#between us chapter 32 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

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Remember You Even When I Don't (8)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.5K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: Please note the updated warnings. These next few chapters are a new stage of Bradley and Pumpkin growing back together, and while I'm very excited about it, I know it may not be for everyone. For everyone who sticks around, please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

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You’re working today. You hadn’t wanted to, but a local congresswoman you had requested an interview with months ago finally agreed to a conversation in her office, and Bradley wouldn’t let you pass it up. It was only for a few hours, but he finds himself missing you while you’re gone.

This is the first time he had really been alone in the house for a long period of time since he got back from the hospital a month ago, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had tried to read a book, or get lost in a movie, but nothing had really kept his attention. He was laying on the couch, the news on the tv in the background, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t fully dove into all that it contained, and he figured now was the time to do it, even if you weren’t here to answer any questions that he might have.

It’s interesting, seeing himself this way. Groupchats where he was an active participant, talking about parties or plans he has no recollection of, or discussing flight schedules for the week. He swaps Star Wars and Harry Potter trivia with Fanboy and gym regimes with Hangman and sends music back and forth with Coyote.

When he opens the text thread he has with you, the only one pinned to the top of his messages, his breath catches at the last message received.

I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.

It was sent the day of his accident, and he knew by the time stamp that it was sent after the crash. You must have texted that to him while you were waiting for news on his condition, and not for the first time, he feels both guilt and gratitude go through him; he’s so sorry that he’s hurt you like this, but he’s so glad he’s here now.

He scrolls for a while, reading you rambling to him about your work day and bouncing ideas for articles off of him, jumping from one topic to the next while you know he’s in the air or teaching a class so he doesn’t have his phone on him. Based on his responses that come later on, he knows he never minded the almost nonsensical messages. Even now, he finds it adorable and enjoys reading through them. There are conversations about dinner and what true crime documentary the two of you were going to watch that weekend.

There’s a little bit of everything in these messages between the two of you, but his brow furrows when he gets to a point about a week before his accident.

I’m on my way home, he had texted you, You better be ready for me, Pumpkin.

He scrolls further up, trying to find the beginning of the conversation that led to that, and he almost wishes he wouldn’t have.

You had texted him earlier that morning, when he barely must have left the house to go to base, a picture of you. There was a playful smirk on your lips, and you had what looked to be the cap from his formal dress whites perched crooked on your head. That in and of itself wasn’t what made his breath hitch, though. It was the fact that you were still in bed, your arm draped over your chest where he could see everything but everything, you hanging onto only a single shred of decency.

Fly well today, Lieutenant Commander.

It had descended into a day full of teasing from there, each message dirtier than the one before. Descriptions of what you wanted him to do to you and him warning you of what he would do when he got his hands on you. He feels flushed all over, but he keeps scrolling up. He bypasses recipes you wanted his opinion on and a reminder of what the Hulu password was, and eventually finds more pictures. Some are more risque than others, but all of them make him feel like the temperature in the room rose by multiple degrees.

There’s a tickle in his brain again, and he finds himself closing the messaging app and going to his photo albums. There’s a locked album there, and he knows, he just knows what it’s going to contain.

He shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t. It feels like a strange invasion of privacy. But he’s wracking his mind to try and remember what the code would be to get into it anyway, and he curses when he gets it wrong first once, then a second time. He enters your birthday on the third attempt and groans out loud when he’s immediately met with the filthiest images he’s ever seen.

It’s a whole gallery of you, or the two of you together, and Bradley can’t stop himself from looking. He bites his lip as he takes in the photos, his mind so overrun with thoughts of how fucking stunning you are that he can barely think straight at all.

He stops at one in particular, clicking to enlarge it, and loses all thoughts entirely. Neither of your faces are in it, but he doesn’t need to guess that it’s the two of you. You’re sitting back against his chest, his ankles hooked over your legs, forcing them wide for him. He can see your nails biting into his thighs, but it’s his own hand that draws his attention. With the hand that’s not taking the selfie style photo, his fingers are gliding through the wetness gathered between your legs. You shine against the dark wedding band on his left land, one that’s noticeably absent from his finger now. He’s practically panting as he stares.

He’s so hypnotized by the way the two of you look together that he doesn’t hear the garage door open or the sound of you walking into the house.

“Baby?”

Your voice makes him jump so high that his phone goes flying out of his hand, a curse leaving his lips. He scrambles to pick it up when he sees you reaching for it as well, and your eyebrows are raised high as you look at him in surprise.

“Hey,” his voice cracks, higher pitched than normal, and he blushes. Your eyebrows raise a little bit higher. “Hi, sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he nods, faking a cough so he could try to clear his throat, his face flushed. “Totally fine.”

It’s not difficult to see how skeptical you are, and it’s hard for him to maintain eye contact with you and not let his eyes flicker down your body now that he has an idea of what rests underneath the smart dress you wore.

You eye him suspiciously, “Are you sure?”

He contemplates for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this conversation, because the longer you looked at him like that the hotter he became under the collar. He took a deep breath, nodding again.

“I was looking at messages and pictures,” he says all in one breath, not liking the idea of completely lying to you. He rationalized that a different version of the truth was okay, even as the pictures flashed in his mind again. “Trying to see if anything jogged my memory.”

You search his eyes, and he tries his best to appear innocent, willing the hardening in his jeans to go down before you took notice. He suspected you already might have from the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Did it?”

If he thought hard enough he swore he could almost feel you. Your back against his chest, how soft your inner thighs left. How warm your wetness felt against his fingers as he took you to the edge.

“No,” he stutters out after a moment, shaking his head, his face burning, “nothing yet.”

________

He finds himself rubbing his thumb against the fading tan line on his left ring finger, something he had seen you do time and time again. He hadn’t really wondered up until this point where his ring was, but ever since he saw the picture with it so clearly against your skin, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He’s helping you in the kitchen a few days later, mesmerized as always by how efficient and easy you made everything look. You roll your eyes when he comments on it.

“It’s cookies, Bradley. Nothing fancy.”

“But they’re from scratch. The dough isn’t pre-made. That’s fancy!”

You laugh at him in response, shaking your head. You take the rings on your left hand off, sitting them beside the sink as you wash your hands before the two of you get started. It raises the subject back to the forefront of his mind. He had been desperate to ask you for the last few days, but hadn’t built up the courage to do it. But he can almost feel it on his finger now, can feel a ghost of your fingers as you slide it into place, and it’s suddenly more of a need to know.

“Can I uh…can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What happened to my wedding ring?”

You pause from where you’re cracking an egg into the mixing bowl, your eyebrows raised high. You set it down gently, turning to face him.

“Does it bother you…that I wear mine, still?”

“No!” he insists, hating even the idea of you taking it off. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I promise. We just have never acknowledged mine? I know that I wear one - I remember wearing one, and I’ve seen it in pictures, too.”

“You love your ring,” you tell him softly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you give him a small smile, though he can see the pain in your eyes, and shake your head.

“You don’t fly with it on,” you explain, “you tried, at first, but you had been flying so long without anything on your hands that you couldn’t get used to it being there when you were operating the controls.”

He thinks for a moment and the words come to him slowly. “You were the one who told me to start taking it off when I fly.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

Your lips quirk and you shrug. “I’m more worried about you flying safely than wearing your ring at all times. You keep it in one of the pockets of your flight suit when you go up in the air now.”

Of course you were more worried for him. He should have expected nothing less from you and the way you effortlessly care for him. He can also picture that, he thinks. It’s easy to imagine not wanting to be separated from the physical reminder that he belongs to you, so even if he couldn’t wear it, he’d at least have it on him, in the inner chest pocket right above his heart.

“So..” He doesn’t quite know how to ask his question, but you must read it on his face.

You twist your own ring on your finger in the way you always seemed to do to center yourself. Pain flashed across your face and Bradley knew you were remembering, too. “They uh..they had to cut your flight suit off, before you went into surgery. You weren’t breathing and were bleeding…” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the visual from your head. “But it was still in your pocket. So. I have it.”

He sets down the bag of chocolate chips he had been holding and walks the few steps to where you’re standing at the counter. When he holds his arms open, you don’t hesitate to step into them. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he breathes in your scent.

“I’m so sorry I put you through that,” he whispers into the strands of your hair, and he feels the way you squeeze him in response.

“You’re okay now,” you speak into his chest, and he thinks he might feel you press a kiss there, directly over the spot where that inner pocket of his flight suit would be, where he kept you when he had no other choice.

The two of you stand there wrapped up together for a long moment. When you lift your head, your eyes are glassy, but you give him a smile and a small kiss to his lips.

Later, after the cookies have been made and devoured, you join him on the back porch. You had taken to sitting on the swing together and when you sit beside him tonight, he sees you rolling something between your fingers. His breath catches when he sees exactly what it is. You’re staring at it too, your gaze intense and pondering. He doesn’t speak, not quite knowing what to say. Eventually, you break out of your haze and meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to put it back on,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him. His wedding band sits on your palm, shining against your skin. For a moment he sees you in white standing right in front of him, wildflowers in your hair.

His fingertips brush yours when he takes it from you, admiring the piece of jewelry he wasn’t aware that he missed until it was back in his possession.

“But it’s yours. I want - I want you to have it.”

He rolls it between his fingers, contemplating for a moment. He swallows, suddenly overcome with emotion he hadn’t seen coming and that tingling that’s starting to become familiar to him. You had picked it out yourself and he knows when he looks, he’ll see an engraving of your initials beside his. He was always so proud to be able to wear this, knowing that it symbolized being with you, a small way of telling anyone who saw it that he was lucky enough to be your husband.

But he wasn’t him - not yet, not completely. Everyday brought him closer to thinking that he could be, though.

“Pumpkin, I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and turning his head to meet your eyes. You didn’t look mad, or upset, and you’re giving him the gentlest, kindest look anyone ever had. But your eyes didn’t hold pity or sympathy either - just a trust and love that he’s still not sure what he could have ever done to deserve. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you never are-”

“I will be,” he cut you off; he wanted nothing more than to be ready. “I just…I still have something to prove to myself.”

