#this one if quite a slow build so get comfortable first before reading :))

[skylessnights]

Love is the bane of honour, the death of duty by skylessnights

“Where have you taken me, Elendil?” she demanded, for she had grown tired of waiting, her patience drawing ever so thin.

Her guardsman’s hesitant breaths echoed in her ears, his throat dry as he cleared his throat. “I understand your impatience, Your Majesty, but all will be revealed in due course.”

A sharp sigh escaped through Míriel’s lips as she ripped her hands from his grasp, the hems of her dress trailing across the ground as she stepped backwards. She could not help but shake her head for she did not understand his vow of secrecy, his sudden discretion to keep things hidden from her. It was not as if he had given the same courtesy to the maiden from the stables, for they were huddled in each other’s confidence for as long as she could remember. Was he so won over by her elven tongue that he had lost all sense? Was his kindness simply an act of chivalry that he bestowed on every other woman in the realm? Was she not so special after all?

OR: A few days have passed since the marking of Míriel’s name day and Elendil still has not wished her happiness nor granted her with a gift. To her displeasure she believes he has forgotten, but when she is awakened early in the morning by her lady’s maid with a strange request to meet him at the stables, she cannot help but feel curious... 

READ PART ONE ON AO3

#a jealous elendil/miriel fic? don't mind if I do :p #this one if quite a slow build so get comfortable first before reading :)) #i hope you enjoy #let me know what you think :) #elendil x miriel #elendil #miriel #elendil the tall #tar-miriel #the rings of power #lord of the rings #lotr #trop #rop #amazon lord of the rings #the rings of power fic #the queen and her lionheart #ao3 #link is hyperlinked to the title

[craisinsensation1029]

Snuggle Bug

Toji Fushiguro

AO3 :)

just toji being soft and domestic, thats it ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

~2k

SFW but minors still shoo

It isn't hard to make assumptions about Toji with just one look.

With his imposing frame riddled with pounds of muscles, enough scars to rival any war hero, and an expression that screams I don’t tolerate nonsense, ever on his face, most people steer clear of him. 

There isn’t much merit in thinking so, but so many easily peg him as a douche, an asshole, a womanizer—someone that probably has the worst opinion on anything ever. 

While Toji has definitely judged more than one book by their cover, only sparing something a glance for no longer than a second before deciding whether or not it would be worth his time, he’s more than happy he was a book you were willing to read.

He still remembers having to build up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Every week he would treat Megumi to a few new books, and low and behold on a calm Sunday afternoon the sweet old manager was showing you the ropes on the cash register. 

He was enchanted by your smile, the natural grace that you had, the zest for life that you conveyed just through your love of reading. At first it was innocent, Toji being just as excited as Megumi for the weekly trip to the bookstore, flying to the children’s section to see if you had any exciting news on any new releases. There was even the time where you decided to do an impromptu story time just for Megumi because it was a slow day.

After that, Toji had to admit that he did get a bit more greedy, making more frequent trips to the bookstore and flashing you a crooked smile when you would look for the bite sized version of him. “Just me,” he’d laugh, hoping that crimson wasn’t painting his cheeks.

When people say expect the unexpected you always thought it was referring to something completely drastic, like seeing actual pigs fly or winning the lottery. Not seeing this big, burly man scratching the back of his neck and blushing while he waited for you to say something, but you couldn’t complain. You simply smiled at him and said, “Well you can read at a higher level than Megumi, right? Let me show you some other books.”

As the weeks went by, Toji was spending more time (and money—but you did give him your employee discount out of the kindness of your shining heart) at the bookstore, whether or not he had Megumi with him. 

“I put something else in the bag.” A cheeky smile that he couldn’t quite decipher was on your face as you pushed his purchase toward him.

He thanked you and was fighting every single urge not to pounce on the bag the moment he stepped out the door. The bit of self control he was able to maintain allowed him to wait until he got to the car, seeing a slip with your number scrawled on it right on top of the books he just bought.

He never felt nervous about making a phone call before that night, but every bit of tension eased from his body when your bright cadence filled his ears over the speaker.

Soon the two of you were texting good morning and good night here and there, the occasional how is your day going. It was far from that though. After a few weeks you were moving on to talking about new shipments of books, mentions of family, future plans. It became routine for both of you to talk on the phone nightly. Even if it was a day that he visited the bookstore, the true cherry on top of the cake was drifting off to sleep with the sound of your voice in his ears.

It only seemed natural for him to ask you out and make you his.

Being with Toji provides you with comfort and security not even money can buy. No one dares to cat call you with Toji by your side.

There’s something just so entertaining about seeing one of the people you adore the most making others cower in fear with just a simple glance, like having a big, vicious dog that growls at everyone in public but snuggles up to you in private.

And when it comes to snuggling, Toji is well versed in that department.

See, he doesn’t really believe in personal space; he can never be too close to you. 

If you’re washing dishes in the kitchen, his arms are wrapping around your waist, bending his head so it's resting in the crook of neck, sighing contentedly as he breathes in your scent.

Sitting on the couch? He’s scooching as close as possible next to you, entwining his fingers with yours, not even looking at whatever is on the television. He damn near crawled in your lap a few times, arguing that it was much more comfortable for him despite your legs screaming in protest.

He doesn’t even care if you’re in the shower, sitting on the toilet seat and waiting until you finish. His go to is usually getting in the shower with you, withstanding the boiling hot water you somehow consider an appropriate temperature. He had to build up his tolerance, feeling like his skin was going to melt off his body if he stayed there longer than five minutes. This would only make you laugh and say, “Toji, stop torturing yourself. I’ll be out soon.” He’d just grunt and give you that pouty face that makes you dab a kiss to his nose.

If you’re taking a bath, he used to drag a chair out from the dining room, but ended up buying a cozy bean bag just to make himself more comfortable and accompany you.

Much like a big dog though, Toji’s spatial awareness seems to be a bit... Lacking.

He doesn’t mean it, you know he doesn’t, but there are times when you swear he is trying to decimate you with the weight of his body.

Especially nights like tonight when he’s coming home late from work. 

Megumi already ate the dinner you made and has been fully entertained by a movie you watched together. Once you made sure he was snuggled in bed with his two favorite stuffed animals, the only thing left to do is wait for Toji to get home.

His job can be pretty unpredictable, leaving him coming home at late hours when the only thing he wants to do is be by your side, feeling the softness and the heat of your body while he closes his eyes and melds into you. 

His stomach is rumbling, screaming for sustenance. When he walks through the door he knows there’s going to be a plate of food already made for him, just waiting to be heated up, but eating is far from being the first thing on his mind. 

Instead he cracks open Megumi’s door first, a small smile forming on his face when he sees his little form tucked in, arms wrapped around those stuffed dogs while his chest gently rises and falls. He closes the door behind him, making the few steps to the bedroom that he shares with you.

It was obvious you tried your best to stay up and wait for him, indicative by the bedside lamp still being on and the book laying facedown on your lap. Though your thrown back head, the bit of drool leaking from the side of your mouth, and soft snores coming from your body shows your efforts were unfortunately in vain.

This just adds to the smile on his face, silently slinking back out of the room so he can eat and take a shower. You’re still blissfully asleep once he emerges from his shower. He carefully opens the dresser, opting for just a pair of boxer briefs.

He turns off the bedside light and carefully secures the place in your book with the bookmark you left next to you on the bed. 

Despite his attempts at being gentle, the bed always creaks beneath his weight when he gets on it. The sound isn’t quite enough to wake you, only stirring a bit in your sleep.

With himself securely in the bed he moves in closer calling your name gently. Still, you only stir, murmuring out something unintelligible while your head turns to the side slightly.

He takes the opportunity to lay his head on your chest, listening to the soft beating of your heart while his fingers are drumming lightly against your stomach. The feeling always makes him melt, indulging in every pliant dip and curve of your body, the velvety texture of your skin such a contrast to the calluses and roughness of his own. 

It isn’t long before his hands are exploring, moving down to caress the swell of your hips and making their way back up to feel the dip in your waist. All the while his head stays on your chest, as if his skull is a sword that will do anything imaginable to defend your heart.

He stays like this for a while, the thumping of your heart serving as his own personal white noise, the sensation of your skin beneath his touch alleviating all the stress of work.

“Mmm,” you groan, slowly opening your eyes only to be greeted by darkness and consumed by heat. “Toji.”

At the sound of your voice he slowly opens his eyes, immediately pulling you closer to him and panting a slew of kisses on your cheek. “You were sleeping when I got in,” he murmurs against your cheek, plopping another kiss there. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

You’re not sure what time you fell asleep, but tap the screen on your phone, squinting at the harshness of its brightness. It’s a bit past four in the morning now, rain beating down gently against the windows.

“Like you’ve cared about waking me up before,” you laugh gently, playfully rolling over to escape both his hold and the slobbery kisses he insists on planting on you.

“Come here.” A fit of giggles leaves your lips as you continue rolling over, just out of reach every time he tries to wrap his arm around you again. He lets you have it for a few more moments, letting you tire yourself until you’re completely breathless with laughter. Like a tiger waiting to strike he ambushes you, caging your body between his arms and letting his weight settle on top of you.

“Toji!” You try your best to contain your squeal knowing Megumi is sleeping just beyond the thin walls.

“What?” His voice is muffled as his head takes refuge in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing softly against the sensitive skin there. He feels your pulse quicken every time his lips brush against your skin. “I missed you.” 

No matter how many jokes you make about canceling his gym membership or making sure he never has another protein shake again you wouldn’t trade the feeling of this for anything. One hand rubs small circles into his back while the other snakes around to the nape of his neck. He nuzzles further into your neck, humming with satisfaction when your fingers thread through hair and delicately massage his scalp.

“I missed you, too.” He doesn’t say anything, but you feel the curve of his lips against your neck as his arms maneuver beneath you, cradling your body tight.  

The warmth of his embrace quickly lulls you back into a state of unconsciousness, only willing for the serenity to end when you wake up, ready to appreciate him with bright eyes, marking another day together.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fluff #jjk fluff #domestic fluff #ebs writes

[fazedlight]

Irish (soft season 6 ficlet)

Kara knew something was wrong.

Not dangerous wrong. Lena’s heart rate was steady and calm, and there was no one else in the apartment with her. But as Kara flew above the few buildings left to her apartment, she could see how Lena was hunched over, see the stress and sadness in her body. And it made Kara’s heart ache.

Landing in the open window, Kara stepped inside, the small taps alerting Lena to her entrance. “Kara,” Lena said, trying to hide the distress on her face as she rose from the couch, grabbing at VHS tapes spread in front of the TV. “You’re home early.”

“They put out the fire before I got there,” Kara said softly. “The winds weren’t as bad as they thought.”

Lena nodded, hurriedly placing the pile of tapes into a familiar box. Kara had flown the box back to National City herself - one of the many artifacts carried over from Lena’s mother’s home, which Lena inherited at the age of 18. Lena had only gone once or twice as an adult, until the discovery of her magic made her curious to reconnect to what she could of her mother. “Are you okay?” Kara asked.

“I’m fine,” Lena said.

“Lena.” Kara stepped forward, kneeling on the rug, gently taking Lena’s busy hands into her own. “Lena, I’m here.”

Lena paused, leaving the remaining tapes next to the TV, taking a slow breath as she dropped back to sit on the floorboards instead. “I just didn’t expect to feel this way.”

“Feel what way?”

Lena stared down at the floor, not quite ready to look Kara in the eye. “I was so young. There’s so much I don’t remember.”

Kara took a seat in front of her, still holding Lena’s hands. She waited patiently - silent, and comforting, letting Lena take her time to think or talk as she wished.

“In one of the tapes,” Lena said, her voice a touch deeper than normal, “She sang an Irish lullaby. I haven’t heard it in decades. The melody slammed back into me.”

“I’m sure it was lovely,” Kara said.

“She spoke to me. In Irish. She spoke to me, and I didn’t understand what she was saying,” Lena said, frustrated. “And in the tape, I spoke back, and I didn’t understand what I was saying. It’s all gone.”

And that’s when Kara stiffened, a bolt of lightning running through her as she understood. It was different in her case, of course - she had once thought herself the last to speak a language, carrying a dead culture in her soul. Through sheer luck, she was able to get her father, her mother, her people back - but the feeling of being orphaned, she understood, if in a different way than Lena. “The Luthors don’t speak Irish,” Kara replied.

“Language attrition is common in children who stop speaking their first language before the age of 12,” Lena said softly, in a tone that made Kara realize that Lena must’ve read about this a dozen times before. “I didn’t know what I was losing until it was too late.”

“Lena,” Kara said, leaning forward to give the brunette a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know it sounds so silly,” Lena said. “It’s not like I have much need to speak Irish.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t mourn what you’ve lost,” Kara said, thinking back to a million conversations she’d had with Kelly about her own traumas, even if later they were reversed by fate. “You can still be sad about it.”

Lena sighed, melting into Kara’s arms, and Kara felt relieved. They sat, wrapped in each other’s embrace and breathing in the peace of the evening, Kara rubbing gently at Lena’s back until Lena was ready. “Well, I can put the rest of this away,” Lena said, pulling back, her voice steady for the first time that evening. “We can start cooking dinner.”

Kara nodded, watching as Lena gazed back - a bit mournful, a bit sad, but a certain lightness compared to before. “If it helps,” Kara said gently, with one last thought, “I can learn Irish with you? It may not be like before, but sometimes getting some of the pieces back can mean something.”

Lena looked at her for a moment, before smiling. “I’d like that.”

#I have been trying to draft this all weekend and it kept coming out awful and I kept deleting #and then this spilled out of me in about 20 minutes #definitely projecting here. I was bullied out of my first language. #anyway #is this hurt/comfort? I still don't quite know what that is #supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp ficlet #mel writes ficlets

[ikeubi]

i bet on losing dogs 🕷 jake sim

📰 t͟h͟e͟ ͟o͟n͟e͟ ͟t͟i͟m͟e͟ ͟j͟a͟k͟e͟ ͟f͟a͟i͟l͟e͟d͟ ͟t͟o͟ ͟s͟a͟v͟e͟ ͟y͟o͟u͟.͟ spiderman!jake 𝔁 fem!reader  ╱ inspired by gwen's fall in tasm ; major angst, (descriptions of) character death, and overall the regular mcu warnings

Jake Sim never turns his back on a promise he's made.

When you first found out he was New York City's Spider-Man, he swore to you that he'd keep you safe from the dangers that came with being associated with his masked persona.

Out of all the promises he's made, that was the very last one he wanted to break.

Yet here he was.

The masked boy was high on adrenaline as he chased after the villain Goblin among the multitude of buildings in the city.

His energy was beginning to wear off until Goblin tilted his glider to the side for the shortest bit of time, which was more than enough for Jake to catch your hair peeking out along with the look of horror seen in your eyes as the villain's gloved hand kept you from screaming.

The vigilante swung past the buildings faster and faster.

One building.

Another.

And another.

This went on until his enemy maneuvered his glider to the top of a clock tower, Jake making his way up with great speed.

For whatever reason it may be, the Goblin just hovered merely a foot away from the masked hero's spot on the tower, his metallic green mask covering the glances he took at the overly daunting, deep inside of the structure.

Jake eyed his movements nervously and with hesitation, his gaze going back and fourth between you and the villain.

You felt the hand clasped against your mouth move to cup your cheeks as the man's laughter boomed.

"What are you waiting for, spider boy?" you heard him taunt as he moved your face from side to side.

Your gut filled with dread about what the Goblin had up his sleeve and shifted your gaze to the hero clad in red and blue.

Jake seemed to be sensing that something about to happen was even worse than the present situation as he shifted to a more alert position, eyebrows furrowed behind his mask.

"Come and get her," he continued before swiftly pushing you off his glider.

Jake's eyes widened as he immediately followed your trajectory into the tall clock tower. "No!" he screamed as the Goblin's menacing laughter echoed through the nearly hollow space.

Jake despises how time painfully slowed down in these moments. Your last moments.

He hated how everything was clearer, how he could focus on the horror displayed on your face and the tears falling from your eyes for a seemingly longer period of time as you plummeted through the tower.

But he could save you, right? He's done it a few times before, and not once has he failed. What makes this life and death situation any more different?

You wanted him to save you. But time wasn't in your favor, nor did it slow down. You didn't have the pleasure of thinking positively and only of what was overt. And you were quite sure of one thing.

Jake Sim couldn't save you this time.

Death never scared you. The only thing that did was the thought of no longer being able to have dreams for your future with Jake, as well as being able to live them.

You didn't want to start fearing the pain. And so you closed your eyes for just a moment, and thought.

You once heard that when you die, the brain stays active for a final ten minutes, letting you relive the most memorable moments of your life. It brought you comfort thinking that you'd get to see Jake smile for a final time, because it wasn't just a hunch──you knew that those last ten minutes would be a period of time that the boy you loved purely consumed.

And so you opened your eyes.

The wind whistled past your ear, and you had a feeling that sooner or later, you'd be reaching the bottom of the building.

You sent one last painful smile towards your masked lover and mouthed the words you knew he would need to hear.

It's okay. I love you.

Jake's eyes pricked with tears as he read the words coming from your lips.

Realizing his pace wasn't going to meet yours soon enough for him to use his arms to save you, he extended his web shooter wielding arm and prayed as he pushed his middle and ring fingers down on the button and as the web formula shot out and clung to your sweater.

Time returned back to its normal speed. Jake thought he saved you and subconsciously smiled to himself.

That was until he heard it.

Crack.

Jake's face dropped as he watched your body go limp under his web, mere inches away from the ground.

His hands trembled while he pulled the white string back to hold you in his arms as he landed on the ground.

He quickly took the mask off his head and scanned your face for the slightest of twitches, searching for a sign that you were still alive.

"Y/n," his voice trembled as he shifted on his knees, hand pushing your hair back before using two fingers to check the pulse on your neck.

"No," he muttered to himself after a few seconds, unable to find a pulse.

Teary eyed and refusing to give up, he reached for your wrist to try and see if he could feel the pumping of blood from there.

Still none.

Other wrist.

None.

Chest.

None.

Maybe he can check your breathing?

No. None.

Stop.

Jake pulled back slowly after it sunk in that you really weren't breathing, that you really didn't have a pulse, and that he was really unable to save you.

His eyes rimmed with tears as he watched the color drain from your face against the deafening silence of the night's aftermath.

"No," he shook his head before shaking your figure.

"Y/n, wake up,"

"Come on,"

"No you're not dead. You're not,"

A cycle of words of denial continued until the dam finally broke and his tears rolled down continuously.

His sobs echoed through the clock tower. He couldn't let any more words out. His chest hurt and so did his throat.

As he broke down for possibly the first time in his life, the only thing he could think to do was hug your figure.

He stayed like that until dusk turned to dawn.

You were the one person Jake would've traded the world for just to keep alive.

And he'd never forgive himself or never forget how he kept the world safe in return for your life.

꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱ mail !

i may have gotten a little angst crazy with this one.....but i still hope it was good! writing this hurt a little though, lowkey :(.

© ikeubi 2024 ✿ do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate a̲n̲y̲ of my work!

#〻 ikeubi ‹3 #𝜗𝜚written by julia #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagine #enhypen angst #enhypen au #enha x reader #enha imagine #enha angst #enha au #jake sim x reader #jake sim imagine #jake sim angst #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun imagine #sim jaeyun angst #jake enhypen x reader #jake enhypen angst #jake enhypen imagine

[maezysworld]

test subject x the ghoul pt 1

Pairing: cooper howard x fem! cat mutant & sniper reader (thats a mouth full lol)

I've never really written stories like this but i think this is a fun idea so ill try my best anyways please please please msg me if you have ideas and or suggestions (i am sensitive please be nice LMAO)

Warnings: slow burn, writer is dyslexic, might be slightly out of character, a whole lot of guns, not proof read

context: you are part cat due to being experimented on you have the cat ears and eyes along with all there senses (i do plan on making a full backstory)

your on the search for a doctor who has a large sum of caps over his head, you could care less about the caps you don't have a lot to do in this world so you take any opportunity you can to have some fun no matter how risky it could be. considering the amount of caps, you already know it will be quite the task but you don't mind playing with your food.

you've asked around the wasteland a little (not that a lot of people really said anything useful) but any information you got led you to a town called filly. you entered filly walking in trying your best not to draw more attention to yourself, the gasmask your wearing doesn't really help with that but you don't really need people knowing you have animal ears and eyes. you take in your surroundings as you walk with a crowd looking for the highest most excluded building you could see when a ghoul catches your eyes, you walk a bit slower admiring him for a moment watching him roll a vile in between his fingers before snapping out of your trans and picking up you pace again.

you get to the top of the building staying low to the ground making sure no one sees you up here before laying on your stomach and pulling out your sniper riffle. you sit and watch everything for about 7 minutes until a familiar doctor falls into you glance. you don't even bother lining up your scope to his head, you don't feel the need to someone else is bound to get him after you shoot him regardless but that's more then okay with you, you don't mind playing a waiting game.

you see him talking to a vault dweller just before an older woman who seems to run a shop approach them, you try you best to listen in but all you can seem to make out is the shop owner saying something about getting out of here. "this gasmask is fucking me over" you whisper with a sigh readjusting your arm a bit to be more comfortable.

suddenly the ghoul stands up, along with a few people just now noticing there's a ghoul in the town as they cautiously speed walk away from the area. the ghoul shouts something about this doctor having a hefty price over his head as almost everyone moves away from the man. a sly smile grows on your face now knowing hes involved with this bounty as well. the shop owner says something and before she can even finish her sentence the ghoul shoots the mans foot off, the poor vault dweller just stands there in fear and confusion, a wave of sympathy overcomes you knowing you were just like her you almost wish you still were.

the old woman shouts "i gotta 1000 bottle caps for who ever kills that fucker!!... but you dont get SHIT if i kill em first!". your not to sure why but after hearing that you start to focus your scope on anyone who starts to even look at him. the ghoul holds his gun out gun on the trigger ready to shoot just waiting for someone to make the first move as he looks around in a circle. a man in a black hat and googles pulls out his gun but before he can even pull the trigger the ghoul shoots him in the chest, his bullet exploding on impact. immediately after more people start shooting at him, he turns in a circle again shooting anyone who try's to get near him as you shoot the people from a distance. in all honesty you know he probably doesn't need your help but still you continue with out a reason to be doing so. you see someone trying to come at him with a knife from behind and just as the ghoul turns around to attack you shoot the man with the knife and the glare of your scope hits the ghouls eye and he looks up as you give a slight wave right before pointing to signal behind him as a brother a steel knight shows up.

you see the old woman and the vault dweller go run and hide into the shop bringing the doctor with him. you know you wont to much to the walking tin man so you decide to go down and listen in. you try your best to sneak in with out anyone seeing you but as the ghoul is on some broken steps you look over at him and with out a doubt he was looking dead at you before getting right back into combat. you ignore it and continue to snoop in on the others.

you keep your back pressed tightly agents the wall. hear the woman convince the vault dweller to take the doctor to moldaver, you've heard of the woman but have never had any encounters with her based off the things you've heard you know this will be a good time (you would have never found anything about this situation fun before the war). you start making your way out of the building after hearing that its plenty for you to go off along with now having both the doctor and the vault dwellers sent. you decide to hide in a ally and wait for things to die down before leaving.

after about 9 minutest you don't hear metal clacking or guns shooting you start to leave filly. you didnt get to far outside of the town before you hear a gun cock behind you "aint you a little over prepared?" you hear a mans voice with a southern accent referring to your gas mask. you turn to face the voice seeing the ghoul you've been eyeing this whole trip "doesn't effect you now does it? is the gun really nectary after i helped you?" you scoff offended but knowing youd do the same "now i aint ask you to do that for me, did i?" he says finger on the trigger. you think for a moment 'rude ass' you think to yourself "i guess not, but a thank you would be nice" you say with sarcasm in your voice. The Ghoul keeps his eyes upon you as you speak, the gun never moving. He lets out a short laugh at your attempt to engage. "You want a thank you for a job half done? bailed in the middle of a fight.. not that id thank you anyways i didnt need your help smooth skin. what's you goal here you tryn to steal my bounty" he says sounding more relaxed than he should be. "not necessarily, i don't want the caps if that's what your worried about." the gun never wavers even as you speak. "so just what do you want then?". "entertainment, not much to do in this world." you say with a smile on your face, not that he can see it. The Ghoul is surprised by your answer. He lowers his gun slightly, looking you up and down, but still doesn't trust you. "You ain't got better things to do with your time? Like finding food, or water, or caps?". those things are all fairly easy to come across for you, your sneaky and when you want something you take it. "lets say that all comes easy" Something you said intrigues him, and his gaze lingers on you a little longer. He shifts his weight to his left foot, and holsters his gun. "You saying food, water, caps just comes to you?". you relax abit more now that his guns down "i never said that, its just easy to get. now i have some information that may be of use to you, and im more then happy to give it under one condition" The Ghoul's interest is piqued. His curiosity getting the better of him, he nods his head. He wants to see if what you're peddling is actually worth something. "And what would that condition be?". you feel excited, youve never traveld with someone much less had company in years and the though of him agreeing (even if its not very friendly) makes you happy "i come with you on your bounty." He considers it, still not fully trusting you, but also intrigued by your offer. "And why the Hell would I want you along for a bounty hunt? Why should I trust you? What's to stop you from just turning on me? "he responds "you interest me, my weapons aren't out now are they? if i wanted to kill you i would have done it while i was on the roof" you say slightly muffled from your gas mask. He looks at you for a moment, thinking it over. He didn't like the idea of traveling with someone he didn't know, but he wouldnt mind the help from someone who knows how use to use a gun(not that he'd ever admit that). "Fine, we'll go after the bounty. But the second I even get a hint you're planning something, I'll kill you where you stand. We clear?". "understood." you say trying your hardest not to sound excited. He nods, then turns and begins walking away the dog standing behind him following. He calls over his shoulder to you.

please let me know what you guys think of this and im open to any suggestions and ideas ( i would also love name ideas for this) :)

notes: @s-lock-doctordonna I LOVED YOUR IDEAS AND I WILL BE USEING THANK YOU <3

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout #fallout show #fallout series #fallout x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul fallout #fallout fanfic #cooper howard #cooper howard x female reader

[writingoddess1125]

Switch things Up

Art belongs to Vamos_MK on Twitter

So I decided to do a Kinktober ;3 Don't worry there will still be other stories mixed in if you aren't into the Kinky side! But for those who are interested I do hope you enjoy!

Also I will be doing every other day instead of everyday in order not to burn myself out- Enjoy anyways!

MUST BE 18+ TO READ!

SubBuggyxFemreader

⚠️Warnings:⚠️ Rimming, Fingerings, Pegging, Anal Sex, overstimulation, forced orgasm, praise kink, f■cked dumb.

Day 1. Pegging

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When you had asked Buggy to switch things up in the bedroom this was not what he expected-

Sure he had knew you were one to bring him out of his comfort zones- Hell you were the first person since he was young that he'd let see his bare face! But still.. Here he was looking at a rainbow stripped 8in strapon secured to your pelvis, naked as day and here he was, just as naked on the bed.

"Are you sure about this (Y/N)?" He seemed quite hesitant, this was definitely not something he had done before or thought of doing before-

"Yeah, of course I promise you'll like it!" You say cheerfully. Knowing that Buggy was just worried was all, You help him get on his hands and knees. Giggling at the sight, if he had a tail you were sure it would be inbetween his legs at this point. Deciding you need to loosen him up a bit first.

Leaning down you decide that a little Rimming would do the trick, Grabbing his hips and pulling them to your face. Seeing him turn back at you quickly with a face as red as his nose.

"W-Wait (Y/N) I am not sure this is a good- Ha-ngh~!" He stopped at this- Feeling your mouth beginning to work on him, a deeper blush forming on his cheeks and up to his ears.

