heard was all of us eating our food.

It was delicious. Though it was not a surprise to me, as the cooks here in King’s Landing had always been phenomenal. Maybe it was the fuzziness in my head that made it more apparent. Yet, it seemed more complex than normal. The meat was almost sweeter, the gravy with a level of saltiness that counteracted it perfectly. The chestnuts were almost like velvet in my mouth, creating a feeling akin to butter. Even cabbage, that I normally did not like, was something I would pick again and again.

“Did you try to come back?” A small voice asked. I looked up, only to see Viserys staring at me.

“Viserys,” Mother said firmly. It was her warning tone. Perhaps she did not think it proper for him to question me.

“I can’t remember,” I said quietly. “But I cannot imagine a reality in which I did not fight to return back to you all.”

“Is that why you are all beat up?” Little Aegon asked me.

“Aegon,” Mother said with the same firmness. I reached to take her hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze. She needed to understand that they were allowed to ask me, I could not fault them for being confused.

“Possibly. But I do not remember,” I told him.

“Do you remember anything?” they both asked at the same time.

“Not from when I was gone, no,” I whispered. “But I remember before I was gone. I remember loving the two of you so much. I am sorry I disappeared, and I am sorry that you both grew up without me.”

All of that was mostly true. I hated my disappearance, as it did take me away from everyone I loved. Yet to say I do not remember anything from the time I was gone may not be true.

In my thoughts, I could wade through the fog that the biscuit causes. Only in this feeling did I get any information from my brain. When I tried desperately to remember the last five years, there were only two things that my mind could conjure up. A glowing vial of shimmering red fire that I am near certain was a potion swirled in and out of my mind’s eye. And there was a distinct feeling loneliness, of knowing that where I existed was not where I belonged.

The shade of red of the potion was eerily familiar. While equating it to fire would be the right way to imagine the way that the liquid flowed, it was poor in grasping the color. One could tell me that someone was able to melt rubies into this vial and I would believe them. That was the only physical thing that was colored correctly.

Until I could explain more or had more answers, I would not say anything. With how desperate Mother and Aemond were for vengeance, giving them half answers could cause more damage that it would repair. It was not worth it.

“Do you want to come to our dragon lessons tomorrow?” Little Aegon asked.

Unable to verbalize my answer, I nodded. Spending time with my two littlest brothers felt like exactly what I needed. They may not be quite sure about me at all, but they were willing to give me a chance. I suppose that is all I could ask for.

The sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor brought my attention to the left side of the table. Aemond stood with his cup raised. My jaw tightened. The last time he gave a toast, he managed to call my brothers bastards while ignoring that it meant I too was a bastard. It caused a fight to break out, with Jace punching Aemond and Aegon slamming Luke into the table. I was not wanting a repeat and I doubt anyone else did.

“A toast,” Aemond said. “To the return of Ali. The Keep had truly existed in a darkness without you.”

A heat rose to my cheeks with his words. It was tame, I suppose, with what he could say. Although, I do wish he would just have not brought any further attention to me. I don’t think I would be able to say anything to him though.

“I wish to take this moment to make it clear,” he said. As always there was a confidence he held that I couldn’t shake. “Byka zaldrīzes, no longer do I wish to hide my affections. It is here and now that I am declaring my intention to marry you.”

My heart started skipping beats. While he had said it aloud to me, he had not voiced it to anyone else. And it wasn’t entirely like it was a secret, as he had always been rather obvious. With this declaration there was no longer a doubt about where I stood with him.

Jace stood up quickly, slamming his hands on the table as he did so. “She is my twin, Aemond, my betrothed. You do not get to decide such a thing,” he said angrily.

Aegon grabbed Jace’s shoulder and pulled him back into a sitting position. I was aware of Aemond smirking as he watched Jace. Leave it to him to make this a little game, a game which he is certain he will win.

“It is not your decision, either,” Aegon told him as though he were spitting poison at him. My jaw dropped slightly. It was not usual that I saw him actually angry.

“And you think you get any say?” Aemond asked his older brother.

“I think the two of you are so focused on this pissing contest that’s been going on since we were children you fail to realize that she is hurt,” Aegon shouted, standing up. Despite being shorter than Aemond and not as broad as Jace, he somehow made himself look larger. He made himself an unmoving force.

“I better than anyone know that she is hurt,” Aemond said darkly, to which Jace voiced the same sentiment.

“Are you both so truly lost in your desires that you are ignoring the anguish she is in? She caused herself so much pain she was barely conscious just so she could feel as though she still has a place! Do not pretend this is about anyone other than the two of you,” Aegon shouted.

“And what of you? What is your plan, dear brother?” Aemond asked, moving himself to appear larger.

The difference between them in this moment was fascinating. Aemond wanted to prove his dominance. He felt he had some claim to me just because of the love he and I share. With Aegon, though, it was because he wanted to prove nothing more than he was capable of protecting me.

Aegon turned to look at me. I could see him ease up almost immediately. It was like just the sight of me was enough to calm him.

“I am here however you choose to have me,” he said softly, addressing me directly.

#dividers by benkeibear #aegon targaryen ii #out of time #jacaerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #tom glynn carney #hotd #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #jacaerys velaryon x reader #house of the dragon

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lostmykeysie · 2 years

Text

5 movies, 4 songs, 3 essentials, 2 books, 1 quote

thanks for the tag @signifiquint my love

5 movies (i don't really watch stuff regularly, so i'm going to list my comfort movies that i've seen thousands of times. don't say a fucking word. no i have never claimed to have taste)

pitch perfect - i am in love with anna kendrick. i like all the bops and the banter. i was successfully queerbaited by becca and chloe.

pitch perfect 3 - we don't talk about pitch perfect 2 in my house, but this movie is just so good. the arrangements are great. the banter is cringe but the evermoist joke is so funny it makes up for it. shut your mouth.

burlesque - i am in love with christina aguilera, god she's so sexy in this. and her voice is incredible. i spend the whole movie with hearts in my eyes. i am gay.

she's the man - best film ever. amanda bynes is brilliant. the scene with the spider and the cheese 'mine's gouda!'. everything about it. one of the characters has the same name as me which is extremely cool. this is what shakespeare intended when he wrote twelfth night.

wild child - this film was the staple film of my teenage years. i think i was like 15 and i thought it was just brilliant and it was like a young teen movie so my little sister loved it too and we would watch it all the time. i know every one of harriet's lines, including the latin, because that bitch was so extra

4 songs (here are four random songs from my list of faves ever)

hit the back - king princess

o.g. loko - of mice and men

big love - fleetwood mac

what goes around.../...comes around (interlude) - justin timberlake (specifically the interlude. so good)

3 essentials

music and headphones - i listen constantly. day to night. i can't get anything done without it, can't get on trains without it, i'd be a mess

nicotine - unfortunately. i'm working on it. i've been in the process of quitting smoking for two years lol

iced coffee - specifically hazelnut frappes. caffeine doesn't do much for me but i love the taste of coffee and this is just so tasty it makes me want to cry

2 books (i've glanced over to my bookshelves and picked two at random)

twilight by peter james - this was really good actually. i don't really read books too often, and when i do it's mostly just the same classics over and over again, but sometimes i'll pick up one of the many crime books my mum has read. hashtag keysie's mum loves crime (books)

be the change by gina martin - interesting and informative read. gina martin is the woman behind the voyeurism act 2019 which ruled upskirting as an offence, and details how hard she had to work to get that passed, and how others can do the same

1 quote (there's only one quote i can give now isn't there)

"Evermoist? Who came up with that name? 'Ugh, my bum crack's a bit dry. Does anyone have an Evermoist towelette?'" *general disgust from all* "My Grandma's in a band right now. Nevermoist." - Fat Amy, Pitch Perfect 3

i'm a little late to this so if you haven't already and you're in the mood @slytherinreggieblack @second-sister @sheofthebookandsong @limetimo

#i said i was back before but i lied #NOW i'm back #tag game #film wise i am embarrassingly consistent #song wise i am not

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busyralph · 1 year

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Dearest Ralphie Boy,

To be honest.... I'm starting to think I do might know him! So now I'm wondering if he recognizes my name, let me know! Of course, California is a big state, not as big as Texas which I'm told, if you want good barbecue... That's the place to go. It is a shame about the passport deal... I hope you all get it sorted because I'd think you'd have a marvelous time here! If only for the food. California is the place for Mexican food as well, how are you with spice? I ask that, but I'm actually kinda horrible at it. My dad definitely has a higher tolerance for it, so whenever he claims something is spicy.... I don't believe him. I just don't.

Ahhh. Podcasts. Some of those are good! It's sort of like... Did you have those radio shows back home? It's kind of like that, it really depends, but basically audio shows or plays that one puts on the internet, could have a theme, sometimes interviews with celebrities and the like, or just discussion. But be wary if it's just a group of men that have a microphone but overall shouldn't. Do not listen. They have nothing noteworthy to say.

Haha, yes, you can let him just read what I wrote. I wouldn't want him to take it out on the messenger. Yve from California says it's GIF and will figuratively die on this hill, Scott! I said what I said.

There's nothing wrong with that! Life is too busy and sometimes too draining that a quick and easy meal is just what we need, you know? I like that kind of mac and cheese myself, my go to lazy meal.... Sometimes just a bowl of cereal. Or lately, I've rediscovered my love of hot dogs. Terribly American, I know. But, a beef hot dog on a skillet with some melted butter, grilled and then in a bun with your choice of toppings? It hits the spot. Especially if I cut up a potato and fry it with some oil on a skillet. Potatoes are a big thing for me, I love them. Mashed, baked, fried, roasted, I'll have it. Salted butter and a sprinkle of sea salt, or if fried, with ketchup. Again. Very American.

You really should try some barbecue. My go to would be the chicken, beef ribs ( sometimes pork, but, I'm a beef gal ) and either a tri tip or, there's one restaurant that does brisket burnt ends and it sounds weird but it's the most tender meat you'll ever taste.

God, we're quite wordy, aren't we? And usually over food. But since we're talking about food, what's your favorite dessert? Might as well.

Warmest Regards, Yve

Dearest Yve,

I hope it is not too forward to echo your sentiments back to you!

I am rather wary of spiced foods, admittedly. Especially after my friends gave me a meal that I later learned, when I looked at the menu for myself, that it had four peppers next to it, would you believe! I should have known something was afoot when they all had their phone cameras out. Rest assured, I shall seek my revenge! And I have learned to never let other people order for me.

Oh, a radio show! That could be fun. Victoria always said I had a face for radio, but that makes no sense at all, you can't see the faces of radio hos- Oh. I think I understand what she was trying to say, now.

I am writing these instructions down to try a true American hot dog! And ah, yes. The potato. So versatile, so universally loved, and yet so humble. One can only aspire to be at one with such a wondrous foodstuff.