You nod, and Bradley leans forward to kiss you softly. He leaves his forehead pressed against yours when he pulls away, relishing in the calm you brought him.

“I’ll get there,” he says, “I promise.”

—------

He’s spent time alone, but he hasn’t spent time away from you with other people. He’s hesitant to accept the invite from Mav to visit the hanger he had here. But planes and his godfather had been a staple of Bradley’s childhood, an influence on his whole life, really. He had been cleared to drive earlier in the week, so that Saturday, he leaves early. He’s anxious at the thought of being away from you but he knows that the him from before wouldn’t have said no to the invitation and he was so determined to get back to who that was. And he knows that you have a life outside of taking care of him, too. You’re getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife later and he knows you’re excited, even if you hung onto him a little bit longer than a normal hug when he said goodbye. You had made him promise that he would call you if he needed anything and the whole way to the desert, his fingers twitched, wanting to call you just to hear your voice.

Mav greets him with a large smile and a tight hug, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” Bradley says. He means it, even if he does miss you already. He looks around the hanger, taking note of the few planes and motorcycles throughout the long stretch. It was a lot more than the collection he had when Bradley was 17. “What are we working on today?”

Mav gives him his signature grin. “I want to show you something.”

He follows him to the end of the hanger, where a large blue tarp is covering what can’t be anything but a plane. His godfather gestures to it. Bradley raises an eyebrow but walks up to it, grabbing hold of the tarp and yanking it back. Like he suspected, he’s greeted by a Cessna. It’s a classic 172 by the looks of it, a smaller four seater. It’s a sleek white in color with subtle burnt orange line work. Bradley whistles. It was beautiful in a way that only planes like this could be.

“When’d you get this one?”

Mav smirks, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Take a look at the other side.” He nods his head, urging Bradley forward. Confused and intrigued, he follows the instructions, walking around to the other side of the small plane. He gets what Mav was saying, then, and sucks in a breath. Right there emblazoned on the side, in an elegant script, was Pumpkin.

This wasn’t Mav’s plane; it was his.

“You got her about six months ago,” he says softly when he joins him at his side.

Bradley reaches up and runs his fingers over the name. It’s foggy, but he thinks he can remember now. He had always wanted to own his own plane since the first time his godfather took him up in one at 6 years old. It was always a pipedream, though. He was never in one place for long enough, and while he was generally good with saving money, it was a bigger purchase than he had ever made. But then the two of you got married and a permanent station here in California. Between both of your savings and what he still had of his parents life insurance, the funds were there. It was you who had made the suggestion of finally pulling the trigger, and it was him who had suggested a four seater instead of a two seater so that if the two of you ever had children, you could all fly together. You cried when he showed you the name he had painted on it.

“Still needs some work done before she’s flyable. I thought maybe you’d want to work on it today.”

An eager smile appears on his face and he nods, already peeling his jacket off and heading toward the toolbox. If Mav noticed that he didn’t need to instruct him on where it was, he didn’t comment on it.

The two work in tandem for hours. It had only been six weeks since his accident, but he couldn’t recall a time since flight school that he had gone this long without being near a plane and it felt good doing so again. It’s easy, getting into the rhythm of twisting bolts and tinkering with the engine wires. He thinks it won’t be long until he can get this cleared to go in the air and he knows without a doubt that you’re going to be the first passenger.

His phone buzzes in the early afternoon and he doesn’t hesitate to put down the wrench he was working with and dig it out of his jeans pocket. You had sent him a selfie earlier when you had gotten to brunch, sunglasses on and a bright smile on your face with a mimosa in your hand, and he hoped it was another picture. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s Phoenix calling him, instead. He picks up, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Nat?”

“Your wife got stung by a bee. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

He can feel the dread as it settles over him. His heart beats faster in his chest. “What?”

She sighs on the other line, and he can hear commotion in the background. “She’s severely allergic, Rooster. We sat outside at brunch and we didn’t even realize it happened at first. She didn’t have her epipen on her so we had to call an ambulance. She’s going to be fine, but you should get here anyway, okay?”

He feels like he can barely breathe, like the room is closing in on him a little bit. Mav must notice the panic written all over him because he’s quick to come over and take the phone out of his hand, taking over the conversation. He can barely hear him over the roaring in his head. You were hurt. He knew you were extremely allergic to bees. That was something he had remembered. You were supposed to carry an epipen on you at all times. He can’t remember if you’d ever gotten stung when he was there. He can’t remember how bad it got if you ever were. But now you were in the back of an ambulance and on your way to a hospital and he could feel his fear all the way down to his bones.

“Bradley, hey. Look at me.”

Mav is in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders. He meets his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can see is you, struggling to catch a breath and being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

“I’ll drive, okay? Let’s go.”

He follows him to the car, not really calculating anything other than the fact that he was almost an hour away from you and what if there was traffic and why didn’t you have your epipen on you?

“She’s going to be okay.”

“But-”

“Phoenix said the paramedics administered epi as soon as they arrived, and it didn’t take them long to get to her. She was awake and was already breathing easier when they left for the hospital. Didn’t even need to use the sirens.”

That doesn’t make him feel better. Not really. Knowing that trained professionals weren’t panicking must have meant that you were okay, but he knows how serious anaphylaxis is, too.

He can’t reconcile everything that he’s feeling right now. He has never, ever felt like this before. The thought of something happening to you is scarier than any mission he had ever been on, any enemy he had encountered in the air.

“Mav I can’t - I can’t lose her. I just got her.”

“You aren’t going to.”

Bradley doesn’t say anything, can’t think of a single thing to say, and instead buries his head in his hands from his spot in the passenger seat. You were going to be okay. You had to be okay. Because he may not remember everything about the two of you, but he did know for certain that if something ever happened to you, he would never, ever recover from it.

He doesn’t wait for Mav once they get to the hospital, the older man opting to drop him off at the front before going to find parking. He’s practically sprinting as he goes through the emergency room doors and vaguely, he remembers you telling him about the time this happened before, when you took yourself to the hospital and ended up needing surgery. He can almost feel that panic now, and it makes what he’s already feeling worse.

“Can I help-“

“I’m looking for my wife. She was brought in because of a bee sting-“

“Sir-“

“She’s really allergic and-“

“Sir!” The nurse behind the counter snaps, raising her voice over his to get through to him. “I need your wife’s name if I’m going to find her for you.”

Oh. Yes, he thinks, your name. They need your name.

It’s the first time he’s said your full name, and your first and his last name feel so right coming off his tongue. But he can’t focus on that right now, giving all of his attention to the nurse who is typing so slowly.

Before she can even hit enter, though, he hears his callsign echo behind him. He spins, heart racing with anxiety, and spots Nat making her way over to him. She gives the annoyed nurse a kind, charming smile as she grabs Bradley by the arm

“Sorry about him, ma’am. I got him from here.”

She pulls him away without another word, heading toward the hallway off the packed waiting room.

“Is she okay? Nat, is-“

“She’s fine, Rooster. Coming down from the adrenaline rush that the epinephrine gave her, but she’ll be okay.”

“What about-“

Nat stops in front of a closed door, lowering her voice. “Bradley. She’s okay.”

He’s pushing past her before she even finishes, spotting you on the bed through the glass and half drawn curtain. You look so small amongst the crinkly white sheets, still in the clothes you wore to brunch. Your makeup is a bit smudged and your eyes are red and he hates to think that you were scared enough to start crying. You’re holding an oxygen mask in your hand at your side.

“Hi baby.” Even your voice sounds more pitched. He’s quick to make it to your side.

Your breathing is slightly elevated, and the heart monitor is beating a little bit faster than he thinks is normal. He grabs the hand holding the mask, placing it over your mouth to start providing you with the supplemental air again. You make a small sound of surprise, but take in a deep breath of it anyway before pushing his hand away.

“I’m okay.”

But your hands are shaking and your eyes are wider than normal. The skin that he can see is splotchy with hives.

He looks back at Nat, who is still hovering in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and a small smirk on her face. He ignores the look. “Can you grab a doctor?”

You protest from the bed, but Bradley doesn’t waiver. With a fond roll of her eyes, Nat disappears from view.

“Bradley. Sweetheart.” You grip his wrist, trying to get him to focus on you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re in the emergency room because you went into anaphylactic shock. You are not fine.”

“But I am,” you insist, smiling softly at him, even as your body trembles as it works to burn through the adrenaline that was injected into it, “medicine worked just fine.”

The door slides open before he can respond, an attending doctor who looks like he’s been up for longer than is healthy and in wrinkled green scrubs introducing himself as he walks in.

“Is she okay?” Bradley demands immediately, and the tired man looks startled for a moment at how abrupt the question was. Bradley stares at him, his eyes wide and unblinking as he waits for the answer. His heart is still pounding in his chest. He feels you tangle one of your hands with one of his and he squeezes back when he feels the pressure from you. He knows you’re trying to reassure him.

“And you are…?”

“I’m her husband,” he answers easily, the words falling off his tongue like he had said them a thousand times before. You suck in a small breath and tighten your grip on his hand again.

“Ah,” the doctor hums, flipping through the chart he’s holding. Bradley wonders if all non-military hospitals move this slowly or if it was just because of how anxious he is at this moment, but he really, really needs him to answer his question.

“Is she okay?” he repeats.

“Bradley,” you murmur, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man in the scrubs and white coat.

“She responded well to the epinephrine that was administered by the paramedics who brought her in,” he finally says, looking up from the chart and taking a step toward your side. He stops when he sees that Bradley doesn’t move an inch. He sighs, switching direction to go to your other side instead. “How are you feeling Mrs. Bradshaw?”

You answer his questions as they come, Bradley paying rapt attention the whole time. Your throat doesn’t feel tight anymore. You aren’t lightheaded, but you do feel a little shortness of breath. You feel jittery - wired, almost. You’re both assured that it’s completely normal as the drug works its way out of your system. They can give you something to try and calm you down, and they want you to stay for a few hours to make sure you don’t go back into the allergic reaction once the epinephrine has worn off. The thought makes his blood run cold.