He now understood why you liked this so much when he ate you out- His mind Seeming to melt as he felt your tongue fuck into him. He groaned loudly into the pillows, feeling your warm tongue lap at him and eat him out. His thighs starting to shake at the sensation and a warmth already building in his belly- but that was forgotten as you pulled away with a chuckle.

"Look at you hard already~" You giggle, He looked down inbetween his legs surprised to see you were indeed correct. Before he could even comment about this he gave a yelp in surprise as your way too cold fingers invaded him- Barely able to hear the comment of 'need to stretch you a bit more' leave you.

Buggy felt himself damn near cum when you started to finger him, pushing the cold lube deeper into him with your fingers and hitting such pleasurable points in him he didn't even know existed.

"F-Fuck! Wa-wait! Right- Ngh!" He moaned out as your fingers hit thay bundle of sweet nerves inside of him, His toes starting to curl and he clenched into those sheets harder. So close to jumping just like then- When suddently you pulled your fingers out giggling at him.

"Not yet Bugs~ Don't worry I'll give you something better then fingers~" You say sweetly, Hearing him whine at the lack of fingers inside of him. Gently you grasp his hips, still knowing he was dazed from just being finger fucked and slowly begin to slide inside of him, watching how he reacted.

Inch by inch he felt that toy slide inside of him, Nothing in this world even your powerful tongue and fingers prepared him for the feeling of being bitched out like this- His back arched as he felt that bundle of pleasure being hit again despite it being painfully slow and gurgled a moan. When you bottomed out with a snap of your hips he moaned loudly, more high pitched then normal like when he threw his little fits.

"There we go~ Took me so well" You purr, watching him shutter from your words. Slowly you pull out and snap your hips back in, Watching how his whole body recoiled with each thrust and a sloppy moan left him. Speeding up your thrust you start to pound into him, Hearing the symphony of loud moans leave him before he buried his face hard into the pillows.

Buggy bit hard into the soft pillows, his hands clenching the bedsheets like it was his lifeline- Gasping as your relentless thrust shot through his body.

Reaching out you grab a fistful of his cyan hair and pull hard, pulling his face from the pillows as he cried out in pleasure at the sensation- Fresh tears falling from his face as you manipulated his body in such blissful ways. Your hand finding his lower back and pushing down as you speed up your thrust watching him lower his back in a delightful arch- Sobs of bliss leaving him at this. The other end of the strap tugging your insides, making your mind go blank in pleasure. You were so close with each thrust into Buggy's ass.

You hear him squeal as his hips shake and he tightens around the toy, thrusting harder into him as he came from your brutal pace, cum running down his thighs and mattress below making his sob in bliss.

His cries of overstimulation ignored as you moved your hips faster and brought your own wash of an orgasm through your body, hips shuttering to a stop as you whine and lay your weight on his back. He feels like fire against your skin as you hear him whimpering in bliss still from the hard orgasm still rocking through his system.

Pulling back for a second you carefully slide the stripped toy from Buggy's hole. Watching how his body practically wept as you pulled yourself from him, looking over at how red his ass was due to your hips slamming into him. His knees clearly not doing much to support him in this blessed out state you tell him to turn, which he does half-assed.

You help flip him over- Seeing him like this just burned you in the best ways. Buggy's hair a haloed mess around him, the rise and fall of his chest showing off his pecs that glistened from sweat, and his face red and stained with fresh tears from how hard he had cum. He looks so cute, like a cum happy little slut that was close to coming undone.

"So cute~" You purred out, looking over him admiring him like this. His gaze meets yours at hearing you say this- He covers his face embarrassed by this.

"S-Shut up!" He manages out, you giggle at his weakened threat. Sliding back inbetween his legs you grab his left leg and bring it over your shoulder his eyes widening as you do this.

"Now don't be rude Baby Boy~" You purr out, seeing how he instantly got hard you you saying this. Smiling as you poked the tip of his election with your middle finger making him shiver.

"Hard already?~ Do you like it when I call you Baby Boy?~" You ask sweetly, He blushes deeply and just nods silently. Frowning slightly you tsk.

"I didn't hear an answer?~" You tease before thrusting into him hard making his back Arch and him cry out at the sudden feeling.

"Y-Yes!!" He cried, his back arching as precum began to drip down his cock. You set a brutal pace, of course. Watching how his cock bounced against his stomach with each thrust how adorable moans and drool left his gasping mouth desperate for more. Not being able to help yourself you lean down and steal a hard kiss from him-

Kissing him lips hard as you thrusted into him, Your hand grabbing some of his hair to pull earning a whimpering moan from his parted lips.

Pulling back you watch as he cried out in bliss, his tongue hanging out as with just a few addionals he was about to cum. Smirking you lean down and grasp the base of his cock to keep that from happening, Slowing down tour hips which made his eyes widened and whimper out in desperation.

"Na!" He whimpered as you rubbed your thumb painfully slow over the the head of his weepy cock- Tears running down his cheeks as he choked back a broken moan. Your slow painful thrust not helping his abilties to speak.

"Come now Buggy~" Leaning down you whisper in his ear, nibbling his earlobe as you slowed your thrust, burying yourself as deeply inside of him as possible- His body shivering hard as you press on the deepest part of him.

"(Y-Y/N)!!!" He sobbed out, arching his back as your fingers speed up around his oversenstive cock.

"Come for me Baby Boy~" You whisper as you speed your handjob and give one hard thrust into him.

He gave such a loud squealing moan you never heard from him before, his hips bucking hard against your hand and even lifting your hips from the force- He came hard against your fingers coating his own belly and your hands in thick ribbons of cum, his whole body shivering with each powerful waves of pleasure that shot through his quivering body.

"Good Boy Buggy~" You purred out, Leaning back so you could take in the full picture of the man before you

"Aww~ Is my pretty boy okay?~" You praised, running your fingers over his tear stained cheeks as he laid there shaking. Whimpering moans breaking through his rugged pants, his own cum now being smeared over his cheeks at your antics. Giggling you place your fingers in his mouth wanting for him to taste himself- as obedient as a puppy he licks and sucks your fingers with those watery blue eyes finally looking up at you.

"Such a good boy~" You purr, another wave of arousal shooting through you at the sight of him. Rolling your hips which earns a weakened moan from him.

"Let's see if you can last one more round for me Baby Boy~"

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #sub Buggy #kinktober #buggy smut #day one kinktober

[kechiwrites]

light of day toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader part 6/?

synopsis: trust is hard to build when the foundation is so shaky, and while you and simon certainly aren’t on the same page, at least you can stand to be in the same bookstore.

wc: 2.5k

cw: afab!reader, some fluff and domesticity, very light angst, hurt and comfort, language, you and simon sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, heavy petting, trust issues, tommy being the light of both your lives, no gendered language. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: long time no see! this is a direct continuation to white flag. I strongly recommend you read it first, hell you may wanna reread it, it has been a while. thank you all sm for your love and patience, it means a lot that you're still interested in this lil 'verse.

new to baby blue? start here.

Navigating around Ghost in the morning is bizarre. A new reality you aren’t quite sure you’re ready for. Your son, to his credit, takes it in stride, opening your bedroom door and beaming at the sight of his father laying next to you.

It’s hard to stave off more tears when Ghost doesn’t miss a beat, sliding out of your sheets and whisking Tommy up into his arms, while the little boy lets him know that Sundays are always for pancakes, and how you make the best ones, and how he’s just so happy “dad will get to try them!”

They leave the bedroom door wide open, allowing you to hear the rumble of Ghost’s answer, but not necessarily the words. Tommy’s laugh chimes in afterward, like tinkling glass and carefree joy.

You’re uncharacteristically slow to rise. You blame it on having someone else to divert Thomas’ attention so early in the morning. Someone to listen to his early morning babble and chime in with appropriately timed ‘hmm’s and ‘is that so’s. It’s nice. Paralyzingly nice. Fills your chest with this balmy, uncertain kind of calm, one you haven’t felt…maybe ever, Certainly not since you’ve had Tommy. 

When you do finally get up, Tommy is already directing his dad on what to take out of the fridge, boasting about how helpful he is when it was just you and him. 

“Best sous chef within a hundred miles!” You scoop up your son, nuzzling your face into his neck while he screams between peals of laughter, wiggling in your hold. You catch Ghost staring at you, the both of you, with the weird look on his face, it's inscrutable, like he wants to smile but doesn't think he should? Maybe he can’t? It wouldn’t surprise you. Either way, you ignore it, spinning Tommy in a circle before you approach his father. You extend your baby as best you can towards him (he's way too big for you to be holding him like an infant, but old habits die really, really hard). Ghost holds his arms out to receive him, handling Tommy's weight better than you do, shifting the boy under his arm like a sack of potatoes. Father and son leave the kitchen to you, opting to sit in the living room and entertain each other (meaning Tommy will likely do whatever he wants, and Ghost will pretend he has the will to stop him). Immediately, the four year old digs in the toy box you keep near the sofa, his body half inside the plastic tub. You start mixing the components into pancake batter while Tommy tells Ghost the names of his toys, a seminar during which Ghost nods seriously, affirming he's listening when Tommy inquires after his attention. 

“What do you want in your pancakes?” You ask, leaning over the kitchen island to peer at the blond, who has Tommy strewn across his legs, smashing plastic dinosaurs together. His confusion, his wariness is a picture, honestly, you could almost laugh.

“Plain’s fine.” He responds, and Tommy unhelpfully shouts; “Ew dad! Plain’s gross!” before he brings a plesiosaur up to his father’s face, making the toy reptile kiss his dad’s cheeks. 

Your expression is a mirror of your son’s when you grimace at the soldier. 

“Plain is gross.” You keep eye contact with him as you toss a heavy handful of chocolate chips into the batter. 

He shrugs, standing and letting Tommy hang on to his bicep, his little feet dangling and kicking in the air, an impressive move that has the boy squealing with laughter. 

The batter sizzles in your frypan, a warped, scratched, old thing that’s definitely seen better days. The non-stick has worn off from years of use, but you manage to scrape the pancakes off the surface and flip them back down. 

The vintage radio on your coffee table sputters out a scratchy, slightly distorted version of an upbeat pop song, surprising you. It’d been mostly decorative, a cute little brown and white centerpiece for your, frankly, feeble living room set up. Tommy croons out of tune over the music, and you can’t stave off the smile while you plate more breakfast.

Simon must’ve been fiddling with it.

-

You have to talk. You know you have to talk. About the night before. About the future, whatever that future even looks like. So when Tommy’s maple syrup sugar high succumbs to the inevitable crash, you tuck him in for a nap and return to sit next to Simon. Closer to him than usual. Close enough that he can cover your knee with his palm, and when he does, the calloused skin is so hot you worry he might have a fever, his body overheating in response to processing more emotion than he probably has in the last ten years. 

“I appreciate you…staying this morning.” You start, and when he turns to face you his eyes are fathomless, dark brown and so painfully familiar. Immediately, you bury the sentiment in safe territory under ten tonnes of dirt; “Tommy was happy to spend the morning with you. Doesn’t usually get that.” 

You feel like a coward, even though you have every right to be scared, to hide how you're feeling from your son’s father. 

Simon, to his credit, merely bobs his head and gruffs back to you; “Thanks for asking me to.” 

And you did ask him, didn’t you? You finally asked for something of him, and he’d given it so freely it had shocked you. Scared you so bad, you poured your heart out in response, finally laid it all on the table for him to gawk at, to poke at, to ‘hmm’ and ‘ahh’ over. 

And it had felt good, in the light of day.

You can’t stop staring at his hand on your knee, his skin overwritten with plenty of silverskin scars, crisscrossing over each other, puckered and healed. When you drag your fingers over them, you find two you don’t recognize, two injuries he must have gotten somewhere far from here, some place far away where problems like teething and daycare and tantrums must have seemed so small, so insubstantial.

You’re surprised you could identify them as new, and you follow the longer one up his arm, flipping his wrist over, pushing up his sleeve, and tracing it with your finger until it ends near the crook of his elbow, running parallel to a vein in his forearm. Simon’s exhale is shaky, rattling out of his chest, uneven and fast like he’s been holding his breath. You raise your head and just fucking stare. Catalogue the halted, cautious look in his eye, the way his mouth is downturned and tense. 

And then, all at once, you’re all over him. Grabbing at the collar of his shirt and pressing kisses to that uncertain mouth, plastering your chest to his and falling apart with wanting. 

You used to do it all the time. Sit on this same leather sofa and kiss him, half in and half out of his lap, with your arms wrapped around his neck, only breaking your hold to slap at his hands whenever he tried to escalate. And he always tried to escalate, because he “didn’t come over to make out like 13 year olds”. But you knew deep down he liked it. Like being pliable in your hands, letting his ever present guard down, liked when your lips skimmed his throat and when you bit down, sucking bruises into his pale skin.

“Do you ever get any sun?” You’d said, teasing, pulling away from his exposed jaw. You’re home, both of you, after he’d taken you out for the first time. To a pub. To meet his workmates. Not friends, he’d spoken vehemently, and you suspected from the way Johnny MacTavish (Soap, he’d wanted to be called) had stared at you, bug-eyed and disbelieving, Ghost didn’t really consider anyone his friend. Maybe not even you. Talk about a red fucking flag.

“Enough.” And whether he’d been answering your question or just voicing his frustration with the lack of action, you never found out, opting instead to submit to searching hands and the straining fly of his pants. You let him spread you out and take.

Now, Ghost doesn’t try anything. Now, with four years and endless bullshit between you, he lets you do what you want. You aren’t quite sure what he’s trying to prove, what all this; the pancakes, the sleeping over, the fucking book, means. You just know you don’t want to think too hard about it. Don’t want to ruin what could very well be a ceasefire during a war you were painfully ill-equipped for.

He stays still, lets you kiss him, lets you pull and touch and take. Lets you drag your tongue over the edge of his teeth. He’s hard, and under the hand you have on his chest his heart thumps erratically, hummingbird fast. With your other hand you take hold of one of his wrists, urging him to touch you, anywhere. He takes the gift, pressing his digits into your thigh and crowding in close. One of his hands finds your throat, settles at the base where it slopes into your shoulder. You aren’t quite sure who deepens the kiss, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter when Simon pulls you into his lap, biting at your bottom lip and chasing your tongue with his own. He groans his contentment into your mouth, letting his fingers slip into the waistband of your pants before they stall in a rare bout of hesitation.

He tries to pull away, probably means to say something, but you don’t give him the chance. Instead, you nod jerkily, pressing your face to his collarbone, using both hands to pull down the neck of his shirt so you can mark the expanse of scarred skin. You’re desperate, and it shows in your actions, how you sink your teeth into his skin, how you grind down against the hard column of his cock, straining against his fly. All of it speaks to just how bad you want this, want him. Just how badly you want to forget any of it ever happened in the first place.. 

All the crying and confessing, the slow, soft, silent domesticity of your morning together and the familiarity of making out on your worn, cream coloured couch, compound together. It has you crying out in defeat, in relief, in pleasure when Simon pushes his hand underneath your clothes, slides his fingers against your clit, rubbing slow sure circles that force gasps from between your lips. He murmurs into your throat, not really saying much of anything, just whispering your name, humming and sighing while he pushes your underwear to the side, dragging his fingertips over your entrance, tracing your hole until you shudder with need.

“C'mon, c’mon.” You urge quietly, shifting your hips so he has easier access. His fingers are deep within you and so goddamn thick. Blunt, calloused and moving so slowly, fucking into you and revelling in how you bear down, tightening like a fist around him. You can feel how soaked you’re making his hand, the slick noise fills the room around you, a perfect accompaniment to the heavy breathing between you. You shift so you’re able to unzip his pants and put your hand on his cock, the warm length searing the skin of your palm. His hips jerk up to meet you, fucking the soft circle formed by your fingers and his head falls back, allowing you to nip at his Adam’s apple. It must feel very good, because he forgets he’s in the middle of fingering you for a while. Just lies back and chases his peak, to which you think, fuck that. You stroke down to his groin, and linger there, squeezing at his base until he gets the idea. Soon both of you are moving in tandem, teasing each other under your clothes like teenagers. Like two people who like each other, who can’t keep their hands off each other long enough to undress. Like two people without trust issues, and arguments, and the looming fear of being abandoned. Your peak hits you fast, crashing down on you in waves, unrelenting, over and over. Your face is buried in the crook of his neck, your mouth basically plastered to the skin there, using your lips to deduce just how fast his heart is beating, how close he is. 

Simon spills over your hand soon after, his cock twitching in satisfaction, his chest rising and falling in time with your own laboured breaths. The room is at a standstill, and the quiet sits between you, pleading with you to interrupt the slowing pattern of your breathing, nagging you to say something. Something that will fix everything. Because it has always been your job to fix the problems, to fix him.

You open your mouth, to joke, to sigh, to say or do something that’ll diffuse the tight, anxious, aching sensation in your chest but Simon beats you to it. 

“The book was good.” He mumbles, letting his head fall back, until it’s resting on the back of the couch, rather than remaining nested in the hollow of your throat. 

“You finished it?” It’s hard not to smile when he nods the affirmative, the bodice-ripper had to be at least 20 years old, maybe more; a relic you’d uncovered from the take-one-leave-one library at the local laundromat. The Rancher and the Runaway had a strapping blond cowboy and his brunette virgin charge on the cover, locked in a passionate embrace. It was smut, good smut, barely held together by family drama. 

And Simon had finished it. He’d liked it.

The very idea starts a fit of near hysterical laughter in you, so bad it jump-starts a bout of short-breathed hiccups. 

“Okay, okay wait.” You huff, clutching your stomach in-between cackles. “Which brother is your favourite?” You cover your mouth with the hand not covered in drying come when he glares at you, your shoulders shaking with glee. His dick is hanging out of his pants and your clothes are rumpled and half removed, the both of you smelling of sex and each other, but somehow, that just makes it funnier.

You bet it’s fucking Garth.

“Garth.” He rumbles, and you fucking howl. 

disclaimer: reader’s opinion on pancakes are not my own, i fuckin love plain pancakes. also the rancher and the runaway is a real romance novel, not technically a bodice ripper but i recommend it if you like harlequin romance and cowboys. If u read it come tell me. series masterlist here

support city girls, reblog what u like

#ghost x black reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost mw2 #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x black!reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod x you #ghost x gn reader #ghost cod #kechiwrites #baby daddy ghost #baby blue fic

[lasciviouspoison]

had to write this concept before i forgot it, lol. tw: toji! x chubby!reader, reader is mentioned to be bratty and submissive, use of pet names (mama, sugar, baby), breeding!, reader being cock drunk and toji is pussy drunk like a mf. per usual, i write with black women/woc in mind but all are welcome to read and enjoy. love ya!

toji fucks his pretty chubby bunny like there’s no tomorrow every. single. time.

now of course it took the two of you a bit of time to get comfortable with each other. and by the two of you, i mean you. at first, you were apprehensive to toji seeing you in a bra, much less completely nude!

but after a couple of months, the two of you grew to love each other and your guard completely crumbled to the ground. finally allowing toji to see you, whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

hence why now, it doesn’t matter the occasion, time, or place, when he can fuck you. but just how many times he can get u to cum before he does.

and right now, in your shared candle lit bedroom, he’s at a record number of three…

“jesus fucking christ baby, love it when you lemme fuck ya like this” toji says in between thrusts. there’s sweat beading at his hair line, causing his raven black hair to dampen ever so slightly.

mindless babbles and cries leave your lips as a response, causing him to chuckle and stroke you at a painfully slow pace.

“c’mon baby, talk ta me. lemme know how good i make ya feel.” he’s in your ear, but it feels like his voice is traveling all over you. at this point, you’re so delirious, it feels like he’s talking from inside your head.

“toji y’feel s’good. wanna do this f’rever” you say with a heavy tongue, glossy lips, and tears streaming down your face. if you’d have seen yourself right now, you would’ve ran away from him, but toji can only think to himself how beautiful you look right now.

beautiful hair splayed over the pillows in such a perfect way. your sleepy eyes looking up through those beautiful eye lashes. the perfect nose and full lips. silver jewelry all tangled from the movements, but he doesn’t care. how could he care when your body, that perfect and pliant body, is on display for him? so soft and pretty. smelling of vanilla, you’re like his own piece of heaven. one that he gets to build up and tear down each time you let him.

it’s why each time you let him fuck, he does it like he wants to put you through the mattress.

“forever huh? maybe you should quit that stupid job like i told ya. stay at home and sit pretty for me while i take care of ya. would ya like that mama? tell me sugar.” he’s baiting you, but you’re too cock drunk to care.

“yessss! yesyesyesyes! i’ll quit, i’ll do wha’ever toji jus please don’t stop” your eyes are crossing and your toes are curling. it’s quite shocking how toji can turn such a bratty girl like you into such a submissive and mailable mess.

but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“‘kay baby. i won’t stop. not gonna till i fill ‘er up. make ya a mama. oh! yer lil pussy must reallyyy like that idea, she tightened up on me, hehe” he says. but his strokes are getting sloppier by the second, so you know he’s close too.

without a second thought, toji sticks his thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck on it. he pulls it out with a ‘pop’ and rubs tiny circles on your clit. it makes your legs shake while you attempt to close them despite toji’s body being in the way.

he grabs your face with his other hand and kisses you deeply, tongue swiping over your bottom lip before entering your mouth. at this point, the two of you are moaning and whining into each others mouths like some horny teens.

it’s amazing how your neighbors haven’t complained about the noise yet.

toji removes his mouth from yours and buries his head in your neck, “gonna cum baby. want it inside?” his voice is gravely and his thrusts are getting harder by the second.

“yes toji! wan’ it inside me!” you manage to whine out.

didn’t have to tell him twice, “okay baby, g’nna give it to ya- ah- fuck! there ya go baby. there ya fuckin go. take it all”. he’s cumming so hard that his jaw locked, forcing him to talk through his teeth. his hands pry your legs open as far as they can go, trying to savor as much of you as he can before the sensitivity kills him.

you can feel the warmth from his cum shoot deep into you, which triggers your fourth orgasm of the night. the two of you are mindlessly grinding against each other while riding out your highs. toji making note to not drop his full weight onto you, but hold you close, which results in you being elevated slightly off the bed.

soon after, you can feel toji set you down gently and lay on top of you. hes stroking your hair and wiping your tears away until he hears you let out a loud breath.

“ya back with me mama?” voice laced with concern.

“m’okay now toji.” you say with a slightly shakey voice. your hand comes up to brush some of his hair out from in front of his eyes.

toji sits back on his knees, still inside you, and examines your face and upper body for any signs of him being too rough.

“was scared i hurt ya. i know i can get a lil too rough at times” he says while rubbing your boobs gently.

you let out a small laugh and adjust yourself on the bed, causing your hips to move back slightly on toji’s dick. he tries not to hiss at the feeling but his brain has turned to mush again and now all he can think about is how good you smell. “you’re never too rough toji. i’d tell you if you were”. you say with such a sweet and gentle smile, meanwhile toji feels like a fucking rabid animal.

and suddenly, he’s laying on top of you again, kissing and sucking on your neck. his hands have moved back down to your thighs where they’ve begun to push your legs back.

his head knocks into your jaw and he licks the side of your mouth. his body is burning hot and he’s running low on stamina, but he can’t help himself.

“good. cause m’still hard”.

#toji x reader #toji x chubby reader #toji x black y/n #toji x y/n #toji thirst #toji x black reader #daddy toji #need him to crack me open like some crab legs #toji makes the brain go brrrrrrr

[hotnbloodied]

I know you will probably ignore this but can you try doing Yan farmer x hero reader? (I guess an iskei trip or whatever idk I just wanna know if you could try and build with this idea)

I would never ignore a request, if I couldn't do it I'd let you know! But thank you so much for your request it was very fun to do! I hope that you enjoy~ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Farmer X Isekai'd Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: implied non-con, obsessive personality, controlling behavior, toxic relationships.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

It’s been a month since you found yourself in a world very much like the mmorpg game you used to play back when you were on earth. The first week was extremely rough, in the first three days you were in a frenzy trying to get your wearabouts about you. A couple of knights found you and were actually pretty helpful in guiding you to the church where the nuns made sure you were fed and taken care of. On your calmer day you decided you wanted to try something and called out the menu aloud. You almost jumped when the all too familiar screen popped up in front of you, the only thing missing was the option to ‘quit game’. The next chance that you got you asked one of the nuns how you could go about being an adventurer.

Here you were getting the hang of your class, who knew that combat in real life would be harder than it would be in a game. Monsters were actually terrifying and being in the wild sucked but at least you weren’t relying on other people to get by now.

You might have been getting too comfortable though because while taking on a quest to get rid of some monsters terrorizing some local fields you all but reached your limit, you were tired and wounded but the request was done and you just needed to report back to the guild now but you passed out.

You woke with a jolt. You thought the knights found you and took you to the church again but after looking at your surroundings that didn’t seem to be the case since it looked like a quaint cabin. You also noticed you were bandaged up really well. The door creaked open and in came a person you never saw before. “Oh you’re awake! That’s good.” “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude,” you told them. He shook his head, “It’s the least I can do after you helped clear our fields of monsters.” “Ah, I need to report back to the adventurer’s guild.” “You’re not in any condition to move! You need rest.” “I’m okay, I need to collect my money after all.” “Then, let me come with you.” Seeing no harm in that you allowed him to come with you. “I’m Mikha by the way!” The two of you exchange greetings and names. “Wow so you’ve only been an adventurer for a month? What made you want to be one?” “Change of pace I guess.”

After finishing the business at the adventurer's guild you were about to say your goodbyes with Mikha but he invited you to dinner and you couldn’t pass up free food. Back at his home you helped however you could in the kitchen but since everything was so primitive compared to your original world you were slow in learning. Over dinner you two talked about life, his parents died when he was young and he had to learn to take care of the farm from a young age in order to survive. He talked about how nice it was to have dinner with someone after being alone for so long. “Have you never thought about finding a spouse?” You asked. “I have, it’s just so hard when you have to tend the farm all the time.” The night ended with Mikha insisting that you spend the night there, which you agreed to since it’s better than camping out or spending money at an inn again.

A couple more months went by and you basically made yourself at home with Mikha. Even though he insisted that you paid with your company you still gave him money for his hospitality. All seemed to be going well until you informed Mikha that you were leaving this part of the continent to broaden your horizons of the world. “Mikha, are you okay? You dropped your food.” “I- I’m fine, when are you leaving?” “It’s going to take me a month to prepare so I’m not going any time soon.” “I’m going to miss you…” “I’ll miss you too! I’ll definitely try to write to you when I can.” Mikha lost his appetite, he thought everything was going good between the two of you, he thought he could convince you to stop adventuring someday and the two of you would settle down and start a family together. Was this really how it was going to end? No, he won’t allow it.

Your preparations were coming along and you were getting more and more excited about your journey. You couldn’t help but notice that Mikha seemed to have gotten quieter and just overall seemed to be more on edge. When you asked him what was wrong he’d vehemently tell you nothing was wrong.

Finally, the night before your journey arrived and Mihka had prepared more food than usual as a celebratory feast. You two ate and drank to your heart's content and Mihka even seemed like he was back to his cheerful self. After cleaning up, you went to go get a good night's rest but in the middle of the night you felt something burning in your core. You were extremely turned on and it was to a point where it was near uncomfortable. You squeezed your legs together, you tried to breathe it out and you even tried to relieve yourself but nothing was working. You didn’t even notice the knocking on your door until Mikha walked in to ask what was wrong. “Stay away from me!” You warned him, “I’m not in my right mind!” Mikha didn’t listen and because of that you jumped him and used him to your heart's content.