I do tend to ramble quite a bit, especially when I am in especially pleasant company or I am talking about something I enjoy. And here I am, experiencing both! Normally this is the part where I would apologise for being "too much", as my... *ahem*, darling sister would describe me. And yet, you speak as freely as I do! How marvellous. To answer you, I've always had an especially sweet tooth. Mother never allowed me to have my favourite chocolate cake as a child, but now that I am a wage-earning adult, I can buy all the cake I want! It doesn't even need to be my birthday! This is truly living.

Warmest regards,

Ralph

#*ralph #yve 🫶

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ACOK: Jon VIII (Chapter 68)

I feel like I need a trademark Jon opening as well. Let me think on it.

Ghost sat on his haunches watching, silent as ever. Will he howl for me when I'm dead, as Bran's wolf howled when he fell? Jon wondered. Will Shaggydog howl, far off in Winterfell, and Grey Wind and Nymeria, wherever they might be?

Given we established that wolf only howls when you're inside him, I'm going to say yes.

+.+.+

Qhorin came and stood over him as the first flame rose up flickering from the shavings of bark and dead dry pine needles. "As shy as a maid on her wedding night," the big ranger said in a soft voice, "and near as fair. Sometimes a man forgets how pretty a fire can be."

He was not a man you'd expect to speak of maids and wedding nights. So far as Jon knew, Qhorin had spent his whole life in the Watch. Did he ever love a maid or have a wedding? He could not ask. Instead he fanned the fire. When the blaze was all acrackle, he peeled off his stiff gloves to warm his hands, and sighed, wondering if ever a kiss had felt as good. The warmth spread through his fingers like melting butter.

Here's a passage that two separate shipping factions claim as foreshadowing.

Daenerys Targaryen is not a shy maid, get the hell out of here.

Yet somehow she managed the laces and buttons, and her cloak and gown and girdle and undersilk slid to the floor, until finally she was stepping out of her smallclothes. Gooseprickles covered her arms and legs. She kept her eyes on the floor, too shy to look at him, but when she was done she glanced up and found him staring. - Sansa III, ASOS

+.+.+

Later they spied the eagle soaring through the dusk on great blue-grey wings and Stonesnake unslung his bow, but the bird flew out of range before he could so much as string it. Ebben spat and muttered darkly of wargs and skinchangers.

[...]

They glimpsed the eagle twice more the day after, and heard the hunting horn behind them echoing against the mountains. Each time it seemed a little louder, a little closer.

[...]

Sometimes Qhorin or Stonesnake would loop back to sweep away their tracks, but it was a futile gesture. They were watched. At every dawn and every dusk they saw the eagle soaring between the peaks, no more than a speck in the vastness of the sky.

I want nothing more than this stupid eagle to burn, and it hasn't done anything wrong. It didn't consent to this abuse!

+.+.+

The beast [shadowcat] was gaunt and half-starved, but the sight of it sent Stonesnake's mare into a panic; she reared and ran, and before the ranger could get her back under control she had stumbled on the steep slope and broken a leg.

Ghost ate well that day, and Qhorin insisted that the rangers mix some of the garron's blood with their oats, to give them strength. The taste of that foul porridge almost choked Jon, but he forced it down.

Mmm tastes like Jojen.

I'm so sorry.

+.+.+

They were not words a man was like to forget. Once said, they could never be unsaid. They changed your life forever.

"Say them again with me, Jon Snow."

"If you like." Their voices blended as one beneath the rising moon, while Ghost listened and the mountains themselves bore witness. "Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

Personally, I've always loved that "until my death" bit. How convenient! What I love more though, is what comes directly after it.

+.+.+

The flames were burning low by then, the warmth fading. "The fire will soon go out," Qhorin said, "but if the Wall should ever fall, all the fires will go out."

I just know a bunch of dorks read this and instantly concluded dragons must be good.

+.+.+

"Our honor means no more than our lives, so long as the realm is safe. Are you a man of the Night's Watch?"

Quotes that make you go hmmm.

+.+.+

"I'll do as you say," Jon said reluctantly, "but . . . you will tell them, won't you? The Old Bear, at least? You'll tell him that I never broke my oath."

Qhorin Halfhand gazed at him across the fire, his eyes lost in pools of shadow. "When I see him next. I swear it."

Aww. :(

+.+.+

Jon went to cut more branches, snapping each one in two before tossing it into the flames. The tree had been dead a long time, but it seemed to live again in the fire, as fiery dancers woke within each stick of wood to whirl and spin in their glowing gowns of yellow, red, and orange.

Resurrection?

+.+.+

The big man on the small horse rode over the ice-slick stones, right into the curtain of water, and vanished.

Oh shit, is the curtain of light behind this curtain of water?

+.+.+

Ghost burst through the waterfall in an angry rush, shook droplets from his fur, sniffed at the darkness suspiciously, then lifted a leg against one rocky wall.

You're being tracked, I would advise against scent marking.

+.+.+

Sleep came at last, and with it nightmares. He dreamed of burning castles and dead men rising unquiet from their graves.

My baby boys Bran and Rickon will be rising from graves in the next chapter.

+.+.+

By the time we come out we will have lost them, he told himself as they went. Not even an eagle can see through solid stone. We will have lost them, and we will ride hard for the Fist, and tell the Old Bear all we know.

But when they emerged back into the light long hours later, the eagle was waiting for them, perched on a dead tree a hundred feet up the slope.

Man, fuck this stupid eagle! How could it possibly know?

+.+.+

Qhorin drew his longsword. The tale of how he had taught himself to fight with his left hand after losing half of his right was part of his legend; it was said that he handled a blade better now than he ever had before.

Don't get your hopes up for Jaime Lannister, he'll be long dead before this could ever happen.

It might be about another person who loses a finger or two.

+.+.+

The woman reached into a bloodstained sack and drew out a trophy. Ebben had been bald as an egg, so she dangled the head by an ear. "He died brave," she said.

"But he died," said Rattleshirt, "same like you."

Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died. - Daenerys II, ASOS

+.+.+

Face reddening, Jon descended the slope to where Rattleshirt sat his horse. The wildling stared at him through the eyeholes of his helm, and said, "The free folk have no need of cravens."

"He is no craven." One of the archers pulled off her sewn sheepskin helm and shook out a head of shaggy red hair. "This is the Bastard o' Winterfell, who spared me. Let him live."

The only good thing Ygritte has ever done in her life, and it was for selfish reasons.

+.+.+

Even when Ghost's teeth closed savagely around the ranger's calf, somehow Qhorin kept his feet. But in that instant, as he twisted, the opening was there. Jon planted and pivoted. The ranger was leaning away, and for an instant it seemed that Jon's slash had not touched him. Then a string of red tears appeared across the big man's throat, bright as a ruby necklace, and the blood gushed out of him, and Qhorin Halfhand fell.

He had to throw the word ruby in there. He had to scramble my brain.

+.+.+

They burned Qhorin Halfhand where he'd fallen

[...]

Afterward Rattleshirt claimed some charred bones, while the others threw dice for the ranger's gear. Ygritte won his cloak.

Thanks, I hate it.

Final thoughts:

What are we dreading more, Sansa and Tyrion or Jon and Ygritte?

Honestly, I think it's Jon and Ygritte.

Ygritte Death Countdown

3 down, 7 to go. :(

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #acok #jon viii

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fangirlsmood · 3 years

Text

Kyojuro Rengoku x reader x Tomioka Giyuu - Another love

_Warnings : spoiler about mugen train

Synopsis : After the death of your husband you slowly take back a taste for life ... with another man

_ Senjuro ? Where are you going like this ?

_ Ah (Y/n)! I am going to take a walk in the village, to sell the wood that I collected this morning!

_ Oh Senjuro... You don’t have to do this.

_ I want to ! It won't bring in a lot of money, but you can buy yourself a new kimono or a pretty brooch.

Knowing that he was as stubborn as his elder brother, you sighed :

_ Fine. But don't get too tired and get home quickly.

He embraced you tenderly before leaving, promising to be careful. Senjuro had always loved you very much, but it was only since his big brother was no longer there that he got into the habit of hugging you tight before each departure. You didn't know if he was doing this because Kyojuro asked him to take care of you or because he was afraid of losing you.

Since your husband's death everything had changed. You would wake up every morning in a cold bed, the smell of your loved one was gone over time, and getting up was a struggle. Even though the pain was sharp you had no choice: you had to stay strong for Senjuro and Shinjuro. Although you had some money aside without Rengoku's salary, you had to accumulate the jobs while running the house. Senjuro was doing his best to help you, like this morning when he went to sell wood. He too had changed. He was even more determined to become like his brother, a demon slayer. You didn't agree, the idea of losing Senjuro like you had lost Kyojuro made you sick and you had become a little overprotective with the child who for some time had ceased to be one. Shinjuro hadn't spoken about the death of his son. You acted like the perfect daughter-in-law and you took care of him the best you could. Sometimes you resented him for not having been more present for his sons, for never having told them that he was proud of them but now you understood why the passion that had inhabited this man for so long was extinguished and had given way to bitterness.

You and Senjuro supported each other, he allowed you to face life one more day. He had become your reason for living. Him and ... Tomioka Giyuu to be honest.

The sun set slowly and you were worried to death. Senjuro had not returned. You were going out to get him when there was a knock on the door. You rushed in hoping it was him.

_ (Y/n)! Look who I found on my way !

Tomioka stood beside him with a straight face. You laugh inwardly imagining your little Rengoku forcibly taking him to your home, you visualize very well Giyuu unable to say no to this child full of passion. Tomioka nodded polietly his head to greet you and you invited both to enter.

You served dinner for the two boys. Giyuu wanted to help you but you declined. You brought his meal to Shinjuro who was eating alone in his room as always and when you returned Senjuro and your guest was in the middle of a conversation. Giyuu seemed to be telling a story and you were surprised at how attentive Senjuro was. Usually he was too talkative to listen to anyone, getting into long stories, unless it was his father or his brother. His eyes were shining, you didn't want to interrupt them so you took a seat discreetly. Giyuu continued his story :

_ The demons were not that strong but they were clever and numerous. The civilians were terrified but he told them "Don't be afraid, everything will be fine, there will be no deaths or injuries"...

You choked. He told of his first mission as a pillar, a mission carried out with Kyojuro. You knew it because your husband had enthusiastically told you about it in detail. Giyuu stopped the two boys looked at you worried :

_ Oh ... sorry, maybe I shouldn't...

_ No it's me ! I shouldn't have asked you to tell me about a big brother ... Sorry (Y/n) I didn't think ...

You drank a mouthful of water before smiling, reassuring them quickly :

_ No it's good, everything is fine. I was just surprised but keep going, i want to hear the rest.

Giyuu hesitated a bit but ended up continuing his story. His voice was very monotonous but he recounted the events with precision for your viewing pleasure. Senjuro let out little noises, sometimes of admiration, sometimes of surprise. It had been a long time since he had been so passionate and you were really happy to see him gesticulate all over the place and ask for more. Contrary to what you might think, hearing about your late husband didn't break your heart. On the contrary, it was like talking about good memories. This impression left you perplexed. Did you have the right to think so? Not crying anymore when hearing about him ?