“Should she stay overnight?” he asks, but the doctor shakes his head no.

“The standard observation timeslot should be just fine, Mr. Bradshaw. But we’ll make sure you both know what to look out for when you leave.”

He walks out without saying much else. Bradley feels you tug on his hand, his name leaving your lips in a whisper. He meets your gaze and he watches as your eyes soften even more.

“Sit down, honey.”

He listens to you, dragging the chair beside your bed as close as possible. He rests his elbows on the mattress beside you, holding your hand tightly between both of his.

“I’m okay,” you repeat again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your fingers and taking a deep breath. “I…this really scared me.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say softly, running your thumb over one of the hands holding yours, soothing the skin and helping his racing heart. Your touch is like magic to him, providing an almost instant calm that he desperately needed. Guilt curled in his stomach, knowing that even now, you’re the one helping him.

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.”

“We comfort each other, baby. That’s how this works.”

“Why didn’t you have your epipen on you, Pumpkin? Don’t you normally carry it?” he asks quietly, a touch of urgency still in his tone. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you were alone and this happened, with no one around to call 911. He could have lost you, all over a silly little bee sting, and he can’t wrap his mind around that. He just got you. He had had you, he knew. But he was just getting you back.

“I switched bags this morning and forgot to take it out of the pocket of the old one, I guess. I haven’t had to use one since college. I forget about it, sometimes.”

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the worst case scenarios. He’s the one that normally reminds you to always have it on you, he thinks. He vaguely recalls having a spare in the glove compartment of the Bronco, and in the drawer in the kitchen and maybe one in the bedroom, too.

Not for the first time, he curses his memory and the accident that took it from him.

When he opens his eyes, his look is intense, “Never again, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, but Bradley shakes his head.

“No. Promise me. Please?”

Your lips part and you stare at him for a long moment. His gaze never waivers from yours. He needs you to listen to him. To hear him.

“I promise,” you finally whisper.

He rises from the chair, pressing a kiss to your lips. He keeps his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“Will you lay with me?” You ask quietly, shy in a way reminiscent of when you asked him to say I love you on the porch all those weeks ago. He hates that you felt you even needed to ask.

With no hesitation, he maneuvered himself into the small bed beside you. He kisses your forehead once, twice, three times, holding you as tightly as he could. Your body still gave the occasional tremble but they had lessened now, your breaths coming a little bit easier, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease.

“Sorry for being a mess,” he whispers into your hair.

“Don’t,” you whisper back, and he feels you shake your head from where it’s tucked into his chest. “It means you care.”

The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say them, not yet or here. You deserve more than a frantic hospital room confession.

-------

Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! We're nearing the end, but I think everyone is really going to like the next chapter. Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 29 days

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 16

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.9K

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Two weeks later found you at the baseball diamond for the boys first game of the season. Your group took up an entire section of the bleachers, everyone had showed up to cheer the kids on. You were squeezed between Robin and Janice, Matt on Janice’s other side. In front of you were Dustin, Lucas, Max, Nancy, and Jonathan. Behind you was El, Mike, Will, Nolan, Joyce, Karen, and Hopper. Jeremiah had a literal cheering section that was there for him and it hit you that now, so did Eli. Somehow, the two of you were not only lucky enough to get Steve, but also the entire family that came along with him.

You caught sight of Judith out of the corner of your eye, walking up, looking more out of place than a string quartet at a toddler’s birthday party. Who showed up to a baseball game in heels and a pantsuit? Judith did. You fought the urge to roll your eyes or hide. Judith’s eyes darted over the bleachers, looking for you, wincing at the raucous ruckus the dad she was standing next to was making as he loudly bragged about his son.

“Uh-oh…the she-beast has arrived,” muttered Janice, nodding in your mother-in-law’s direction.

“I saw,” you sighed, rising to your feet, waving your hand to make it easier for Judith to find you. There would be no hiding. Sometimes being the responsible adult sucked.

Judith somehow managed to look both annoyed and relieved at the sight of you. Sending one last scathing look toward the oblivious father, she made her way to your section of the bleachers.

“Judith!” exclaimed Karen, climbing carefully down, opening her arms in welcome. “You’re Eli’s grandmother. I’m Jeremiah’s grandmother. And so is Joyce.” She pointed to the petite woman who was currently holding onto Jonathan’s head to step down.

“So you’re Steve’s mom or are you Steve’s mom?” questioned Judith, her eyes roaming over the two, judgement evident in her eyes. You didn’t have to try too hard to imagine what she must be thinking. Joyce standing there in her baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirt and Karen all done up with bright makeup and a dress that, gasp, stopped above her knees and even showed some cleavage. Oh, the horror.

Karen laughed, her hand coming to her breast, Judith’s eyes about popping out of her head at the amount of bosom on display. Because heaven forbid a woman had the audacity to dress however she wanted, to be proud of her own body. And honestly, Karen had every right to show off. The woman was stunning.

“Oh no. Neither of us are. Steve’s parents aren’t really in the picture sadly. I’m Nancy’s mom.” She turned, pointing to the petite brunette who waved with a smile. “Nancy is Jeremiah’s mom.”

“And I’m actually Jonathan’s mom,” Joyce explained, pointing to her son who simply lifted his hand. “He’s Jeremiah’s stepdad but I’ve known Steve since he was just a young kid in high school and he’s practically a son to me. So it feels like I’m his mom, too.”

“Yeah, and I’ve known him just as long because him and Nance met in high school so he kind of feels like a son to me too. The poor boy went from having no mom to multiple moms who are always in his business whether he wants us there or not.”

Joyce shrugged, “Honestly, everyone here is family. Everyone you see behind you are Jere’s aunts and uncles.” They all waved, Dustin and Max a bit more obnoxiously than the rest. “Well, except for Hop. He’s my husband. So I guess he’s kind of like Steve’s dad for all intents and purposes.”

Hopper snorted and then shrugged, “I’ll guess I’ll claim Harrington if I have to.”

“How…unconventional of all of you,” Judith managed, her teeth gritted in a tight smile.

Your eyes slipped closed in frustration. Of course this woman had to show up and ruin what was looking to be a perfect day. She couldn’t fathom something like found family. She believed blood came before everything else. The very idea that all of these people could come together and be more important to each other than the family genetics had stuck them with was inconceivable for a brain like hers.

“Well, come on up,” Karen invited, giving her a wave. “We can all scooch and make room for you with the grandparents.”

“Oh, that’s alright. There will be no need for any…scooching. I’ll just…” Her eyes quickly scanned the bleachers. “I’ll sit right here. I’ll be fine.” Before anyone could argue with her, she dropped down in front of Max who turned, giving you a, can you believe this woman, look.

You rolled her eyes, letting Max silently know you could not believe her but honestly, you could. You'd learned to expect nothing less than constant judgement and absolute disdain from that woman. No one was ever good enough in her eyes. Judith raised her bar so high that no one, who wasn’t Justin, could ever manage to leap over it. And even he’d struggled to make that jump sometimes.

You zoned out as the boys began talking about their latest D&D campaign in front of you, your eyes drawn to the sight of Steve out on the field with the team. He stood, surrounded by boys in baseball pants and white shirts with green stripes. And god he looked good, fitted jeans that showed off the muscles in his strong thighs, a moss green short sleeved shirt, his rounded biceps peeking out from the hem as he leaned forward, hands on his knees to talk to the kids. A baseball cap sat on his head and she didn’t know what it was but you loved him in a ballcap, all those beautiful locks spilling out from underneath.

It was difficult to wrap your head around the fact that it had only been two weeks since you'd both been brave to utter those three little words, three little words with an impact big enough to change the trajectory of your lives. Two weeks of you feeling like you were walking on air, like nothing could possibly go wrong, floating in your own little bubble of bliss. It felt like so much longer. You couldn’t even remember what your life had been like before Steve had become a part of it, the endless days of just trying to make it through, and you didn’t want to.

The two of you had spent nearly every night together since that moment on the beach, much to the boy’s excitement. Not sleeping over, that was still something you were trying to move slowly with for the boys’ sake, particularly Eli. Steve had been incredibly understanding about you wanting to wait a bit before you took that step. But almost every evening the four of you ate dinner together, sometimes at your house, sometimes at his. You played board games, watched movies, went for a walk down to the local ice cream place or rode your bikes over to the park for the boys to play.

Steve had surprised you twice at work, showing up with lunch for the two of you. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will had invited the boys over one night for D&D last week and Robin had offered to take them to a movie last night to allow Steve and you some alone time. It was incredible. You hadn’t just gained Steve but an entire village of people who just showed up and were there, ready to help at a moment’s notice, and you were so thankful for every single one of them. You'd never had anyone but Janice and Matt and having so many people who were willing to pitch in, who enjoyed your kid enough to want to spend time with him, well it meant more to you than you could possibly express to them.

Your attention on Steve broke with an elbow to your side. Looking over, you found Janice grinning wickedly at you, “What were you thinking about, huh?”

“Probably last night,” teased Robin. “I took the boys to a movie so she and Steve were all alone. Replaying the highlight reel of naked time in your mind?”

“Eww! Can we not?” Mike asked.

“Oh please.” Robin rolled her eyes. “Maybe I had to censor myself when you were thirteen but you’re twenty-six now. I think you can handle knowing how babies are made.”

“Babies? I didn’t know we were talking about babies.” El’s face lit up. “Are you going to have a baby? Oh, I miss babies. Jeremiah was such a cute little baby.”

“No one is talking about babies,” you replied, noticing how stiff Judith’s posture had suddenly gotten. She was only sitting a couple rows in front of you and there was no doubt she was listening to every word being spoken, stocking up ammunition for later. You did not need that woman to have one more reason to come at you. “Jeez. You guys are being ridiculous.”