The next morning you were ashamed of yourself, you saw the marks and bruises you gave him from the night before. You were on your knees, crying and sobbing for forgiveness. He seemed like an angel when he pulled you in for a hug and told you everything is going to be okay but you’d need to take responsibility. You kissed your future dreams goodbye and eventually the two of you married and took care of the farm together. Mikha was just glad that you agreed to take responsibility so easily, but in case you ever tried to leave him, he would tell you about the succubus mark that was implanted on the two of you that night meant that no matter who else you decided to be with your lust wouldn’t have been satisfied by anyone except him.

#lovesick #yandere #yandere male #obsessive yandere #obsessive love #obsession #male yandere #male yandere x reader #gender neautral reader #gn reader #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #x y/n #y/n #isekai #tw noncon #yandere writer #yandere core

[ohraicodoll]

Teeth

Joel Miller x f!Reader (Feral Reader as you’ve all lovingly called her) The Last of Us (show/game) 4.5K Words (3rd POV) Part II to Monsters Summary:  “Only Joel could make offering to get her off sound like a business transaction. But the intention was clear. This wasn’t intimacy, wasn’t passion boiling over, wasn’t romance. It was bodies and tactfulness and practicality.“ Warning: 18 + Minors DNI. Smut, pwp, mentions of violence, enemies to fwb, can be read standalone Part I | Part II

The house was too quiet.

So often on the road, they’d taken to sleeping in whatever buildings they could secure, alcoves in the woods, even an old run down vehicle on the side of the road occasionally. But this time they all got their own rooms, beds, to sleep in and instead of being comforting it made her anxious. She was used to the sounds of nature going on at night, the steady breathing of her companions, the slight vibrations of the world around her. There was nothing in the cabin but silence. They’d strategically picked rooms, Ellie taking the master bedroom as that was the farthest away from the entrance with hers and Joel’s closest to the front door. If someone went through the effort of getting through all the defenses and fences and managed to get inside, they’d have to get past their rooms first. Except not even that because she was awake and laying on the floor in the living room. The bed had been too soft, the walls pressing into her too much. Caged. So she had grabbed the blankets and pillows and thrown them on the floor on top of the couch cushions she’d yanked down. All where she could have a good vantage point of the front door, pistol resting beside her head and knife under the pillow. It was better, but still not the same.

All the clothes in the house were too big, no matter how tight she knotted the drawstrings, so she’d forgone pants and had thrown on an oversized shirt while her pants dried in what the previous owners had deemed the “laundry room.” The blankets were warm but a little itchy against her bare skin and she sighed. It was hard to relax, to take advantage of the amenities. The need to constantly be prepared for anything a humming nerve under her skin. She tried to calm herself, to focus, to slow the constant stream of thoughts going over the previous day. Finding the group, the bullet graze on her shoulder, the look of pure uninhibited rage as Joel caved the man’s skull in with his bare fist. And then the feel of that same hand in hers, rough skin against her own, and the warmth of Joel’s thighs against her body. “Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.” She wasn’t an idiot. The man was attractive and had been since the day she met him, no matter how much he set her teeth on edge and made her want to wring his neck. They were the same, hackles raised and maws snapping at every turn. She didn’t feel the need to play nice and hide who she was. He never batted an eye at her lack of hesitation towards violence, never looked at her fearfully or disapprovingly for shooting or stabbing first. She’d been around others before, had seen the way they skittered away in fear as if in a blood haze she’d go after them as well. Joel Miller was a survivor and knew that the world was ugly. And sometimes you had to match that ugliness to see the next day. He would have been the type of man that had intimidated her when she was younger. Too gruff, hardened, assured with his cocky attitude and rare smiles. Nothing like Harry. She’d been bashful before, wanting to break out of her shell but unable to take that leap. Not a leader, not a go-getter. Not quite the best at social interaction, at interacting with men specifically, words never coming easily. She would have blushed from one look from the Texan. The world wasn’t made for blushing anymore though and that was twenty years ago. That girl was dead. She was just wearing her skin. A skinwalker. A monster wearing a human form. The Outbreak had changed them all. 

Now it was hard to feel anything. She felt tiny sparks of amusement from Ellie when she tried out new jokes to get a reaction, concern as she took note of the weight that seemed to be on the young girl’s shoulders, affection watching her take in every new surrounding, irritation when Joel bossed them both around. Rage and anger were the easiest to feel, so she took aim at the older man. Like poking a bear if only to feel the exhilaration of being chased. She felt most alive in the middle of a fight and when Joel’s eyes were glaring into her, teeth snapping at her. Staring up at the ceiling, the slight creak of a hinge caught her ear from down the hall followed by almost silent footsteps. Too heavy to be Ellie, too quiet for the girl that blew through life like a tornado. No, she watched and waited as Joel came around the corner, the lantern she had left lit in the corner of the room illuminating the frown tilting his lips down. The sweatpants that hadn’t fit her fit him perfectly, settling loose and comfy on his hips while the faded shirt stretched snuggly across his broad chest. She could see the telltale signs that he’d been running his hands through his head, the slight curls in disarray and silver catching the light. If he had been asleep, she couldn’t tell. Maybe he’d heard her leave her own room. He always did seem to know when she was moving around. “What’re you doin’ out here?” he grumbled quietly, the sound rough and low. The darkness hid his eyes from her but she knew he was probably glaring. Still annoyed over their exchange earlier most likely. She blinked at him then went back to staring at the ceiling, “Bed’s too soft.” My mind won’t shut off, the room is too quiet, the walls are too close, I don’t like sleeping alone anymore. The words were there, buried underneath layers of skin. Joel grunted, scratching at his chin and the patchy beard there before placing his hands on his hips and taking her in. He could tell when she was bullshitting, she knew that, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. They didn’t do feelings, didn’t confess their fears in the dark. It was practical and that’s how they both liked it. So she reasoned it was in the name of practicality that he sighed and walked over. Because they had shit to get done the next day and he’d gripe at her if she was tired and couldn’t pull her weight. He nudged her side with his foot, the silent command to scoot over, and rather than be a brat and stare him down she did so. The cushions were wide and worn down, big enough for both of them and weren’t entirely uncomfortable. Better than what they were used to sleeping on. Odd sleeping arrangements weren’t new, the three of them pressed tight together like sardines trying to fit in whatever small safe space they could find. So it wasn’t exactly odd for him to be pressed close to her. There’d been many nights she’d fallen asleep to her cheek against his shoulder blades and Ellie wrapped around her back. Maybe he had come out to the living room for the same reasons she had. She wasn’t sure but wasn’t about to ask. Joel placed his own gun on the ground next to his side of the cushions, carefully kneeling down and lifting the blanket up to get underneath. She could feel his pause more than she could see it, could hear the slight curse under his breath, “You wearin’ any pants?” “Does it look like it?” He shook his head, jaw clenching but continued climbing in beside her. The apocalypse did away with a lot of things like modesty and politeness. She didn’t care, had gone and helped him in only a towel earlier because she was already there and wasn’t going to take the time to change just to tend to his hand. Practical. He shifted beside her, getting comfortable under the shared blanket and laying on his side facing away from her where he could still hear from his good side. There was a moment where his arm went under the pillow and he paused, pulling out the blade while giving her a look before moving it beside him. Never surprised, always annoyed. The heat from his body made up for having to share the blanket, warmth radiating from him and seeping into her. She hadn’t moved, eyes still glued to the ceiling though now her concentration was mostly on the slight sound of Joel’s breathing next to her, the way his back muscles shifted against her arms, the anxiety lessening now that she wasn’t alone. “You’re thinking too loud,” his voice growled next to her, bare feet brushing hers as he adjusted. “That’s not a thing,” she replied, very much still awake. Joel sighed and looked at her over his shoulder, “You gonna go to sleep anytime soon or should I go back to my room?” Rolling her eyes, she met his gaze in the dim lantern light, his irises practically black, “You act like I’m not trying to sleep. Brain’s too wired. Feel free to go back if all you’re gonna do is complain, I didn’t ask you to sleep in here.” He huffed, facing away from her and let the silence take back over. 

This time the silence felt weighted, a heavy tension as they both acknowledged that neither of them were sleeping. Using his own words, she could hear him thinking loudly and it kicked up her nerves. She was extra aware of his heat, the press of his back against her arm, the slow and steady way his breath filled the air. It made her sensitive, made the world around her seem to vibrate. Joel was the one to break the silence again, the words deep and rough with his accent, “I can help, if you want…Distract you so you get to sleep.” Her heart sped up, the sound like a raging river in her mind. Her skin was tingling. “How so?” she could hear her own voice get huskier as she whispered back, the barest sound slipping out. He turned to look at her again over his shoulder, gaze heated, “You know how.” She did. Had more than once imagined his mouth on her, fingers slick with arousal and touching her- “Didn’t seem that into the idea earlier when you damn near bit my head off,” she scoffed and tried to ignore how every nerve was on fire. How he had been the one to bring it up and what he was offering. Joel didn’t say anything for a long minute, the memory of her on her knees and his fingers digging into his own thigh fresh. It’d been to rile him up, be a dick to him as he was being to her, but it wasn’t exactly not an invitation. She’d fucked worse to alleviate the tension, to say thanks, to satisfy a need. “Then maybe you weren’t listening correctly,” he grunted, “You want help or not? The window’s closing fast.” Only Joel could make offering to get her off sound like a business transaction. But the intention was clear. This wasn’t intimacy, wasn’t passion boiling over, wasn’t romance. It was bodies and tactfulness and practicality. She nodded, eyes on the ceiling. “Gonna need it out loud, darlin’,” he muttered lowly. Darlin. Not Starshine or Red or Hey You. It was a new one. “Okay,” she whispered and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She didn’t look at him, didn’t try and gauge his reaction or the look on his face. As unaffected as she was trying to come across, her heart was in her throat. It’d been a while, a good long while since someone else had touched her and it was Joel of all people breaking that dry spell. He turned over on his other side to face her and she could feel his eyes, the way they burned into her skin, “Turn over.” She didn’t argue, didn’t bristle at being ordered, simply faced away. It was better this way. It was too intimate to let him see her face, to watch his, and that wasn’t what this was. His chest was flush against her back and she could feel his breath against her neck, hands finding her waist as one of his knees pushed between hers. She expected him to be rougher, quicker, more methodical but he was soft and slow, taking his time. His fingers skimmed over her sides and down to her thighs, finding the hem of the worn shirt then the large expanse of bare skin. His palm was rough against the smooth skin and she bit down on her lip at the contrast in texture, finding she liked the feeling. Then the tips of his fingers were playing with the band of her underwear as his nose dragged along her neck, hot breath almost causing her to shiver. He slid his fingers along the thin straps, hand brushing against her heated skin and she could feel the edge of the bandage on the back of it. The bandage covering the split knuckles and sliced skin from him beating a man to death.

That kind of rage wasn’t supposed to be a turn on, but it had been. The old her would have been terrified, traumatized, backing away from him out of fear but not the person she was now. He had her back, had watched out for her and been there in the second she had been blinded by her overwhelming need to protect Ellie. 

Joel had her. She pressed herself back into him and could hear his swallowed groan as her ass rubbed against his groin, at his obvious arousal pressing against her. He didn’t speak and neither did she. Only the sounds of their quickening breaths filled the silence of the living room and then a barely audible gasp as his fingers finally slipped underneath the cloth and found her center already hot and wet. He trailed along her slit, gathering the arousal soaking there, and spread it around, encircling her clit. He took his time, going slow, getting to know her and the sounds she desperately tried to keep locked inside her. She’d been quiet back in the day. Never been one for dirty talk or loud moans. Maybe because she’d been bashful and inexperienced and easily embarrassed. Soft, breathless, throaty. Now it was more out of instinct, survival, control. There wasn’t much she could control in the world but herself and any noises she made were for her to decide if she wanted them to be heard. So she swallowed the moan that strained to leave her lips as Joel circled her clit even more urgently, lightning shooting through her. His hand was large, so much bigger than hers. His whole body could probably wrap around her completely, cover her up and shield her from everything around them. Joel was a solid wall behind her and as his finger finally dipped inside, she gripped the pillow tightly in a clawed hand while the other dug into the bicep stretched across her. He curled inside her, thumb pressing down on her clit, and she clenched her teeth against another moan, throwing her head back. Salt and pepper curls tickled her chin and then his mouth was on her neck, hot and wet with teeth and tongue. She could smell him, gunpowder and musk and pine. Distinctly Joel and she bit down on her tongue hard, welcoming the slight tinge of copper in her attempt to keep from drowning in him. Another finger entered her and she almost sobbed at the stretch. The coil inside of her was winding tighter and tighter with each stroke, each slow pump, as he managed to tease a part of her that had her delirious with pleasure. He was methodical, precise, bringing her to the edge then pulling back to bring her back down to the shallows before building her up again. It was the perfect kind of torture that had her pushing into hand, searching for more. Her nails were making indents in his skin from how hard she was digging in, struggling to keep herself in control. 

At last a gasp slipped through her lips unbidden. A crack forming. The small sound seemed to almost snap something in Joel. He cursed, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, before yanking her until she was on her back with his hand still down her panties. Before she could question him, his mouth was latched onto her neck and he was pressing deeper into her all the way to his knuckles, no longer going slow, no longer keeping her turned away from him. Their legs were tangled, thigh between his and hips pulled wider, and she could feel the hard length of his own arousal rubbing against her. She didn’t stop to wonder if this was about practicality anymore. If this had been part of the unspoken arrangement. Not when his mouth had inched down the collar of her shirt and he was pressing teeth into the small stars along her collarbone, worshiping the slip of skin. No, her hand reached out and pressed against his sweatpants, feeling him and taking in the way he hissed against her skin and jerked into her hand. Her back arched off the pillows as pleasure grew and their heated pants filled the room. Joel’s beard was scratchy against her skin and she knew there would be red marks all over her neck and across her chest but she didn’t care. His teeth nipped sharp spots of pain into her skin and then he would soothe the spot with his tongue. All while his fingers pumped in and out of her, the slick sound dampened by the underwear he’d shoved aside. Her own hand gripped him through his sweatpants, feeling his weight and length, mouth almost going dry at the size. He didn’t protest, didn’t say anything when she slipped her hand under the band of pants and past his underwear, feeling the hot velvet skin of his erection and passing a thumb over the tip to collect the moisture there. Instead he bit down harder and jutted into her hand, rocking and thrusting faster into her. Fuck, he was big and onehanded she stroked him the best she could, blind in the dark and moving in time with him. She was close, could feel the coil going taut and her breath coming out faster and faster. Her own face pressed into his shoulder, feeling the tight muscles in the arm holding himself over her. He almost seemed to shiver as she dragged her mouth along his skin then bit down, groaning open mouthed onto him as her orgasm crashed hard and unyielding. She didn’t slow down, didn’t release him, even as her body felt loose and HER breath came out in shaky pants. No, she had him and wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to take control over the smuggler. She stroked from tip to base, massaging him and drawing out his grunts with each movement. His fingers pulled out of her and gripped her thigh, smearing her own arousal all over the skin and digging in tight enough to bruise. “Fuck,” Joel hissed into her neck and she let go of the pillow she had been gripping with her free hand, combing through his hair and running nails along his scalp. She wanted to tear him open with her claws, rip away the hardened shell he’d built around himself and climb into him. Force some vulnerability to the surface in the same way he had with her. Revenge maybe, but the word didn’t feel right. He pushed himself up and finally met her gaze, their breath mingling as their eyes found each other in the dark. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, felt almost more exposed than when his fingers were deep inside her. But she didn’t break her stride, didn’t blink or look away. She met him head on and it reminded her of that first day they had met. Saving Ellie, killing that man with a baseball bat, equal amounts of fury and brokenness meeting the other. A mirror. Joel grit his teeth and she watched the words “fuck it” shape on his lips but never forming sound before his lips were on hers. She hadn’t been expecting it. Kissing was for intimacy and this wasn’t that. But the kiss wasn’t gentle or soft or tentative, instead a clash that shook their bones. He was trying to devour her and she was trying to dominate him, his weight pressing down into her fully. She moaned into his mouth and hooked a leg around his waist, trying to draw him in as close as possible with her hand still tangled in his hair. She couldn’t define his taste. It was…Joel. Earthy and sweet and intoxicating. His tongue discovered every crevice of her mouth, sliding along hers, and she tugged at his hair until a hiss danced along their lips. Kissing Joel Miller was dangerous in its addiction. Her lungs burned and she thought she could taste copper, blood, but she couldn’t get enough, wanting to swallow every innocuous sound that left his throat because they were the only pieces of himself he let go of freely. She palmed his member, massaging it and feeling how desperate he was for release, before finally pulling away enough to whisper against him, “You can either fuck my hand or you can fuck me, Miller. What’s it gonna be?” He groaned as she squeezed him harder, hips jerking, “Jesus Christ…” Then his hands were tugging her underwear down in answer and he was on top of her fully between her thighs, lips bruising while she released him and helped yank his sweatpants down. It was frantic, hands clawing, teeth biting. A desperation she hadn’t felt in a while, only akin to when things were life or death and she was fighting for her life. 

Practicality had gone out the window and she wasn’t sure when it had happened. She felt alive, sharp and bright, and that had her fully pulling him to her, feeling him slide along her wet core heavy and pulsing and so fucking good. Joel braced himself with an elbow beside her head, muscles straining, hand gripping her hair tightly to keep her lips against his. His other fist pumped himself, sliding against her clit and drawing breathless moans into his mouth. There was no discussion about going slow, about making sure she was ready or stretched enough for him. That required a level of care, affection. No, that wasn’t them. Inside he hitched her leg higher around his waist and pushed into her fast and rough. Both of them groaned at the stretch, at the way he filled her completely, teeth swallowing the sounds. It never left their mouths, wasn’t for the world to hear, simply passed from one to the other like a secret. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him flush against her as he started to move. The proximity had him grinding against her, the rough hairs at his base adding friction and sending sparks through her. It was fast and bordered on painful, but it only heightened the feeling for her. She didn’t want him to be gentle with her, didn’t want to be handled like a doll.

She needed to feel something even if it was pain and god, if the man didn’t cause every single inch of her to alight with fire. “Fucking hell,” he whispered against her, the words a growl as he broke from her mouth and pressed his forehead to her shoulder, “Feel so fucking good.” His thrusts were beginning to lose their rhythm, going faster and harder as if he was aiming to tear her in half. She only wrapped both legs around his waist, hooking them at the ankle, the silent promise that she was fully along for the ride until the end. “This better than me on my knees, Miller,” she hissed, fingers tightening on his curls. He gripped the back of her head and drove deeper into her almost in answer, “Shut the fuck up, darlin’.” There was a reply on her lips but it never managed to escape, his lips crushing hers as they both began to hit the edge. She pulsed and tightened around him as her orgasm hit her like a freight train, lightning searing every nerve and dragging Joel down with her. He came hard with her, his warm release filling her and coating both of them as he fucked her through the last waves and aftershocks of their climax. Their breathless pants wrapped around them and painted their lips, a few centimeters apart but not fully pulled away from the other. She could feel him twitching inside of, was drowning in his scent and that familiar whiff of sex that clung to them. Even with his weight bearing down onto her, she felt good, filled to the brim, awake. Joel groaned, forehead against hers, sweat trickling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt, “Fuck.” “Ditto,” she mumbled, trying to catch her breath, releasing her tight grip on his hair and sliding it along his bag. He almost shivered at the slight caress. “I should have pulled out,” he frowned, brow furrowed as reality started to sink in. “It’s fine,” she answered heavily and fell back fully against the pillow, neck stretched beneath him, “Can’t get pregnant. Plumbing don’t work.” Her sentences were stuttered, short and to the point as a clear indication that it wasn’t a topic she wanted to elaborate on. It was the smallest admittance of something personal, a rarity between them, and he filed it away in the back of his mind.

He nodded and lifted himself up, only giving her a small warning before sliding himself from her. They both groaned at the sensation and loss of warmth, laying on their backs side by side under the blanket. The air was much cooler on their sweat slicked skin and in the back of her mind she was thankful that at least she’d get to take a shower in the morning. A second later though, her thoughts were cut off when Joel grabbed her and tugged her closer into his side, her arm across his chest. She froze, not quite expecting him to even acknowledge her after the deed was done, much less want to touch her. His ankle was still wrapped around hers and the threadbare shirt was soft under her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler,” the words lacked their usual mocking tone or bite, bordered on unsurety. This was out of her comfort zone and she was stiff, in unfamiliar territory with the smuggler. Sex and rage she knew, but not…whatever this was. “Shut up and go to sleep, Red,” Joel’s eyes were already closed, breathing relaxed and even. He wasn’t rising to take the bait, all the fight gone out of him. Biting her lip, she sighed. And true to his word, she followed him into slumber quickly after, leaving the new aspect of their relationship to ponder in the daylight. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x feral reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #raicodoll writes #fic: monsters #fic: teeth #Feral Reader Series #I guess that's what we're calling it now lol #OC: Red #joel miller #series: feral

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part V)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.4k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: some misogyny and shit (you know who), psychiatry stuff, canon gore, blood, heads exploding, and violence?.

Notes: so I'm sorry for any mistakes during the psychyatric process, I go to therapy and take medication myself so that's all I know plus google research. And be aware of the gore descriptions, I tried to do my best I guess lol. Thanks for reading as always!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

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get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part V: Blow Your Mind

With a deep breath, you reviewed the symptoms Soldier Boy barely 'gave' during your session. The list was kind of long on the pages and it read:

Always being on guard for any danger, self-destructive behavior, irritability, angry outbursts, panic attacks, feeling emotionally numb, not trusting anyone, not feeling safe, hypervigilance, intrusive thoughts, fatigue, muscle tension, headaches, back pain...

There was a weird silence surrounding both of you, mostly because of his mood and his change in demeanor from a somewhat friendly asshole to an irritated, unbearable jerk. Once you had started with the uncomfortably stupid questions, he felt threatened. Soldier Boy wasn't actually open to talk about his past and the traumatic experiences he had, and that meant it was difficult to get to know how his body and mind were reacting to all the stress and madness he went through in decades, adding those weeks after Billy Butcher had released him from his nightmare.

He was opposed to speaking directly about how he was feeling, but you knew better that Ben speaking out on his symptoms was not going to happen. So you had to ask each one of them and review some his most harsh experiences directly, in order to receive monotonous responses, limited to: 'yes', 'no', 'I don't know,' and finally 'what the fuck is that?' You took them all as an absolute yes.

He was being defensive and you knew better than to miss anything after he almost burned the whole damn building. And with the small but confident experience you had with psychiatry, you concluded that he needed medication and therapy. As soon as fucking possible.

"Yeah, you have PTSD," you said after a moment and your eyes found his unreadable gaze.

He raised his eyebrows with false surprise. He already heard that shit from Hughie before. "And where's the fucking drugs?"

"For that to happen, you have to stop the weed first."

"I've survived bricks of coke mixed with shit you probably don't know about and you want to take the only thing that's keeping me sane? Fan-fucking-tastic!" he fumed, but you didn't flinch. Not a bit.

"Look, my goal is keeping you safe and making you sane because you definitely are not. Not right now. And since I took you out, you'll follow my process, so stop whining."

He chuckled softly with a bitter grimace on his lips as he shook his head softly. "No, that's not gonna happen."

"I don't care if you agree with that, it's settled," you continued, a triumphant smile plastered on your face.

It was true, you didn't give a single shit. He had to be clean and quit any type of drugs to start the medication but most importantly, to use his blood. Eventually. You were more than aware that he wouldn't die easily, that was proved. And it was just a matter of time to get him to your lab to take samples of his blood and run the necessary research on them while you and your team still continued the studies with the Anti-V prototype. You were only hoping that day would arrive soon enough. Two months sober, that was all you needed from him. And the best part? Soldier Boy didn't have to really know the whole details.

Ben, on the other hand, clenched his jaw so tight and closed his eyes for a moment after hearing your statement. You really were a fucking bitch, letting him fall into the abyss of misery and torture that was his own wrecked mind. He considered your intentions internally, once again for the millionth time. You showed up there all dressed up, playing a rich doctor when in reality you were just a fucking slutty brat, just to tell him he had to stop his usual pot, which you also brought happily when he asked you to. And now, you were taking away the only thing that stopped him from ripping your head off. What a great move.

"That's not smart," he insisted.

"Why not? I have you under my own terms."

Ben tilted his head, studying you carefully. "You can't stop me, doll. None of you can. I'm only here because I find it suitable instead of storming out and catching unnecessary attention."

Ben saw you swallow down, he immediately knew it was because you were angry, not scared. You never really seemed scared of him. And you tried to restrain yourself from slapping him right away. "Are you blackmailing me again, Soldier Boy?"

"Is just a warning," he said, nonchalantly. "Wouldn't want to harm such a pretty thing like you, now wouldn't we."

"Oh well, just a reminder I can also turn on the damn gas if needed," you snapped. The arrogant smirk on his lips fell off and it was your turn to smile back. "We all have hidden cards, right?"

Such an arrogant bitch, he thought.

"So, what's your plan?" you switched the subject to avoid going further into what was troubling him.

"What do you mean?"

"Homelander. You want him dead, don't you? You must be getting ready to fight again..."

His body seemed tense once you pushed him to talk, looking away from you to calm a bit. "Isn't that what all of you want?"

"Any sane person would love that, trust me."

Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes. "Well, I can do it. If I wasn't here... You've seen what he's capable of. Jesus, I've seen it," he bitterly chuckled. "And the kid? He's a fucking menace."

"You've been watching the news, I take that—"

"The fuck I do! Wasn't gonna wait for you to keep me up to date of what the fuck is going on!" Ben shouted, his loud voice roaring in your ears despite the distance.

"I don't want you to stress out more than you do," you said, vacillating. "A lot of things take time, such as you adapting to the twenty-first century."

"I'd love to know when that'll happen," Ben insisted. "Or else, I might just break out."

With a tentative smile, you started to write down the report. "I'm so glad you're talking more during our sessions."

You barely said goodbye to Soldier Boy once you finished your daily session. Your head was aching as you walked down the aisle, barely leaving the empty wing of the building behind. Certainly he was hard to handle and was behaving defensively. Before you left he began asking, or better said, bossing you to get him whatever the kid Hughie told him he needed to learn how to use. Shit like the internet and GPS, he said. You told him he was not ready for it yet.

But you'd give him a golden star for trying and insisting so badly, even if he was against eighty percent of your methods. He was up to something, there was no question for that. He was a soldier, more or less like his given supe name. People like him always had a plan, and underneath his facade, there were more plans backed up with words of honor that you had to track sooner or later.

As you made your way to your office, greeting your lab employees and guards, a disturbing sensation grew up inside. Before crossing the doorframe you subtly looked around, focusing for some reason in the security camera, more time than you'd like to admit. You turned again to finally get inside, facing the entry of your office when hurried steps and a voice stopped you from doing so.

"Doctor!"

Once again you turned on your heels to see your assistant, tablet in hand. Those had to be the results.

"Hey," you began. "You have everything?"

Bianca nodded with a straight face and handed you the tablet. You noticed her tight grip and her somehow trembling fingers when you took the device from her hands. You eyed her a little, she remained with her hands intertwined in front of her, her attention seemed lost. With caution, you continued to check the file.

"Is the patient alright?" you asked, reading the profile of the supe who had the not so good luck of being tested previously.

Solaris was his supe name. And he had the ability to manipulate light and matter with his mind. He had taken part in the program for a month now and this was his first test. As always, each supe you had into the program was low-profile. You were thankful of your team keeping these supes under their gaze to offer them some sort of solution, even after all the deaths you tracked from time to time when a test of the Anti-V was run. More than a solution for them, it was a partial contribution to find it.

You quickly scanned the updated file that Bianca completed for you. He was doing better than projected, his powers were still gone with a forecast of probably coming back within a couple of hours. A deep breath left your lips. Now that was an improvement. It was the first time anything like that happened on any tests. The supe survived, he was weak but the powers were off for a bit. It was a small step closer to your goal. Just a little bit more maybe and it could be done, finally...