At the end of the meal Senjuro went to bed, claiming that the day had been exhausting. You accompanied him to his room to tuck him in as if he were a fragile little baby. Being mothering like this embarrassed him but he didn't say anything knowing that this kind of thing would reassure you, so you knew he was sleeping peacefully and safe. When you returned to the kitchen Giyuu had cleared the table and was doing the dishes.

_ It is not for the guests to take care of this kind of thing, you said playfully taking from his hands the plate he was washing.

He then grabbed a tea towel and wiped up what he had already washed :

_ I want to.

You knew him long before you got married but since the death of Kyojuro, you and Giyuu had become closer. He came to visit you regularly, to make sure you were okay. You even cry on his shoulder more than once. When you felt overwhelmed by your responsibilities his visits were a great support. With him you felt less alone and stronger, enough to face another day.

You lost yourself in your thoughts for a moment and found yourself staring at him. You tell yourself that he was more than beautiful. You really wanted to put a hand on his cheek, just to feel the warmth of his skin. Suddenly you realized what you were thinking and your face flushed with shame. Noticing your change of attitude Giyuu broke the pleasant silence that reigned :

_ You should go to bed if you're not feeling well. I take care of the rest.

You told him where he could spend the night before leaving. This night you had a lot of trouble falling asleep. You rolled around, crying silently. You were falling in love with another man than Kyojuro. You felt terribly guilty, you felt like you were betraying him. You never thought about being with anyone other than Kyojuro, you never thought he would actually die before you. Now you didn't know how to shut up those emerging feelings and it was gnawing at you, you thought you must really be a horrible person.

Giyuu didn't get much sleep either. He thought of you. When you first met, how beautiful he found you. Would things have been different if he had told you ? He remembered your wedding, Tengen had said that you and Rengoku were "both flamboyant" and he had agreed. He had silenced his feelings but now he couldn't. Each time he told himself he wouldn't visit you but each time he couldn't help it. He had to be sure you were okay, he had to take care of you. He felt guilty for loving you, you who would never be his. You were Kyojuro’s and you will always be. He was so ashamed. Wasn't that disrespectful to his deceased comrade ? It wasn't the first time he thought of you before sleeping. Many times, before and after you were married, he had found himself imagining his life with you, but he always ended up telling himself that it was impossible. He wasn't as strong, sociable or funny as Rengoku. He wasn't as good as him and clearly he wasn't good enough for you.

You were awakened by noises coming from the inner courtyard. Going to see you discovered Giyuu and Senjuro training. The child tried to touch him with a wooden katana but Giyuu still dodged. You sat down and stared at them. Senjuro was really happy to be training with another person especially with a hashira. Someone took a seat by your side.

_ He's improving.

_ You should tell him to his face, Shinjuro.

_ The one with him... It’s Tomioka Giyuu ? The water hashira ?

_ Yes. How did you guess ?

_ Senjuro talk to me. He mentionned him many times recently.

It was really unusual for Shinjuro to come talk to you, usually you just went through the formalities.

_ Can I help you ? You need something ?

He ignored your question.

_ He seems to be a good men. Senjuro told me that he helped you a lot.

You were a little uncomfortable.

_ Yes... He’s a really good person.

_ And a strong one. A good model for a boy, someone you can count on.

_ What do you mean ?

It was really unusual for him to talk to you so much. Did he know your feelings ? His gaze fell on your hand :

_ You still wear it.

He talk about your wedding ring. You have been playing with it nervously since the start of your conversation. You didn't know what to say. The atmosphere was heavy. He went on :

_ Kyojuro isn’t here. We didn't talk much to each other but I know there were only three things that mattered for him. Become a pillar, the happiness of Senjuro and your happiness. He wants ... He wants you to be happy. Alone, with him or with... someone else.

You looked at him with wet eyes. It was as if Kyojuro, through his father, gave you permission to love someone else. You had the right to be in love with Giyuu, it was not a crime. You didn't have to fight your feelings, to blame yourself anymore, you thought you were going to cry in relief.

_ Senjuro is very observant. He told me that you and Giyuu were maybe more than friends or at least you could be. You look at this man like you looked at my son. You are lucky. I've never met someone like Ruka, if it had been things might have been different. I would have been a better father, a better man.

Your lip had started to tremble. You wanted to talk. To say what ? That you didn't know what to think anymore, that you were afraid to love another man ? Seeing that you were about to crack, Shinjuro tells you what you needed to hear :

_ You loved my son, you love him and you will always love him but now it's this man you are in love with and you have the right to.

You burst into tears. Shinjuro ran a comforting hand along your back.

_ (Y/n) ?! Something’s wrong ?

Senjuro noticed that you were crying and he and Giyuu were running towards you. You tried to dry your tears but you couldn't control anything. He hugged you, his father left you and Giyuu stepped aside. It took you a while but you slowly regained your composure even though you were still crying :

_ It's okay now, don't worry.

You offered him a big smile to support your point. In the evening, Giyuu's crow had come to warn him that he had to leave in the morning.

Before sleeping you looked at your hand for a long time. You had a thought for Kyojuro before removing your wedding ring. It was strange not to feel the weight of the ring around your finger. Nonetheless you fell asleep peacefully.

You woke up at dawn. Giyuu was just getting ready to leave.

_ Giyuu ! Wait !

He stopped, he noticed that you no longer had your alliance which left him confused but he said nothing.

_ There is a festival in town next weekend. There will be a lantern throw ... If your mission is finished, would you like to go together?

You thought it sounded a bit too much like a date so you pressed to add :

_ Erm... We could take Senjuro and propose to Shinjuro even though I'm sure he'd rather not go out ...

He looked surprised but a small smile quickly lit his face :

_ My mission will be finished.

_ See you next Sunday then. Be carefull.

_ See you next Sunday.

You watched him go and when you no longer saw him Shinjuro appeared beside you. He had obviously heard everything. He looked at you smiling

_ What makes you smile ?

_ Nothing, I'm happy that's all. And I also tell myself that big brother is very happy at the moment.

And he was right. Kyojuro was happy knowing that you loved and was loved by a good men like Giyuu.

••••••••••••••

author notes : After seeing the film this one shot had been running through my head for a while. I hesitated for a long time to write it, I even thought of making the reader pregnant but finally i like the result. I really hope Rengoku fans move on (with Giyuu maybe). Falling in love again after her husband's death is a sensitive topic, but I see Rengoku the type who wants his wife to be happy, alone or with someone else. Maybe i am wrong. There was no romatic interaction in this one-shots and I regret it a bit. Maybe I should do part two, now that I say so I could write about the festival ...

Thanks for reading, every time I see someone liked my story my heart melts. I take any criticism (positive or negative). And if you see a grammar or spelling error, please let me know (English is not my first language so I don't always realize it), I will correct it.

Have a nice day / evening / night ♥

••••••••••

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#tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader x tomioka #tomioka x reader x rengoku #giyuu x reader x kyojuro #kyojuro x reader x giyuu #kny x reader #kymetsu no haiba x reader #tomioka giyuu x reader

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negandarylsatisfaction · 3 years

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[SUMMARY: Negan keeps a close eye on his ex Deena after learning that the man she is currently with has a history of abuse.]

Negan and Deena PART TWO

Smut/drama/TW:physical abuse

"What do you wanna know about Michael?" Simon asked a bit confused as they stepped into his apartment.

"Everything. Anything you know."

"Well shit-" Simon scratched his head trying to make himself remember anything about this man on the spot.

"I dont know, I met him like a decade ago. I'd always see him at the Jackson bar on Friday nights. I dont think he has any kids. He used to date this one girl for a while but I dont know what happened with her. We used to hear rumors but-"

"What rumors?"

"I-I dont think they were true but-"

"What fucking rumors?"

"Some people used to say he'd smack his girlfriend around but I dont know man, I never saw any proof."

Negan knit his brow giving Simon a death stare.

"And you didnt think to tell me this after I told you the mother of my child was with this man?"

"Negan I-" before Simon could finish Negan grabbed him by the collar and gave him a hard shake.

"You didnt think to tell me my woman could be with someone dangerous!"

"Your woman? Negan I swear I didnt remember." Negan didnt respond staring at him for a moment before finally letting him go and taking a deep breath.

"What happened, did he do something to Deena?"

Negan sat down and ran his hands over his face in frustration.

"She wont tell me but I know something is not right."

"Shes not going to tell you, remember you're an asshole in her eyes so I doubt she'd tell you even if something was wrong." Simon lit up a cigarette leaning back on his chair.

"Listen, I may be an asshole but I never fucking touched Deena. I never lay a hand on her." Negans knee was shaking as he sat back and thought of what the truth could be, Simon had never seen him this concerned.

"Hey man, maybe its not even like that. You cant bombard her with it, you know how she is. She'll shut down. Just give it time, if something else looks weird, act on it but till then just wait cause we really dont know."

Negan knew Simon was right in a way. Deena wouldnt admit it even if it was true and he didnt have solid evidence.

Instead Negan was going to make it a habit now to show up more often to see Jack. Of course during his visits with Jack he'd make sure you were ok without asking you anything. He would just keep a closer eye on you.

As he planned, Negan showed up more throughout the week to see Jack. Everytime he had been there Michael wasnt there, yet he still noticed you keep to yourself more than usual. Of course you had to keep to yourself more, you didn't want to upset Michael again. Part of you knew your feelings were still strong for Negan but you didnt want to acknowledge it because of how much he had hurt you. Michael was someone new who you convinced to yourself wasnt that bad. You did call him another mans name, part of you was almost making yourself believe it was your fault what occured. Michael hadn't touched you since, as long as you didnt upset him you were fine is what you would tell yourself.

Negan was in the living room with Jack while you began cooking dinner for when Michael would arrive. You could hear Negan being playful with Jack, it was a sweet sound that made your heart flutter.

Negan sighed putting the baby down in his playpen before looking towards the kitchen. He walked in as you stirred the food, leaning his shoulder on the doorway watching you quietly cook.

"You look beautiful."

Your heart immediately began to race, trying not to put much thought to it or even look his way, you smiled.

"Thank you."

Negan slowly walked in to the kitchen looking around. He noticed some things had been changed from where you originally had them. He noticed something sitting beside the food pantry he hadn't noticed before.

"What's this?" Negan asked opening the box to find a stack of tools.

"Wait, Negan-" you ran to him taking the tool from his hand and putting it back in the box carefully.

"This is Michael's and he doesnt like it to be touched." Negans face quickly changed noticing how nervously you reacted.

"What does he live here now?"

"No. He just has some things here. That's all, just don't touch it please. Hes really picky with his things."