“Not yet anyway,” teased Nancy, turning around. “But I heard the ‘l’ word has been spoken so you never know…”

“Oh my god!” Max shrieked, spinning completely around in her seat, Judith doing the same, her eyes shooting daggers at you. You braced yourself but Judith quickly spun back around as Max continued gushing. “Are you serious? You’re using the love word? I knew you were in love. You got all red faced at the coffee shop that night when the word was even mentioned.”

“When’s the wedding?” Lucas wiggled his eyebrows. “Because I look like a million bucks in a tux and the way Dustin is going, I might never get to be in another wedding if you two don’t tie the knot.”

“Hey! I will have you know that Heather and I are going on our third date tomorrow night,” Dustin stated, folding his arms.

“Ohhh…” Will crooned. “You convinced her to go out with you a third time? What’d you bribe her with? Oh, or is it blackmail? You got something juicy on her that she doesn’t want revealed?”

Dustin chucked a piece of popcorn at him and Will caught it in his mouth, grinning triumphantly as he chewed. Dustin shook his head in disgust.

“I don’t think Dustin needs bribery or blackmail. Heather has been talking about him nonstop at the office,” you told them, sending a wink Dustin’s way. “She really likes you. She said she had a blast at the Science Museum with you last week.”

“Oh yeah? I had a lot of fun too. What else has she said about me?”

“Hmm. Let me think,” you taunted, tapping your finger against your chin, relieved to be talking about someone that wasn’t you with Judith sitting and listening like a hawk. “That you’re adorable and funny. She thinks you have the best smile. She told me you’re one of the nicest guys she’s ever met and that you’re super smart. She says your big brain is one of the sexiest things about you.”

Mike, Lucas, and Will began gagging on cue, perfectly synced as if they’d rehearsed it first. Dustin glared at them all but you could see how pleased he was at the information you'd just relayed to him. And it was all true. You'd been teasing Heather all week about what a smitten little kitten she was. They were awfully cute together.

“And speaking of new romance,” you sang, bopping your elbow into Robin’s side. “How goes it with the lovely June?”

Robin’s face flushed a brilliant shade of scarlett. She grabbed onto a piece of her hair, toying with it, a coy smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Clearly Heather wasn’t the only smitten kitten around here.

“June?” came Judith’s voice loudly. “That’s a very strange name for a man.”

“Well, that would be because June is, in fact, a woman,” Dustin stated.

Judith made a sound like a throttled gasp, her eyes going wide, “A woman? So…you’re…one of those…?”

“One of what exactly?” challenged Max, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “A human? A woman? An American? An Earthling? What exactlt are you asking, Judith?”

Your hands clenched at your sides, bracing yourself for an ugly scene. A scene that could destroy this beautiful thing that had been building around you. Why would any of them want you to be a part of their lives when that would mean this awful woman would be a part of it too? Judith’s mouth went tight at Max’s confrontation and you braced yourself, waiting for the nasty thing that was about to come out of her mouth.

But Judith simply stated, “Never mind. It’s none of my concern,” and turned back around. Huh. She must have realized she was outnumbered and didn’t like her odds.

“So anyway, back to the matter at hand,” Max said loudly, turning to Robin.

“Yes, we’re all dying to know,” Karen exclaimed, leaning into Robin. “Are there sparks?”

“I wouldn’t say sparks…” Robin began and when they all looked crestfallen, she grinned. “More like massive explosions that could level an entire city.” She giggled. “She’s amazing. I mean, we went to the movies and it was fun, but you can’t really talk much at the movies.”

Nolan snorted, “You? You talk through movies all the time.”

“With you guys,” she huffed. “But she doesn't even know me yet. Not really. I didn’t want to give her the full dose of how neurotic I am right out of the gate. I have to give her small doses until she’s just acclimated to it and doesn’t realize the extent of my craziness. Anyway, I thought that would be the end of it. You know? I told you guys it went well but I didn’t really expect anything to come of it. Then she called and asked if I wanted to go to dinner. So we went out Tuesday night again and we were sitting in the restaurant for six hours! Six hours! Can you believe it?”

“What in the hell do you do in a restaurant for six hours?” Hopper huffed. “I mean, after you eat what else is there?” Joyce swatted him and he looked over at her, bewildered. “What?”

“Just because you have no conversational skills doesn’t mean others don’t. They were obviously talking.”

“I have conversational skills. I am very eloquent with my words, thank you very much.” He grinned when you all laughed because nothing about this bear of a man screamed eloquent. “But six hours? What could you possibly have to talk about for six hours?”

“Everything,” Robin sighed dreamily. “She was asking me all kinds of questions and she didn’t even seem to mind when I rambled. She said she thought it was cute! Can you believe it? And I learned so much about her. She loves cats. She has two of them, Hoggle and Ludo.”

“What kinds of names are those?” Judith piped up and you fought the urge to throw one of your M&Ms at the back of her head. Hadn’t the woman said enough already? Why couldn’t she just shut up?

“She’s a Labyrinth fan!” you squealed, choosing to ignore your mother-in-law completely instead. “Great taste in movies.”

“Yes! And music…she loves Blondie, Bowie, the Beatles…”

“All solid choices,” Joyce replied.

“I don’t know,” Hopper mused. “I didn’t hear any Zeppelin or Stones mentioned.”

“You’re showing your age, Hop,” Will teased.

“The game is starting,” Judith interrupted loudly. “So maybe the inappropriate talk about love lives could finish now.”

“Damn, she’s really not any fun is she?” Robin hissed in your ear.

“You have no idea,” you mumbled back with a groan. You had to keep reminding yourself that Judith was Eli’s grandmother. No matter how frustrating she was, you were going to have to deal with her but only as much as absolutely necessary. Hopefully she would just head home after the game and save you all from her unwanted presence any longer.

The game went far better than you had expected for it being the boys’ first time. Eli actually managed to hit the ball and made it all the way to third before the other team’s player managed to throw it in. Matt may have cheered the loudest, jumping out of his seat, proud of the kid he’d spent so much time in the batting cages with.

Matt’s cheering had not come as a surprise but the way the rest of them all cheered for your son did. It wasn’t just a casual, yay Eli, an obligatory cheer because their friend was dating the kid’s mom. They seemed genuinely excited, celebrating his moments of glory just as loudly and proudly as they did Jeremiah’s. When Jeremiah ran into home, breaking the tie and winning the game, you leapt from your seat, you and Nancy high fiving and hugging, two moms sharing your pride in your boys.

Both boys came racing off the field, their cheeks bright red, flushed from both the excitement and the exertion. They were swept up in a flurry of hugs and high fives from the crowd of people who had shown up just for them.

“You boys were amazing!” Hopper yelled, pulling both boys in for a bear hug. Yeah, you could definitely see where Dustin got Smokey the Bear from this guy.

“Did you see me slide right into home, grandpa? I saw that kid grab it but I just knew I had time! Daddy says to take chances!” Jeremiah beamed, the smile on his face so wide it looked painful.

“I saw it, kid. You did real good. You took the chance and it paid off. You’re going to be the next Barry Bonds, just watch. And you!” He turned his attention to Eli, his massive hand ruffling her son’s hair. “That was a hell of a hit, kid. Making it all the way to third before they could get it. You gave them a run for their money. They were scrambling after that ball.”

Eli looked so proud that your heart could burst. Judith stepped forward. She’d been keeping to the outside of the group, clearly uncomfortable, uncertain how to make herself known. You had no doubt it was killing her to see Eli receiving so much positive attention from so many people that were not her. To see that he had other people in his life that were important to him, to not be the first person that had congratulated him on his game.

Just as she stepped forward and Eli spotted her, running into her arms for a hug, Steve was making his way over from the diamond, a large bag slung over his shoulder. When his eyes found yours, he gave you one of those smiles that came with a side of a very flirty wink that he seemed to reserve just for you.

“Good game, huh?” he commented, a quick kiss planted on your lips. “The boys did a great job.”

“That’s because they have a great coach,” you replied, your arms slipping around his stomach, smiling up at this man who always had you in a state of complete awe.

“Everybody still up for burgers and shakes at Benny’s?” Hopper boomed out over the cacophony of noise.

You glanced over to Judith who was purposefully keeping her eyes off of you and Steve. You really didn’t want to invite her but it would be the right thing to do. She’d driven all this way for the game.

“Judith, would you like to join us?” you asked, keeping your arms firmly locked around Steve because who cared what Judith thought. You had made it clear to her that this new future with Steve did not erase your past with Justin. The woman was just going to have to get used to it.

“Oh. I…no, I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Henry is supposed to be getting back this evening and he’ll need dinner.” She looked around to the others, feeling the need to explain, “Work trip.”

Yeah. Henry had an awful lot of work trips. Justin had confided in you that he wasn’t so sure they were all for work but he could never prove it. And Judith chose to go through life blissfully unaware. As far as you knew, you'd never confronted him or questioned him. But the two of them had never exactly been the warm and fuzzy couple. There weren’t those moments of tender touches or warm glances ever. Their relationship seemed more like a business transaction, something that was mutually beneficial to them both.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah grandma. Benny’s has the best shakes!”

Jeremiah nodded his agreement. “Eli and I both love strawberry! And Benny always brings me ranch to dip my fries in.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Judith smiled down at the boy, seeming surprised that he was taking the time to talk to her. She jumped when Joyce came up next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders.

“Come on Judes.” You brought your hand to your mouth to cover the snort that had slipped out at Joyce’s choice of nickname. Robin clearly found it just as amusing as she shoved her face into El’s shoulder, her body shaking with laughter. “It’ll be fun. And if these two crazy kids are going to be doing the family thing, then that means we all need to do the family thing, right?”

“Yeah, Judes,” Max agreed, grinning as if this were the best moment of her life. “We’re all one big happy family now. We all love Eli and he loves us. Right, kid?”