"He's resting right now," Bianca interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes were back on her face.

"This is great news, thank you. I trust he's doing okay."

She nodded. "He is."

"Great, I guess I'll see him in a couple of hours," you said about entering your office.

"Wait!" Bianca suddenly closed the little space between both of you. She breathed heavily before stuttering words out. "I, I have- I'm sorry..."

"Are you okay?" you inquired, knowing her behavior was unusual. She swallowed down, turning her gaze away, her hands shaking. Was she sick? "Bianca, what's wrong?"

You tried to reach her cheek with your hand, but she stepped back abruptly, looking at you like if you were a ghost with her eyes red and wet, and a fine layer of sweat adorning her skin.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

You walked towards her, worried about what was going on but every step you took, she also gave it back.

"Bianca, what's happening?"

Her back bumped the wall of your office, and finally, she started to cry. "I'm sorry. You have to go, please..."

Your heart started pounding heavily on your chest. "What—"

"Go now! Please... Please don't hurt me..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Bianca," you whispered, trying to comfort her.

But she continued crying and mumbled incoherent words with eyes shut, while hot tears streamed down her face. She choked on her sobs as she pleaded for her life. But you didn't understand why. You tried to soothe her, reaching her shoulder with your free hand.

And when you placed your palm on her, everything became red. It all happened in seconds. Ropes of warm blood covered your face in an instant. A loud gasp fell from your throat. You felt every drop mixed with brains on the skin of your face, on your neck, and sliding down the skin under your blouse. It was shocking and equally disgusting. And your eyes remained shut, not brave enough to move or see the horrid picture in front of you.

Your palm was still on her shoulder when the remains of her body fell to the ground with a thud. Your trembling hand wiped some blood from your face to open your eyes anew. The wall was painted with her, as much as you were, and it left a trail of blood from where her corpse slid to the floor. Her head long fucking gone.

"Shit."

Shit. Fucking shit. Was it him? It had to be him. There was no reason to doubt it. It was him. And he complied with his promise. Had Homelander been controlling Bianca? Was she the only one? No. There had to be something more. Homelander wasn't easy and he wasn't merciful with anyone. You had to stop him and get Soldier Boy out of the building. Now.

You tried to control yourself as best as you could, walking away to reach anyone, crossing a corner on the hallway, where a guard was casually passing by.

He stopped on his tracks at your sight, covered in blood and meat. "Doctor?"

"I need your help," you whispered.

He nodded quickly and you began explaining with a low, shaky voice.

"I don't know what happened, my assistant was right there with me when— Fuck!"

You walked some inches away when his head exploded, just like Bianca's did. Luckily, or not, this time was inside his helmet. All the red brains and blood were catched by it. Still, you wanted to throw up right fucking there. The remains of his body fell to the floor with a loud sound.

With a deep breath you continued your way, finding guards, lab assistants and agents. If they were alive, their heads popped into your sight. And if it was your somehow lucky moment of the day, you just found their headless corpses lying on the ground, creating a pool of blood you tried to avoid.

The only thing on your mind was taking Ben out of the building. The alarm had been turned on and the annoying sound of it was driving you crazy. Your head ached more than ever as you made your way to Soldier Boy for the second fucking time during the day.

Since there was no time to open the heavy door properly, you used a force field around the metal, moving the door until it slipped enough to let you in. You found him standing in the middle of the room. Eyes dark and alert, with fists and frame ready to fight. He wrinkled his nose once you entered the place.

"What the fuck's going on?" Ben growled, observing your blood covered face.

"We need to go, now. Take your clothes off."

He blinked, taken aback. Before he answered you continued with an explanation.

"I'll turn you invisible, but can't turn your clothes," you ordered, looking in the closet for a sports bag you knew was inside and picking a couple of shirts, pants and boxers as quickly as time allowed you to. Once finished, you turned to Ben again.

"Mind to fucking clarify?" he insisted. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Look, I'll tell you everything once we're out," you turned one of your hands invisible for him to see.

Ben snorted with laughter. How ironic, he thought.

"No fucking way."

"Strip. We're leaving."

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon fanfiction #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys amazon prime #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy/ben

[prettysweetprettysweet]

while i understand why some viewers would be puzzled by Achi's quietness, reserved energy, and the way he nearly always lets Karan take the lead - which might make it seem like he isn't invested in the relationship - for me that is actually an element I really like because it makes certain moments hit a lot harder.

the way I've been interpreting it is that Achi's critical insecurity and lack of self-worth is still deeply rooted and trying to keep him stuck in his default closed off/blend into your environment behavior model. that is certainly not going to go away overnight, but the more he interacts with Karan in this new romantic relationship context, the more opportunity Karan has to start chipping away at the barrier that keeps Achi from letting himself feel comfortable in a state of being loved. and it seems like a challenge that Karan is more than happy to take on, because you can see how giddy he gets when he's able to get a full-bodied positive reaction out of Achi. like when Karan said, cheezily and with an air of ridiculousness, that he had opened the bottle for Achi so Achi wouldn't wear himself out.

like Karan is RELISHING having elicited this wide, full-faced smile out of Achi.

we also saw Achi being treated like an object of beauty as Karan poses him for photos. he's being handled preciously by Karan, and for me this read as 'aaaaaahhhhhh my heart is racing i cant breathe, i've never felt like this before, i love this feeling.' It's a quiet and inward-facing response, but it has a huge amount of significance in regards to Achi's self-image. He is realizing through all of Karan's careful and loving gestures and affectionate gazes that he is beautiful in Karan's eyes - and he's starting to believe it himself, helping him build the confidence to begin responding fully to Karan and extending himself in turn.

We can estimate that Achi has probably never been comfortable with photo taking because he is so self-conscious about his body, and it takes the first half of the date for him to loosen up. but later on when Karan asks Achi if he would be interested in being photographed even more to fill the time before dinner, Achi agrees readily and with a smile, because he has become that comfortable in Karan's company. and Karan, again, is delighted at this slow but steady change in Achi's receptiveness to being loved and adored.

It does seem like Achi isn't vocalizing his feelings nearly as much as Karan. But remember - most of Karan's deepest, most intense romantic pinings have occurred in his thoughts and not out loud, because he's very concerned with Achi's comfort and doesn't want to scare or overwhelm him. Karan is open with his body language and more than comfortable offering signs of his care and affection, a stark contrast to Achi.

Achi, on the other hand, hasn't quite let himself believe that he's worthy of Karan's love and instead seems to think that Karan has made a horrible mistake. This is changing, and we are starting to see how Achi is slowly letting himself believe that this is real and that Karan knows who he is and is in love with him, the real him - and this naturally leads Achi to start viewing himself as a lovable person.

But one side effect of Achi having spent so long doubting Karan's affection for him is that he seems to have tried to squash any hope he might have inside him that anything good could happen to him, that he could really have a claim to Karan and Karan a claim to him. This is an act of self-preservation, in case Karan 'comes to his senses' and realizes that Achi is actually boring, unremarkable, and unworthy of being cared for by anyone.

So when Achi starts to let hope seep in, it really is precious. in episode 7, he expresses genuine fear about revealing his mindreading to Karan - because the outcome could likely be that Karan will be put off and not want to be around Achi anymore. he and Karan had reached a point of promise and new beginnings (love! hope!), and Achi doesn't want to risk losing Karan as a lover.

Achi also had a moment of real vulnerability this episode, when he tells Tanaka that Karan's support has been a source of motivation for him to continue striving for self-growth. Achi's eyes are welling with emotion, and Karan definitely wasn't expecting an admission like this from Achi.

Achi is visibly having a rough time in the meeting with Tanaka, and reacts with a look of panic when Tanaka asks what would happen if he and Karan broke up, as well as when Karan offered to resign.

Achi had allowed himself to feel hope at the prospect of having Karan be a part of his life, and is starting to panic as complications threaten their ability to start laying a foundation for their relationship in earnest. He's racking his brain for ways to help Karan, covering his eyes as he builds himself up to look at Karan's sales number like its a horror film, and checking in with him/worrying about Karan non-stop.

Favorite moment of the episode: Karan being as explicit as he's ever been about his romantic aspirations ("No obstacles can come between our love now") and Achi looking like he feels like the most special boy in the universe, UNDENIABLY very excited to hear it but also embarrassed - and Karan is so tickled to have gotten that reaction from him.

The episode ends with Achi singing along with the song in Karan's head and being adorably playful when Karan brings him candy. I feel like Achi is a stray cat that Karan is trying to tame, except in this case Achi's feral quality is his insecurity hindering outward expression and Karan is 'taming' him by providing him the comfort and safety to be himself. Every time Karan wins a moment of Achi allowing his true feelings and personality to shine through, I think of someone being like 'mom, the cat I've been trying to win over - he's coming up to sniff my hand now!'

Something to be excited about in next week's episode based on the preview: they have clearly broken through the physical affection barrier. Ecstatic hugs, heads in laps, holding hands in bed, piggy back rides...Achi is going to further permit himself to feel and want things and indulge those wants, and also give Karan affection in return, showing that he is just as happy to be with Karan as Karan is to be with him, and just as invested in the future of their love story. While its been a journey mixed with slow and subtle growth, I really do love and appreciate how the narrative is allowing Achi the time and space to transform how he views himself and how that translates to his relationship with Karan.

more thoughts here

#cherry magic #cherry magic th #cherry magic thailand #yo mismo #karanachi #tay tawan #new thitipoom

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

14 - Only The Cold

Paring: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 15.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, implied/references to rape, threats of torture and violence, graphic description of blood and gore, mentions of forced marriage/pregnancy, character death, execution, slight canon divergence

Notes: Things uh.... happen in this chapter, whoops. Any hoo, how we all feeling about Robb being put with the label of Past? Anyone's heart hurt yet? Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

The last time she had seen you was years ago. You had been gone for so long that she wondered if she’d even recognize you. Her mother had shouted at her multiple times to calm down, and as she travelled the edges of the walls but Shireen refused to come down until she saw you. The cliffs of Dragonstone were tall and dense, dark and jagged and made it hard to see when you didn’t know quite where to look, but she just kept wandering to find the right vantage point.

Shireen almost cried the day she got your letter that you’d be coming to visit before returning to King’s Landing. It was almost her nameday and you wanted to be there for it after missing so many. You two wrote all the time, constant ravens sent back and forth to make sure neither felt without their sister, and she almost ran down Maester Cressen trying to find her mother to tell her the good news.

By the time she saw you, Shireen ended up running towards you with no hesitation or care for her mother calling her to stop. Shouting your name, you brightened up in an instant. A smile on your face as you climbed off your horse, you knelt down as she practically jumped into your arms. Holding the other tight as you joked that she just have been busy building her strength in her spare time.

She could still recall you running your hands down both sides of her cheeks like you had been trying to memorize the differences in the time spent away. Neither of you had even returned to the castle for supper that first day, spending all your time out on the rough cliffs as you pointed to her where some of the tunnels were hiding under the rocks.

“Can we go in there? Mother would never let me if I asked her to take me.”

You had laughed, hoisting her up in your arms before placing her down onto a taller rock so her head was level in height with yours standing. “Let’s make a deal, the next time I’m here we will go exploring together. But you have to promise me you’ll keep it a secret. Some of them can be dangerous, but that’s where all the pretty ones are. Purples and reds the deeper we go.”

For a long time she was holding you to that promise. She researched all about dragonglass to make sure she could prove to you the next visit that she was prepared. Then father returned home unexpectedly, closed the Island from any outside visitors, and not long after that, was war.

Having to get used to the idea that father was King now, and that made her a princess. Shireen could live with that, but she often wondered if you were calling yourself that. What you were doing or where you were as they were all back home preparing for father to take the throne. Then she found out you were a Queen. Your husband was called the King in the North and that made you the Queen in the North, but it meant you were the enemy now.

She hated it, all of it. Father loved you, but he spoke of you like a traitor and mother often commented that you were as guilty as that “thief who manipulated her away from us.” Shireen had been caught on a bad day, yelling that it’s fathers fault you were on the other side of a war and didn’t speak to anyone for days.

She would read your letters, the last one you sent telling her you promise you’d go to the next tournament and write to her all about it. Promising that when you’d return to the North you would find a way to get Shireen to come visit. Meet your husband and the other Starks. Shireen would read it and hate that she didn’t know if you were alright.

It wasn’t fair, the last time she saw you it was so exciting, you spent your entire visit together and now you were a Northern Queen fighting a war that father was going to fight against you in. Then the letter came, and she knew something very bad had happened by the look on the Onion Knight’s face.

Now though, she was so nervous to knock on the door. Mother and father didn’t want to talk about you after everything but it wasn’t fair. They knew so much more about your life before you died and Shireen was left in the dark. First you were married, then you were a Queen, then at war with father, and then you were dead. But none of that told her anything about you that brought her comfort.

The knock was so soft Jon almost didn’t even hear it. One of the first things he realized about being Lord Commander was how much of his life was to be spent staring at numbers on a page that made him want to fall through the floor. Calling for them to come in, the last person he expected poked their head through the barley open door. “Princess,”

It made him smile a little, how adorable yet bashful the girl was. If he looked hard enough, he wondered if he would be able to see how much you and Shireen looked alike from when you were that age. She slinked in quietly before looking to the work on his desk, “I’m sorry they said not to bother you- I can leave..”

Shaking his head, he put aside some of the things in front of him. “Not a bother at all, what can I do for you?” The way she hesitated was full of a doubt, as if the little princess didn’t know if she should even bring whatever it was, up. Jon’s tone quiet as he stood, pulling a chair closer to the other side of his desk. “At least come in a little, it’s cold out.”

Nodding, she walked in as Jon looked out the door with curiosity before closing it. He didn’t imagine she was just allowed to walk around on her own, but instead of saying anything about it, he amusingly thought that perhaps helping Baratheon girls break their strict parents rules might be a pattern of his. But when your name came out of the girls mouth it made him pause, an unpleasant skip in his heart that he had to endure. Her eyes a little hazy as she wrung her hands in her lap. “You knew her, right? In Winterfell?”

“I did.” His voice felt raw, walking over to sit more in front of her. You had told him all about Shireen, the degree to which you loved her always made Jon look at you with such adoration and now that he saw her in person, it wasn’t fair it was like this. “She was a friend.”

Her eyes flickered up to him and for a second, it looked like she doubted him like the way Arya used to when he insisted the same thing to her. “I-” Looking away for a moment she glanced around the room to find any distraction but none came. Her eyes came back in a sharp look almost like an accusation, “Does anyone really believe you when you say that?”

Taken back a moment, Jon looked at her trying to see the tethers in her mind connect before admitting anything. This specific set of Baratheons served to constantly keep Jon on his toes it seemed. “I think I’d be in a lot more trouble if they didn’t.”

“When my mother first told me she had gotten married, I thought it was to you.” Jon didn’t move and neither did his heart beat or lungs breathe. But he certainly didn’t want to react as such in front of a child who clearly needed someone to just be there for her right now. “I figured it out eventually but it didn’t make sense to me. She talked about you all the time, wrote about you, and then father just tells her to marry someone else and now neither of us ever saw her again.”

Swallowing a pain in his throat, he tried leaning forward to speak gently to her, “Your sister was doing her duty, it didn’t matter what me and her might have wanted. She always did what she was supposed to do in the end.”

As she looked at Jon, it was clear he could see you in her and it made him almost feel worse. Every since their arrival, you were all Jon could see and hear. He had his own duty to do, especially now, but you haunted him now in ways you didn’t when you were alive.

“Did it hurt? Having her marry your brother?”

There was a lot on her mind, young enough as well that she seemed to jump from topic to topic without being able to find the core of what she wanted to say. But Jon suspected maybe she didn’t really have one thing to say, maybe she just wanted to talk to the one person you knew better then her or her parents.

He could see you clearly. You looked so beautiful that day, like you belonged right there only Jon watched from the wrong side and the next day that was all he would ever see of you again. “Yes, it did.” Jon didn’t know if being this honest was a good idea, but he thought Shireen needed it. “I knew her since I was ten, loved her just as long and then I watched her marry my brother. I wanted them to be happy together, I didn’t want her or Robb to be miserable but watching her marry the brother who always got everything hurt a lot.”

Some part of Jon wondered, if you had still been out there, would he say yes to being Lord of Winterfell just for a chance to see you again. But he had to give that up. He had a duty to the Night’s Watch, especially now as Lord Commander and there wasn’t even anyone out there anymore who cared if Jon returned home.

Being made a Stark wouldn’t change the fact that he spent most of his life as the bastard in the background. The North mourned Robb, not him.

“Father doesn’t like to talk about her. Used to say she was a traitor, but then Lady Melisendre would tell him that she was coming back. Would say she would return home and bring the wolves with her.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. There was very little Jon liked that would come out of that woman’s mouth. Made him nothing but uncomfortable. “She was supposed to come home, and I was supposed to be an aunt and now everything just feels wrong without her.”

He could see your stomach soaked in blood, and he felt sick once more. He hoped Shireen didn’t know anything about how you died. He wished he didn’t know how Robb had died and it haunted him everyday knowing that he only lost his life because his own men betrayed him. “It always does when you lose someone you love. It’ll always feel wrong without them here anymore.”

“Does it ever get better?”

With a sad half smile he ran a hand over the girl’s hair. “I’ll go to you first to let you know, when I find out myself. Now come on, let’s get you back to where you need to be.” Standing her up he gave her a look with a raised eyebrow. “Because I’m certain it isn’t supposed to be here.”

Before reaching the door Shireen turned to him, “Could..would it be okay if I hugged you?” That time Jon’s smile was much easier and more gentle towards her.

“Can’t say no to a princess, now can I?” Kneeling down to her level, it broke his heart how much she just sunk into him. Like all her energy left then and there as he ran a hand over her hair. If the weight of losing you, losing almost his entire family felt like this to him at his age he couldn’t imagine how much it hurt her. “She knew you loved her, and she loved you more then anything. Remember that.”

She may still have her parents, but he knew what losing your siblings felt like and the girl was too young to deal with all of it on her own. People like Jon, like Stannis, could handle their grief because they had a duty to do regardless of it all.

He wasn’t dealing with it particularly well, the anger inside him slowly festering to something unhealthy but now he was Lord Commander. Even if he was Lord of Winterfell, he had a duty that wasn’t mourning the dead no matter how much he wished he had the chance too.

For a moment finally on his own, he looked over the main courtyard of Castle Black. Watching your father rule, becoming a leader of his own, he wondered for a moment what you were like. He could easily imagine the kind of king Robb would’ve been. Easy to see him fall well into leadership, and as much as he told you to be happy with him, Jon still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

You probably made a beautiful Queen and he wished he could’ve seen it. He too wondered, would you be proud of where he stands today? Would you see the man you loved if you could see Jon now or was he falling too angry and jaded to be worthy of that anymore. It was hard to tell.

The air was cold as snow continued to fall all around. Thick snowflakes came down heavy and hard in the night and now a chill was in the air that shivered the whole body. Still, you didn’t find the bother to dress for it. Everyone else coming to accept the cold of winter had arrived and yet you stood in the bare minimum and cared not for the freezing on your skin. Not that the Bolton’s would let you even dress warm anyways. Just something to force you weaker.

Being given some free range to walk the castle did nothing to improve your mood. Your body still screamed at you for how sore it was, and your mind wanted to plunge to it’s death at the bottom of the stone walls you were resting your forearms over. No one looked at you like you belonged here, and other then the torment of the Boltons, it was just pity you found.

Not a soul was fooled that you were anything other then a walking prisoner and yet this madness of assuming you would be the key to having a claim to the North continued. Lord Tywin Lannister had been murdered, shot with a crossbow by his own kin. With both Tyrion Lannister and Sansa separated on the run, there was no Lannister to inherit the North from the Boltons and now it laid on their feet to secure their own future.

The crown’s strength was in Tywin Lannister and now with him gone, the realm was likely a mess of no one knowing what to do, so the North was left to be subjugated in the fear of it’s new wardens and nothing to protect them. None would protect you here either. If you jumped now, none would care for your death because none other then the people here and now would even know anything changed from the last words of your spoken death.

Slowly slinking up next to you was a figure you’d been trying very hard to ignore. Since being given a tiny bit of freedom of being able to walk around parts of the castle she had appeared more and more with a watchful eye and fake sweet words that you bought for none. She had the same glint in her eyes that her lover did and you wanted no part in falling for her tricks. Myranda was the daughter of the one of the kennel masters and the one you knew was the only girl vile enough to have found something of Ramsay’s affections.

Theon seemed highly uncomfortable around her as well, and you could only imagine any part she’s played in his own suffering. So far, she had tried to manipulate you into trusting her but has grown tired to failing in that endeavour. You didn’t fall for it nor did you care too. “Don’t you look much prettier all dolled up in the snow. I wager the boys all loved going for rounds with you, didn’t they?”

Your jaw set as you continued to look out to the cold outside. Wondering how long the snow would fall like this, if soon the entirety of the North would be encased in it until you froze to death. Coming up to you, her back leaned against the stone edge as she trailed her eyes judgingly over you. “We really should spend more time with each other, I’ve heard so much about our Queen in the North but she doesn’t know me at all. Shouldn’t a good queen know her people?”

Your voice was flat as your nails dug into your palms. “I can’t be a Queen if I’m dead, so I suppose that means I have no reason to care about knowing you. We aren’t friends, and you don’t want to be either.”

Running a hand over the shoulder of your dress and down the long sleeves, she hummed to herself with a fake pout. “I’m hurt, here I thought you’re time out of those cells would’ve made you so much happier but you’re as grim as the rest of winter aren’t you?” Her gloved ones mocked the growing freezing you felt on your bare skin, threatening to turn colours if you kept them out much longer.

The sigh you let out was deep. “Did you want something Myranda, or did you just come here to annoy my peace and quiet?” The glare in her eye narrowing said she did not like that attitude one bit.

Turning to face the same way she leaned against you, one arm sliding across your lower back before pulling you into her side, her voice gratingly high pitched in your ear. “I can see why he likes you, got some bite in you after all. Of course, he bites worse but you already knew that.” The cut on your lip still dark as it was trying to heal over. “Always loves making a mess when he fucks, little servants cleaning up after our nights in for a shock. Wonder what kinds of messes he leaves with you, suppose, lots of blood I imagine. The more you fight the more he likes to see you painted with red I find.”

Your insides shuddered, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about what kind of people the Bolton’s were in general that none close to Ramsay saw anything wrong with what he was doing. Part of you wondered if this was a form of revenge from Roose himself. Many times over you and Robb adamantly refused any mistreatment of prisoners, any torture he put forward. You had stood by Robb as he executed Rickard Karstark for murdering two teenage boys being held prisoner.

He knew what was happening, every day you would see him and as he sat next to his wide eyed wife who lived in a bubble like nothing could hurt her. You sat next to Ramsay who spent every night finding new ways to mock you, and his hands wandered to the point you couldn’t scrub hard enough later to make the feeling of his touch leave you.

The only time you could handle it, was if he made you bleed a little more then normal and your mind would jolt you back in time, back to seeing Robb raise his hand from your stomach soaked in blood, or back to the faint, distant memories of grey eyes that have now forgotten about you, and it seemed to black your mind out for long enough to keep away from what was happening. This was not the person you were supposed to be.

This wasn’t the person anyone raised you to be, or the one the people you loved, loved about you. This was a hollow shell that didn’t know how to fight back or find any reason to why you should. Soon enough winter would fall too heavily on the North and you’d be trapped here hoping that you could kill yourself before they marry you to Ramsay.

It wasn’t an honourable end, but you wouldn’t dishonour how much you and Robb loved each other by having the man after him be the monstrous son of the one who murdered him and his own unborn son. You hoped Robb and his father didn’t look at where you were now, and hate you for being so weak. Maybe it was too late, maybe they already hated you for it. Maybe the North hated your memory for letting this happen to their King.

Maybe if only you died that night, if Robb had lived, things would be okay. Things could be okay. He was a strong leader and incredibly handsome, he would’ve found a prettier wife with mocking red hair to make him far happier and they would’ve been ruling from the North by this point. You could’ve died that day and maybe none of this would have happened.

You didn’t deserve to be the one who lived, it was Robb who deserved the world and more. It was him the people chose as King, you were just a footnote in history and seeing you dangle in front of the Boltons as a prisoner would only show the remaining North that you were pathetic without the Starks to protect you. A feeling of cold rushed passed you in the wind, and you remembered that day Ser Barristan helped you escape.

He was wrong, whatever worth he saw in making sure you were alive was wrong. You should’ve just stayed there. Let Joffery and Cersei take your head and the world would wage war and move on without you there to ruin everyone’s lives. You couldn’t save your people, your husband, and you couldn’t even save your son, what kind of wife, what kind of queen were you really?

It was Myranda’s hand trailing down to grasp the sides of your dress, pulling them up as she tilted her head down that brought you back. “How’s he left you looking I wonder, think we’d match if we compare? Of course I thought you’d be used to it by now, fucking all those wolves must’ve roughed your cunt up something good, didn’t it?”

Your palms begun to bleed you dug your nails into them so sharply, the muscles in your neck almost trembling from the high kicked nerves inside of you. You could endure everything from the Bolton’s, but you didn’t need to add to the list by reacting, you didn’t need to add to the list by slamming this girl’s head so hard into the stone walls in front of her that you shattered every bone in her pretty face.

But her slimy voice just kept tempting something so furious inside of you the more she talked. “Just how many of those Stark men did you fuck? Spent an awful lot of time with them, didn’t you? Not that I blame you, rough Northern men must be a real treat for such a dour little Southern girl like you.” Leaning her head against the side of yours you felt that fury desperate to be uncaged. “Do the wolves fuck like wolves? Probably why Ramsay just can’t wait for the wedding to take you.”

It was a mistake to let loose, but your voice was speaking before your brain had a chance to stop you from spitting it out. “What about you? Spend an awful lot of time with all those hounds, they probably have taught you a thing or two about how to take it.”

The hand on your dress dropped and you turned to face her as she did you. “Roose Bolton is only keeping you around so you can give Ramsay an heir. The North mourns you as they do their precious King and having you show up with a Bolton baby? Gives them the perfect leverage over them, that’s all your alive for.”

You swallowed your rage as you felt your stomach burn in the remnants of the wounds scarred across them. You refused to let that happen, it wasn’t fair, that couldn’t be what the gods replaced your son with.

“That’s the only reason you’re even alive, isn’t it? Ramsay needs you, or at least...just the parts of you that can give him an heir. And only until you’ve given him a boy or two, then he’s finished with you. I know he has incredible plans for what to do with the rest of you once he’s done, I’m sure it’ll be so much fun to watch. But I don’t have to just watch do I, after all, he doesn’t need such a pretty face and pretty body to fuck a baby into you now does he?”

Her nails reached up to scratch along your neck as you leaned into the others space as if ready to attack her at any moment, your eyes looked back without the fear that her counterparts pulled from you. You didn’t fear her, just the men she totes around with, the only thing that even made her scary was them. But here? You wondered how quickly you could jump off this ledge before men came for you if you did anything right then.

Only, you didn’t, and she didn’t. Instead Theon’s voice from afar interrupted you. “Apologies, my lady, your father is looking for you.” His attention given towards Myranda, only causing her to glace between him and you before smiling.

Leaning in so felt her breathe on your face, “I’ll make sure to come up with some fun new ideas for that pretty face of yours later.”

You didn’t realize how tense your muscles all were until they ached in relaxing once she disappeared from view. Theon didn’t move towards you, only staying in place as he always did. Everyday it was the same, both of you found new horrors to set you right back to where you started, only slowly building up what you both once were when totally alone.