You walked back to the pot of food that was almost done cooking as Negan crossed his arms not taking his eyes off you. He had never seen you act this way before.

"You must really like this guy huh?" He asked just to see your reaction, he knew there was something more making you act this way.

"Mhm." You responded without making eye contact.

"Mhm." Negan pressed his lips together before you were both interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking.

"That must be Michael now."

"He has the fucking keys? Since when?"

"Negan please. I just gave it to him for today since I thought I was going to be alone with Jack." You quickly walked out to greet Michael at the door. The more Negan realized things, the more angrier he became. This man was trying to claim all of this as his. He was trying to gain a power over you and you couldnt see it.

Negan walked out of the kitchen to catch Michael with his lips on yours. Negan right away got a bad taste in his mouth at the sight before Michael looked up at him.

"Negan. I didnt know you were here."

"Yeah. Came by to check on my son and Deena. Have to make sure shes ok here by herself with him."

"Oh I'm sure I have a good watch on that." Michael quickly responded.

"Yeah well an extra eye doesnt hurt." Negan grinned trying to keep himself composed. The silence that followed made you anxious and uncomfortable.

"So are you ready for dinner?"

"Yes!" Both men eagerly responded at the same time, making you more anxious. It was clear these men did not like each other and had no problem in showing it.

Negan watched as Michael sat and let you serve him. He could tell you were nervous as you served his plate, of course you were. You had not expected Negan to stay for dinner.

"Thank you, baby." Michael said loudly as you turned to walk towards Negan with the food when he suddenly spanked your ass hard making you gasp. Negan grabbed his knee under the table hard, he knew Michael was doing this to purposely piss him off and boy was it working. As you were about to serve Negan he stood up and grabbed the pot of food from you.

"I got it, Dee. Sit down, shit you been on your feet all day."

"Dee? I've never heard anyone call her Dee." Michael cleared his throat looking up at Negan with a raised brow. Michael clearly didnt like the sound of the little nickname Negan had for you.

"Only I do. Old habit." Negan knew what he was doing and if Michael wanted to get under his skin, he knew how to get under his too. Taking a deep breath you sat down next to Jack, making sure he was comfortable in his high chair and began to eat. There was silence for a moment until Michael noticed the lid on his box of tools was not left the way he had left it the day before.

"What happened with my tool box?" Michael's question instantly made you nervous.

"Oh I-"

"That was me." Negan interrupted not liking the tone in his voice when he spoke to you.

"You let Negan touch my tool box?"

"She didnt let me touch anything. I thought it was something I had left here so I went to take a look." Negan responded confidently.

"I dont know why you would think anything here belongs to you, you dont live here."

"As far as I'm concerned, neither do you." Negan shot back.

"Ok stop." You spoke hesitantly as the men stared at each other angrily.

"Can we just enjoy dinner?"

The rest of the dinner was silent, you didn't make eye contact with either of the men. Negan stood up and was soon getting ready to leave. He leaned in beside you to give Jack a kiss. You could smell his scent close to you, Michael quietly stared at you as you stared down at your plate of food.

"Let me know if you need anything, Deena." You heard his voice close to your ear.

Negan walked out not liking the idea of him leaving you alone with Michael. In reality, what could he do without you acknowledging anything or him having proof? He would just look like a jealous man, which he could admit jealous he was. Negan left and you could feel Michael's eyes on you.

"I trust you to not let your ex touch my belongings or disrespect me."

"I told him not to touch it, Michael. I really did."

"Dont." He slammed his fist on the table making you jump. Jack began to cry making you quickly pull him out of his high chair and comfort him.

"Dont lie to me, Deena."

"Michael stop it. Im not lying to you and you're scaring Jack. You can leave." Surpsingly feeling a rush of courage when it came to Jack, you stood up with him in your arms and began to walk out the room until he unexpectedly grabbed your arm. You froze as he squeezed you and stood up staring down at you.

"Watch how you talk to me, baby."

"I said..you can leave." You felt yourself shaking as you stood your ground.

"Alright. You want me to leave? I'll leave." Michael responded calmly, a little too calm for comfort. He turned around and began to walk away making you let our a deep breath of relief when suddenly he turned around and smacked you across the face. You yelped as you fell hard to the floor holding Jack as tight as you could. Blocking his head from hitting anything you slammed your head on the bottom kitchen cabinet.

"Now I'll leave. You see what you do to yourself." Michael walked out slamming the door loudly as Jack cried loudly. Tears streaming down your eyes you cried with him.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered to Jack. Pushing yourself up off the floor you went to lock the door when Michael suddenly appeared again making you step back.

"Another thing, you tell Negan any of this I'll make sure you never see your son again. Remember my brother is a lawyer. He'll have you all fucked."

With those last words he walked out for a second time. Looking over at the table by the door you were relieved to see he had left the keys. Immediately you locked it, even clicking the bolt into place. Upset you walked up the stairs to run Jack a warm bath and calm him down. All you wanted was to call Negan to come over in that moment.

You took Jack a bath and put him to bed when you realized you had a text from Negan.

"Is jackass still around?" He texted making you chuckle softly.

"No. Alone now, baby just went to sleep." You responded in a text when suddenly you heard your phone begin to ring but when you checked, it wasnt a phone call.

Negan wanted to video call you. Your heart skipped a beat, he had never done this. What the hell was making him do it now.

You picked up the video call and found him staring very serious at the screen, he also look a bit tired.

"Figuring out your phone huh?" You teased.

"I wanted to see you." You watched as Negans eyes roamed over the screen taking a good look at you. Negan was doing everything he could to have a closer eye on you without you realizing it.

"Well you're seeing me." You responded with a smile but Negan could tell the smile didnt reach your eyes.

"I'm surprised the asshole didnt stay the night." Quickly, he saw you look away from the camera turning to the side. Looking to keep yourself occupied with something.

"Its fine. I wanted to be alone anyways."

"Guess he didn't like me being there for dinner." Negan chuckled to himself.

"He doesnt like alot of things." You muttered low.

"What do you see in that asshole, Deena?"

His sudden question caught you off guard but you didnt know how to respond.

"I know I wasnt the greatest to you but I see you with this guy and you're not you."

You stayed looking away from the camera as Negan quietly stared at you.

"Can we talk about something else?"

Negan heard a crack in your voice as you brushed your hand through your hair.

"What happened after I left, Deena?"

"Nothing happend after you-" cutting yourself off you looked up having heard a thump. Negan frowned wondering what caught your attention.

"What is it?"

You didnt respond as you slowly stood up and walked out of the room quickly checking on Jack. Thankfully he was fine and the main door was still locked. You sighed a breath of relief before getting back into your room and realizing you were becoming paranoid.

"I thought I heard something, it was just me." Negan could tell something was worrying you but you didnt want to admit what it was.

"You want me to come over, just to make sure everything is fine around the house?"

His offer made you quickly look back at him with some sort of relief in your eyes.

"I mean yes, maybe check the attic. Could be a pipe." You lied and he knew it. In all honesty you were just afraid with what had just happened with Michael. You felt paranoid about him showing up unexpectedly. Negan played along just wanting you to be comfortable and made his way to you. It was around ten at night, Negan never came over this late but you didnt mind it.Relieved to see Negan when you opened the door you let him in and quickly locked the door from top to bottom. You turned to find him staring at you strangely.

"Since when have you been using the bolt?"

Negan had placed the bolt for you a few years back but with all the locks on the door you had never used it. You never found it necessary.

"A habit I have now." You chuckled low as you walked past him. It did make you nervous that Negan was in your home, what if Michael found out in some kind of way? The thought of Michael turned your stomach.

"What did you want me to check out, doll?"

"Oh yeah, the attic. Maybe I heard the noise coming from there." Negan never seeming to be afraid of the unknown, pulled the ladder down and walked right up. It was hard not to admit to yourself that besides the differences you both have had, you could always count on him whenever you needed him.

"Just like I thought! Theres nothing up here." He yelled from the attic.

"You sure?"

"Shit, come see for yourself."

Negan chuckled as he came back down the ladder, you had always been afraid to go up to the attic alone.

"I know I heard something." You whispered as he made his way to you and leaned his face in close.

"You sure, sweetcheeks?" He teased making you chuckle. Negan loved teasing you, he always liked seeing you laugh.

"Oh stop." You playfully shoved him which only made him bounce back closer to you. The two of you stopped for a moment and stared into each others eyes. The thought of that kiss he gave you the last time made you shiver inside. But before he could reach in and kiss you, you quickly turned away. The strong pull you felt to him couldnt be denied but Michael...the thought of that man terrified you.

"Do you want a snack, I want a snack. I'll make us something quick." Negan watched as you flew down the stairs and scoffed shaking his head. He knew you wanted him just as bad.

As you reached into the cabinet Negan walked into the kitchen and leaned on the door way. You could feel his eyes on you, devouring you from head to toe.

"I know you dont give a shit about this guy." Negan spoke confidently as he slowly made his way to you. You didn't say a word knowing you couldnt react to him, thinking of the threat Michael made, you couldn't risk it.

"Fuck, Deena why do you let him control you like this?" Negan asked making you turn to him. He knew that would make you react which is what he wanted.

"He doesn't control me so quit assuming things."

"So then kiss me." He grinned as get got closer to you making you back up into corner.

"So what you're telling me to do is cheat on him."

"Oh is that what I said?" Negan chuckled with sarcasm.

"Figures you know, since you know so much about cheating yourself." You responded back with double the sarcasm making him laugh. You rolled your eyes pushing him aside but he blocked you with his arm. His expression suddenly turning more serious, he stared down at you not letting you pass him. His look was making you weak, your lips parted looking at his. You knew this wasn't right but the closer he got the more irresistible he became.

"I'm not going to kiss you." You whispered sounding anything but confident.

"Oh yeah? You sure about that?" He whispered in return wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against him making you gasp.

"Now what was that you said, sweetheart?"

You were now speechless, how can you resist this man? You never stopped wanting him and he never had stopped wanting you. He leaned in and you instantly melted at the feel of his warm lips on yours. He felt your body fall into his as he passionately kissed you. He took your arms and wrapped them around his neck as he grabbed your ass with both hands.

"Negan..." you whispered into his lips.

"Hm? Tell me what you want, doll." He spoke slowly and erotically. Each word pulling at your heart strings.

"I want you." You whispered feeling him squeeze you harder when he suddenly lifted you up and sat you on the kitchen counter. You could hear him unbuckling his belt as he kissed you, his hands brushing up your thighs and pulling down your shorts and underwear. Your heart was racing. You swore this would never happen again but you didnt want him to stop. He pulled back for a moment and looked at you as he pulled you towards the edge of the counter. Negan wanted you to look directly at him as he entered you. Your arms and legs were wrapped around him as he pushed in forward, the both of you moaned simultaneously at the first feel of each other. It had been too long since he felt you and he didnt know how long he could control himself before exploding.