Eli leapt from the ground as he proudly exclaimed, “Yeah!” He turned to Judith. “Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas all play this really cool game called Dungeons and Dragons and they’re teaching me all about it. And Robin took us to see this movie, First Kid. It’s about this kid who is the president’s son and he has a bodyguard. It’s so funny and she got us popcorn and Skittles because she says Skittles are the superior candy. And Max is teaching me how to skateboard! I fell off a couple times but I’m starting to get the hang of it. She says I’ll be a pro by the end of summer. And El came over and helped us make slime when we spent the night with Nancy and Jonathan. They let us stay up until midnight and we got to do s’mores over the fire in their backyard. It was so cool. And Hopper let us ride in his police car! He even turned on the lights and the siren for us and he brought us one of those pads to do fingerprints! And Joyce makes the best spaghetti. We went to her house for dinner and Will is an artist and he showed us all these cool things he drew when he was just our age!”

Judith looked a bit taken aback as Eli kept rambling, caught off guard at how large a part of his life each of these people were now. You almost felt sorry for her, the sadness in her eyes, knowing how she wished she was closer so she could be a bigger part of Eli’s life. Almost but not quite because the woman was her own worst enemy.

“I don’t know. Henry…”

“Is a grown man who can fend for himself,” you reminded her. “He’s fifty-six Judith. The man should know how to at least make a sandwich.”

Judith’s hands wrung together, an internal battle playing over her face. Damn. Was she really that programmed by that man or was her uncertainty coming from all the new people, the fact that she would be the one outside looking in instead of at the center of it all?

“Come on. It will be fun,” Karen urged. “My husband, Tedd, isn't here either. We’ll be two crazy ladies without their husbands. I mean, who needs them anyway, right?”

Judith laughed, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes going wide as if she couldn’t believe she’d just done that. You pressed your lips together in amusement. So there was a woman desperate for fun in there just waiting to break free. You could see it in the sparkle of those ocean blue eyes, so much like her son’s.

“Are you sure you want me to come?” she asked, the question directed at you.

You smiled, stepping forward, placing your arm around Judith’s shoulders, “Of course I do.”

Maybe this could work out after all. Maybe Judith wasn’t as awful as she seemed. Perhaps all that bluster and rudeness came from a place of deep fear. Fear not that her son would be forgotten, but that she would. Fear that you would move on and in turn, so would Eli, and she would be left with nothing after losing her only child besides a husband that was more boring than watching paint dry. Perhaps all of this had simply been because no one but Justin had ever really thought she mattered.

Judith’s mouth lifted at the corners, her entire demeanor changing with that subtle smile. It made her appear far more approachable and soft. She nodded.

“Okay. I haven’t had a milkshake in years. Do they have malts? Oh, malts were my favorite.”

“Mine too!” Hopper bellowed. “And you won’t find a better malt than Benny’s. Come on. You can ride with us old folks.” He pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Oh! That's quite alright. I don’t want to inconvenience you. Then you would have to bring me back here. I have my own car if you just want to tell me how to get there.”

“Nonsense!” Joyce looped her arm in Judith’s, tossing you a wink. “You are not an inconvenience. Us grandmas have to stick together. Come on. We’ll let the young ones be. We’ll have plenty of time to tell you all sorts of juicy stories about Steve this way.”

Steve groaned, his head rolling around his shoulders, “Or not!”

“You’ll love this one, Judith,” Karen laughed, taking her other arm as they led her toward the parking lot. “One time I found Steve climbing up the trellis of our house to sneak and see Nancy…”

“Great,” muttered Steve as their words faded, shaking his head. “Your mother-in-law is never going to like me once those three fill her head with every screw up I’ve ever made.”

“It doesn’t matter if she likes you,” you reminded him, rising up to your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “Because I do.”

“Besides, she’ll figure out for herself what a dingus you are before too long,” Robin snorted, yelping when Steve shoved her backward.

“So, how do you think this is going to go?” asked Janice who had always chosen to keep her distance. After one meeting with Judith, Janice preferred to not deal with her at all if she could, always saying she was going to open her mouth and piss the woman off if she said one more negative thing about you in front of her.

“With Judith…who knows…”

___________________________________________________________

But it went far better than Steve could have possibly imagined. He’d pictured Judith sitting there stiffly, staring them all down as she judged every single word they said. Or possibly offending every single person at the table with her words at some point. Or announcing to the entire table why Steve shouldn’t be with you. However, none of that happened.

Sitting between Karen and Joyce, the woman had loosened. As if the two others had slowly unraveled the strings that had been knotting her up for years and she could finally breathe. She smiled. She even laughed. And even though he’d only known her a very short time, it had even shocked him to see. He hadn’t been sure the woman was capable of frivolity of any kind. Forget actually enjoying anything.

And the best part of it was that you seemed to finally be relaxed. You sat at the other end of the table, Steve on one side of you and Janice on the other, keeping your distance from Judith. But every now and then you would look down at the woman and smile. Your two worlds were coming together and it wasn’t the horrendous clash you’d expected. They were actually appearing to meld quite seamlessly.

By the time dinner was over, everyone was heading out full and in good spirits. Judith had even smiled politely when Robin asked if Steve and you would want to double date with her and June soon. She swallowed down any bullshit bias she had. If she was going to be ignorant, at least she was following the golden rule and keeping her damn mouth shut if she had nothing nice to say.

After saying your goodbyes, Steve drove you and the boys back to his house. You fed Miles while Steve headed out back to get a fire going. The boys raced upstairs to play on the Nintendo 64 for a while. You stepped onto the back deck, sliding the door shut after Miles raced out behind her, instantly doing zoomies throughout the yard.

God, you were pretty. Even weeks after meeting, he still found himself in awe of you. Jeans that wrapped around each and every curve in a way that had his hands twitching at his sides, wanting to follow those familiar hills and valleys. You hated shoes and socks, lost them as soon as you could, something he’d learned about you over the past weeks, so bare pink toes peeked out from beneath the flared denim. The Bowie shirt you wore was cropped, a sliver of your soft stomach exposed. Your hair was up in a high ponytail, only accentuating your neck which was just calling to his mouth.

You tilted your head, those perfectly pink cotton candy lips pursing in a way that had him thinking so many thoughts that were not anywhere near the ballpark of holy. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and he fought the urge to pinch himself, to prove these last weeks weren’t some fever dream that he was going to wake from.

“See something you like?” Your tone was light, playful, as he slowly made his way up onto the deck until he stood right in front of you.

“I most certainly do.” Fingers gripped your hips, tugging you into him until you could feel just how much he liked what he was seeing. “You have no idea the effect you have on me.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea right now,” you chuckled, hands tracing over his chest and shoulders to loop around his neck. “But sadly for you, there are children afoot so there is not much I can do about that at the moment.”

“You simply existing does it for me. You don’t have to do anything but appear, honey. That’s it. You laugh. You smile. You cross your legs. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You take a sip of coffee. It all does it for me.”

“Yeah? Well, same for me. I swear I dreamed you into existence, Steve Harrington. I didn’t believe guys like you existed. I thought they were meant for storybooks and movies.”

Heat rushed over his cheeks at your compliment. “I’m no fairytale prince, honey but I promise to try to give you a happily ever after.”

Your teeth pulled at your bottom lip, your eyes widening just slightly at his words and he was doubting himself all over again. Should he not have said that? Was that pushy? But hadn’t you said forever? Hadn’t you said it just a couple weeks ago? That if you both were all in then you had to be planning on forever?

“Happily ever after? That sounds nice,” you murmured, pulling him in until your lips met, all his doubt vanishing like vapor on the air with your words.

His arms wound around you, lifting you up onto your toes, crushing your bodies together. You moaned softly, the sound swallowed by his lips, and his jeans felt painfully tight. You tasted just as sweet as you looked, chocolate milkshake met with cherry lip balm, a combination that had his head spinning.

Everything else ceased to exist for him when your lips were on his. Your tongue parted his lips, slipping along his own, and he couldn’t have told you what color the sky was or what month of the year it was. There was only you and him, locked in this moment that he wanted to make last until eternity. If this was how he would spend the rest of his days on this Earth, he could be okay with that.

But you did manage to think, pulling back, your lips now slick, curved into the prettiest smile, your eyes heavy with the desire that was racing under his skin. He wanted you. He always wanted you and with the boys, he never had you nearly enough. But the boys were right upstairs and he knew you couldn’t risk it. Those kids could be down and out the door before they even heard a sound.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, your questioning barreling through his brain fog. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ll kiss you anytime you want.”

“No,” you chuckled, swatting at him. “Thank you for today, for dealing with Judith. I know she’s…difficult. But I don’t know. She seemed a little different today. I have hope. It's a very small hope but hope that maybe she’s coming around. But I know she wasn’t very nice to you and the fact that you are willing to put up with her…I’m just really grateful because you don’t have to, you know.”

“Of course I do.” Steve slid his hand down your arm, locking your fingers together. He led you to the lounger, sitting and pulling you down in his lap. His nose traced your jaw, nuzzled into your hair. “She’s a part of your life and she’s a part of Eli’s life. If I want to be a part of your life then that means she’s part of mine too.”

“That’s…very kind of you.”

“No. It’s not.” He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your face to his. “Look. When I said I was all in, I meant it. I don’t get to be all in and then pick and choose what I am willing to handle. Anything that comes your way comes my way now too. Anything that’s heavy for you, you got me to help you carry it. Anything that’s hurting you, I will step in front of. That’s the deal. It’s not just you anymore. It’s us. We’re a team.”

“Okay coach,” you beamed, teasing but your eyes betrayed your lighthearted tone, shimmering with emotion at his words.

Wasn’t that what a relationship was supposed to be? Two people against the world? He loved this woman. He wanted to be in your life. He wanted to crawl inside your skin and live there the way you did in his. You had managed to slither your way inside. You were in the blood that ran through his veins, in every single beat of his heart, in the very cells that made up his skin.

Yeah. You came with baggage but who didn't? And he was more than willing to help you carry that load because you were more than worth it. You were everything he hadn’t even known he’d been searching for. He’d looked for so long, in all the wrong places, never knowing that the one that would finally fill in all those hollow places inside him already existed in the same town as him.

Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was an awful thing to think, but it felt like fate had brought you together. He was so sorry that your husband had died but maybe this was the course your lives had to take for you to find one another. He’d thought about what if he’d been first. What if he’d stumbled across you when you were out with your friends thirteen years ago? It had made him feel like an absolute piece of shit, but he couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like if he’d been the one.

But then there would be no Jeremiah. There would be no Eli. You wouldn’t have known the love she already had with your husband. He wouldn’t have gotten the thump on his head that he needed for him to see you, truly see you, to understand how lucky he was to have you. Maybe the two of you had to go through all that heartache and disappointment to come to this place, where you could truly appreciate what you had. So you would never take it for granted, never throw it away, or treat it carelessly.

So yeah. Maybe Steve hadn’t been your first but he had every intention of being your last. Your last boyfriend, your last love, your last kiss, your last everything. Because he’d chosen wrong so many times before, yes, but he hadn’t this time. He knew it like he knew his own name, like he knew the sun would rise tomorrow, like he knew the beat of his son's heart. He’d chosen right this time and there was nothing that would make him walk away. He would spend the rest of his life showing you just how much you meant to him. He would never take for granted this amazing gift that had somehow walked right onto his baseball field and into his life.

“So, can I ask…I think you were going to tell me that day at the lake but we got a little sidetracked. What is the deal with you and Judith?”

Your head tipped back, eyes tracking the stars as you inhaled deeply, “I don’t know. There was never a specific moment or an event. It’s not like we had a falling out. She’s just always been like that with me. From the moment Justin introduced me to her, she treated me like I just wasn’t good enough. I was never enough for her precious son, you know?”

Steve snorted, “She’s nuts. Has she met you?”

“You’re sweet but I don’t think there’s anything I could ever do that would be enough for her. She always wanted to be the most important to him and I feel like she saw me as a threat. I mean, it’s insane. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? You raise your son to be a good man. You hope they find someone who will see that and love them. They choose their person and that person should come first. I mean, it’s the logical order of things. But she never saw it like that. It was like she always had to find a flaw in me to prove that she was better, that she loved Justin more, that his love for her outshone his love for me.”

“Did he…”

“No.” You cut him off, shaking your head. “No. Absolutely not. He took off as soon as he could. That’s why he joined the Marines, to get away from her. He told me he felt like she was smothering him and he couldn't breathe in that house anymore. He also didn’t have the best relationship with his dad. I think Henry cheats on Judith all the time. I’m pretty sure that’s why he goes on so many ‘business trips…’” You air quoted the words. “I think they’re far more pleasure than business. Justin thought so too. He just had to get away from it.”

“Well, I understand the need to get away from toxic parents. Mine weren’t smothering…quite the opposite actually. They just were indifferent unless I was disappointing them. Did you two even see her very much if their relationship wasn’t the best?”

“Not really.” Your fingers trailed along his hand, running over his knuckles. “Holidays, birthdays…you know, the required stuff. But she would be Judith and Henry, well, when he was actually there, he would pick apart Justin. He thought he was a waste, going into the military instead of going to college. Justin was always in a horrible mood when we left. He would put off seeing them for as long as he could.”

“What about Eli? Did they want to be around when he came along?”

“Oh yeah. Well, Judith did anyway. Saw him as her second chance at getting someone to love her best. But Justin kept her at arm’s length as much as he could. He hated seeing what having her around did to me. She questioned everything I did, judged me, picked me apart. She always made me feel like an awful mother. When Eli was first learning to walk, he fell. You know how they are at that age. Their heads are too big for their bodies and they’re like a weeble wobble. He fell and smashed his forehead into the corner of the wall. He had a huge goose egg and I was panicked that he had a serious brain injury. We took him to the E.R. Judith showed up and immediately started telling me what an incompetent mother I was, questioning what I’d been doing when he fell, why I wasn’t watching him. Justin lost it. He blew up at her right in the middle of the hospital. That was the moment he told her that if she couldn’t respect his wife and the mother of his child, then she was no longer welcome to be a part of our lives. I’ve never seen her so put in her place. She had no idea how to respond. Anyway, we didn’t hear from her for about a month after that. It was a bit better then but things with her and I have always been a bit…precarious.”

“Jesus. She sounds awful. And she’s clearly no fan of mine but that’s alright. I don’t need to impress her. The only person I care about impressing is you.” He wiggled his eyebrows, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“Oh, I am very impressed Mr. Harrington. Very impressed,” you mused, your arms winding around his neck, nose nuzzling gently over his own.

Steve was overcome with the desire to keep you there, to never let you go. Every night, when he would have to gather his things or watch you gather yours, it left him with a hollow ache. Maybe it was soon but who decided how soon was too soon? Was it too soon when all he could think about when you weren't around was seeing you again? Was it too soon when he laid in bed, inhaling the scent of vanilla and pear that you left behind, craving the warmth of your body curled into his?

“Stay,” he whispered, a plea sent on his breath to your skin, his nose tracing your cheek.

“What?”

“Stay. Stay the night with me.” His fingers wrapped around your biceps, holding you against him, willing you to agree. “I know why you’ve wanted to wait. I understand your reasons but your reasons aren’t really reasons anymore.”

“Steve…”

He was losing you. You were going to rationalize your way out of this and he couldn’t let you. He was overcome with an irrational need to get you to stay, to sleep curled up in his arms, to cement the decision that you were real, that this was it. That he was enough for you. That you wanted this as much as he did. He was pushing and he knew it but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to know. He was in so deep here. He needed to know that you were in it too, barely keeping your head above water, sinking into the depths with him.

“No. Look, the whole reason you wanted to wait was because you didn’t want Eli getting his hopes up just for this to all end. You didn’t want him to see this as serious with him already assuming things. But this is serious and this isn’t ending. Right?”

“I mean, I don’t plan on it but…”

“No. No buts,” he insisted, hands sliding down your arms to wrap around your hands, holding them against him. Bowing his head, he brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss over them. “This isn’t ending. I’m not going anywhere. Do you plan on going anywhere?”

“Well no…”

“So then why not?”

“I don’t know. I mean, do you really think it’s appropriate for us to share a bed with the boys in the house?”

“Did you share a bed with your husband when Eli was home?”

“That’s different and you know it.”

“Why? Because we’re not married? Marriage is a piece of paper, honey. It’s a piece of paper that doesn’t mean anything because it can be torn in half and discarded so easily. I love you. You love me. The boys want this to happen. I’m not saying let’s get down and dirty.” He grinned devilishly, his cheek running over yours. “Not that I don’t want to. But would it really be inappropriate to sleep in the same bed? When we move in together, we’ll be sharing a bed, right?”

You pulled back, a look of sheer anxiety across your face, “When we…when we move in together?”

“I mean, eventually, right? That would be the logical next step. It’s silly to keep two houses when we spend most of our time together. I mean, whenever we’re apart all I can think about is the next time I get to have you in my arms. I know it may seem soon but really, we’re the only ones who get to decide what soon is. And the way I feel about you, I know it got intense pretty fast but…”

His word died in his throat as he felt the shift in you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly against his, your heart beating a rapid tempo against his skin. Releasing your hands, he grabbed your face, attempting to get your eyes to focus on him. But they were glazed, wide, staring off into nothing as you descended into a full blown attack, an attack he’d caused.

“Hey, hey…you’re okay, baby. Look at me. Come on. Just breathe with me, honey,” he urged.

You were gasping, small little squeaking sounds emitting as you struggled to take in air. Jesus Christ. What had he done? Exactly what he’d sworn he wouldn’t do. He’d pushed you, ran up behind you and shoved you off the ledge before you were ready. And now you w were free falling as he ran underneath you, trying to catch you but failing.

“Shit! Baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You don’t have to spend the night. We’re not moving in together. It’s okay. I’m moving too fast. I do it all the time and I’m sorry. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just breathe for me, please.”

But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. He grabbed onto your hands again. They were ice cold. Your skin was damp, clammy, a sheen of sweat coating your forehead and upper lip. And then you were shaking, trembling and he grasped your arms, pulling your body against his but it wouldn’t stop as you wheezed.

This had gone on for too long. It wasn’t stopping. You weren't coming back down. Your breathing was only getting worse if that was even possible. He had to do something.

“Boys!” he screamed as he cradled your quivering body against him. “Call 911!”

Chapter 17

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accirax · 2 months

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Elliot Cuevas Lore Check (Yoidoreshirazu MV Analysis)

After the intellectuals in our community had the thought to check the description of DRDTdev’s latest MV masterpiece, one fact became pretty clear: DRDT’s sparkly new MV is not fronted by one of our main cast of sixteen, or even a particularly pre-established side character. Instead, it’s time for Elliot Cuevas to take the stage, and bring with him a lot of questions ranging from “wait, that’s what he looks like?” to “wait, is the killing game predicated on a basis of lies?!” There’s… a lot running through my mind right now, and I see no better way to process it than to start answering the questions that I and others may have as best I can through a theory post. I’m living!

And when I say “answering the questions,” I mean that quite literally. I think that the best way to frame this analysis is to divide it into headlining questions, and tackle what we know and what we can learn piece by piece. Therefore, I think the most obvious question we can start with is:

#1: Who is Elliot Cuevas?

We don’t have a ton of information about the guy, but I’ve tried to compile what we do. By far the most information we’d gotten on Ellie prior to this MV was from the Chapter 2 Part 1 Q&A, where DRDTdev described a little about all of the major siblings we’d heard of so far. Here’s what DRDTdev said:

So, we know that Elliot was given the nickname “Ellie” (and presumably likes it, given that he’s credited in the MV as “Ellie”), and he looks really similar to Charles, which we also saw in the MV. Given how similar he looks to Charles, I’m going to assume that they’re biological brothers, which would make Ellie hispanic/latino. Similarly, I’m assuming that he identifies as male, due to his use of he/him pronouns and the term “brother” being applied to him. He likes pancakes and dogs, which… we’ll get back to later. Charles is stated to be 18+ at the start of Despair Time, which would make Ellie 29-32+ if he were alive today. Which… huh. Is he?