Looking back out to the snow around you, you inhaled a shaking breath before turning your head slightly to the side. “At least come where I can see you, if you’re going to stay at least.” He tried denying, saying he was fine before you interrupted. “It’s not fine, you’re not my servant just come here so I don’t have to shout.”

Coming up beside you slowly, Theon always stood just a little taller when you were alone. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was actually taller then you, with how hunched over his was in the presence of his captors. Both of you looking out into the place that once felt like home, but now served as a cell to mock you with.

“It’s my fault. All this, you, me, it’s my fault.”

Theon’s brows narrowed as he looked down to the stone below before back to the sights. You didn’t give him any chance to respond before you let it all out, feeling almost breathless. “If I didn’t let Roose talk us into sending Ramsay after you then you wouldn’t have...none of this would’ve happened to you then. But I did, I let him talk us into it and...this is worse then anything Robb would’ve ever wanted. He never wanted this, no one deserves what they’ve done to you. And I’m sorry.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, ones that spoke more then he felt in years by now that you didn’t even see. Your own in pain as they looked out as you spoke again. “It won’t ever fix what they’ve done, but it’s my fault. And I’m sorry.”

It took him a good few minutes to speak. You hadn’t expected him too, but you needed it to all be said anyways. When he did, his voice was full. Quiet, likely only audible to you but it sounded more like the Theon you once knew then the entire time you’ve been in the hands of the Boltons, and certainly one of the only times you think he found the bravery to call you by your name anymore. “I..I don’t blame you, either of you. I never did. I knew Robb would want my head for it, I knew it and I did it anyways and..neither of you would’ve wanted this. That’s not who you are..why you and him were so good leading beside the other. You were both firm, but not cruel. It’s not your fault this happened to me..it’s mine for ever betraying you all in the first place.”

You sighed deeply, “Theon no one deserves this. No one. And if no one’s around to take responsibility for it, then I have too.” Your hands let go of your palms, sitting together flat across the stone as you were quiet for a moment. “None of this would’ve happened if it were Robb. If he lived instead of me, he could’ve won the war by now. He would’ve..we promised never to leave the other. That we would stay together no matter what but I’m here and he’s not.”

You paused, and for once, you let the sting in your eyes turn to small droplets down your cheek. “I can’t stop seeing his face. The way he looked at me when he realized what was happening, I’ve never seen Robb look so... horrified before...he thought he was losing everything and he did. He lost the war, his life..his son...” Your voice cracking at the word.

“He lost everything, only for me to live and do what? Fail to carry out the very thing we spent years fighting for? To stay locked up in what used to be his own home, letting the men who killed him ruin everything we did? What kind of Queen let’s this become her King’s legacy?”

Theon leaned forward a bit, almost resting the way you were albeit a bit more awkward. “You didn’t have a choice.” Turning to look at him more to the side, you couldn’t quite convince yourself of what he was saying. “I did and I chose to...”

Voice low, you barley whispered out, “Why? Why did you do it?”

The winds blew around you from how high you were, the chills running across both of you hardly dressed to handle how much the cold had dropped down the past few days. “I wanted to impress him, my father. Prove I was still his son, do what Ironborn are supposed to do. Was easy to forget I was just a prisoner until he reminded me..”

Your head dropped, sighing deeply. “We’re prisoners now. This,” your hand gestured around you, “is us being prisoners. The Starks...they treated you like one of their own...as best they could.” Finally moving, you turned to see him properly, still hints of the man you once knew were still in there. “People like us, we don’t get happy families. We found more family in the Starks then we did with our own fathers and sometimes that means it’s the family we’re supposed to choose.”

You could better see that day in King’s Landing, and where you ended up. “I could’ve gone to my father. Everyone expected me to, but I didn’t. I came back here because this was the family I vowed myself too and so did you. Maybe not at first, but that day you did. You laid a sword at Robb’s feet and swore yourself to him like I did.”

The hurt in him was deep, but it was in you as well. None of the tone was blaming or even harsh, just a whispered truth that you both chose a duty to serve with the people who showed you kindness, not just the ones related by blood.

It was as Theon looked to you, a new stinging mark on your cheek from the other day still slightly visible, and the memories of what he was forced to watch. That night was particularly brutal. “If he marrys you, he’s going to do everything he can to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes were narrowed but sharp as they looked forward. The height here was high enough probably, but you knew there were far more options you could turn to. “Yes he is. But I won’t make it that far, I can’t.”

Something almost distressed tried to creep up in his voice, “He’s not going to-”

“I know he won’t. But I will. I won’t let my last use be for someone like Ramsay, or for Roose either. I can think of a lot more ways to end things myself then they could to stop me. No one knows I’m even here, right? No one would even know if I died a second time.”

His voice was almost inaudible as he spoke. “I would know.” But you heard him, and he knew you did. The quiet between you was thick as he didn’t plead for you to change your mind nor did you want him too. If the gods only gave you two paths now, you would choose the one that led you into the darkness yourself before the other caught up. “He won’t get any better, you keep fighting him.”

Hard to say why, but there was a lightness in your tone. If you had the energy to describe it, you might have realized it was the bare bones of a joke as you tilted your head. “You’ve seen what I look like under this now. It can’t get much worse can it?”

The wide eyes on you, as the tone beside of was that of a man years ago that would banter and argue with no meaning behind it but jest, and you suspected not even Theon knew where it came from. “For your face it could. Be a shame.”

You looked at him with an incredulous expression, before something slipped out of your mouth with as much shocking ease. “Still would look better than you, Greyjoy.”

In this place, as stripped down and torn apart as these people had made you both, it was sure an odd little sight as you and Theon for a few moments, just stood there and laughed. For a few mere seconds, you were back all those years when you could tease the other mercilessly and still walk it off to a normal life beyond it.

The laughs didn’t last long, nor were they very hard but it was at least it wasn’t another moment of tormenting misery. A moment that it seemed, was enough to begin awakening more of Theon Greyjoy then he had sensed in years.

Enough to know that if it was only the two of you left, he couldn’t lose you. If you were here, he might be able to find and stay Theon, but without? There was only Reek, and the pain Ramsey would put Reek through in anger for losing their so called key to the North.

He said no, it took a good part of Jon to say it but he swore a duty to the Night’s Watch and now as Lord Commander, it was on his shoulders to lead them where he knew it needed to start going. It was strange though, something twisted inside of him as Stannis took in the answer. He’d seen that exact reaction before.

A distant coldness, a disappointment that feels like they’re watching potential being thrown away and left to freeze at the end of the world. The King didn’t argue, and he respected Jon’s choice without trying to debate him on it, but it also felt exactly like when Jon confirmed to you he was joining the Night’s Watch. You didn’t fight him or get angry but you made it clear that you felt he was worth more then just this.

He didn’t like thinking about it, the idea of would you be as disappointed with him as your father now was. For so long there was noise beyond noise masked in horror within his head, and so much of it came down to fighting this battle of duty for the Night’s Watch when he was seeing the true threat looming over.

A threat that only one man seemed to understand. The King had asked him, “Why do you think I abandoned Dragonstone and sailed to the Wall, Lord Snow?”

Jon had merely said, because he answered their plea for help. “You came because we sent for you, I hope. Though I couldn’t say why you took so long about it.” The smile Stannis gave him reminded him too much of you, you had such a similar smile whenever it was you Jon’s bold wit was directed towards but it was so much more rare on the man before him.

Jon wouldn’t know, but in that little moment, Stannis was truly finding many things about him that made him understand why he would mean so much to you. You didn’t speak on him so directly, but the more he worked alongside him the more he saw the things that you would’ve seen in him.

“You turn down my offer, but you’re certainly bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner. If not for my Hand,” directing attention towards Ser Davos behind him. “I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, he said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the Throne.”

Gesturing North, he gave him one last look. “There is where I’ll find the enemy I was born to fight.” His eyes narrowed in thought for one last moment, “If my lone duty is to take the throne, then I shouldn’t be here, but I am because this is where I am meant to be. But if you say your duty is here and only here, I will respect your decision.”

Almost in passing before he left, Stannis turned once more. “You have many enemies in Castle Black. Have you considered sending Alliser Thorne elsewhere? Give him command of Eastwatch by the Sea.”

The gods were unknowingly cruel to Jon as he responded, almost in jest. “I heard it was best to keep your enemies close.”

Stannis only said one thing before parting, “Whoever said that didn’t have many enemies.”

It was then as Jon was left in his thoughts, did he see Ser Davos pause before staying behind in his office. “He sees something in you. It might not be apparent from his tone, but it’s the truth. He believes in you.” All Jon could do was apologize for disappointing him, he had too much to think about to know what else to say, but the man was not yet done.

Olly closed the door once more as Ser Davos sat down. “The King is a complicated man, but he wants what’s right for the Seven Kingdoms.”

It was that duty he spoke of, and yet it was the thought once more that Stannis was not the only Baratheon who would be disappointed in his stubbornness. “I’ve sworn to stay clear of the politics of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Humble birth he was said to be from, and it made sense to Jon. Ser Davos had a quick and commoner tongue and lacked a usual stern formality Jon had seen in many men that would be like him. “Have you now?” Turning back slightly to Olly, he promoted, “How does the Night’s Watch vow go again? I bet you’ve got it memorized since you got here- not that bit, the bit at the end.”

Jon knew it was complicated of a situation for Olly to be thrown into after the kind of life he had not so long ago, but he saw the dedication in his eyes as he spoke the words already deeply ingrained in Jon’s own head. “I’m the sword in the darkness, I am the watcher on the walls, the shield that guards the realm of men. I pledge-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Ser Davos turned back to him with a look he could tell knew what was already forming in his own mind. “The shield that guards the realms of men. That’s what you swore to be. Now I’m not a learned man, but the best way of helping the most people might not be sitting in a frozen castle at the edge of the world. It just might mean wading through the muck and getting your boots dirty, doing what needs to be done.”

Jon started to understand why the King kept him by his side. Certainly more blunt and honest then most lords Jon knew would be. “And what needs to be done?”

It took him a moment to answer, just looking him over trying to figure something out that Jon couldn’t recognize. “Roose Bolton didn’t just murder your brother, and it wasn’t just your brother’s wife he murdered either. That was the King’s own daughter. She and Robb Stark tried reasoning with him, put aside the fighting for Kingdoms to face the threats that really mattered, I tried to tell him he was making a mistake by turning them down. And now they’re both dead.”

He didn’t like feeling so stripped down in front of people, leaving him with something so raw that it could be seen if looking too closely in his eyes. “Asking me to leave the Night’s Watch won’t change that.”

“No.” Davos nodded, “But it means letting the North think no one cares about them. Your brother had said the North won’t have Stannis as their King and meeting enough of you I’m inclined to believe that. I’m not telling you if you should accept his offer or not. But I do think it’s worth thinking about how the Bolton’s murdered the only hope the North had, and as long as they continue to rule it, the North will suffer.”

He stood up, giving Jon one last look. “Just one man’s opinion.”

And as Jon gathered the men later, after he finally did one thing to start that list of things that needed to be done and took Janos Slynt’s head, he looked up to where Stannis had watched. Realizing he saw that very kind of firm pride he imagined in your eyes, but in your fathers. He was haunted by your eyes in every Baratheon he came across anymore.

And later, as he finally went to Tormund Giantsbane with what to many would be an unpopular idea, Jon understood what made Stannis work as a King. Many in Castle Black were going to despise this idea, and yet it was just another on a long list of things Jon knew needed to be done.

The Bolton’s weren’t out of his mind, not at all. But if he was going to help the North he needed to start somewhere. He needed to start with the North right in front of his eyes. But what they found when they got to Hardhome, only pushed that thought even closer to the front of Jon’s mind.

Their numbers were too great, and the North that was Jon’s true home would be the next stop of those unprotected and forgotten about. If Jon only let his duty care about the Night’s Watch, it begun to feel more and more like that would mean accepting he didn’t care about the people of his real home, and Jon knew all too well in his heart how opposite of the truth that was.

King Stannis would soon move out, make his way through the heavy snow of the North with plans of attack to slowly take out Bolton controlled land, and eventually make a move on the Bolton’s themselves with or without Jon. Leaving behind his wife Selyse, and his daughter Shireen behind with the sure promise of himself and Ser Davos of keeping them safe.

Though, in Jon’s adding frustrations of his days, he did greatly wish the King took Lady Melisendre and her constant need to preach these ominous visions of her one god, south with him. He could only have Olly force her to wait outside his office for too many hours, so many times in a row.

You had been finally given a chance to sleep for a little bit. Not given much of a chance by Ramsay at night but during the day you found pockets to rest alone. Only this time, you had awakened from a nightmare that haunted you with bodies upon bodies of the dead. And just as you looked to see a tall figure of ice with crystal blue eyes, so did the bodies stand beside it and all shined blue together. You had almost woken in a dreading panic from that, but then came Walda to walk with you to supper.

And you thought of that dream of bodies standing beside one another not a second longer.

Most times in front of the others, he was treated mostly like a servant. Yet something today had Ramsay looking at Theon and feeling an incessant need to talk and torment. Your new place in the dining area was sat next to Ramsey as if you belonged there as Walda did across from you by Roose’s side.

You wanted to feel bad, for how much she tried reaching out to you and how little you gave back but everyday she spoke to you like this situation was normal, like it was okay. When in truth outside of the Bolton’s own men here, most people in Winterfell who saw you could see the marks, the cuts, the bruises and the strain of mental anguish weighing you down and sinking your eyes further into the abyss. The people of Winterfell outside those of the Bolton’s, weren’t fooled as to what they were doing. But they could only do so much to stop it, meaning none.

You were being dragged through blood and fear only to be thrown to the hounds when no more use was found of you. Only, that wouldn’t be for years at this pace of life. That would take much longer then you could endure.

Walda’s call of your name drifted your thoughts to the present. Your blank stare towards the plate you barley touched drifted up to hers. “Are you excited for it? The wedding? Roose tells me we’re planning on moving it up soon, right?”

Your blank stare sunk into your stomach with a weight as you looked at him, “I wasn’t aware of that.”

To your suprise, the man next to you spoke with his own suprise in his voice. “I was not either, father. When did you decide this?” You weren’t fooled by the fake tone of pleasantry, and nor was the other Bolton.

Raising an eyebrow at his son, “The snow came in harder then we expected, we aren’t expecting another storm like it anytime soon but needless to say it would be far more convenient to have the wedding while it’s still a walk to the Weirwood and not a hike.”

You didn’t watch the odd staring match between him and his father as you bit your tongue harsh to keep yourself steady, even sitting. Ramsay next to you faking a smile, “A winter wedding will be quite delightful, far more Northern then those dry summer weddings. I can’t imagine Winterfell looked quite as nice as it does now the last time you were wed here.”

Taking a sip of the drink in front of you, hating how the wine they gave you was too harsh and thick to swallow at the best of times, worse now as you felt your throat close up. “I think Winterfell is lovely in any season.”

Ramsay knew you were trying to play nice, trying not to glare or spit back at him and you knew it only amused him further. A hand on his heart with such fakeness you could smack off his face, “Of course, my lovely bride. Still so soon, truly a tragedy what happened to your husband it must still hurt even now. But fear not, we must make new memories together, won’t we?”

Looking at the other side of the table you could see a stillness in Theon as he was faced away.

“You know what, my bride,” Looking to you as you barley peeled your eyes over to him and found the normal cruelty in his pale blues. “No one really knows your here, and with almost all of both your families gone, it seems we have no one to send you off, do we?”

Just more of the world you had no idea of, who was left, or where, or if anyone really was around or were you truly trapped alone here? Trapped with the Boltons until you found your own way out. “If it is just me, perhaps I don’t need any one to.”

Ramsay’s smile growing vile and cruel. “Now we can’t have that, tradition is tradition. Keeping those upheld are just so important wouldn’t you say?” Looking to the other side of the table with that same grin. “Now, you spent much of your childhood here didn’t you? Grew up around the Stark boys and their friends and whatnot? Then I suppose that Reek here, is the nearest thing to kin that you have.”

He called Reek, and you watched Theon turn around with a startle as he looked unnerved at Ramsay still looking at him with painted glee. “You will give away my bride. Someone has to, what better person?” He looked to you and then the table, “Good?”

Theon’s eyes found yours. He wouldn’t give you away, because you both knew you would take anyway out of this tortured existence as soon as you could should that time arrive. Roose’s voice was dismissive and somewhat annoyed in the back as you both still looked at the other. “Yes, yes very good.”

A dead acceptance in yours, and something almost pleading in his before you broke it. Ramsay pleased with himself, “Wonderful.” You would end yourself still haunted by how much he talked endlessly it felt like.

Roose looking past his son, to his wife and then you. “Walda and I have some good news as well. Since we’re all together.” His eyes were curiously on you, watching closely for something inside you to react.

Looking at the pair of you, with a happy little smile on her face she announced, “We’re going to have a baby.” And you felt everything sink. Right down to the pit of your stomach as you felt the sharpness of the wound in there scream and burn. Nothing spilt there, but you could feel the blood pooling and a loving set of deep blue eyes horror stricken and broken above you.

A weight in your throat wanted to throw up the little you had even consumed, as you felt almost lightheaded. Roose’s eyes were on you, because he knew that was the first thing he took from you and Robb. The act that set off the terrorizing night you wished ended you then beside his own dying body. If you looked at Roose’s waist, the dagger sat on his person even now. Never touched, but soaked still, in three distinct bodies of dried blood.

Looking up to Walda, there was a pureness in her. She was excited, thrilled. You truly wanted her to be, she didn’t deserve your ire towards what the man next to her took from you. A small smile on your face as you nodded. “That is good news, I’m happy for you. Sure they’ll be beautiful.”

Roose twisted that knife inside you once more, only his eyes were glancing to the suddenly very still and quiet Ramsay. “From the way shes carrying, Maester Wolkan says it looks like a boy.” You wanted to scream, you wanted to throw everything off this very table and shatter it all into pieces that he was just mocking you with exactly what he stole.

Exactly the thing he kicked the massacre off with, that ended with shoving the knife soaked with your blood and your unborn child’s blood into Robb’s chest before it was all over in seconds. He took that from you and now demanded you just give the same to his own son by force, watch Walda have with glee what you only were given a few short months to experience.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do this anymore, you needed out and in the slightly proud of himself glint in Roose’s eye you wanted the chance to take them out with you. You would die anyways, the gods have already saw fit to punish you. Send you to a living hell for the cost of your sins and maybe it wouldn’t really matter if you shoved a knife into at least one of their throats before doing yourself final.

Maybe part of you truly did die that day with Robb, beacuse what was left didn’t feel human. It just felt like a torturous agony that dragged you along until you were left to die once more but with more guilt and shame then ever possible.

Whatever compelled both of the parties there that evening, it was for different reasons yet the same idea behind both. They never noticed, or perhaps the only one who would have noticed said not a word of it. It stayed hidden as long as you could but now it was tight in one hand as you found not yet the bravery to do it. It wasn’t who you are, or once were, to do such a thing but maybe you’d leave the North ever so slightly better off if you did.

Only the second person who was outside that study, was the only person who wouldn’t turn you in for it, not now. Your eyes met Theon’s as you both were against other sides of the stone wall, his wide and pleading yours a pleading of your own but to just let you do this.

He shook his head but you swallowed. Tilting your gaze away to the empty hall beside you with a sting in your eyes. If not now, when? Or why not? The men inside, having no idea what kind of silent argument of action was just outside that door as they spoke. Loud enough for them to hear without the two inside knowing.

Roose speaking of Ramsay’s mother, having you look to Theon with eyes glossing over to ask why should you stay here to men like this. “She was the miller’s wife. Apparently they had married without my knowledge or consent. So I had him hanged, and I took her beneath the trees where he was swaying. She fought me the whole time, she was lucky I didn’t hang her too.”

Theon shaking is head as you felt your stomach twist more. The scars you already had would get worse and you yearned to be a wife hanging beside her husband in place of one more day of this. He was ready to step forward, take that knife from you but at this rate he also knew you were desperate enough you might slice at him with it if he tried to stop you.

“A year later she came to my gates with a squalling baby in her arms, a baby she claimed was mine. I nearly had her whipped, and the child thrown in the river.” Your head fell back onto the stone, your hand shaking but fallen lower down to your legs as you looked to Theon. He said he would know if you died, but is this even an existence?

“But then I looked at you, and I saw then what I see now. You are my son.”

This was your punishment, given to men like this. Men who bonded over what a father did to his mother and neither finding anything wrong with that. It was no wonder Ramsay turned out the way he did, something of being born to a man like Roose clearly did not grace him with skipping the worst of his traits.

You were supposed to just have your children, and love them regardless of any man your husband might be. That’s what Cersei had told you all those years ago when you first bled, but you weren’t strong enough to endure whatever this marriage was. Not strong enough to be used for children and separated from them before you could know who they were.

You’d had enough of that already and the scar to haunt you. But just as you and Theon looked like you had no other idea of what to do, the words that came out of Roose’s mouth sent water down your spine and woke up senses you forgotten.

“Stannis Baratheon has an army at Castle Black.”

Your heads both turned. Your lips parted as you almost slumped over but whatever woke up in you, woke up in Theon as well as inside the words continued. “Jon Snow is their Lord Commander, and if he chooses to join forces? Then the road to King’s Landing will take them both right through Winterfell. Meaning it’s only a matter of time before they find out the girl’s alive.”

It was like two names that hit you and your head spun around from the impact. Your father wasn’t just near, he wasn’t just in the North. He was at Castle Black. Castle Black, with Jon. You had no idea why but you could only see the last time you two saw each other truly. Parting ways on the Kingsroad as he left North and you South, your insides screaming to go back with more then just heartache.

Only enough sense in you to walk away as Theon followed. Finding an alcove out of earshot and eyesight you looked up at him and he you. Before you could even say a word, he whispered first. “Go back to your room.”

Your head shaking in confusion, “What? Theo-”

Grabbing your forearms, it leaned down to look at you. “Please, just do it, go back to your room and don’t go anywhere.” His eyes glancing to the knife if your hand, “Or do anything. Please.”

You wouldn’t know he felt bad the urgency in which he just shoved you down the corridor, but something in him started to stir and he needed to make sure that the desperately broken part inside of him wouldn’t talk himself out of it.

Shutting the door to the room you now had to call yours, you pressed your back flat against it as you leaned your head back with a thud breathing heavily. When was the last time you saw him, dreamt about him? Nothing of him was in your mind for so long, only in tiny pockets until now where it was as if that was all you could see or think of.

That day, in the middle of the camp as Catelyn told you about when he got the pox as a baby, you wrote it off as something else, panic, anxiety, anything but something you couldn’t comprehend but you have no idea the image you were seeing. Someplace far North, high as if he were up on the wall and the redheaded woman you tried not thinking about. But it was more then that, for a moment, you felt like you both saw the other.

Like that delusion was real and now all you could think about was what you had even looked at. Why did it remind you of those dreams, dreams of the cold, and eyes blue like crystals that shook you to the core. For so long you were plagued by images in your head, dreams in your sleep that you either forgot or wrote off but ever since that day at the Twins?

They never came back until..until the dream you had today. In fact it felt as if nothing came back with you except for the blood and the hellish nightmares of that night. Like what happened before that night did not exist and you found nothing inside of you to remind you until this moment. You could barley breathe almost, sliding down to the ground your eyes shut resting your palms against them.

What was happening to you, is this what those dreams all felt like before you just couldn’t recall in this state? The confusion perplexing you further as you tried to think in any reason your father would be anywhere near the Wall. He had never even been in the North and yet he brought an army. A year ago you would been on top of all this kind of information, but now you felt like a child who needed everything explained.

The world moved too fast without you. And everyone in it. The noise inside was too much, your hand on it’s own accord reached up, running over where your scar was underneath the fabric of your dress as you recalled the looks people gave to you. The ones Theon did, the way Maester Wolkan looked shocked and in almost fear.

Gods above you had something else at play but you couldn’t come up with anything to connect these scattered pieces towards. And Jon. Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, a whole life for him passed without you, a life that you weren’t sure it you’ve seen parts of or not but it sure felt like it. A life that you didn’t know if you had a place in, but you didn’t truly have a place since Robb.

That was your problem, shuffling from torment to torture with no spot in the world you belonged in anymore and maybe no one could fit you in it. You weren’t even just different people now, you were worse. The things you’ve done and how far you’ve dropped from such a life you may as well not be the same person Jon loved all those years ago.

If he even thought of you, you’d be shocked. Why would he ever have once you were out of the others life? Your mind ranted and raved as it tried to quell itself but it felt like thoughts, images, flashes of things and dreams you’d long forgotten smashed into your eyes one after the other.

It took a while, convincing yourself to stand up. Tucking the knife away into a pocket of your dress as you sat gently down onto the bed. The nerves buzzing in your blood had long worn off, and much exhaustion was left. You were too tired, to weak, your body and mind pushed too far to handle any much more, slowly your eyes drifted shut and you barley remember moving just enough to lay out on the bed before passing out finally.

You barley heard the sound when it slid under the door, but you heard the knock that followed it. Startling yourself up onto your palms, you looked around in confusion for a moment until the slip of paper found it’s way to your vision. Standing up slowly, you eyed it with deep suspicion before kneeling down. Opening it slightly you didn’t recognize the scrawl but the words still neat enough to make out.

“Back gate to the woods go now.”

Heart picking up just a few paces, you gently opened the door but found none there. No one there watching or even a sound nearby to be heard, it seemed to be rather late at night but no one around at all was strange. Looking down at your dress, it was hardly made for the outside but as you looked down the hall with a shaking breathe you wondered how much time “go now” truly was giving you.

Nothing to bring but what was on you, any possessions mostly stripped from you at any given chance leaving your little room with nothing you found use for. The halls were quiet, and the sparse guards still around were either alone and easy to navigate around, or in little groups distracted to the side as the moon was too high in the sky to assume folly was afoot.

You almost hesitated. The outside was right there and not a soul was there to watch or guard you as you would walk out, something that none would question years ago but now made you already feel the punishment to follow getting caught. But the cold seen on your heavy breathe flared into the night as you looked around. Nothing but snow, and near the edge was the small wall separating you from the clearing below and the woods ahead.

Why you were told to come here, you couldn’t figure out until you realized it was a trap. An arrow swishing by your head and landing strong into the wooden pillar beside you, making you turn around and the game made sense suddenly. Her dark eyes and conniving smile plastered all over her face as she held up the bow, arrow now aimed at your head as you paused. “Now what’s a little wolf like you doing out here all by herself?”

Your breathing felt heavy, lungs tight inside you but you kept a roughly even tone. “I couldn’t sleep, wanted to have some fresh air.” Your heart hurt as it pounded in your chest.

Tsking, she smiled more with a slime across it. “So you what, got dressed in your day clothes, boots and came all the way to the other side of the castle to do so?”

What could you even say, you wondered if she was just vile enough to send you a note herself to get you to go running in a game of hers. Hunting not just animals was indeed a favourite of hers and Ramsay’s you knew too well. You were just played a desperate fool like a weak little animal running from her cage.

Stepping forward slowly, Myranda glanced you over. “Ramsay has just been so focused on you, I think he’s actually spent more time in your bed then I have his.” Your bit your tongue as an unpleasant shiver ran down the length of your spine. “It isn’t fair, I actually make him happy. You don’t see him leaving scars like that on my pretty face, do you? So why does he spend so much time with you before you’re even married?”

The marks still healing on your cheek, one on your jaw that was more fresh and a cut on your lip that reopened every other day. She had none of the sort. “Maybe you’re spending too much time with the hounds, starting to smell like one.”

Her grin grew as she looked almost impressed. “Look at her, our Queen still has some bite in her. I can only imagine what you were like before Ramsay broke you in, almost a shame I’ll cut your tongue out before I have a chance to see more of her.”