"Holy fuck." Negan muttered as he got into rythm. Aggresivly pulling off his shirt he threw it across the room. You moaned loudly as Negan broke out in a sweat, it took alot of him not to burst with each moan you let out. You screamed as you leaned your head back against the wall, fully exposing your neck. Negan wrapped one hand around your throat and gave you a hard squeeze as he moved faster. You squealed as he used the same hand to now grab your hair pulling it back hard.

"Negan!" You grabbed onto him tightly, the sound of your voice helpless calling for him made it hard for him to control himself any longer.

"Fuck, Deena- I cant fucking hold it-" before he could finish he groaned loudly letting himself explode within you. You moaned as he buried himself deeply, his body against yours. The two of you panting uncontrollably in each others arms.

"Negan." You whispered in a shakey voice before he pulled back and slowly pulled himself out.

"Fuck, I couldnt stop it." He spoke breathlessly falling back onto the chair behind him.

"You know how long I've been waiting for that." He chuckled making you laugh.

Jack had still been sleeping while you and Negan lay in bed under the covers. Your face on his chest as he rubbed your hair back gently. It was nice forgetting everything for just a moment until Negan rubbed over a certain part of your head making you lift your head up and wince.

"Ow."

"What's that?" Negan felt the bump on the back of your head and frowned. You knew the bump must've been from when you fell and hit your head on the cabinet. You weren't going to tell Negan this so you simply shrugged.

"I dont even know how that happened. These random bruises come out of nowhere. Dont you hate when that happens." You laughed nervously and lay your head back down. Negan stayed looking down at you not liking your response.

"You know you can tell me anything right, Dee?" You hesitantly lifted your head up and looked back at him.

"What would I need to tell you? What do you mean?" Negan didnt say a word for a moment but he knew he had to. He didnt know how you would react but he couldnt continue acting like he wasnt noticing certain things.

"What I mean is that ever since you began dating that fuck, Michael, you either have some new bruise or you're suddenly nervous with shit you never were nervous about before. I know you, Deena and you sure as fuck arent acting like yourself."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?!" You stood up quickly putting on your robe making Negan roll his eyes, he knew you would get defensive.

"Dee-" Negan tried to speak sitting up in the bed but you wouldnt let him.

"I dont know who the hell is putting this shit in your mind but leave it alone. Nobody is doing anything to me."

"Listen, I'm not trying to pick a god damn fight for fucksake." Negan got up and began to get dressed.

"Yeah? Well you are! Why dont you mind your business."

"You are my fucking business!" Negan yelled so loudly you were surprised Jack hadn't woken up.

"You know what, get out! This is why I never wanted to sleep with you again-" Negan scoffed in return.

"I beg to differ, sweetheart. With the way you felt you been wanting that just as much as I have." You stared at him in silence holding back your tears, you were not going to let him make you admit the truth.

"Get out and do me a favor dont come back unless it's to pick up Jack." You stormed out of the room making your way down the stairs to the kitchen. Negan cursed at himself angrily, the last thing he wanted to do was fight with you.

"Goddamn women." He muttered low, but he knew he had to approach this matter differently.

In the kitchen you quietly made yourself tea hearing him come down the stairs. He slowly made his way inside and leaned back on the counter beside you but you wouldnt look his way.

"Did he threaten you?" Negan asked with his arms crossed looking at the ground. Feeling a knot in your throat you couldnt respond, your silence spoke for itself making Negan look over at you.

"That son of a-"

"Negan please."

"Tell me the truth, Deena. He fucking hits you doesnt he?" His voice was stern, his eyes darkened as he looked down at you.

"It was my fault, Negan-" you cried out as Negan turned and punched the concrete wall behind him. The anger in him rising rapidly, he didnt even feel the effect on his knuckles.

"I'll kill him! I swear to God I'll fucking kill him."

"Negan, please you cant tell him anything. Please..."

"Oh for fuck sake, Deena! What the fuck does he have over you?! What is he threatening you with?!"

Negan stared down at you silently, his breathing was heavy, he studied the look in your eyes when it suddenly clicked.

"Jack." He whispered and all he saw was red. Negan quickly charged for the front door as you ran after him catching up before he could leave, you blocked the entrance.

"Negan, please you're not listening!" You cried.

"Oh I'm fucking listening, hes using our son to keep you shut. I'd like to see him try something-"

"Negan his brother is a lawyer. He threatened if I told you anything he'd make sure they'd take Jack away from me. Please, I beg you. I beg you, dont do or say anything. He doesnt do anything as long as I do what he says-"

"Do you fucking hear yourself, Dee?! As long as you do what he says? Who the fuck is he?! I know I was never an easy man to deal with but I never, ever put my god damn hands on you! Ever!" Negan turned red as he yelled, a vein pulsating hard in his neck appeared. You quietly cried before suddenly hearing Jack begin to cry upstairs. Negan sighed looking down, his fists balled up at his sides.

"Just promise me you wont say anything. Promise me."

"Ok." Negan stood aside letting you get past him to run up the stairs and check on Jack. He could hear you singing to him and ran his hands through his hair. He had never been so frustrated by a situation. He knew you were terrified for yourself and Jack and he hated that he felt like he couldnt do anything.

The next few weeks flew by peacefully, your cousin had come into town so she had been staying with you every day. With her around Michael never did anything to you. Negan knew you were safe for the time being but hated knowing Michael was still with you. You had never felt more confused, you loved Negan..you knew you did. The two of you hadn't even spoken about what happened between the two of you at all. Yet, you couldnt stop thinking about it. Jack's birthday was coming up the next day, you couldnt believe he was turning three. As excited as you were the thought of having Michael and Negan together in the same room for the first time since that night made your stomach turn. It made your stomach turn so much you actually began to feel nauseous. Brushing off the nausea, the sound of the doorbell went off and you knew it was Negan.

"Hi." You smiled as you stepped back and let him come in with a bunch of balloons.

"I picked up all these damn balloons, the cake and tomorrow I just gotta get the food." You laughed as Negan struggled with decorations and lay them out on the table.

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

Once he had everything set, he turned to you and couldn't help letting his eyes roam from your head to your toes.

"Looking good, Dee."

You blushed feeling your cousins eyes fall on you in confusion. Negan winked at you before turning to Jack and got right on the floor with him and began playing with him.

"Looking good, Dee." Your cousin muttered beside you, making fun of what she has just witnessed.

"Cut it out, Louise."

"What was that all about, he looked like he totally undressed you with his eyes." She continued making you sigh when you the wave of nausea struck you again.

This time it didnt go away and you found yourself running across the living room to the bathroom. Negan looked up with a frown then looked over to Louise as she stared in even more confusion.

"Stay with Jack." Negan pushed himself up and made his way to the bathroom door, knocking gently.

"Deena? You ok?" He could hear you continuing to throw up before you finally flushed. A few minutes later you stepped out of the bathroom looking pale and weak.

"I think it was something I ate." You whispered rubbing your head.

"Come on, let's get you to sit back."

Negan guided you by your arm to the living room when you found Louise opening the door for Michael. You froze in your steps as Negans expression quickly changed.

"Negan, what a surprise."

Negans lip twitched as Michael's eyes drifted to him holding your arm.

"Oh I wasnt feeling good-"

"So I was making sure she could make it back to the couch safely." Negan interrupted in a calm yet cold tone.

"Well I'm sure I can take over now that-"

"I got her." Negan shot back sternly.

"Its ok, Negan. I feel fine, Louise is here with me too."

"Yeah I got her, Negan." Louise agreed.

Michael and Negan didnt say a word to each other as Louise took your arm and led you to the couch. Negan walked out angrily not liking to feel out of control with this situation. You knew tomorrow would be a whole other roller coaster of emotions. It would be Jack's birthday celebration, it was already the 8th. Your heart sunk realizing what you had just thought to yourself. How could you be so stupid?

It was already the 8th and you realized you were four days late on your period.

The rest of the day you felt fine physically but you worried like never before. You knew you had a extra pregnancy test hidden in your drawer somewhere that you would take as soon as Michael would leave. When he did finally leave you asked Louise to stay with Jack while you hid in the bathroom to take the rest.

"Please don't be positive, please dont be positive." You continued to whisper repeatedly when it was time for you to look at the test and your mouth dropped open.

"Oh my God.."

It was positive.

Obviously, you knew it was Negans not having had sex with Michael in the last few weeks. Louise called out for you and you quickly hid the test and the box under your shirt and ran down stairs. Throwing out any of the evidence and without saying a word put Jack to sleep for the night.

The next day you got dressed up in a nice blue sundress for Jack's birthday. It was a very small gathering and you were excited to make this memory for Jack. Looking at yourself in the mirror you finished you make up and took a deep breath before heading out of your room. The decorations had been placed nicely in the living room. Michael was in the kitchen while Louise finished setting up the balloons. You had no idea that while Michael was in the kitchen he had discovered the box the pregnancy test came out of my accident as he was taking out the garbage.

"Deena! Can you come to the kitchen for second?" Michael called out for you as you played with Jack in the living room. You left him on the floor with Louise as you entered the kitchen with a smile excited for the day before realizing what you were walking into. Michael stood by the counter with the box of your pregnancy test in hand. The expression on your face instantly changing, you felt yourself having trouble to breathe.

"Wh-where did you get that..?"

"Oh right from your garbage can, baby." His face looked demented, he looked like a ticking bomb.

"Michael....let me explain.." you whispered as he made his way closer to you.

"Let you explain? Go ahead, explain." Michael threw the box on the table making a glass cup fall and shatter on the floor. Louise heard the noise and looked up before being distracted by the door.

It was Negan.

Louise opened the door for Negan as he came in excitedly picking his son up and wishing him a happy birthday.

"You're a big boy now, three years old." Negan grinned when he suddenly heard Michael yelling. He looked towards the kitchen door then back at Louise with a raised brow.

"I dont know." She whispered with a shrug.

"Michael please!" Negan heard you yell making him quickly give the baby to Louise and charge to the kitchen. When Negan pushed open the door he found Michael grabbing you by your hair before pushing you to the floor. You screamed before looking back and noticing Negan at the door. His eyes filled with rage, you stood up and ran to him blocking him before he could do anything.

"Negan wait- it's not what it looks like."

"Oh yeah, Deena why dont you show Negan here what it looks like huh?"

"Please, Negan just go-"

"Get out of the kitchen, Deena. I've been waiting for this shit." Negan didnt take his eyes off Michael across the room.

"Negan please, listen to me. Look at me."

"Yeah please, look at her before I have to make her shut the hell up."

"Negan!" You squealed when he suddenly pushed you behind him and charged towards Michael.

"Come on asshole, I'll give you a fair fight." Negan threw the chair that was in front of him across the room before he finally reached Michael and the two men began to fight. Both men trying to put each other in head locks as they ran into everything around them, knocking everything to the floor.

"Deena get the hell out of here!"

You stood in shock against the door way watching as Negan knocked Michael off his feet.