#2: Is Ellie alive?

The belief that Ellie is dead isn’t just a popular headcanon that metamorphosed into “fact”– his death is directly referenced in the text in the form of Charles’ secret. Your older brother, Elliot, died.

However, this MV does make it tempting to believe that Ellie could be alive, so let’s give it the benefit of the doubt for a moment. If Ellie is alive, there are two sets of two questions to consider.

Question #1: If Ellie is alive, why did people think he died?

Ellie was in a life threatening scenario that people believed he didn’t escape from, but he did. After this, he either took the opportunity to disappear, or something prevented him from reuniting with his loved ones.

Ellie did die, and the DRDT universe contains some sort of necromantic magic or time travel properties that could bring him back to life.

Question #2: If Ellie is alive, why does the secret say that he’s dead?

Whoever wrote the secrets (likely the mastermind) did so intending to tell the truth. They learned the information from a source that led them to believe that Ellie had died, and if Ellie turned up alive, they would be just as surprised as everyone else.

Whoever wrote the secrets (likely the mastermind) did so intending to lie. They knew that Ellie was really alive, and included his “death” in the secret just to fuck with Charles. This could also imply that other students’ secrets incorporate some level of lies.

If Ellie is alive, I think that the #1 situation is more likely for both questions.

If Ellie is dead, we don’t know exactly when his death happened. Given that Charles cites it under the umbrella of “childhood amnesia,” we can pin Ellie’s hypothetical death down to a time when Charles was a child. The National Institute of Health defines childhood as 3-11 years old. So, if Ellie died when Charles was 3-11, it would mean Ellie’s age of death would fall between 14 and 23.

I made this little moodboard to try to piece together around what age Ellie might be depicted as in the MV based on how DRDTdev has drawn people of various ages before. This is important under the assumption that Ellie canonically looked like this at some point during his life. ‘Cause (picking obviously wrong numbers here), if Ellie had died when he was, like, 2, it’d be weird if the MV showed him when he was, like, 50, right?

Allow me to take a little detour to discuss the Nageishi sisters and establish their ages. I initially ballparked Arei’s age as around 13 in that picture, which would have made her sisters (who are 2-5 years older than her) 15-18. However, there’s some actual evidence we can pull upon to clarify when that image might have come from.

In Arei and J’s FTE, J says that Arei “definitely [*was*] a highschool bully,” and Arei confirms that she was “the queen of her school.” Assuming that these two are to be believed, we can estimate based on the average age at which an American enters high school as a freshman that Arei has been a bully since at least around 14. While I don’t necessarily expect that Arei came in and became the queen bee on the first day of freshman year, it certainly would have been easier to establish her reign if the other students hadn’t previously seen her being bullied and tortured for a year or so beforehand. Therefore, Arei is probably in a maximum of eighth grade (12-13) in that image, so that she would have had enough time to sabotage her sisters before entering high school.

Additionally, although it isn’t stated in the secret the killing game handed out, Arei confesses to David and Teruko that she “got [her sisters] unlawfully sent to reform school.” Through a bit of googling, I learned that many reform schools cap out at about 16-17 years old, although it’s impossible to confirm that without knowing which state Arei grew up in. If that’s the case, then Fuyuko and Natsuko could only be a maximum of 17 years old, which is in the same sort of age range as Arei being a maximum of 15 in that picture. However, I don’t know if the Nageishi parents/the government would find it too useful to send the sisters to reform school for only one year, so it seems more likely that they’re younger than that in the picture. I might ballpark that Arei is 12 and Fuyuko and Natsuko are 15 in the picture.

Anyways, I think we can definitely rule out the possibility of Ellie dying when Charles was on the lower end of the age spectrum. He looks way older than any of the characters drawn “when they were kids”, and notably older than Arei as well. To me, he also looks older than Ryan, meaning he probably reached the age of an 18+ adult.

Unfortunately, there’s a really large age range that’s gone undepicted between the “18+” killing game participants and Mariabella, the only “parent-aged” adult we’ve seen so far. I would probably put Ellie’s appearance between the two, but it’s also possible that his unkempt hair and eyebags are making him look older than he actually was, a la Syobai Hashimoto of SDRA2 (the link is a spoiler-free picture of him). Syobai’s exact age is unknown, but generally young, yet many people think he’s an old man when they first see him. That phenomenon could be going on with Ellie as well.

If he is, we’ll say, 20 or older, though, there’s a limited number of ages he could have died at that would still fall within Charles’ childhood. If Ellie died, he did so when Charles was in the 8-11 kind of age range. Otherwise, for Ellie to reach the age he’s shown at in the MV, he probably survived to grow older than Charles’ family last remembers him. I think Ellie’s death is probably more likely, but, hey, that means we’ve narrowed down the period in which Charles could have acquired his childhood amnesia. That’s something!

#3: How does Charles feel about Ellie?

Well, okay. Obviously, in the current day, Charles doesn’t know who Ellie is, and therefore probably doesn’t have any strong feelings about him other than confusion. But, before Charles forgot about him, what was Charles’ opinion?

I actually thought that Charles really admiring Ellie was a canon fact, but looking back at it, I don’t think it was ever directly stated. That said, there are several reasons why I thought that their relationship was a positive one.

Told you we’d come back to Ellie liking pancakes! I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that, when Charles thinks of what he’d like to learn how to cook, he comes up with Ellie’s favorite food. It could be that Ellie used to make pancakes for Charles, or that they simply used to go out and get pancakes together, but Charles clearly has some sort of repressed memories about pancakes with his brother that makes him want to seek them out again.

We already knew that Charles and Ellie were known to look very alike, and this MV confirmed that was true, down to the length of their hair. If Charles didn’t like Ellie, he easily could have kept his hair short, like the haircut he had as a child, as a way to make them look less similar. However, Charles is very attached to keeping his hair in a long ponytail, just as Ellie wears it. That implies to me that Charles saw Ellie as enough of a role model to seek replicating the image of his brother through his own style even when he doesn’t remember that Ellie existed. That’s powerful.

#4: Why does Ellie look… like that?

Now this is a point that I’m still confused about. Charles’ affluent backstory has been alluded to multiple times. Both his inability to do his own laundry and his lack of knowledge in the kitchen imply that he had people to cook and clean for him. It’s possible that Charles’ parents were the ones doing that for him (which implies some level of wealth, but not so much as living in a house full of butlers and maids), but the general vibe I’ve gotten is that Charles’ family was well-off enough that they hired help.

If we assume that Charles and Ellie are biological brothers who spent enough time together to form a notable bond, it really seems like they would have grown up in the same household for both of their youths, together. So then, what gives with Ellie’s appearance? The patched up jacket, blemished face, and basic cigarette don’t match at all with the pristine white mansion with hedges that many might imagine for Charles. How would that have played out?

Option A: Ellie was the family’s rebellious wild child

I’m having trouble coming up with good examples, but there’s definitely a trope out there of a big brother character who’s a bit of a rude rebel, but still a pure-hearted dreamer that their younger sibling(s) can really look up to. Ellie was just the member of the uptight Cuevas family that couldn’t be tamed, no matter how hard his parents tried to cramp his thrifty style or stop him from going out and partying(?).

Notably, this option is quite confusing for Charles. Even if this figure is considered the typical epitome of cool, I don’t know if it’s someone who Charles would really gel with. As a child, Charles is depicted as pretty wide-eyed and innocent with his adorable little bubbles. I’m not saying that that kind of kid couldn’t come to idolize their rockstar big bro– just that, if they did, they probably wouldn’t turn out like Charles. Still, it could be an opposites attract situation, or perhaps forgetting Ellie and the ensuing trauma changed Charles more than we would have expected.

This interpretation is also… a bit of a leap, considering what we’ve seen of Ellie.

Like, these are not particularly the expressions of a thrill-seeking party animal who loves to crack open a cold one with the boys. Most of his expressions look wary, scary, or contemplative, and even the two that are smiling are doing so in more of a wry/teasing way. Fun-loving scamp Ellie might fit the way he’s styled his body, but not so much the expressions on his face. Perhaps the characterization was a little off?

Option B: Ellie was the family’s edgy black sheep

Instead of Ellie’s cigarette and messy ponytail implying that he’s supposed to be punk and cool, perhaps they’re meant to indicate that he was more emo and nihilistic. I don’t imagine that the Cuevas household would’ve liked this too much either, but it’s still a plausible way for a privileged teen to rebel against his family system. This kind of attitude matches more with the range of expressions we can gather from Yoidoreshirazu.

However, if it would be hard for Charles to relate to the last guy, I have no idea what Charles would be doing looking up to this guy. Maybe if their one-on-one moments showed Charles the soft heart behind Ellie’s tough exterior, Charles would’ve come to appreciate his perspective on life…? Yeah, I don’t really imagine these two enjoying a plate of pancakes together, either. Also, this would have been when Charles was, like, a kindergartener.

But if that’s the case, what then? Is my image of the Cuevas household just totally off? Or is this version of Ellie not compatible with the Cuevas household at all?

Option C: Ellie was kicked out of his family and left for dead

Especially in front of the grimy brick background and neon street sign, Ellie’s worse-for-wear appearance did make me think that this image of him could have been taken from a time when Ellie was without a home and living on the streets. As in, this look was never associated with the Cuevas household at all.

This option has some definite appeal because it allows a lot more flexibility from Ellie’s personality before he was kicked out. He could have been a stand-up guy, smart like Charles and a great mentor too, and only have adopted his more dour personality once he was kicked out of home. There are plenty of reasons why someone could be disowned that don’t (necessarily) reflect poorly on their character: Google lists being LGBTQ+, dating someone of a different race or religion, getting someone pregnant, or not following the profession your parents wanted for you as possibilities, depending on who the parents are and what they believe.