Stepping closer still, you could feel the weight of the knife in your pocket. But getting to it would be slower then she would be at just releasing that arrow in you here and now. What would your plan even be after that? Hide? He wouldn’t be any sort of forgiving for you hurting his favourite willing bed warmer. You were on your own without a plan, and you were sure she wanted it that way.

“Roose needs me as a mouthpiece for the North. You do anything to get in the way of that, he’ll punish you next.” Her eyes narrowed at you, almost contemplating for a second.

Only, she just shrugged. “At least I can take it.” Watching as she turned the bow down slightly you could feel the rushing in your veins as it aimed to where you knew the mark on your stomach was, you hit a sore spot so she would hit your biggest. Only, instead of her arrow releasing with it’s strength, it loosened as she stumbled forward.

The swish of an arrow was heard, but you could see as she knelt over, it was in her back. A place you could feel radiate on your own. Right where the Frey’s had shot one at you when trying to fight back against Roose as you were on the ground.

Your eyes darted up, and her head turned back with a cry of pain she yelled. “You fucking-” Only the figure let another one out before she could say anymore and cut her off with a second shot right beside the first. It wasn’t a tortured man named Reek you saw, but the sharp eyes if exasperated face of Theon.

Always a good shot he was, and even in his state now, he looked at you with a determination you hadn’t seen since marching into the Westlands with him and Robb at your side. Looking up at you with a vile anger, you could see her face flushing as Theon approached from behind. “You little slut, you steal my lover and have his pathetic creature shoot me in the back like a coward?”

In a split second, you felt something that hadn’t been there in so long but the memory of doing so still fresh in your own muscles. You were bleeding out on the ground, and with a knife as unmemorable as the one finding itself crawling back into your hand? You remembered lunging up at Roose Bolton only to be knocked back as an arrow was stabbed into your upper arm and one to your back knocked you down entirely.

This time was in the reverse order, and perhaps, a little more violent then you should’ve done but it was an instinct you took the second Myranda moved to lunge up at you, a yell of some kind of alert on her tongue before you moved as well. The sounds in her mouth drowning through the blood as you shoved it with a shaking hand deep into the bottom of her mouth.

Your hear raced and your hand so tight on the knife it made your muscles cramp up, eyes wide as she choked on the growing blood and the sounds failing to come out beyond it gagging. Letting go of it she fell back, and you were stuck watching. Realizing what would happen when he finds out, when he finds out what you did and it was only going to get worse.

Theon grabbed your upper arms, forcing you to look at him calling your name. “Look at me, we’re going to jump down?” You think you said something in confusion but the words didn’t hit your ears as your mind raced through what would happen to you, fighting with the images in your head of life and dreams you only just remembered. “The fall isn’t far, but we have to jump right now.”

Tugging you with him, a hand still on your forearm he seemed to sense you were on some kind of autopilot. The fall wasn’t bad, only really hurting the parts of you that still ached dearly. Your backs pressed up against the stone wall for a second until he knelt in front of you.

More Theon Greyjoy then you ever remembered since seeing him again. “We have to run, okay? We have to run now, you know what he’ll do when he sees what we’ve done.”

You shook your head, the panic and rush in your heart fogging your mind until he shook you, physically shook you to look at him firmly calling your name, “Theon we can’t, where would we-”

Then the fog felt like it left in him. His voice without stammer, but an urgency he needed to pull you into, he knew the shock you felt but he needed you as much as you needed him. “North. We run, we go north, and we find Jon. Jon’s at Castle Black, he’ll protect you, you know he will, but we have to leave now.”

The sounds were enough to start either drawing attention, or your missing presence caught other attention and soon they’d find her. Your face firming as you tried calming the racing in your heart, he looked at you with one last pull. “Do you remember when we were teenagers? When the Starks would have us run through the woods like a game?” You nodded, your brows furrowing as it all hit that it was now or never. “It’s just like that. Only this time, we’re the ones who know these woods better then they do. Do you trust me?”

Holding a hand out to you, you felt less like a beaten down prisoner and like the fury that one existed in you to push forward. You nodded, “I do.” Grabbing his hand as Theon pulled you up to your feet.

Sounds only increased behind you as you took off. The cold of the night and snow on the ground was horrible and bitter, but you and Theon took off as fast as you could manage. The trees whipping by you as yelling and the barking of hounds started to gather at the castle but not once did you and him slow, and not once did either of you let go of the other.

Ramsay would hunt you, but he pushed you both too far to let it stop you. Your dress long making you stumble in the thickest layers of snow, Theon never once let you on your own. Grabbing you and pulling you up until you went you could both feel the burning in your lungs.

The Boltons kept you both weak, underfed, beaten and with as little as you could need to survive but the need to survive alone, now was stronger then the withholding they forced onto you both. So many years ago you and Theon would compete in these very woods to who was a better shot or who could find the best places to hide to hunt bigger game and now it was you two who were the game.

The hounds grew louder, and as you approached the wide running water of the river you paused. Looking at the water and back, only Theon didn’t pause. Whatever awoke in his heart refused to give up now. Turning to you, “We have to cross it, it’s the only way to throw off the hounds.”

The water was waist high at the deepest and your freezing bodies shook and stabbed at you in the pain of how cold it was, but you both pushed along, both keeping a hand on the other as Theon led you through that freezing agony. Looking back, you could hear the barking closer and he looked to a small alcove that was just out of easy sight. “We can’t outrun them, we have to hide.”

Turning to him with doubt for a second, but he looked behind you and pulled you himself. Both of you all but throwing yourselves into pushing up against the snow and dirt. Crouched in the freezing water as you shook, pressed up against the other, arms linked as you both knew you couldn’t make a single sound.

You couldn’t stay in this kind of water for long, but you had to. The scent would have lost the dogs but they could still see or hear you if you ran now. Instead of you had to stay there. Making it to Castle Black like this was impossible, and you both knew you would have to run as far as you could to find anything like a horse.

Your eyes found each other as the sounds of the hounds barked all around the other side of the river and yelling about where you two were, yelling about Ramsay’s orders kept you locked in a fear as you tried not to make a sound or even let go of the other. You’d have to stay there as long as the men and hounds were in earshot, but not a second longer.

If what Theon and you heard was right, Roose Bolton would know there was only one real place you could go and it would take days to get there. Neither of you knew who in the North would serve the Boltons regardless of who you were, you needed to find anything or anyone, take a horse and just go right until you reached the wall.

But as long as you both were there in the river, you couldn’t move. Only freeze in the water.

The morning shined early and Roose Bolton was not in the mood for the sunlight beaming in the windows of Winterfell. He was unbelievably angry. “Everything I have done for you, and the way you repay me is to let my most valuable prisoner run free into the woods?”

He may have been the only person who could stand there and lecture Ramsay without any kind of fear in his eyes. He knew exactly what his son was, and he was angry he let him play these games for so long. Even now, trying to come up with an excuse. “She’s weak, she’s afraid and all she has helping her is Reek. I have a team of men that have been after them since they escaped, my best hounds with them. They won’t get far.”

Roose leaned forward, palms braced against the table as he stared his son down. “They’ve already gotten far. How long do you think it will take them to get out of your hounds reach, how long until they find help? We don’t have the North unified under our rule, that was why I needed her.”

Ramsay’s arms crossed his chest as an anger inside him boiled up, “No one even knows shes alive and they think Reek is a traitor, what help are they going to find out there before they freeze to death?”

Voice was even but Ramsay no doubt knew what kind of danger lurked behind his father’s glare. “If you cannot bring her back to me, alive, what do you think is going to happen? All they need is to find one person who can give them a horse, and where will she go then, Ramsay? Tell me. Where would she go when finally on the back of a horse?”

He didn’t like feeling so lectured, and he knew he didn’t want to say anything in case he only added insult to injury, but he was missing the point. “Stannis has already started moving South, the land we control is already preparing to war with him. She wouldn’t risk it.”

Roose breathed in deeply. Pushing up from his palms to walk around the length of the table. Coming to step in front of his son. “I needed her because she is Robb Stark’s widow, she was the North’s Queen and they would have joined me if we had her. She spent half of her life in Winterfell growing up around the Starks, I didn’t need to keep her away from Stannis Baratheon.”

Ramsay knew better then to give that kind of attitude, and yet the calm and quiet tone in his father’s voice only rubbed salt in. “Who would help her, then father? Tell me. Half of the Umbers came to our side, the Karstarks came to our side and they would soon turn her in before helping her, where is she to go in this weather that you are so worried about?”

“I watched men for three years underestimate Robb Stark, and it wasn’t until I shoved a knife in his heart did his enemies realize how dangerous he had been. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake. I wanted to keep her a secret because there’s only one person who will bring a war right to our doorstep for her.” His eyes narrowed at his son who didn’t speak a word. Only seethed in a rage at how much his father was looking at him as a failure.

“Jon Snow is Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, which means he has the skill and the leadership that the North saw in his brother. And he was that girls closest friend, so I ask you again. What do you think he will do, when he finds out that not only is she alive, not only were we holding her prisoner, but what do you think Jon Snow will do when he finds out the thing’s you’ve been doing to her?”

Ramsey hissed out trying to contain his emotions. “You’re the one who murdered his brother, shoved a knife into her stomach.”

But there was no doubt who was going to be the subject of true rage. “And you are the one who spent months beating, torturing, and raping her. I let you play your games with the heir to the Iron Islands, but I should never have trusted you with her. She was a valuable hostage, and now she’s on her way to Castle Black.”

Walking away from him, Roose’s voice echoed more through the quiet room. “Without her you won’t be able to produce an heir, and without an heir...” Turning to his son with a mocking lift of an eyebrow, and tilt of his head. “Make sure we get to her before Jon Snow does, otherwise let’s hope the Maesters are right about Walda carrying a boy. Losing your bride isn’t something worthy of a true Bolton.”

By the time Ramsay had returned to his own quarters, the anger had built to a point that the men around him knew was destructive. He didn’t tell his father what he was doing, and maybe if he was more sound of mind he could convince himself that this idea was a mistake.

His writing was erratic, and stammering and full of delusions that his father would never let send out, but he wrote it, and as he sent off that letter, paper tinged in a pink, he thought nothing of the consequences.

The little boy kept staring, peeking above his bowl of soup or around the corner to watch you.

By a days afternoon, you had came across a little farmhouse. Hoping to stop and rest to catch your breathe, you were spotted by a dog barking at you incessantly. Standing in fear, you and Theon tried putting an arm in front of the other only for an apologetic man to come around the corner.

“What in the are you yapping at, it’s the middle of the day-oh.” Pulling the dog back as it calmed the man was a bit lanky and a soft face that held laugh lines built from years. “Normally I’d ask what you’re doin’ on my land, but I’m more curious as to why in the gods you both look like you’ve been through hell and back.”

Glancing at each other, you raised an eyebrow. Not so far from the truth but a little too complicated to explain. “Brigands. Came burned near everythin’ we had didn’t have nowhere else to go.” It had been too long since the will power to stay so stone faced and not laugh hit you like this. Gods bless Theon for having enough in him to come up with anything.

Shooing his dog off, he stepped forward to you both, nothing on him in your quick glance that was any kind of a weapon. “Seven hells, nothing but trouble since those Boltons took over. You two look like you could use some food in you.” Pausing as he glanced at Theon, “Maybe a wash would do you good as well.”

A worry sat in both your stomach’s but as a little boy called out to his father, the man shouting back he’d be a moment, you and Theon relaxed a tiny bit. “Just a few hours, and we go.” You nodded in agreement before taking up his offer.

His home was small and cozy, only a few rooms and not much space but it was well built and quite warm with the fire. Telling you about how his wife passed giving birth, his older son lost fighting for the King in the North. Theon and yourself swallowing hard at such a passing comment, as he contiuned saying it’s only him and his boy now. Clothes he had given you both were clean, and left something to wash up. “Apologies lass, my wife was more of what they’d call short and stout. Hope you don’t mind wearing some my sons old clothes, probably warmer then that dress of yours anyways.”

The pause between you as you both were left alone, you looked at Theon before turning away slightly and pulling your dress off, awkwardly grumbling. “Nothing you haven’t seen before at this point, I suppose.”

He didn’t make a single move to undress with you in the room, and you both knew why he wouldn’t. Adjusting the dark and slightly too large and thin coat, you cleared your throat. “We’ll stay until it gets dark, then we need to keep moving before they have a chance to catch up.”

Nodding, he looked around with a very stilted embarrassment. “Saw a few horses coming in, should be able to get you to Jon in a few days on one of them.”

Before you left you looked at him one last time, “Listen. You didn’t need to help me. You could've left on your own or just stayed back and let them do all this to me, knowing it’d be safer not to get involved. But you didn’t, you risked your own life to help me and I won’t forget that.” His eyes said more then the silence in the air. “You did a lot wrong, so did I. But...you’ve paid for those many times over now. Even before I got there, you paid for your sins and them some. I just...thought you should know that.”

You had guessed it was the scars still scattered across your face the boy kept looking at. Luckily the man, Dane, he was called, asked no questions, seemed to believe your story enough not to consider the dirty details his business and you were thankful. A pit in your gut made any words difficult to come out, and certainly as well from the much cleaner Theon who emerged.

Two bowls sat down in front of you both, steaming warm. “Not much of a cook, but it’ll get you through the night well enough. Gods,” Sighing heavily as he dropped down to the other side of the table himself. “Nothing but shit after shit with those fuckers in charge. Bunch of backstabbers, them and those Frey’s for what they did.”

Your chest felt sickeningly weightless, trying to eat without your eyes shaking off any agony which could be spotted within them. Theon was better at talking, always was at the least. “Heard the Lannisters were the one’s behind it.”

Chuckling, Dane shrugged at you both. “Wouldn’t shock me, first they put that bastard of theirs on the throne then they murder our King and Queen in cold blood? Cursed, whole of them are if you ask me. Murdering them after bringing them to a wedding, feeding them? What happened to this place we can’t even go anywhere without watching our backs.”

Focus on the table you told yourself, don’t think about it, don’t see the blood and stop feeling the twisting in your stomach at the memory of it all. He and Theon talked around you, until the small boy tugged at your pant leg.

Your head whipping down almost in defensive motion until the boy held up a a little paper flower to you with bright eyes. Reaching down gently you whispered, “Is this for me?” He nodded so shyly running to his fathers side as soon as you grabbed it’s stem.

Heart warming a tad, Dace chuckled. “I’d watch yourself, lad.” His eyes on Theon as he nodded to you, picking his son up onto his lap as the boy whispered something to his father. “Says you’re pretty like a queen.”

Melting into the floor felt like an option, your gaze on the paper flower, it wasn’t well made, or even impressive but it was all the boy had you guessed. Especially now that winter was truly coming. He hugged his dads neck but looked at you, hiding when you smiled at him gently with a “Thank you.”

It was tucked away in the pocket of the coat over you, safe and sound. Not at all missing you that this might have been the smallest yet sweetest thing someone had done for you since...well since Robb. You could even see his reaction, those bright blue eyes and charming smile at a little boy presenting his wife with a flower.

Theon took charge of the conversation once more, you could see how hard he was working to try and fit in, trying to act normal when truthfully you both hadn’t been like any normal human being in at least a year. And as the night progressed, it got just a little bit easier.

The boy about to go to bed, looking to you before running to his room. Smiling, and without thinking of it, you slowly stood up. Kneeling down in front of him and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Maybe next time we see each other, winter will be over and you can give me a real flower.”

You stayed knelt on the ground as you and Theon were left alone for a while in the main room. Your hands finding themselves on your thighs as you almost traced the mark. In another life, you could see the boy looking far more Stark, in the free fields of Winterfell and dark curls around his head instead of where you were.

Hiding in a strangers home from the men who ruined both of your lives, the lives of the North. Dane offered you both his son’s old room, telling you to feel free to sleep in a bit, “Look a little less terrible in a few hours, will ya?”

You both felt bad, sneaking off, taking a horse, but you had no reason to stay here. If the Bolton’s men found you here, they’d kill these two without hesitation. So in the dead of night once more, you both left. Theon pulling you up behind him as the winter air truly started to chill in your bones once more, but it was less panicing and heart racing then last few nights.

“Take three days or so if you ask me. Maybe less if we don’t stop for the night.”

The North felt empty, like most were too afraid to come out anywhere now that it’s control was granted under fear, fear and the murder of the one man keeping the peace. They could include you all they wanted, but you were alive and nothing was any better for the people.

You were alive, and still, you found it difficult to think about where your place was anymore. But you and Theon knew one thing, make it to Castle Black or not, you both stuck by each other’s sides from now on. Birds of broken feathers flock together, or whatever that saying went, you knew abandoning the other after this escape wasn’t an option.

The raven came in, a paper tinged in pink and a letter scrawled out in mania. Addressed to Jon Snow, he had opened it with no idea what it could be, but he did in fact, recognize the flayed man sigil of the Boltons on the seal. As long as the Boltons ruled the North, Jon couldn’t protect any of the North outside of the here and now.

But as he read the letter, and his heart sent into a swirling mess? Something that denied involving himself in the politics of the realm faded out then and there.

“Your false King is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false King lied, and you stole from me.”

Your name. Jon read your name, and the heavy grief of your death turned into a burning lie told by those who killed his brother. Killed his brother and said they killed you. But no, you weren’t dead, you were with the Boltons. And even worse, was kept so close to Jon for so long, forced into something else entirely.

“You stole my bride from me, bastard. And I want her back. I want my bride back. I want the false King’s daughter, I want my bride, and you stole from me to take her all for yourself. Send her to me, bastard and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep my bride from me, and I will cut out your bastard heart and make her watch.

Ramsay Bolton, Trueborn Lord of Winterfell.”

On one side of the wall in the final break of day, you and Theon could see it. The structure said nine hundred feet in the air. Covered in sleek ice and almost purple in colour during the morning hours of the sun. As you approached though, something inside you felt sick.

Something felt wrong, and something about the way the men at the gates looked hesitant to let you in made you feel like you could faint. Theon had declared your name, widow of Robb Stark, daughter of Stannis Baratheon and Queen in the North. Here to see the Lord Commander Jon Snow.

The looks were worried, and some almost looking devastated at you. The front gates to Castle Black opened, and you couldn’t stop feeling that something was horribly wrong.

The air too, smelled faintly like smoke.

On the other side of the wall, it was still the pitch black dark of night. The man he should’ve sent away, the one he was told to, started it all. Others joined, but it was his face specifically that held the true weight of the actions. The face of the man who had fought him since day one. Most of the faces besides his, some had tears, some regret and most only watched unable to do such a thing themselves.

“I want my bride back,” his thoughts only repeated over and over. The men he knew, some too well, looking at him as Jon fell to his knees, confused. “I want my bride back,” He could still see you in his mind.

His voice whispered, the only thing he could speak out in the stabs against his chest. “Ghost..” The fading dark washed over him, and as his own brothers tearfully put the last knife through his heart, Jon Snow barley felt the pain.

Only the cold.

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

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Penny00Dreadful! @penny00dreadful has 29 fics in the Stranger Things fandom with 25 of them being in the Steddie Tag!

@hbyrde36 recommends the following works by @penny00dreadful:

Crossroads

Cat and Mouse

I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife

And They Were Roommates!

The Parting Glass

Sam, on top of being an absolutely amazing writer (AND artist!), is one of the brightest lights in this fandom (in my humble opinion). She is incredibly kind and encouraging, always ready to uplift other authors in the Steddie and ST fanfic worlds. I have had the incredible pleasure of being her beta reader for quite some time now, and am consistently blown away by her talent. There isn't a single one of her works that I wouldn't recommend, they are all fantastic reads. -- @hbyrde36

Below the cut, @penny00dreadful answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Opposites attract has always been a major draw for me, especially in my fandoms. Every pairing I’ve ever gotten into in every fandom I’ve been in have all been opposites attract and I’m not going to lie to you, I did not make that realization until this question. 😅 I had a very “Huh… that tracks” moment about it. 🤣 So the opposites attract factor is definitely big for me and while I suppose you could say that’s true for many, many pairings in fandom, there’s something about the complete opposite of both Steve and Eddie that is just enrapturing. From their aesthetic, to their personalities, to their upbringing, it creates such incredibly interesting parallels and options for building stories around them. On top of that, the two of them are so compelling as characters. Their various hang ups and traumas, their loves and hates, the time period and the genre of work they originated in all coalesce into something so captivating. I adore the two of them so much, they’re so fascinating. I think everyone can find a little bit of themselves in either one of them, but especially with the addition of Eddie into the series we got a character who was ‘other’, in the same way so many of us feel and are seen, he speaks to us on such a personal level. So, yeah. I love them.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Oh boy. There are so many. Enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff. But if I had to pick one that has been my longest standing love, it would have to be a slow burn. Like, when it hits, it hits. And it hits hard.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I looooove writing some tasty hurt/comfort. There’s just something so addictive about someone needing to be taken care of after something bad or traumatic happens or they’ve just had a really shitty day. It’s so cathartic. And also, I cannot like, I love getting comments screaming at me that I’ve made people hurt or cry or feel things because I know I’m going to make it better, I’m gonna give them that comfort. And it’s such an incredible compliment from people when they tell me that my writing has made them feel feelings. Like it is the highest praise possible that I could induce that in someone. It feels amazing.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Oh my god, that is such a difficult question to answer. I have read so many that have left a permanent mark on my heart or completely rewired my brain. I had to go look through my bookmarks to narrow it down because my god, there are so many talented people in this fandom and even then I was attempted to just give a list of all my top ones because, god they make me feel so many things, people are so fucking talented, I love them. But I would say if I had to choose one, there’s one that lives rent free in my brain. I think of it all the time, it is so god damn special to me and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s the first one that came to mind, It would have to be wouldn’t it be nice (if we could wake up) by kissesforcas  kissesforcas I have talked about this fic on my blog before but it just hits me in the right way every time I read it, it’s absolutely magical. I can’t recommend it enough, please go read it. It changed me completely.  There’s so many beautiful moments in it, the two boys are so protective of each other in it, but they also adore their found family and will defend them at any cost, the two of them feel real, their communication feels genuine and honest and realistic while also being true to their characters, I just adore it.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

YES. FANTASY. It is wild to me that I have not done a fully fledged fantasy AU at all yet. Like I adore fantasy, what gives? Why have I not done it yet? Omg ALSO, historical. Like a lot of my special interests are historical based, WHY have I not done that yet?? AND, AND horror maybe? Like a psychological or zombie or paranormal/supernatural or slasher. So many things I haven’t explored that I want to do, and I can’t wait!

What is your writing process like?

Okay, so first things first, I get an idea.  Kind of obvious, I know, but yeah, the idea stage. Usually it’ll be something that hit out of nowhere, I’ll write down one line in the ideas doc and then pretend I won’t be thinking of it for the rest of the day. Then when I admit to myself I want to expand on it, I’ll take all of the brain worms attached to that idea and put them in their own doc. It’ll all be VERY disjointed at this stage, just a stream of consciousness of different situations/conversations/plot bunnies that popped into my head. Once I feel like I have enough of a concept through that, I begin to put them in order, maybe add a few more. Then I outline. I’m an outline kinda gal.  Over a page or two I’ll give a bare bones outline of what the fic will be, almost like it’s a short story? But still very rough.  Then I’ll start writing, usually in chronological order, I find that makes it easier to plant seeds and foreshadow and create consistency with the voice of the fic. Sometimes I will jump ahead if I’m really excited about a particular part of the fic, I’ll get it out before I lose steam on it. HOWEVER, I find that I almost ALWAYS diverge from the outline. If, as I’m writing, things start going in a different direction, I go with the flow, I don’t fight it. Fighting it, I feel is detrimental to my writing, trying to force myself into a box and hey, going with the flow has been working out pretty well for me so far. 🤣

Do you have any writing quirks?

Quirks? I dunno about that. I think I’m a pretty standard writer, but I do end up writing across three devices a lot of the time depending on where’s more comfortable. PC, tablet and phone. I’ll always stick to writing whatever my brain is focusing on at that time, but if I know I need to get a fic out and I’m not really feeling the inspo anymore, I’ll give myself an extra boost by watching movies with similar themes, listening to music related to it, or even just searching the trope on Pinterest can help me generate excitement about it again.Also do yourself a favor and get yourself a Bluetooth keyboard. It’s a game changer for writing on your phone.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’ve done both and I much prefer posting on a set schedule. I always try to get the fic at least 50% finished before I start posting to give myself a nice cushion. Yeah, the immediate endorphin hit of posting once I’m done is great, but I much prefer the option to have a fic mostly or completely done before I post, so I can go back in and tweak things to make a theme hit harder or stick in a tad more foreshadowing or even just to edit.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I love all of my works, honestly. I write for me. I write the things I want to read. I think it would be difficult to narrow down a fic that I am the most proud of. Like I’m actually having a really difficult time picking one and saying “This one. This is the one I am most proud of.” Because I am proud of all of them and it’s for each of their own reasons. Like, some are very, very personal to me, some are stories that made me feel completely unhinged and obsessed(affectionately) and some are stories that touched people in very real ways, or made them feel safe and seen and that is so incredibly special to me. It’s a bit of a cop out to say that I can’t pick one, I can’t choose between my children, but I really can’t, they’re all so special, at least to me, in their own ways.

How did you get the idea for Crossroads?

So I have never seen the movie The Old Guard, but I have heard of it and while I know that reincarnation is not an aspect of that movie, I was struck with the idea of someone going through life over, and over, and over again, just to be close to the one they love the most. Like that kind of time bending devotion. And I had a brain worm of various historical ways of dying and I couldn’t figure out a way to write all of them into one fic before the idea of reincarnation hit. The very first image I had in my head of Eddie dying was being burned at the stake, so I had to work my way up to that time period and beyond. I knew I didn’t want it to be something that had only happened a few times over a couple of hundred years.  I knew I wanted it to be an ancient, centuries spanning kind of devoted love which is what led me to Ancient Greece, and in leading me there, I had to figure out why this was happening. Why Steve was traversing time just to be next to his boy again. Hecate appeared out of the mist and invaded my brain and it all kind of spilled out onto the page after that. 

When writing Cat and Mouse, what was something you didn’t expect?

I gotta be honest, the whole fic was unexpected. 😅 It was one of those stories when I originally thought of it, it was only gonna be a short little thing, maybe one or two chapters. By the end of it we were at 16 chapters and over 70K. Apparently I have no idea how to write anything short. But I think what also took me by surprise was how feral the two of them were for each other even though they didn't actually get together until later. I knew I wanted to have them being snappy and flirtatious for the whole thing and it evolved into the two of them being so dedicated to each other after only meeting a few times. I also didn’t expect the wild reaction I got to the fic, people loved it and were chomping for more and I was floored by it, it made me so incandescently happy!

What inspired Cat and Mouse?

So, the short answer is I saw this post from steddielations and it burrowed so deep into my brain, I had to get it out! Long answer is it was a mix of that post, and then a bit of Mr & Mrs. Smith mixed in along with John Wick. I just loved the idea of two deadly people being so soft for each other they’d be willing to burn the world for each other, do anything at any cost to keep the other safe.

What was your favorite part to write from And They Were Roommates!?

Oh my god, the banter. The banter was loaded with bitching and queerspeak and jabs, it was so much fun. I hadn’t really seen a story where the steddie boys had been bitchy queers before, like leaning into it and I just had to, I had to. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up and I could have gone on for ages just the two of them biting back and forth.

How do/did you feel writing I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife?

Conflicted, honestly. I was worried the POV I was writing from would be a little too out there, you know? There were a few times throughout writing where I thought I’d have to go back and change it out to be more of a standard fic but at the end of the day it felt so right to have the story told the way it was and it also felt very in line with Take Me To Church as well. It’s also the most poetic piece of writing I have done to date and while it’s not something I can see myself revisiting too often, it was a fantastic exercise in moving out of my comfort zone. It got me, right in the heart.