"Yeah...wouldnt want an unfortunate accident to happen to a pregnant woman." Michael grunted as Negan held him down before realizing what he said. Negan looked up at you in disbelief before quickly looking back down at Michael.

"Wouldnt want anything happening to that baby." He continued to taunt before Negan collided his fist with Michael's face.

"Say something stupid again, I fucking dare you. Trust me asshole, I got alot more where that came from." He looked directly into Michael's eyes but before he could utter another word, Negan punched him again. Louise had put the baby in his crib and called 911 from hearing all the commotion. She came into the kitchen and gasped at the site of the entire kitchen a mess. The rush of emotions and morning sickness started to take over you. You felt yourself tipping over to the side before bumping into Louise.

"Deena are you okay?" She yelled making Negan look up to find you struggling to stand straight.

"Louise sit her down." Negan instructed without letting go of Michael. Michael scoffed with blood pouring out of his mouth when soon you heard the sound of the cops at the door.

"My brother will handle all of you."

"Youre brother can choke on my dick." Negan squeezed down harder on Michael's neck. The police quickly entered the house and detained Michael who kept yelling at all of you as they dragged him out. Negan rushed to you, grabbing a chair and sitting down right in front of you. You instantly noticed his bloody and bruised knuckles.

"Sir, do you need us to take a look at that?" A paramedic asked Negan.

"No, this is fine-" he shook his hand not worried of any injury.

"I need you to check her." Negan motioned towards you but you quickly shook your head.

"I'm fine, I'm just dehydrated-.

"And pregnant." Negan interrupted.

"You're pregnant?! What!" Louise screamed with excitement making you chuckle. Negan himself couldnt help but smirk a bit.

"Yes, Louise. Wait-wheres Jack?" You looked around as your heart began to race.

"Hes upstairs sleeping, hes fine. Dont worry, Deena." She hugged you as Negan stayed holding your hand. "You're going to need to get a restraining order on that guy if hes bailed out. You cant be here alone with the baby, and pregnant with that mad man knowing where you live."

"Oh she wont be alone, I can promise you that."

Negan meant every word he said, he was never going to risk losing you again.

If you have ideas for a part 3 if youd like one let me know? Not sure where to go after this or if I should continue at all.

#jeffrey dean morgan #the walking dead negan #the walking dead fanfiction #negan x you #negan smut #negan twd #negan fan fic #negan x oc

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elvenladysakura · 3 years

Text

~Chaar kadam~

Minotaur

Somebody had read her a Greek myth once. Amrit doesn't remember who, but she remembers the pounding of her heart as she clutched a pillow and listened - heart in her mouth - about how the hero entered a dark maze by tying a string to its entrance and keeping the other end in his hand. At the centre of the maze awaited a monster.

Navigating life with Kuwar Veer Pratap Singh was somewhat similar. He was the maze and the monster both and with a gust of wind she had just lost the end of her string. Amrit would later laugh at herself for thinking of Greek myths when the monster was breathing down her face but that moment when the pardha slipped and finally her eyes met with Veer's, it was all her numb mind had conjured.

In her relatively young life Amrit has faced several angry men. It became the norm of the times she lived in, the world she survived on a daily basis, between two infuriated men - one her brother Uday and the other her make believe husband, she could still hold her ground. She expected him to lash out, go for her throat at the very least - his eyes were liquid fire, his mere stare scorching. Behind her, she could feel Uday shift, ready to launch himself at Veer.

Veer shifted, his grip leaving her unexpectedly. She did not waste time on analysing him, instead she turned to beg Uday.

Amrit knew her brother would take nothing but truth, but truth she couldn't give him then and there. She implored him with her eyes, and willed him to understand.

"Aap jaayiye veerji," she pleaded. "I'll come to see you. Please, please..."

Uday pauses, looks at her and sighs. His shoulders droop as the fight leaves him. Amrit has no doubt that her brother would take her away at the cost of his life if she indicates her unhappiness in the slightest. But she has motives in coming here. She cannot turn back so soon after starting her fight.

Yet when Uday leaves, when they all leave one by one - some relieved that no harm was done, some disappointed that the drama did not escalate - leaving her alone to face the monster in the middle of her maze, Amrit is no longer certain of her choices. Veer's anger is scathingly cold and silent as the dead of a winter night.

"Kamre mein aayiye Zara," he says smoothly and leaves without waiting to see if she had followed. Amrit swallows at his tone, but follows him nevertheless. There is no longer a string to keep track of her route in the dark, there is no leaving of this maze she had walked willingly into - she'd very well face the monster and be done with it once and for all.

The click of the gun makes her pause at the threshold. Veer doesn't turn to look at her, instead religiously dismentals and reassembles his gun. His movements are deliberate, hands steady with what could only be years of practice. Even as she notes the veiled threat of his actions, they remind her of her father. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth that something so particular would associate this man with her fond memories of home.

"Shut the door." He checks the trigger and adjusts the barrel. His voice is still casual. Amrit complies.

When she bolts the door and turns, Veer is before her, his weapon drawn and pointed, aiming between her eyes.

"Give me one good reason not to shoot you now."

For all the mental preparation, Amrit breathes through her open mouth.

"You won't shoot me, Kuwar Sahab, you want me to think you would. You simply can't claim to love your wife to the moon and back a few moments before and then murder her in cold blood inside your bedroom. Even if we put aside how it will affect your reputation - you don't want to be labelled insane do you?"

As the words leave her mouth Amrit wonders why this man always ends up bringing out such fire in her. It rages inside her, the bitter reality of her helplessness, the hurt, the disappointment - and the coil it binds her in eases as she lashes out at Veer. His eyes flickers in surprise. His jaw tightens in anger. She'd never seen a man easier to read or provoke, or more satisfying to hurt.

"Shatir ho tum," he says, lips tugging in a mocking smile. "Well played Mrs. Veer Pratap Singh- well played!"

He lowers the gun, but never puts it down.

"But there are things you never learned about me. One - I have no qualms of being called a madman, I've heard it thousand times before. By my own mother no less. Such a liberating word it is. Pagal. Kabhi bhi kuch bhi kar sakthe hai. Kuch bhi. "

He looks at her pointedly, notices with satisfaction how a little colour drains from her face.

"I won't trust you again," he continues. "Itne bhi pagal nahi hai hum. But," he paused, stepped closer - watching her, until he looms over her, the cold barrel of his gun pressed against her side. "Hum aap ki himmat ke kadar karte hai. Therefore I'm giving you this one chance to come clean. You know my weakness - you've exploited it by installing yourself into my family, that even if I wish to - as you said I cannot remove you without implications. So it is only fair that I get hold of your weakness in return." The cold metal digs into her skin. Amrit doesn't dare flinch. "It's not that I can't kill you now. I'd rather not. Shatir ho tum, mouka hai, faida uttha lo."

"There is a man," she speaks before she thinks it through. "Whose freedom I wish to buy. It doesn't matter if the cost is my own life in return. He is in a Pakistani jail."

Veer's smile is slow, but sharp as a razor.

"Tumhara aashiq," he says savagely.

"That doesn't concern you."

He withdraws the gun and himself, leaving her to catch her breath.

"True. It doesn't concern me," he shakes his head to himself. "Do a proper job and your work will be done."

Amrit turns away, a hand clasped against her heart, a silent prayer on her tongue and blinking away her tears. She'd not stoop as low as to let Veer see how much of a relief his words brought her, or how dependent she was on his promise.

"Bohut pyaar karti ho usse?" He calls after her, abruptly, causing her to halt. "Kudh se zyaada?"

He sounds speculative and a little curious. Veer approaches her again, turns her to face him, his eyes searching her face.

"You do realize you'll never see him again, right? Because I don't later want great drama over sachcha pyaar, rub ka ishara, kismet ka rishta etc etc... zindagi ka sauda kiya hai madam," he bows and touches his forehead to hers, lips tugged in a mocking grin. "Zindagi bhar nibhana padenga."

"Chaar kadam," she says instead. He looks at her blankly. "You are forgetting your own rule Kuwar sahab."

His grip on her tightens and Veer clenches his jaw. Before he replies however somebody politely knocks on the door.

"Breakfast is laid out Chote hukum, aap ke aur bahu rani ki intazaar ho rahi hai."

Veer sighs and steps back, leaving her to go and unlock the door. Deliberately, he ignores to inform her how dishevelled she looked, or how her sindoor was smudged leaving a trace of it along his forehead. Instead he addresses the flustered servant over her shoulder.

"Won't a person get two minutes to spend with their wives in this place? Hadd hai mathlab...!"

"My apologies hukum," the servant bows and Veer shooes him with a disinterested hand gesture and holds Amrit back before she leaves.

With deliberate slowness he adjusts her Dupatta on her head, straightens her necklace and wipes away the smudge of sindoor neatly.

"Rani ma send him. Humari jhasoosi karne," he explains in a low tone. "Now that you are here, do take care. Yahaan deewaron ki sirf kaan hi nahi aank, naak, muh, daat sab hote hai. Kahi kaat na lein."

So Friday episode's Veer left me in a lot of feels for his gray shaded character.I got this done in a single sitting. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for dropping by!

#kiyun utthe dil chhod aaye #Amveer #cross ship #mini fic #chaar kadam #veer #Veer Pratap Singh #Amrit #Uday #Sony entertainment television #hindi #hindi dialogue where necessary #cannon divergence

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vanderlindemangofarm · 5 years

Note

Hi! Not sure how requests work since this is the first time I've done one, though I absolutely adore the fact you make content for my soft trainwreck Swanson. So really just any content for him, headcanons, a gender-neutral fic about him getting the love he deserves, some female reader smut. I just need more content for this underrated boi so just choose whichever.

So…this inspired me more than I anticipated. Initially I was going to do some headcanons for Swanson finding someone who would treat him right, but got thinking about his life before the gang, and here we are. I tried hard to keep within the canon knowledge of his life (for example his dud marriage) but imagined other scenes such as how he saved Dutch - I know canon leaves this open for the player to imagine but I really enjoy the idea of him unknowingly saving someone and then suddenly finding himself part of an outlaw gang. Basically his life has been one giant ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’ meme.

As it goes, I’m proud of this. I’d like to do similar pieces for the other “forgotten” characters like Strauss and Pearson one day, but we’ll see how it goes.

This is for you, Anon, and anyone else who, like me, often finds themselves thinking about dear Reverend Swanson.

Summary: Orville reflects on the choices and loves that lead him down this path as he seeks his own redemption and returns to the city he once called home.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and drug abuse

Word count: 1,995

The Emerald Tiles

Orville thought of her often. Thewoman he would have married.

Would have. Would. The word pierced him like an icicle and meltedaway with the hazy hours of another wasted day.

As the gentle hum of the campfaded into the background with a large swig of whiskey, Orville closed hiseyes. The air was cleaner out here, he thought. It was nothing like the city,his city, the city that made him. New York seemed a lifetime away, and in asense it was, he concluded with a sigh. Those days where he’d stuff one of hisfather’s theology books under his coat and sneak out of the house, finding aquiet corner of Chelsea where he’d sit by the river, legs dangling over thegrey water, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the words he read. Thebooks spoke of disciples and martyrs and faith that stood unshaken againstquestions and debates and fear.

It was always assumed thatOrville would seek out a career in the church, just like his father. He was athoughtful, earnest young man with a wild tangle of red hair and ink stains onhis fingers. But try as he might with his studies, he could never get to gripswith the academia of it all. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy learning – headored the process of understanding something – but the idea of taking thewords of other, often dead learned men at face value didn’t sit well with him atall. And so that’s where those stolen hours by the river, books in hand, cameinto practise. Without someone berating him for his insolence, he could readand query and wonder in perfect solitude. And on his way home, perhaps he wouldsee her. The woman he would have married.

Her parents kept a greengrocerson 17th Street, a modest but overflowing store piled high withproduce and walled with unforgettable emerald green tiles. Orville decided thatthe tiles were chosen to match her eyes, ignoring the fact that the buildingwas twice her age. She always pretended not to see him until he was right infront of her, her shining eyes widening in mock-surprise. She would allow himone piece of fruit to take on the house, though woe betide the pair of them iftheir scheme was ever found out. He’d scan the shelves of glossy green applesand sumptuous looking pears, punnets of berries that toppled over one another,their juices staining the wooden floors. Once he’d chosen his treat she’d cupit in her little hands, subtly wrapping it in brown paper and tucking it intohis coat pocket. Sometimes her hand would linger there, just for a moment.Other times he’d gently brush her palm, and she’d blush.

He would finish his education, hedecided. He would marry her. And then they would leave.

The darkened shroud of war stilllingered over the city. Orville could still smell it in the night air, see itin the gloomy interiors of ruined house-fronts, hear it in the whispers ofthose who drank too early and for too long. And although this was his city, heloathed its miserable claws. As themonths went by, Orville felt more and more stifled, more frustrated. His fatherwas rarely at home due to his work, his mother kept busy with running thehouse. With few friends – and even fewer of them with similar interests – hewould bring his conversations to the greengrocers. He saw injustice everywhere,he’d exclaim to her, the woman he would have married. The poor only seemed toget poorer. The world only seemed to get angrier. He’d clench his jaw, eyesblazing, raving about how faith seemed worthless nowadays. She’d listen, sighand simper.

It’s alright, he’d say. Theywould be married soon. And then they would leave.

Perhaps it would have beenalright, had Orville not had his first taste of liquor and broken the nose ofanother man who told him to be quiet, to sit down, to stop his uselessramblings about faith. Perhaps if he had come up with a witty line, or ascathing glance, or a simple polite smile, the river of his life would havecontinued without nearly as many meanders.

But here he was, holding herhands as she wept, in the alley behind the greengrocers. She told him that noneof it could happen, none of it. Everyone heard about the broken nose, includingher parents. He cupped her face and told her it didn’t matter. They could stillget married. They could still leave. She wasn’t a prisoner.

She said yes, she knew that. Butshe didn’t know him, not anymore. She couldn’t marry someone who frightenedher. For the first time in his life, Orville couldn’t respond.

He left that night, for Ohio.

Although he did ascend to theposition of reverend as the years went by, it was as if he never fully saw thesun. He spent hours writing, reading, preaching. All the while, the clouds thathung over him only felt heavier. He had sworn to never touch liquor again afterthe wretched broken nose, but there were some nights when the Earth felt socold he could stand it no longer. And as with any taste of honey, one willalways find a reason to have more.

When he lay with a beautifulwoman on a hot July’s evening and decided to spend the rest of his life withher, he thought the world had come around again. Finally, he had found acompanion to call his own. The drank together freely, danced, laughed, shouted.He’d lift her up and bury his head in her chest. She smelled of smoke and wineand rain.

She wanted to go to west aftertheir wedding, as far west as he could take her. Mistaking her insistence forromantic spontaneity, Orville complied. It was in San Francisco that she gavehim her ultimatum – follow her to Shanghai or lose her. She was married toanother, you see. A bastard of a man who never danced with her, you see. ButOrville, her Orville, he was the one for her. He could dance. He took her west.What was an ocean if it meant they could be together forever?

His hesitance cost him more thanhe realised. When he woke the next morning in an empty bed, he knew she’dalready gone.

More years passed. More liquorwas consumed. When Orville threw himself from the balcony of a saloon, claimingto be in good favour with the Angel Gabriel who would definitely save him, hefound himself bed-bound with a generous prescription of morphine. Fortunatelyfor him, his little stunt had caught the attention of two lawman who until thatmoment had been in hot pursuit of a dashing, dark-haired fellow with a sack ofmoney. Fast forward a few months, and Dutch van der Linde was offering Orvillethe chance to find a new family, a new life, in gratitude for saving his. Allhe had to do now was have some faith.

Faith? The irony! Orville foundhimself laughing out loud now, sitting in a puddle of his own urine on the edgeof camp.

But the Earth kept spinning, lifekept happening, as did death. Sean, Kieran, Hosea, even young Lenny, allsnatched away. Tales of an island, of a war ship. Dutch’s increasingly strangemind. Arthur being somehow…different.

In what seemed like a hurricane,Orville found himself sober. He still wasn’t sure if he liked it yet, only timewould tell. But this gang was his family, he realised all too late. If he hadany chance of salvaging it, he’d have to be on his feet. And he did try to helpthose he could, truly. He didn’t expect to be explaining all of this to Arthuras he waited for a train that would take him far away, but here he was. The airfelt thick with uncertainty, and yet rife with clarity for the first time sinceNew York.

And so, there seemed to be onlyone place to go. And for all of the majestic, ever-growing buildings of thecity, all he could picture was emerald green tiles.

Unable to afford the full journeyto New York, Orville spent some time in Ohio again, preaching on street cornersfor dollars and his own peace of mind. He was welcomed by a small congregationjust outside of Cincinnati, where he remained for several years. It would havebeen his forever home, had the idea of returning to New York not planted itselfso painfully in his head.

The day he left he rose early,dressing in his freshly laundered attire, straightening his hat. He feltfoolish, as if he was trying to impress someone. Perhaps he was.

As he sat on the train, thechanging shades of green in the landscape soothing the growing nerves, hethought back to the gang. Redemption was a strange concept, could it ever berealised? With a pang of guilt, he wondered if he could have invited Arthur tocome with him, to let him die in a warm bed with a belly full of good food, anda friend by his side. He shook his head, feeling a lump in his throat, knowing hewould never have accepted such an offer.

New York swelled and bellowed anddanced like never before. There was an electricity in the air, something thatrefined the senses and exhausted you all at the same time. Suitcase in hand,Orville wandered the heaving streets like a lost child, his head tilted upwardsto take in the sky that was rapidly succumbing to architecture. The noise wasoverwhelming.

37…36…35…each street unlockedmemories that had been begrudgingly stored away in the furthest corners of Orville’smind.

27…26…25…turn back, go uptown, hetold himself as firmly as he could, but his feet wouldn’t stop. His back hurt,his breath was laboured.

20…19…18…stop, that’s quiteenough now.

17.

There it was, 17thStreet, stretched like a grey scar, smothered with people, with lives, who hadno idea about his, about any of it. Orville turned right and walked down thechorus line of shops, public houses, eateries with exotic smells wafting fromthe cosy interiors. His heart was pounding, his mouth dry, as he scanned thehorizon for the greengrocers. At last, he saw it.

His eyes took in the boarded-upshopfront, broken windows, a sign announcing FOR LEASE. Emerald tiles, chipped,battered, missing. He was unsure how long he stood there, or if he cried. Itwas as if his entire life was being paraded before him like a cruel circus.Every drink he swallowed, every punch administered, every night of debaucherypushed back, scattered before him in pieces like the emerald tiles. He was dimly aware of the looks he was gettingfrom other pedestrians, which brought him back down to reality in one fellswoop.

And Orville Swanson realised thathe had returned to New York not for the woman he would have married, but forthe man he would have been. The man with the tangle of red hair and ink on hisfingers, studying theology by the river, who loved the pretty girl in thegreengrocers and wished only to help the world, who ignored the taunts of adrunkard and worked pensively, who would heal people with his words and docharitable acts and hold the hand of a green-eyed, red-headed child. Now, as hecontinued his walk down 17th Street, towards the river, Orvilleprayed for the man he would have been, for surely he existed in another life, anotheruniverse, and would wish him no ill will. And he smiled, knowing thatcontentment was not stored away in memories, covered in dust, but was somethingto be discovered anew.

#anonymous #mango writes #mine #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #orville swanson #reverend swanson #tw alcohol #tw drugs

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mind-reader1 · 6 years

Text

Queen of Hearts (Ch.17)

Drake x MC (Emma Barnes)

TRR AU: What would happen if Emma loved Drake but had to marry Liam?

Catch up here

Warnings: Some cursing

Note: Enjoy! Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to the tag list. This chapter is short, but there will be some juuuuuicy NSFW coming Saturday or Sunday.

Word Count: 2490

Summary: It’s the night of the costume ball, but it’s not a ball without some drama! Neville challenges Drake to a duel, a mysterious woman in red makes an appearance at court with veiled threats.

Chapter 17: Ours - Taylor Swift

Seems like there's always Someone who disapproves, They'll judge it like they know about me and you, And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do, The jury's out, And my choice is you.

So don't you worry your pretty little mind, People throw rocks at things that shine, And life makes love look hard, The stakes are high, The waters rough, But this love is ours,

And it's not theirs to speculate, If it's wrong and, Your hands are tough but they are where, My belong in, I'll fight their doubt and give you faith with this song for you.

“Your dress is magnifique!” Kiara and Penelope came up to the group followed by Madeleine as they all waited to be heralded. Emma was going to answer, but Kiara had already turned on Drake, her eyes raking up and down his body.

“I like this noble look on you Drake.” Emma rolled her eyes. She was starting to think there was only room at court for one bird sigil. Drake cleared his throat awkwardly and practically shoved Maxwell between him and Kiara. Everyone made idle chit chat before it was time to enter.

“Are you ready?” Liam whispered down to Emma. It would be their first time announced at court together, in fact it was her first time being announced to court at all, and it couldn't be with the one person she wanted most. She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Duchess Emma Barnes of Valtoria and his Majesty King Liam!” All eyes turned to them and Emma forced a smile as they descended the stairs.

“This is our first time back at the palace, how are you doing?” Emma couldn't lie she was a little jittery.

“I'll be okay. I'm just worried about you and Drake.” Liam gave her a reassuring smile and watched as their friends were announced by the herald, Constantine and Regina going last.

“I'm okay. Something about Drake is different today, he seems...happier.” Emma nodded, she had noticed it too.