What was the most difficult part of writing The Parting Glass?

Oh boy. The whole fic was an exercise in catharsis. It was a way of processing my own grief after losing a family member and getting it all out into words was very, very helpful. I think the hardest part was just putting down into words how Eddie was feeling right in the aftermath, you know? Like grief is such a personal thing, everyone experiences it differently, so I wanted to try to figure out how Eddie would respond to it, especially considering it was the death of someone so important to him. So to have him looking around the trailer and it being empty but still with bits of Wayne dotted around like he was about to walk back through the door was probably the realest and most difficult part for me.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Oh god there’s so many! I could pick so many! But the first thing that came to mind is the small interaction between Eddie and Robin in Return of The King, when Steve is demonstrating his newly acquired vampire strength for the kids and Eddie has to hold onto Robin to keep himself from melting into a puddle: “Down boy.” She muttered. “Me next.” He practically whimpered right back. “Oh god, Robbie, I wanna be that stump. Tell him to do me next.” “You’re pathetic.” “What about it?” [...] Robin leaned in close to his ear but continued to stare at Steve. “If you two don’t calm the fuck down I’m going to get the hose.” Wet Steve. “Please get the hose.” I love Robin and Eddie together whenever I can get them snarking at each other, it’s just so entertaining. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh yeah! A good few things. I’m coming back from my writing break and I’m going to be working on the final two fics for my anniversary event, Through The Valley and Devotion.  I also have a Summer Exchange Fic in the works along with starting on my Steddie Big Bang piece that I am also signed up for as an artist, I’m so excited to start them!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think I would just like to add that this blog, this concept is such a wonderful idea, you’re doing great work here to bring people and fics to new eyes and it has been an honor and a privilege to be put forward the way I have, I’m so so so thankful. 🖤

Thank you to our author, @penny00dreadful, and our nominator, @hbyrde36! See more of Penny00Dreadful's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #writer's wednesday #writer's spotlight

[rosaaeles]

I really want to hear some of your odesta hcs if you have any 🙈

omg of course! here are some :)

i feel like i mentioned this in the ficnick, but i headcannon that annie waits up for finnick in his house in the victor’s village on the days when he’s coming back from the capitol. sometimes she does things to keep herself occupied in the meantime like baking or reading or knitting, and sometimes finnick gets back so late that she falls asleep waiting. when this happens, he always carries her to bed, regardless of how tired he is. he’ll put whatever she’s baked on the cooling rack, or he’ll put a bookmark in her book to save the page, and then he’ll join her :’)

after her games, it takes annie years to feel comfortable with being in water again, but she misses the ocean often and finnick is always happy to go with her. they spend countless afternoons sitting on the shore shoulder to shoulder till she’s ready to go.

finnick likes to collect seashells for annie whenever they go. he knows annie likes them, but doesn’t feel comfortable enough with moving closer to the water which is where most of the shells wash up, so instead he brings them back to her. over time she builds quite a collection of seashells, seglass, and driftwood he’s brought back to her. sometimes she likes to braid the shells into her hair. 

annie wears finnick’s clothes often when he’s away at the capitol – especially his sweatshirts and jumpers – because she likes the feeling of being wrapped up in something warm and loose that reminds her of home. when finnick realises, he starts leaving her a few before every trip. by the time he gets back, they don’t smell like him anymore, and annie has to resort to tucking herself under whatever he’s wearing.

the first time finnick hears someone in four making fun of annie, they’re in the market in d4’s main port. he and annie are making their way past stalls leisurely when he hears it. it’s an unmistakably cruel remark, and it’s probably only said because people don’t seem to think annie can hear them when they make these comments. one glance at the girl tells finnick that she definitely has. she pretends not to hear, but finnick notices her posture droop ever so slightly. the boy fixes the perpetrators with a glare ready to put them in their place, but before he can say anything, annie tugs on his hand. “can we go, finn? i just want to go.” finnick wants to tell her that if anything, the people who made the remark should leave, but annie’s gaze is pleading. generally, people don’t make many comments about annie when he’s around too, but he imagines that it must be bad when he’s not.

finnick always does his best to stifle any sound he might make when he wakes up from nightmares, unwilling to wake annie up too. somehow, she always seems to notice anyway -- they’re both quite light sleepers so it doesn’t take much to wake her up. annie almost always seems to know what finnick needs, but she always asks before initiating any type of physical contact. usually, he’s okay with it; practically falling into her arms, but when he isn’t annie limits herself to linking her pinky with his and taking deep and slow breaths until his breathing matches her own.

#im sooo self consious about writing for them bc i have more experience with everlark #but i hope u like these anon :') #i had a really good time coming up with these (see-procrastinating my assignments) so if anyone else has more odesta thoughts for me #please leave them in my inbox!! #❀ rosa replies #odesta #odesta fanfiction #finnick odair #annie cresta #the hunger games #thg

[rosiegirlie]

Before You Go Performing (2): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

summary: Billie tries to work through some insecurities and Rosie is an absolute gentleman about it. Also Crosby turns out to be a good friend when things go down at the pub. word count: 11.8k read on ao3 part one

Billie felt like she was on top of the world with Rosie escorting her back home to her hut like something out of a romantic movie. The pair were walking slowly and a brief moment of comfortable silence had come over them. Billie couldn’t help but look out at the sun beginning to set over the trees and she smiled at the sight. Billie had long loved a good sunset and now that she was thousands of miles away from home she appreciated them even more. Even though no two sunsets were the same each reminded Billie of the red and white big top with the lights around beginning to glow. She could almost smell the popcorn and hear laughter in the air as the sky was starting to shift into something both purple and orange. 

Growing up in the circus a lot of what seemed magical to others was her mundane. But she always felt the magic in the sunsets before the last show of the day. Watching the sunset had been a part of her superstition filled warm up routine on the nights she got to perform. She found it funny that she used to feel such potential in a sunset while lately she found it in the sunrise. But it was easy to find the beauty in anything with Rosie by her side. The past week with Rosie had been an absolute dream and Billie had trouble falling asleep each night, afraid that when she woke up she’d find it had been just that, a dream. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with me tonight? I’d make sure you have a good time.” Rosie asked, drawing Billie’s attention away from thinking about sunsets.  

“I always have a good time when I’m with you.” Billie answered with a smile. She received one in return.  

“So then why don’t you come?” He asked.

“I told you.” She squeezed his hand quickly and resisted the urge to pull him in for a hug. There were too many people around for that. “I have a headache building and being around all the noise and people in the officer’s club sounds like a nightmare. I need a quiet night. I just need to curl up with my book and turn in early.” 

“I want to hear your thoughts when you finish the chapter. You’re going to have a lot to say, I can’t wait.” Rosie said. 

“If I can finish. You know how slow I go.” Billie teased herself.

“You’ll finish just fine, don’t worry. There’s no rush.” Rosie reassured her. 

Billie couldn’t help but think he was wrong. Of course there was a rush. They rarely talked about it but Rosie could be lost just like that. Ever since this thing had first started between Billie and Rosie it was like Billie had been living in limbo. She’d never had to live like this, with her heart on the line almost every day. It’d been an adjustment over the past week getting used to the life of having her heart wrapped up in a pilot. Despite being such a positive person the reality hung so heavy Billie couldn’t ignore it. She had a lifetime of experience masking any of her emotions so she didn’t think Rosie had picked up on it quite yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time until he brought up the future. And once they talked about the future they would have to acknowledge all of the possibilities.

A part of her knew they needed to have that sort of conversation but she was also terrified of solidifying what was developing between them. Rosie had changed her world with just one look but she hadn’t figured out what that meant for her future. Even though being around Rosie somehow made the rest of the world make sense it also made her lose her inability to think rationally. All she really knew was that she would be utterly destroyed if she lost Rosie in any way. 

Rosie grabbed her hand and pulled her into one of the little alleys in-between the nurses’ huts, Billie couldn’t help but giggle as they went. "I'll take my dance now since I can't tonight." He twirled her around and while Billie almost stumbled she was quick to find Rosie’s rhythm and follow along as he swung her around their grass dance floor.

Billie couldn’t help but smile as she looked up at Rosie. Their faces were so close it wouldn’t take much for her to stretch out and kiss him and the thought made her stomach flip with nerves. Rosie seemed to be thinking the same and Billie swore he started moving his head towards hers but she turned her head before seeing if she was right. 

She slipped out of Rosie’s arms and went to stand against the wall. After feigning being out of breath Billie put a hands on her hips, shrugged and said, “Sorry.”

Rosie came to stand beside her and reached an arm arm out so his elbow rested on the wall and his head settled onto his fist. He looked at Billie and she couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny. She wondered how long it was going to take for her body to adjust and not react that way every time he looked at her. 

“I feel there’s something you’re not telling me.” He said, perceptive as always. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” She lied. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. But I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything.” 

And it was that, Rosie’s constant understanding and grace, that had Billie speaking before she could plan what to say. She’d fold in an instant if he was the one questioning her. 

“I don’t know how I feel about the touching in public where people can see. Beyond what’s normal I mean.” 

Rosie immediately dropped his arm and took a large step back. The distance left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” Rosie looked distraught so Billie ignored the hypocrisy and stretched her hands out to grab Rosie’s in an attempt to comfort him. She hated seeing him so upset. 

“Not at all! Don’t you dare think that. You have been perfectly lovely in every way, Rosie. And I really mean that, trust me. This is a me thing.” 

“Then can you expand on what you mean?” Rosie slowly asked. 

Billie dropped her hands from Rosie’s and started wringing them nervously. “I don’t think I can really explain it. It’s just …” she waved a hand as if brushing off a thought. “I guess it all stems from being insecure. It’s just I don’t want to bring you down. I don’t want to be a distraction, you need to stay focused.” 

Rosie was making that face again so Billie continued, “I’m not saying I don’t want to be around you or be seen with you. I want to be with you, I just want to go slow. I want respectable not indecent.” 

Billie couldn’t explain how conflicted she felt. Because Billie knew all about physical relationships. She was no stranger to sex. Billie in the past was not shy, hadn’t had an ounce of shame and she was mortified at the idea of sharing her history with Rosie. If she had her way Rosie would never know about all of the scandalous things she used to do in public. Billie hated that she proved certain stereotypes right but she couldn’t help her past. She was both ashamed of her past self and proud for having been confident enough to get what she wanted. Still, she didn’t want to be seen as some sort of easy or loose girl. She didn't want to be like that anymore. Even more she wanted to be wanted beyond her body for once.

She didn’t know how to explain that she wanted something steady and real. This was the first thing Billie could possibly call a relationship and she’d spent years dreaming about this happening. But now that she was here with Rosie she was realizing how her past was on the edge making her fairy tale dreams unobtainable. She’d be destroyed  if her history somehow brought about Rosie’s social downfall or worse, turned him off completely. If she could keep things physically mild with Rosie, if she could convince him to stay around without relying on her body then there was a chance for things to continue. Because this thing did feel real with Rosie, the most real and right thing she’d ever felt. Billie would never forgive herself if she messed this up.

“You want something real.” Rosie said with an understanding smile. 

It was like he read her mind. Billie met his eyes again and she was struck again with a sense of awe in how in tune he was with her. 

“How do you always do that?” she asked. 

“How do I do what?” 

“You know exactly what I’m thinking when I don’t know how to say it.” She started wringing her hands again and looked around at anything but Rosie. “It’s embarrassing but… I don’t have any experience and because of that I want to do things right.” 

Rosie reached his hand out and gently touched her elbow to get her attention before dropping it back to his side. “You’re working yourself up over something you don’t even need to worry about. I’m fine with slow.” he reassured her. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Honestly, I don’t mind. I can handle real.” Rosie took a small step closer and resumed his position leaning against the wall. “In fact, I like the idea of a little courting. It’s romantic.” 

Billie really didn’t understand how she got so lucky with Rosie. A girl like her didn’t deserve someone like him but she certainly wasn’t going to let him go. She was going to do whatever it took to keep him by her side.

“I’m fine with you setting the pace.” Rosie said and that really had Billie melting. 

She looked around to see if anyone could see them and when she felt like it was safe she grabbed Rosie’s tie and pulled him into a kiss that she wanted to escalate but resisted the temptation. It was a quick thing and Billie immediately turned on her heels and fled the scene in embarrassment at her forwardness. Especially after having just said she didn’t want that sort of thing yet. Understandably she left him stunned with his eyes wide and mouth open in surprise. 

Billie stopped after rounding the corner off the building and stuck her head back around to look at Rosie. “I hope you have a good night, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow.” Rosie answered weakly. Billie winked at him and gave a little wave then made her way inside.

It didn’t take long for Billie to get comfortable in the chair by the window with a blanket tucked around her. She wouldn’t be able to stay here for long with the fading sunlight but she wanted to take advantage while she could. Billie had only managed a couple of pages when voices just outside the window distracted her. She couldn’t help but lean closer to listen and it didn’t take long for her to recognize Rebecca’s nasally drone. 

“It’s just that she’s a waste of space. We give her the easiest tasks and she can barely handle them!” Rebecca said.

“At least she’s always in a good mood.” Someone else said.

“Who care’s if she’s in a good mood if she’s a waste of the Army’s resources.”

The girls all laughed and the sound sent chills down Billie’s spine. She wasn’t stupid; Rebecca and her friends were talking about her. She felt three inches tall but she couldn’t stop listening. 

“Plus there’s the way she’s been hanging on to Rosie.” Rebecca complained. “She was bad before but now her heads all in the clouds. She’s such a floozy distracting our best pilot.” 

“I saw him walking her back after dinner the other night.” someone confessed. “He has to be somewhat interested in her.” Billie’s heart warmed at the small argument in her favor but it didn’t last long.

“Or, Rosie is simply a gentlemen and Billie knows how to take advantage of that.” Rebecca countered. “She’s the kind of girl to use men. She’s circus trash who brings trouble with her wherever she goes, so what else would you expect? We can’t trust her with anything of value. We’d be doing Rosie a favor by pulling Billie from his side. He deserves someone better. It’s always heartbreaking seeing a man with potential being held back.” Rebecca’s voice was filled with distain for Billie and she could picture exactly what Rebecca’s face looked like as she complained about Billie. It was always the beautiful and talented ones that could say the most hurtful things, or at least it’d been that way in Billie’s life.

“By someone better you mean you, right?” Someone asked.

“What can I say, you saw how we looked together the other week.” Billie could picture Rebecca flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder as she laughed. Billie felt sick. They had looked rather good dancing together and it had broke Billie’s heart and still hurt to think about. 

Having heard enough Billie got out of the chair and fell face first onto her bed. She screamed. Then she rolled over, grabbed her pillow and put it over her face then screamed again. Hate was a useless emotion in Billie’s book but for the first time in her life she understood what it felt like to hate someone. She was so frustrated she felt hysterical. It was like Rebecca had confirmed all of her worst fears of what people thought of her. One of her goals when signing up to be a nurse had been to reinvent herself and it was devastating to have her past ruin that. She wished she could go back in time and never tell anyone she was from the circus. She should have made up some backstory and lived a lie. Surely that would have been easier to deal with than this. 

Billie sat straight up with one thought on her mind, she needed to get drunk. Her adrenaline was racing with her frustration and humiliation and she needed to get the energy out somehow. She wanted to be reckless and make poor decisions to cover up this deep hurt. After peeking out of the window to make sure Rebecca and her friends had left Billie gathered her things and left the hut. She climbed on her bike and started furiously pedaling away, making it to the pub in record time. 

Billie burst through the door of the pub with such gusto that more than a couple of heads turned in her direction. She marched right up to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey. Before the bartender could set it down Billie snatched the glass from his hand and slammed it back. “Another.” she asked. The bartender’s eyebrows were raised but he grabbed the bottle and poured more into her glass. Again she downed it all in one go and sucked a hiss through her teeth. “Another.” 

“Are you sure you can—”

“Another.” She glared at him and he immediately poured her another heavy pour. She threw it back. He set the bottle down next to her while he got her a glass of water and left her to go check on other side of the bar. After making sure he wasn’t looking she grabbed the bottle and with her heavy hand poured the whiskey like it was water. But this time Billie waited a bit before drinking and took a sip instead of throwing it back like she’d been doing. She picked her glass up and studied the whiskey, noting how the amber liquid reflected the dim light of the pub. It was so pretty it reminded her of the wood beams and rigging that held the big top together. It reminded her of safety and support.

Billie’s headache was gone but in its place she felt nauseous as all of the shots she’d taken hit her at once. She set the glass back down and let her head fall to rest on the bar. Billie wanted to forget, she wanted to make everything go away. She lifted her head back up and took another sip of her drink. She wanted to be numbed out and she was well on her way to that point. She pulled out enough money for what she'd taken and stuck it under the glass of water.

Billie worked her way back to a table near the window and smiled to herself as she settled down. Billie loved how dark and moody the pub was; she loved how she could sink into the flickering shadows from all the candle light. There was an intimacy to the pub, a warmth that Billie found missing in the officer’s club. The officer’s club had an edge of respectability that got under Billie’s skin. She preferred places where people could fully let loose. She liked being with the common man. She was used to being with those described as rough around the edges, so even though she didn’t interact with any of them she felt at home with the pub’s patrons. 

It didn’t take long for Billie to start wallowing about Rebecca. This wasn’t her first foray into mean girl drama but it had been a long while since she’d had to deal with it. She hadn’t thought that it was something she’d have to worry about but now that she was in it she felt like a fool for thinking it wouldn’t happen. Gossip and drama were a part of life no matter where one went and Thorpe Abbotts was no different. Billie should have been more prepared. She used to have thicker skin than this.

But even if she’d been prepared she’d still have gotten hurt over things she couldn’t change. It was frustrating because Billie knew she didn’t have anything to apologize for, nothing to be ashamed about. If men could live their lives sexually free then she had every right to do the same. She knew her truth and so did those who’s opinion she actually cared about. In the grand scheme of things Rebecca’s opinion didn’t matter and Billie should let it roll off of her like water off a duck’s back. Still, Billie did her best to drink away her bad mood.

Luckily she’d been left alone over the course of the night. It was as if she was giving off the aura of someone who shouldn’t be messed with. Billie supposed that since she was almost always in a good mood her brief moments of melancholy carried more weight than normal. She wondered what Rosie would do when she inevitably got this way around him. How would he respond when she was practically vibrating with negative energy and became a miserable bitch? Billie knew the effect her rare bad moods could have on those closest to her and she wasn’t looking forward to testing it with Rosie. It was a good thing she’d gone to the pub to drown her sorrows. Hopefully she’d be able to work her anger and shame out of her system so she’d be back to normal by the next time she saw Rosie. 

Billie had been eyeing an arm wresting contest that had started across the room while absentmindedly carving a heart into the table with her pocket knife. The group of airmen looked like they were having the time of their lives, their enthusiasm taking off all the years stress had added to their faces. Arm wrestling had been one of the games they’d played as kids and Billie missed the thrill and feeling of slamming someone’s hand down. She loved games, she missed playing things. She set her knife down and rubbed her thumb over the finished carving, her nail catching on the corner and a splinter got caught under her nail. Billie hissed in pain but then managed to squeeze it out. This was justice coming for her for defacing the pub’s table. It was very on theme for how she was feeling. 

Billie looked up to take a drink of her almost empty pint and saw Crosby heading directly for her. She’d never seen him at the pub in all of her time on base and even though she’d never thought about it before she realized that she’d unconsciously assumed he hated the pub like Rosie. 

She waited until he came to stand right in front of her to greet him. “Good evening, Sir.” 

“Good evening. I’ve been watching you.” Crosby said. Billie made a face and he scrambled to say, “Wait, that sounds awful. I didn’t mean that in a creepy way.” 

Billie couldn’t help but laugh and gave a smile, “It’s okay, I get what you mean. What about it?’’

“It’s just that you seem upset and I wanted to see if you needed to talk about it.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Billie couldn’t help but be a bit defensive. She knew it was obvious but she was still sensitive.

“Judging by how many trips you took to the bar,” he nodded down at all of the empty glasses on her table. “It looks like you’re drinking for two.”

“If you want me to be embarrassed you’re shit out of luck.”

Crosby placed a glass of water in front of her then sat down in the seat across. Billie was annoyed, she felt like Crosby was babying her even though she knew he was just looking out for her. He was a good man she was grateful he had forgiven her after the blood drawing fiasco. Billie liked having him on her side even if it bothered her at times. She took a small sip of water and then went back to watching the arm contest over in the corner. 

“I can tell you want to go over there.” Crosby observed.

“Is it that obvious?” Billie asked. 

"A little. It’s all the staring.” Billie must have made some sort of face again because he reassured her by saying “It’s only because I was keeping an eye on you that I noticed.” He hesitated as if debating whether or not he should say something. “You seem more down than usual. And I’ve never seen you alone before without all your girls. Did something happen?”  

Billie finished off her drink and gave a little shrug as she put the empty glass on the table with all the rest. She really didn’t want to answer Crosby’s question. A part of her thought that Crosby would actually be a good person to confide in since he’d probably respond well and give her some sort of advice, but everything was still too fresh. She couldn’t bare to talk about her embarrassment. Her self loathing was suffocating. 

“Do you think I could win?” Billie nodded in the direction of the men arm wrestling.

“You want to go over and get in on it?” Crosby asked.

“Come on, tell me you don’t think I can. Give me a reason to prove you wrong.” It was the liveliest she’d been all night.

“Why do I feel like you somehow hustled me into coming over just so I could bet that you can’t beat someone in an arm wrestling contest?” Crosby said with a groan.

“I wish I could say I was that skilled. But what do you say? You think I should go for it?”  

“You’re drunk is what I think.” He snarked.

“Do I seem drunk to you?” Billie asked. Besides her face getting flushed she was good at holding her drink. Normally she could be well beyond drunk and still act as if she was stone cold sober. But she wasn’t herself tonight and she wondered if she was off her game. 

“No, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t. Looks can be deceiving.” he sighed. “But yes, I think you could beat someone. I don’t know if any of them are that someone but I know you’re going to try.” 

“You’re a smart man, Crosby. I get why they promoted you.” 

Mind made up that she was going to get in on the action she stood up from the table with such force she bumped the table causing the glasses to clang together. 

“Easy now.” Crosby was startled by Billie’s sudden movement and moved to steady the glasses. 

“You want to come watch?” She was on the move before he could answer. 

As she got closer she realized that she didn’t recognize any of the airmen in the group but that wasn’t unusual. Like others on base she hadn’t been as good at keeping up with the new recruits as the original crews. Still, she marched forward smiling as if she knew them already and didn’t bother introducing herself. 

“Evening gentlemen. Can I have the next round?” She asked.

“Yeah, we’ll have a couple of lagers.” The man who just won said with a smile to all his friends. 

“No, I meant the game.” Billie pointed at the empty space between the men. 

All of them looked at her confused. The one who just lost asked, “You want to arm wrestle us?” 

“Not all of you, just whoever’s next. Normal rules, come on now.” She snapped her fingers at them to keep up.

“Look, ma’am. This sort of thing isn’t really for ladies.”

“Ladies can’t be strong?” she cocked an eyebrow and stared them down. 

The one across from her visibly swallowed then saw something just over Billie’s shoulder and he sat up straighter. 

“Why don’t you humor her?” Crosby asked from behind Billie, but it carried the weight of an order. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Now she felt bad for trying to have some fun. She didn’t want to get rank involved. 

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” The airman said and Billie had to admit she appreciated the gesture. The guy meant well. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know what Billie could handle. 

“Oh you’re so sweet to be worried about me.” she put her hand over her heart. “But you don’t have to. It’s just been a while since I’ve arm wrestled. My brother and I used to all the time.

“I won’t take it easy on you like your brother, ma’am.”

“I’d be insulted if you did.” She shooed one of the guys out of their seat and plopped down. She stuck her arm out. “Are you going to let me have my fun or not?” 

Billie won the first round easily. It was clear her opponent had completely misjudged her. Billie couldn’t help but love when men did that. 

“I thought you said you weren’t going to go easy on her?” one his friends teased him. And Billie wanted to echo the question but figured it was best to chill on the table talk. 

Her challenger was frustrated. He stuck his arm out to go again and Billie obliged. He was certainly trying harder but it didn’t take long for Billie to gain momentum. The guy’s face flushed, his whole face and neck red as he struggled to move her arm. Billie would be worried about him causing trouble but with Crosby behind her she knew she was safe. She was vaguely aware of more people around them but it wasn’t enough that she was worried about seriously wounding this guy’s pride. Her arm was beginning to hurt but Billie knew it was a level  of pain she could push through for a while even though she’d be feeling the affects for far longer.

The man fell back into his chair in shock when Billie won the second round. He was still bright red and Billie couldn’t help it this time and laughed at the teasing his friends were doing. This was the sort of fun she didn’t know she needed to cheer herself up. Crosby didn’t join in on the teasing but smiled in amusement at Billie’s antics; he was relieved that Billie was starting to act like herself again.

“One more.” The airman looked determined like some little toddler trying their hardest to do something for the first time. 

He was a young thing Billie realized, probably around her brother’s age and her heart throbbed at the thought. Billie wanted to squeeze his cheeks and and lecture him about one thing or another like she would with Eddie. The next best thing would be knocking him down a peg and reminding him women weren’t to be judged so easy. She grabbed his hand and situated herself for another round. 

While he made a good attempt Billie still had him knocked down in under a minute. He looked completely stunned after being bested. Billie held her breath for how he was going to respond since it looked like he could start yelling and causing trouble. One never did know with these military men. But then he just barked out a loud laugh, one that was joined by Billie and all of his friends. Billie got out of her chair and thanked him for humoring her. 

“It was my pleasure. It was nice to be reminded about the dangers of expectations.” He suck his hand out. “We never got around to introductions, sorry for being rude. Lieutenant Miller, ma’am.”

Billie shook his hand. “Please, just call me Billie. I can’t stand all of this formal stuff.” Billie waved her hand dismissively. “Anyways, thank you for giving me a little taste of the home front.” Billie gave a slight curtsy then turned to go back to her original table. 

She stopped before sitting down and put her hands on her hips while she inspected the table. The only glass with anything in it was the water that Crosby had brought her and that wouldn’t do. She stepped towards the bar but Crosby stopped her. 

“Do you really need another drink?” he asked.

“I’ll get a beer instead of whiskey, does that make you feel better?” She turned on her heels and stomped away before she could hear Crosby’s response. 

Billie wormed her way into the mess of people crowded around the bar. As soon as she found a spot the person to her right left but before Billie could spread out the space was immediately filled. She took in the newcomer out of the corner of her eye. Judging from the uniform he was an RAF airman and Billie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. She’d heard enough stories about them messing with her guys that she couldn’t help but be annoyed by this guy on sight. 

Billie was really annoyed when the airman’s arm brushed against her boob as he reached out to grab the bowl of nuts in front of her. She had to lean back to give him more space. She was a bit grossed out but tried to not think much of it beyond being a drunk accident and lack of awareness. But then the man leaned into her space again as he talked to his friend. Billie had a bad feeling but she stayed where she was. 

She told the bartender what she wanted then started drumming her fingers on the bar top to distract herself. Suddenly Billie felt a hand start to go around her waist and she immediately stepped away out of reach.

“Hands to yourself!” Billie snapped. 

“Come on now, love. I’m just having a little fun is all. I saw you having fun over there with all those tossers, you can have a little fun with me.” He leaned into her space with his face close enough that Billie could smell how drunk he was. 

Billie hated that the beautiful accent was being ruined by words that made her want to gag. “I don’t want to have fun with you. And you can have fun without touching me.”

His hand went to her waist again but then went further.  He grabbed her ass and she roughly pushed his arm away. 

“Get off of me!” She was furious. She wanted to rip his arm off but she didn’t want to start any more trouble than was necessary. 