“I wonder if Kiara has anything to do with it.” Liam teased, Emma didn't find it that funny. She swiftly hit Liam, scowling, before anyone could notice.

“Not funny Liam.”

“Got it. Excuse me.” He walked into the middle of the crowd, the conversation stopping as they waited for his speech. He addressed the attack and thanked everyone for being there before Constantine gave a speech, gushing about how he met Regina at a costume ball years ago. Constantine then dragged Liam away and Emma made her rounds until the band began to play. Liam approached her and bowed.

“May I have this dance?” Emma took his outstretched hand and followed him onto the dance floor. As she and Liam spun, she watched as Drake desperately tried to find someone to dance with, the only woman left was Kiara who was eager to see Drake's moves.

“Is there a way we can get rid of Kiara?” Emma muttered.

“No, besides we need all the nobles we can get. I wanted to thank you for your support at the hospital earlier, it really meant a lot to me.” Emma gave him a quick smile.

“I'm working on being a better friend, it seems like you are too.” He nodded, and they suddenly heard a commotion. Looking over they saw that Neville and Drake had collided on the dance floor.

“Walker, I hardly recognized you in that horrendous…thing you're wearing.” Drake rolled his eyes, but Emma had heard enough.

“Where’d you buy that ugly thing? The Goodwill reject box?” A chuckle rippled through the small group that was gathered.

“It's Armani! It probably costs more than your entire Royal wannabe wardrobe.” Neville sneered at both of them, not caring that Emma was the future queen.

“You can dress the peasant up all you'd like, but he'll never fit in! He'll always be the one that everyone pities! Only around to serve as the King's lapdog. He’ll never enjoy things such as this English waltz.” Liam grabbed Emma's wrist before she could lunge at Neville, she ripped her hand away and stared at him in disbelief. She couldn't believe that he was letting someone talk about his best friend like that. Emma was hoping that Drake would punch him, but instead he let Neville turn back to his date.

“Actually, it's a Viennese waltz and you're jumping in on the wrong beat.” A large crowd had now gathered around them and all “oohed” at Drake's insult. Neville was floored, he had never made such a mistake. Drake turned, and Emma saw the smirk on his face. She ran up beside him and threw her arms around him in a hug, before remembering they were in public and taking a step back.

“That was amazing Drake. I've never been prouder of you.”

“You'll never be one of us! You don't know how not to behave like a caveman!”

“Oh really? The man who trips over his own feet and picks fights for the hell of it is calling me a caveman?” the crowd around them began to laugh, some even clapped as Neville looked beside himself.

“I've had enough!” Neville pulled out a white glove and threw it at Drake's feet.

“I, Lord Neville Vancoeur, demand that you meet me in a duel.” Everyone around them gasped, Emma looked to Liam.

“There hasn't been an honor duel in over 100 years.” Emma's mind was flooded with questions, the biggest, what did that mean for Drake.

“I accept.” Drake picked up the glove and glared at Neville.

“Drake!” He met Emma's gaze, both of them holding it a little too long, others beginning to notice.

“Go get him Drake.” He nodded and turned back to Neville. As word of the duel spread though the ballroom, a mysterious woman with red hair and a red dress entered the room, excited for the duel. Emma wasn't sure, but she thought the woman was a Nevrakis. Neither of the men moved though, they stared at each other sneering.

“Are we going to duel or not?”

“To the field.” As they walked out, Emma was right by Drake's side.

“Drake is going to make you wish that you never returned to the palace you pompous ass!”

“Thanks Barnes.” Neville scoffed.

“I'm far more prepared for this than my opponent.” Outside, nobles gathered, whispering with excitement as Emma and her friends crowded around Drake.

“You took a bullet Drake, you can do this.” The first thing Liam had said about the duel all night.

“Guess all the mock duels we had as kids will pay off.” He chuckled nervously. Hana and Maxwell shared words of encouragement with him, even Madeleine came over though she was all about the political angle it would create. He turned to Emma last, she wanted to reach out and kiss him, ask him why he had done it, but she knew. He was finally standing up to all the nobles who thought he would never be good enough, who looked down on commoners.

“Take this, for good luck and be careful.” Emma gave him an extra piece of fabric from her costume, it was the best she could do in front of everyone, but it meant the world to Drake.

“You got it Barnes.”

“Let's begin Mr. Walker!” Neville taunted waving his sword around in a flashy manner. Emma gulped when she saw just how sharp they were. Neville took the first swing, Drake was barely able to deflect. Taking advantage of Drake's offset balance, Neville swung for his head and Drake ducked. Emma latched onto Liam's arm squeezing tight, she hoped Drake would take his own advice about playing dirty because Neville clearly wasn't going to fight with the honor that he claimed to have.

“Do you want to know what I despise most about you commoners.” He said, as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You're going to tell me either way so just get it over with.” Neville struck, and Drake parried.

“That you have no respect for those who are clearly better than you.” He struck again, and Drake barely dodged it.

“I have plenty of respect for those who are better than me, but you'll never be one of them!” Drake lunged, the force sending Neville stumbling back towards the crowd.

“Brute strength, just what I expected from a caveman!” Neville slashed forward with speed catching Drake off guard. He cut through Drake's side, a gash pouring blood out over his coat. Drake gasped.

“Drake!” Emma tried to run forward, but Liam held her back.

“He's hurt, you must stop this duel!” Hana pleaded with anyone who would listen around her.

“Nonsense. Drake needs to lose much more blood before he can stop fighting.” Emma's head was spinning, Drake had gotten hurt again, her mind flashed to the homecoming ball. Neville went after Drake who dove out of the way, scrambling to find his sword.

“Get up Drake.” Emma chanted under her breath.

“There's no excuse for lying around while your head is still attached Walker!” Olivia yelled out. He found his sword before Neville could strike again and they traded parries until Neville saw an opening, yanking Drake's wounded arm into an unnatural position. Drake cried out in pain again, falling to his knees. Neville raised his sword over Drake's head, Emma was afraid she might faint, her knees growing weaker as she clung onto Liam for support like her life depended on it.

“Let this be a lesson to you and that gold digging, commoner whore our king is marrying, you will always end up in your rightful place... in the dirt, kissing my shoes.” Emma was suddenly furious, Neville had just called her a gold digging whore and Liam stood there stoic, watching as his best friend bled at the hands of Neville.

“What do you have to say for yourself now?”

“Get up Drake! Get up!” Emma screeched falling to her knees beside him.

“He doesn't know a single fucking thing about us! Put him in his place! Show him how Americans do it!” Drake locked eyes with Emma, a newfound fury in them. Neville had called the woman he loved a gold digging whore, he was going to pay dearly for that.

“Yeah, I've got something to say. I've got one good arm and you leave Emma out of this!” He stood awkwardly knocking Neville's sword away, sending his fist flying at Neville. It connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Drake grabbed Neville's sword with his good arm and jabbed the point at his neck, drawing blood before pressing harder, gritting his teeth.

“What are your last words Neville?”

“I yield!” He gasped as Drake eased the sword away just a bit.

“Go apologize to Emma, or I'll draw more blood.” He whispered fiercely for only Neville to hear, but he nodded in understanding before getting up.

“I declare Drake Walker the victor!” Constantine called out and cheers erupted amongst the crowd. Their friends rushed forward to congratulate Drake. Emma threw her arms around his neck, making him stumble backwards and wince.

“Watch the shoulder.” Emma let go carefully, realizing maybe she had been too affectionate again.

“You had me worried Drake.” He got a mischievous gleam in his eyes and winked.

“That was magnifique Drake!” Kiara came over and kissed Drake on the cheek making him blush. Emma suppressed an eyeroll and turned away to find Neville standing there.

“Duchess Emma. I would like to apologize for insulting you. I was out of line and pray that you can forgive me.” Emma was surprised and turned to find Drake staring Neville down.

“Get out of my face before you find out how New Yorkers settle these kinds of matters.”

“I won't forget this!” Neville turned back to yell before he scrambled away. Emma and Drake's friends continued to congratulate Drake before he was escorted away to get patched up. The crowd filed back inside when the strange woman from earlier approached Olivia. Emma accompanied them inside and they sized each other up, her name was Lucretia, Olivia's aunt. A servant brought them a bottle of Lythikos wine and scrambled away before Lucretia could intimidate him anymore.

“We should toast, our future unconventional Queen.”

“What do you mean unconventional?” Lucretia smiled, but it was cold and calculating, Emma repressed a shiver.

“A commoner by birth, American, the business with that nobleman...Tariq? Quite the scandal, but you've put all those things behind you of course, loyal to your king and fiancé.” Emma forced a smile, Lucretia knew an awful lot about court for not being around, and a little too much about the arrangement. She tried to move on and diffuse some of the obvious tension between Olivia and her aunt, but it only grew as Lucretia revealed she was there to see Liam.

“King Liam was all Olivia ever wrote about after her parents died, she really held a torch for him.” Olivia took a sip of wine to try and hide the color rising to her cheeks. It wasn't much of a secret that Olivia loved Liam, but it was clear Lucretia was trying to get under Olivia's skin.

“So, you've known Liam for quite a while, what was he like as a young boy?”

“He was, how do I put this?”

“A free spirit?” Olivia offered.

“Yes. Though I would call it overly sensitive. He seems to have matured quite a bit now though, standing by and letting Lord Neville say those things, quite the diplomat.” Lucretia mused, Emma clenched her jaw. She needed to talk to him about that, at least Liam's sudden emotional outbursts over the past few weeks now made sense. Emma was lost in her own thoughts about Lucretia's words, wondering how she could know so much, while she and Olivia continued to argue about Liam and her parents.

“Honestly Olivia! It's time to move on! Liam has clearly moved on, it's time to think of your future!” Olivia was taken aback by her aunt's words.

“What future could you possibly be talking about? You showed no interest in my future as a child, so I don't see how it has any relevance now!”

“Your marriage dear. You need to produce a Nevrakis heir. Obviously, you're not going to listen to anything I have to say tonight though so I'll be going. I should mingle with the other guests.” Lucretia swept out of the room and Olivia relaxed for the first time since she appeared.

“Olivia?” Emma was unsure what to say.

“Do you think she's right?”

“Olivia, I… I mean...I.” she held her hand up, stopping Emma right there.

“I can't do this with you, not not tonight. I'll say something I can't take back. Besides, both of them will be falling over themselves by now, trying to find you.” Olivia downed the rest of her wine, disappearing back into the ballroom, Emma not far behind. As she approached her friends, she could hear them praising Drake, giving him endless food and drinks. She wanted to join them but, saw Bertrand hovering at the edge of the room watching Savannah before running off. Emma chased after him, and after offering her help and expertise after learning what finally happened between them, she was able to help Bertrand get a date with Savannah. Maxwell found her shortly after and was chatting animatedly about how happy he was for Bertrand and Savannah when Drake sidled up behind her.

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