“Do I need to buy you a drink first? I thought you Americans had no problem jumping right to it." He was leering at her like something out of a nightmare.

“Just leave me alone.” Billie was annoyed no one around her was doing anything in her defense but she wasn’t that surprised. People often kept to themselves when things like this happened. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Crosby had left their table and was quickly coming towards her. He looked concerned and was staring down the man giving Billie a hard time.  

“Here ya go little lady.” The bartender placed a pint down in front of her and Billie felt like she could breathe again. Now she’d be able to get away from the creep and carry on with her night. She turned her back on him and took a step away from the bar to meet Crosby in the crowd and go back to their table. 

“Wait, where you going? You have a drink so now we can talk.” The man reached out and grabbed her with both hands around her waist. He pulled her backwards into him causing Billie to spill half of her drink onto the floor. Billie saw red and she almost threw the glass on the ground. 

She twisted to the right and swung her left hand around to punch him straight in the face. It was like she put all of her strength behind the punch because the guy immediately crumpled, his head hitting the top of the bar before he slumped to the ground. 

Billie felt like she was watching this all play out from an outsider’s perspective and she looked a disheveled mess standing over this guy with her fist clenched and breathing so hard her whole body was shaking. Everyone seemed to be frozen around her even though she knew people had to be reacting. She came back to herself and leaned over the man to put her drink back on the bar. He groaned but didn’t make any move to get up. 

“Sorry about that.” She apologized to the bartender who was looking at her in shock just like everyone else around her. Billie was mortified at the attention and turned to run out of the pub. 

Billie’s eyes began to sting as soon as her face hit the cool night air. She held back her tears long enough to dart around to the side of the pub and find a place in the shadows to lean against the wall. Billie was crying as soon as her back hit the bricks with a hand covering her mouth to keep from making a sound. She didn’t need any more attention on herself. She’d only just stopped shaking when she heard a group of men leaving and one of them saying something about “that bitch.”

“Yeah, but that bitch threw a mighty left hook.” Someone said.

They laughed and Billie took a step away from the sound. One split away from the group and started down the back alley towards Billie. In an instant Billie felt more sober than she’d ever been and again she stepped further back along the wall deeper into the shadows. He stopped a couple of feet from the front of the building and Billie heard him unzip his pants. She turned away and clamped her hand tighter over her mouth to keep back her nervous laughter as he took a piss. Billie stayed frozen against the wall as the man finished and returned to his group. Her breaths were slow to steady but eventually evened out as the voices faded and once they disappeared she dropped her hand from her mouth to study it. 

She couldn’t see much with the miserable lighting in the back alley but she could tell she was bleeding. Her hand was throbbing in time with her still racing heart. With her knuckles a couple of inches from her face she noted that it wasn’t that serious of a thing despite what the amount of blood would imply. She’d probably caught the corner of one of his teeth since she did come at him from a bit of an angle. The memory of her closest friend Charles warning her of this very thing when he first taught her to throw a punch floated through her mind and she couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out from her dry lips. Charles would be so frustrated with her but she knew that after pulling her into a headlock he’d whisper that he was proud of her and compliment her form. With how quickly the asshole had gone down she knew that she’d had the form worth complimenting.

Billie went to wipe off some of the blood on her skirt but stopped herself. She could stain her skirt and she didn’t want to deal with the hassle of getting the bloodstains out. She slumped back against the wall of the pub and leaned her head back so she could stare up at the stars. Billie felt woozy and a little nauseous so she crouched down on the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. She waved her injured hand hang gently in the air so the breeze could help dry the blood and she could go back to using her hand freely again. Once the blood was dry she’d start the long trip home. There was no way she was going to be able to ride her bike being so drunk so she was going to have to walk it. Once again Billie was regretting her choices of the night. 

Billie looked back up at the stars and thought about how exhausted she was. It wouldn’t take much for her to fall asleep right there. She felt like a wet rag being rung out after having felt practically every emotion throughout the course of the day. But despite the high of Rosie returning safely the devastating blow of Rebecca’s remarks weighed Billie down. Even though she wasn’t ashamed of how she’d responded to the RAF creep she felt like she’d somehow proved Rebecca right and she hated it. Billie felt like she was going to cry again and put her hands over her eyes as if she could physically keep the tears from coming out. 

“Nurse James? Billie, you back there?” 

A voice came from the other end of the alley by the front of the pub. Billie wiped at her eyes as she stood up and squinted at the figure coming closer to her. It was Crosby. 

“I figured you might want this.” He was holding out a makeshift ice pack and Billie was touched at his gesture. 

“Thank you. Yeah, this will really help.” She shuddered when she put the icepack on her knuckles but pushed through the slight discomfort. Soon she felt nothing but relief. 

“I settled up for you inside. Can I walk you back to your quarters?” Crosby asked. 

Billie must have given him some sort of look because he was quick to add, “It’s just that I don’t think Rosie would forgive me if I let you walk home alone.” he cleared his throat. “Especially after what just happened.” 

“You don’t need to do that.” 

“I know, but I’m going to do it anyways. Look at it this way, I’d do this to any of my friends who drank almost an entire bottle of whiskey on their own over the night.” he reasoned. 

Billie figured she couldn’t argue her way out of it so she simply shrugged with acceptance. “Guess we best be off then.” 

“After you.” Crosby stepped aside and gestured with his hand that Billie should lead the way. Billie stumbled with the first step she took and Crosby rushed forward to help her. 

“I’m okay.” Billie reassured him as she straightened up. 

She grabbed the icepack from where she’d dropped it on the ground and looked at how the rag was now covered in dirt. It was essentially useless now that she couldn’t put it back on her open wound. So much for nice things. Billie took a deep breath before starting to walk again, quickly coming to Crosby’s side and matching his pace. Once they were walking with their bikes she realized just how drunk she was and she was suddenly more grateful than annoyed that Crosby wanted to walk her home. 

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Billie could tell that she was slightly swaying and was grateful Crosby wasn’t treating her more like a kid who couldn’t handle their drink and simply gave her the space to stumble along. It helped having the bike to keep her steady.

“How do you think you’re going to tell Rosie about this one?” Crosby asked interrupting the silence. 

“Oh, I’m not going to tell Rosie.” Billie said bluntly.

“What do you mean? You have to tell him.” Crosby was confused. 

“No I don’t. And neither do you. You can keep this quiet can’t you? Please?” Billie didn’t want to resort to begging but more so she didn’t want news of the night to get back to Rosie. So she’d beg if she must.

“Do you really think that you can keep him from finding out? I wasn’t the only witness in there. It’ll be the talk all around the breakfast tables tomorrow.” 

Billie groaned, “But I can still try.” She kicked a rock as she pouted like a kid. “I can’t even think about talking to Rosie until I’ve sobered up.” 

As if on cue Billie felt like she was going to throw up and stumbled off to the side of the gravel path leaving a startled Crosby and her bike behind. She hunched over and started dry heaving, only vaguely aware of Crosby coming up behind her pressing his hand gently on her back. She spat then coughed. 

“Are you okay?” Crosby asked. 

“I’m not going to let myself throw up if that’s what you’re asking.” Billie said then spat again.

“You say that as if you can will yourself not to be sick. If that was possible I would know, trust me.” He thought for a moment. “Is that really something you can do? A circus thing? You have to teach me if it is.” 

Billie laughed. “No, that’s not one of my special skills. It’s mostly hope and drunk confidence that I can keep it all down. I hate having to be sick in public.” 

“Something you’re familiar with?” 

“I don’t like the judgement in your tone.” Billie snipped and stood up. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and then gave a smile to Crosby. “But yes, that’s something I’m familiar with.” 

“Here.” Crosby handed Billie a mint. “They help me, maybe they’ll do something for you too.” 

Billie took the mint, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. “Thanks.” 

They started back up again, though a bit slower this time. They had just entered the base’s bounds when Billie broke the comfortable silence that had fallen back over them. 

“What were you even doing slumming it at the pub tonight with the rest of us? Normally you stick to the officer’s club like Rosie.” She waved around her injured hand and said, “The pub’s drunken debauchery isn’t really your style.” She had meant to ask earlier in the night but had forgotten in the midst of everything. 

“I don’t hate it, it just gives me a headache.” he answered. 

“Semantics.” Billie wanted an answer. 

“I made a promise to some of the new guys.” Crosby’s response didn’t tell Billie anything but she figured it was best to accept his simple explanation. She was the dangerous combination of wasted and nosy but she held herself back.

“I’m trying to work on the whole bonding thing.” Crosby elaborated while making a pained face that made Billie laugh. 

“You’re really suffering, aren’t you?” 

Crosby brushed off her teasing with an eye roll but then turned serious. “I know it’s hard but I’m trying to take a page out of the Majors’ book.” he shrugged. “As much as I don’t want to get close to them it’s important for me to be familiar. I have to do what I can to take care of them, they’re my responsibility. And sometimes taking care of them means suffering a night in the pub.” 

“You almost sounded like Buck there at the end, complaining about Bucky.” 

Crosby chuckled. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He shook his head as he thought back on the Majors. “None of us will ever be able to do what they did.” 

“But you can do things your way.” Billie encouraged. She leaned over and elbowed Crosby’s arm harder than she intended causing him to stumble slightly.��

“I’m certainly trying.” Crosby answered as he righted himself. 

“You know, I think trying is one of the most admirable things someone could ever do.” Billie said. “So many people know they should do something but they’re too scared to make themselves do it. So many people can’t act! Life is all about momentum. You know, it’s like back when I was first learning the trapeze and I would get frozen up on the platform. I would be paralyzed up there staring down at the people who looked like ants and I couldn’t do anything! I could never just start right away even though I knew it would be for the best. That was the hardest habit for me to shake off. My dad used to get so mad at me.” she trailed off with a laugh.

Billie suddenly stopped in her tracks and pointed a finger at Crosby who was looking back very confused at her drunk rambling. She wasn’t sure if she was going to make sense but she continued, “Once you get moving it’s easier to keep moving. And it’s easier to start back up than starting from scratch. Starting is the hard part and you’ve already done that! Now you’re in the thick of it doing the necessary thing which is something to be proud of.” 

“Thank you… I think?” 

“You’re welcome.” She clapped her hand on his back. “Your men are lucky to have you watching over them. You make a difference.” She really hoped he knew how serious she was. Crosby wasn’t the type to easily accept a compliment.

Crosby went to answer but was cut off by a loud laugh coming from behind the building directly to their left. A moment later and a group of airmen came around the corner heading in their direction. As if by some sort of magnetism Billie’s eyes immediately went to Rosie in the back who was laughing with Pappy beside him. Of course it would be Rosie. She really hadn’t wanted him to see her in this state but there was no avoiding it now.

“How’s that plan of keeping the whole thing from Rosie going?” Crosby seemed to have noticed Rosie too, much to Billie’s dismay.

“Sometimes I really can’t stand you, Croz.” 

Crosby let out a laugh, taken aback but amused by Billie’s response. And as was her luck of the night Crosby’s laughter had drawn Rosie’s attention. 

“That you, Harry?” Rosie broke from the pack and jogged ahead of them to reach the pair quicker. His face brightened when he realized Billie was next to Crosby and Billie felt her heart up in her throat as she received Rosie’s full attention. Somehow she was feeling both incredibly sober and like she’d just taken another chug of whiskey at the same time. Billie didn’t think she’d ever be able to make sense of the way Rosie made her feel. She swallowed nervously but smiled back and did a little wave. 

“Good evening, you two.” Rosie didn’t stop as he came up to them. Instead he pulled Billie into his arms and swung her around to start dancing along to whatever song was in his head. Billie couldn’t help but laugh delightedly as she easily fell in step alongside Rosie. She could barely feel her hand throbbing with Rosie’s holding it. Crosby watched with a smile as the pair danced without noticing the group of airmen having to go out of their way to avoid the two.

“You’ve had a quite a bit to drink haven’t you?” Billie teased Rosie when they came to a stop and she leaned into his side to rest her head briefly on his shoulder. 

“I could say the same about you my dear.” Rosie wrapped his arm around Billie to keep her steady against him. He turned his attention to Crosby standing near their bikes. 

“What’s with the ice pack?” Rosie was looking at the ice pack Crosby was still holding after picking it up when Billie was almost sick. Billie had forgotten all about it. “What happened?” 

“It’s not mine.” Crosby said and Billie bit her tongue to hold back a groan of frustration at his honesty. 

Rosie looked her up and down and Billie shifted, for once uncomfortable with Rosie’s full attention on her. Without really thinking about it she moved her injured left hand behind her back, but she hadn’t realized that Rosie would feel her arm move since it was the one next to his side. He didn’t miss a thing and immediately moved to grab her arm and pull it out from behind her back. 

“What happened?” Rosie asked, his tone no longer light and joking. He’d traced his way down her arm and was gently cradling her hand in his, the thumbs ghosting over the dried blood. 

“This, oh it’s nothing.” Billie pulled her hand away from Rosie’s while taking a small step back. She hid her hand behind her back again. Maybe if she kept it out of sight Rosie would stay calm. She started shifting her weight side to side, swaying nervously. 

“It’s something worth an ice pack.”

“It’s been a long night, Rosie, we don’t need to get into it.” 

“I’m going to ask again and I’d really appreciate if you told me yourself. What happened?” Rosie’s tone had shifted into something so serious Billie stopped moving. Now wasn’t the time to play around. 

“It was just a misunderstanding.” Still, Billie really didn’t want to get into it. Her worst fear was that Rosie would look at her different if he knew she started trouble even if she all she did was defend herself. She didn’t want to find out if he thought of her in the same way Rebecca did. She didn’t think her heart could handle that kind of hurt after the night she’d had. 

“Why are you defending that guy?” Crosby asked Billie. 

“Harry, leave it.” Billie snapped. 

“No, Harry, go on. What do you mean? What guy?” Rosie asked, getting heated.

“Not one of ours. One of the RAF guys took an interest in Billie and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Crosby explained while ignoring the killer look Billie was shooting at him. 

“So you said no in a way he’d understand you?” Rosie directed his question at Billie, inferring the rest of the story.

“I’m not going to apologize.” Billie crossed her arms defensively with a huff. She was still terrified of him treating her different but she wasn’t one to be ashamed of defending herself. 

“I didn’t say you needed to.” Rosie looked at Crosby. “Do you think you could recognize him if you saw him again?”

“Rosie, honey, leave it alone.” She grabbed his chin and pulled his face back to face hers. 

“I’m not going to leave it alone!” Rosie’s voice echoed loud around them and Billie was proud of herself for not flinching at the sudden increase in volume. 

Billie had never seen Rosie this worked up. Now that he’d been by her side for a while Billie realized that he’d had more to drink than he originally let on. He was more drunk than he’d ever been around her before. To be fair, this was the most drunk she’d ever been around him too. A part of her was beyond pleased that he was so upset on her behalf but the rest of her didn’t think she was worth all the fuss. 

“It’s okay, I took care of it. He’s not going to do it again, I’m fine. It’s not worth getting worked up over.” Again she tried to reassure him.

“But you shouldn’t have to take care of whatever it is.” he said with a frown, voice back to a respectable volume. He reached a hand out and cradled the side of her face. She couldn’t help but lean into the palm of his hand. He let out a sigh.“You’re always taking care of it by yourself when I want to be the one taking care of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you to protect you. You deserve that at the very least and I failed you.”

“You’re just drunk talking sweet, come on. You have nothing to apologize for, really, Rosie.” Billie reassured him with a smile as she wrapped her hand around Rosie’s wrist.  

“I know you know I’m serious.” He dropped his hand from her face. “You shouldn’t have to fight battles all on your own.” Rosie studied her for a moment. “Life hasn’t been kind to you but that doesn’t mean it’s always going to this way.” His voice lowered to a whisper and Billie felt a stirring deep within her. “I could give you what you deserve.”

Billie didn’t know what to say to Rosie’s confession, his words weighed heavy on her chest making it hard to take a breath. She was too drunk, Rosie was too drunk, for them to be having a conversation like this. She cleared her throat and looked around suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of looking at Rosie. If she looked at him she was sure she’d burst into tears. He was just too much and she was too emotionally unstable to handle his sincerity. She needed to find a distraction. She saw her bike standing alone with no Crosby in sight. 

“Looks like we’ve been abandoned.” She said. 

Rosie laughed lightly as he noted that Crosby had in fact vanished at some point while the two had been wrapped up in each other. He walked over to the bike and grabbed hold of the handles. He gestured his head in the direction of the Billie’s hut. “Ready to move?” 

Billie came to his side and they started down the path. They’d only gone a couple of yards when Rosie stopped. Billie looked at him, confused, but then Rosie stuck out his hand. Billie looked at it and debated with herself over whether or not she should take it. She hadn’t made her mind up but when Rosie started pulling his hand back Billie snatched it without a second thought. She was blushing like crazy but she refused to make eye contact with Rosie. She could picture his face perfectly and she preened inside at being able to put a smile on his face. She gave in and peeked to confirm what she’d assumed and was pleased to see Rosie was in fact smiling dopily ahead and blushing just as much as she was. 

Rosie pulled her along the path with one hand, the other controlling Billie’s bike. Billie was grateful no one was around because she loved the feeling of Rosie’s hand in hers a bit too much. They came upon a bench and Rosie leaned the bike against the back. 

He looked at her with a bashful smile, “Let’s sit for a bit.” 

Billie nodded in agreement and they settled onto the bench with Billie not fully pressed into Rosie’s side but certainly sitting closer than what was standard. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rosie asked.

“Harry already told you what happened.” Billie grumbled.

“That’s not what I meant.” Rosie reached out and brushed back a stray piece of Billie’s hair off her face. Chills rushed down Billie’s arms as his fingers gently traced the back of her ear. She ached for more of his touch as soon as his fingers left her skin.

“What did you mean then?” Once again Billie was pretty sure she knew what he meant but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. Knowing Rosie he picked up on the root of the problem and wanted to attack it head on. While she admired that about him it was frustrating being on the receiving end of his pointed observations. 

“I thought you wanted a quiet night.” He lifted her injured hand up and quickly kissed her knuckles. “This isn’t quiet.” 

Billie looked away from Rosie but didn’t pull her hand away. “I don’t know if I can talk about it quite yet.” She confessed while staring at how their fingers wrapped around each other. 

“Is it about Eddie?” 

Billie looked back up at Rosie. He’d always been so easy for her to read but now that he was drunk he was an open book. He was so worried for her it made Billie’s heart skip a beat. It was so sweet of him to ask about her brother first. Again she was struck with the thought that she didn’t deserve him.

She shook her head and answered, “No, it’s nothing to do with Eddie.” Billie sighed and said, “It’s embarrassing…” she trailed off with a weak chuckle. 

Billie ran her free hand through her hair and her fingers caught on a couple of knots but she forced them through. She ripped out a couple of strands and tossed them out onto the ground in front of their bench. Billie felt so childish, so petty complaining to Rosie about gossip. She didn’t want to ruin his opinion of anyone even if she thought they deserved it. She knew how well respected Rebecca was on base. Billie didn’t want anyone else to get involved. Christ, she didn’t even think she could talk to Barbara about what she’d overheard. 

Rosie’s thumb rubbed over the back of her hand and Billie was pulled back into the moment. She felt herself leaning further into Rosie’s side. She’d fantasized countless times about what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his arms but none of them came close to the real thing. 

“I said it before and I’ll say it again, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I hope you know I’m here for you. You can talk to me about anything. There is nothing embarrassing you could possibly say that would put me off.” He let go of her hand and reached a finger out to playfully tap the tip of Billie’s nose. “Did I ever tell you about when I met Majors Egan and Cleven?” 

Billie shook her head. “I don’t think so, no.”

Rosie was blushing fiercely but smiled as he said, “Let’s just say talking about flying in your skivvies doesn’t make the best first impression.” 

Billie threw her head back and cackled. “You’re not serious!” 

“I wish I could say I was joking.”

The sound of footsteps on the gravel and laughter behind them interrupted Billie asking for the whole story. Rosie straightened up and pulled away from Billie to give more than the illusion of a respectable distance between them. Billie hated how sick the sudden distance made her feel. She wanted him back. She felt weightless without his arm around her but for the first time in her life she hated the feeling. She needed grounding.

The pair were quiet while the group of airmen walked behind them and their banter did little to fill the space between Billie and Rosie. Billie suddenly realized Rosie had listened to what she’d said all those hours ago. He was respecting her wishes and letting her set the pace. It felt like it had been an entire lifetime since she’d shied away from his advance. But the more she thought about it the more Billie found herself opposing her original stance. She’d already proved Rebecca right that night so Billie figured she might as well go all in on bringing the gossip to life. 

People were still walking behind them, an unknown number of witnesses but Billie mentally pushed them aside and leaned back into Rosie’s side to close the distance he’d created. An unspoken gesture of consent; the invitation he said he would wait for. His arm immediately wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her until two were pressed tighter together than they’d been before. Billie couldn��t help but giggle as she settled into her new position practically on top of Rosie’s lap. She couldn’t bare to move. He pressed a kiss onto the top of her forehead and Billie barely held back a whimper. It was such a soft sweet thing but she couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed her forehead. Her stomach flipped as she followed the train of thought and realized, not for the first time, that no one had ever treated her with the reverence Rosie seemed to hold for her. 

She stretched her neck to look up at Rosie through her eyelashes. He looked as drunk as Billie felt and Billie knew with every fiber in her being that Rosie wouldn’t kiss her unless she initiated it. Even though his dilated eyes kept darting from hers to her lips. Just like she could only pull herself away from thinking about what his mustache would feel like against her skin to stare back into his blue eyes. Billie felt ridiculous but nothing felt as right to her as looking at Rosie up close like this. She wanted to look at him for the rest of her life. Without another thought Billie stretched her neck and pressed her lips to his. 

Rosie was slow to respond and Billie was desperate for more. She pulled back the slightest bit and parted her lips. The beginning of saying something, she didn’t know what, was on the tip of her tongue but Rosie stopped her from apologizing or begging for more by closing the distance with a passion that Billie hadn’t been expecting. It was quick to get heavy between them with tongues and hands and Billie felt like she was flying. Rosie’s hands went to her hair and Billie couldn’t help but gasp. The sound seemed to spur Rosie on and his hands moved to cradle her face, keeping her in place while he took what he wanted and what she eagerly gave. Billie had never had this much fun with just kissing. But then he suddenly broke away and dropped his hands as if they were burning. Billie sucked in a deep breath as she struggled to steady her breathing. Her head felt like it weight ten more pounds without Rosie’s hands there to steady her. 

“We need to stop, I don’t want to rush this,” he said seeming to be as out of sorts as she was if his breathing was anything to go by. “I want to savor you.” 

“But I’m having too much fun.” she pouted. Billie knew she was being confusing going back and forth with what she was comfortable with and Rosie deserved better than her instability. But she was too drunk to try and lie to Rosie. Besides, she didn’t like lying to Rosie. 

She didn’t want more than necking in public right now, she didn’t even know if Rosie could handle more than that, but she wanted to keep going. It had been ages since she’d kissed anyone and she’d forgotten just how much she liked it. There was such a lovely intimacy to a good kiss. The real issue was now she knew what it was like to kiss someone she had proper feelings for. Billie had never kissed anyone like Rosie and she wasn’t sure if anyone would be able to live up to him. It was all so ridiculous because in some ways the kiss had been such a mild thing and yet it was the most life changing kiss Billie had ever had. She was on a high like no other and she didn’t want to stop. But she was weak willed when it came to Rosie and she’d do whatever he asked of her.  “This is the opposite of taking things slow. Besides you deserve better than a moonlight tryst outside where anyone can see.” He started brushing her hair back, trying to undo the mess he’d made. 

“I really don’t have it in me to care right now.” She confessed and leaned her head down on his chest. 

“Well that’s very progressive of you.”

She pulled back and studied Rosie. “Are you worried about my honor?” She phrased it as a question but in Billie’s heart it was a statement. She didn’t know how but there were times when she could just tell what he was thinking and this was one of them. 

“Well you said you wanted respectable and I’m trying my hardest over here but you’re making it hard looking at me like that.” His voice dropped, “You’re absolutely beautiful. I hope you’ve been told that a lot over your life because it’s true.” he said almost to himself as if he didn’t realize he was talking out loud. He traced a finger along her jaw and started to go up to her lips but then he dropped his hand. 

Billie had the sudden realization that Rosie probably thought she was a virgin. He probably thought that when she said she was inexperienced he’d assumed in every way. It seemed he hadn’t let any rumors or assumptions get to him. She felt like she owed it to him to be upfront with where she was really at. She was terrified of what he was going to think of her, if he was going to cut things off. It would be the hardest thing to recover from if Rosie broke her heart. 

She took a deep breath and said, “I’ve never been with a man.” 

“I know, you said that earlier.” 

“Romantically. I haven’t been with a man romantically. But I have physically.” Rosie’s face was blank and Billie was quick to continue, “See, I’ve never dated anyone. I’ve never… I’ve never been serious about someone. And no one has ever been serious about me.” She looked at their hands. “I’ve done things I shouldn’t be proud of but the thing is… I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t made those choices.” And that was a truth Billie wasn’t proud of. So much of her self worth had been built off her body; being approved of sexually was just as formative for her confidence as was meeting her father’s expectations for performing. 

Rosie didn’t say anything and Billie was too scared to look at him to see how he was feeling. If she read his face and saw any sort of disapproval or disappointment she didn’t think her heart would survive. “Does that surprise you?” she asked while running her thumb over the back of Rosie’s hand. 

Rosie shook his head. “Honestly, nothing about you surprises me.” 

Billie didn’t know how to take that and she said as such. She didn’t dare look at him. Rosie was quiet again as he thought about how to explain himself. He started playing with her hair and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch like some sort of animal getting pet. She held back voicing her desire for him to tug just a bit harder knowing it would lead to things getting carried away again. 

“You come across someone who has this distinctively unique life experience. It’s just as you said, you wouldn’t be who you are if you hadn’t made those choices. And who am I to judge you for those choices? You shouldn’t feel like you have to apologize for living your life. You are who you are and I happen to like who you are.” 

“That’s funny because I feel like I’ve barely lived a life at all.” Billie said with a disgruntled chuckle still refusing to look at Rosie. She didn't want to acknowledge his confession of feelings, she was blushing too hard to speak on it.

“Well whatever life it was, I’m glad it brought you to me.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of Billie’s head. 

“You can’t just say things like that.” She finally looked up at Rosie who was looking back confused. 

“What did I say?” he asked.

“It’s like you’re straight out of my dreams. You’re too good to be true.” Billie said breathlessly. 

She was getting sidetracked by some of Rosie’s curls peeking out from under his hat. Billie wanted a turn with her hands in his hair. She raised her hand without thinking about it but let it hover by the side of Rosie’s face as she debated whether or not she should start something. She wanted to but she didn’t know if she should. Billie thought back to what she was talking to Crosby about, momentum. She dropped her hand. 

“And you call me the sweet talker.” Rosie caught her hand as it fell and brought it up to his lips. She loved when he did that, it made her feel like the respectable lady she'd been told her whole life she wasn't.

Billie blushed and curled in on Rosie to hide her face. She felt so safe being in Rosie’s arms she never wanted to leave. She shifted to wrap her arms around him as best she could and leaned her head on his chest as they held each other. His racing heartbeat seemed perfectly in time with her own. Billie really didn’t want anyone to see them wrapped up in each other but at the same time she didn’t have it in her to care one bit who saw them. Rebecca herself could come up in front of them and Billie wouldn’t be able to pull herself away. She just couldn’t resist Rosie. His arms tightened around her and Billie knew the feeling was mutual. 

#sorry this took forever to write ! hopefully the next bit won't take as long !! but i am the way i am so ?!! #masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfic #mota fanfiction #rosie rosenthal x oc #masters of the air oc #rosiegirlie writes