Any interpretation where the Cuevas parents are somewhat ashamed of Ellie would also help to rationalize why Mr. and Mrs. Cuevas lied to Charles about being an only sibling. If they really loved Ellie, they might have tried to bridge the subject with Charles one day, and not let the memory of their elder son fade into history. If he was someone they didn’t want to associate with in the first place, covering up his death would have been much more emotionally viable.

So, if the Cuevas parents are the kind of people to disown their kid for less-than-fair reasons, Ellie could have still been the kind of treasured big brother figure to Charles one might have expected while also getting kicked to the curb. However, this option raises the definite question of… how did Ellie’s death happen?

On the surface, that might seem like a strange question. Sadly, homeless people in the United States have an average life span that’s 17.5 years shorter than the average housed person’s life span, and the number of deaths have only been increasing in recent years. Especially in a civilization that was once home to the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history, trying to survive without a home might be quite difficult.

All that doesn’t really apply to Ellie, though, because we have a pretty decent lead on how he died: dog attack.

Even if he might not remember why, Charles dislikes dogs, and has a remnant of that turbulent relationship etched into his very skin. Ellie actually likes dogs, an interesting point of contrast, but one that makes it clear that dogs are important to Charles’ backstory in some manner. I and others have then speculated that the attack in which Charles got that scar on his arm may have been the time at which Ellie died. Both events– the attack that created the scar and Ellie’s passing– were erased by his childhood amnesia.

The story would play out as something along the lines of “Ellie and Charles used to both really love dogs, and were approached by a dog one day. However, that dog was feral, and attacked Charles. He was bitten on the arm before Ellie told Charles to run as Ellie stayed behind to protect his brother. However, Ellie couldn’t fend off the dog himself, and was instead mauled to death. Charles escaped with an injured arm and a head full of trauma that would cause him to fully erase the memory of his brother from his mind.” Don’t know how feasible that exact scenario is, but I always imagined it as something like that.

So, if Ellie was living on the street at the time of his death, how would the two of them have come together for the dog to attack? Maybe Charles could have been visiting Ellie on his own, but, again, he would have been 8-11 years old at the time. Would the 8-11 year old Charles have really had the means or motive to set out alone to see his brother, and would the Cuevas family have really let their elementary school-aged son wander off into the streets alone?

Then there’s the issue of Ellie’s age again. Look. I’m not trying to say that every 23 year old should be able to 1v1 a feral dog in a fight. I’m 23, and if I had to fight a street dog to the death, I would probably lose! However, while I am a quiet nerd who likes to write thousand word essays about anime video game fanfiction characters in her free time, Ellie seems like a fairly athletic young man. If he looks like Charles, he’s also probably around Charles’ height of 5’9”. Plus, it probably didn’t have to be to the death. Couldn’t Ellie have used those long legs to run away, or his human hands to make an improvised weapon, or something? To me, it feels much more plausible for Ellie to have been killed in a dog attack if he were also a child/teen when it happened. But, that should be incompatible with his appearance in the MV. Unless–

Option D: Ellie became this way… after he was “dead”?

Wait, what? No, wait, I thought I had already determined that Ellie was dead! What do you mean it might ACTUALLY MAKE MORE SENSE IF HE WAS ALIVE??? WHAT HAS THIS MV COME TO?! AAAAAAAAAA–

Well. If this version of Ellie is what he “became” after he faked his death (or had it faked for him), certain elements start to line up. There is no conflict with the Cuevas family, because Ellie’s personality could have been completely different than what we see in Yoidoreshirazu. Similarly, we don’t have to solve why Charles would have built such a bond with this guy because this guy may not have existed when he was interacting with Charles. The brothers growing up in a household together would make it considerably easier for them both to encounter a mean dog at the same time. And, if Ellie didn’t have to reach this 20+ age before he disappeared from Charles’ life, the whole story could have been set much earlier, such that Ellie could have been fending the dog off when he was more of a kid or teen himself. Then, being separated from his family and presumed dead is what caused Ellie to lose his faith in life, take up his smoking habit, and hardly be able to sleep or smile.

This could still involve him being forced to live on the streets, although I would then wonder why he didn’t ever try to get back in contact with his family. Maybe he did and they turned him away? But, if he was an admirable son, I see no reason why they would do that. Perhaps he had expressed a bit more discontentment with the Cuevas family prior, and decided that, given this opportunity, it was for the best to sever his ties with them? That seems like a pretty extreme decision to keep up with given the state that Ellie seems to have wound up in, and would call into question how much Ellie cared about Charles if he was so willing to leave him behind.

It would kind of make more sense to me if, in this scenario, an outside force was stopping Ellie from reuniting with his family– for instance, if XF-Ture Tech offered Ellie a deal like they did to Min (somewhat forcing his hand), which included that he could never contact his family again. That could certainly make Ellie more important to the plot moving forward, and explain part of why he even got this MV. But, what would XF-Ture Tech want to do with some kid who was just near-fatally mauled by a dog attack? An near-fatal attack that… he doesn’t even seem to have scars on his face, neck, or right hand from???

Option E: this is how ellie looks in heaven or hell or whatever i don’t freakin know

Some of you may have been screaming at me the entire time that Ellie’s design may not be “canon,” so to speak, and you know what? That’s valid. It could simply be a projection of what Ellie could have looked like if he’d ever grown to this point in age, or his appearance may have been modified to better match Gumi’s disheveled vibe in the original Yoidoreshirazu MV, and not reflect his true personality. Ellie and Gumi do have really similar poses, cigarettes and all.

However, it would seem a little odd to me to give the audience what’s basically an AU design of Ellie before we got the original version. That would lead to insanely wrong conclusions like what I just wrote above if true, which could potentially cause people to interpret future content incorrectly. That’s not good. Besides, the song was still chosen for Ellie, and the song carries the same sort of gritty, nightlife vibe that the Gumi design does. Could the lyrics of the song really fit Ellie so well that the entire energy of the song and appearance of the MV could be waived?

#5: What’s up with these lyrics?

Sigh. I hate to move on to the next talking point when I haven’t yet resolved what we were last discussing, but, to be honest, I don’t know if I can resolve why Ellie looks and acts like that with the information we currently have. I’m kind of banking on the lyrics swaying me in the right direction when it comes to that interpretation, but given that I’m probably going to have to reverse engineer a lot of the lyrics’ meaning, I don’t have high hopes.

Well, we’ve already seen how I think these lyrics would apply to Rose, so how do I think they would fit Ellie? More questions ahead, but please note that I may be taking certain lyrics more specifically than they’re meant to be interpreted. I don’t have much else to go off of, so for the sake of gaining pretty much any knowledge I kinda have to assume the lyrics are total slam dunks.

#6: What can we learn about Ellie’s personality?

I woke up as an unaware drunkard All of this bickering goes on til the dawn comes

Ellie wakes up and immediately begins to complain. Unless he’s bickering with himself, he isn’t alone, although that doesn’t necessarily mean he has friends. In the original song, I imagine this lyric to be more about passersby or the general state of the world, so it could be the same case for Ellie.

In Ellie’s case, it’s unclear exactly what being a “drunkard” means. It could just be the literal interpretation, where Ellie is an alcoholic. I wouldn’t know. Being a drunkard could also extend to being an addict in general— we can be pretty certain that Ellie is a smoker (unless see Option E above). It could also be that the “drunkard” part of the phrase is less important and it’s more just about being unaware. Although, that would require further interpretation for later lines like “getting drunk again and again,” and Drunkard is also half of the song’s title (“An Unaware Drunkard”). Still, Elliot could be enveloped in the same sort of general haze I described back when I gave this song to Rose. Or, he could literally just be a guy that likes to drink a lot. Either way, it gives off the impression of someone who spends more time centered in his own world than butting into others’ businesses.

The singing voices are uncountable And once one gets lost in them, they end up at your xx Hey, look at how pretty it is, the day dream rondo I hide a thousand and can only spit out ten

More introvert coding– he really doesn’t like being in large groups of people. Ellie keeps the same pretty neutral expression throughout all of these lines in the MV, which makes it kind of hard to discern exactly what these statements mean for him. Like, is “look how pretty it is” supposed to show how he’s easily distracted by dreams and frivolous things, or how he’s using positive things to distract those around him from how he “hides a thousand and can only spit out ten”? In either case, that latter line seems to imply that Ellie is dissatisfied with whatever he’s doing in life (or death?) right now– “can only spit out” makes me think that he feels he should be doing more.

Giving in, I’m living Getting drunk again and again, unexpectedly- Ah, it's not half bad

Ah, the infamous screenshot from the presumed dead man. This smirky face gives some definite context for the attitude of these lines. Ellie seems smug or proud that he’s living… because he’s beating the death allegations? Well, it could also be that he just enjoys living a life of sin (smoking and drinking), and/or enjoys defying the expectations of the Cuevas family in this way. There’s also a certain irony to saying “I’m living” while flaunting a cigarette in his hand. Ellie may also be someone who enjoys tempting fate and defying the odds.

Ellie’s facial expressions with these lines make me believe that he actually thinks that getting drunk again and again is pretty cool, and it’s not just a deflection from a tumultuous mind. Which, again, begs the question of whether the “drinking” is literal, or a metaphor for something else. With not much other information to go off of, I’m kind of assuming it’s both at the moment. Ellie (in this state) probably is someone who drinks and enjoys doing it, but also someone who doesn’t feel any guilt over ignoring– or forgetting– his problems.

#7: Did Ellie also forget about Charles?

There are a strange number of lines in this song that could imply that Ellie isn’t just being ignorant, he’s actually forgetting about something big. That something could be the memory of his younger brother, just like how Charles forgot the memory of his elder. Runs in the family, I guess?

I woke up as an unaware drunkard

Starting at the very first line, you could begin to view the lyrics through the lens of someone who lacked information about their past: “Elliot woke up somewhere random mostly forgetting who he was in a hazy state of being.” To be clear, I’m not saying that that’s the interpretation of the line, just an interpretation of the line. It’s an interpretation that builds further connections with later lyrics, though.

And then The sacred mountain is covered in mud, it’s smeared and chipping away, ah yes, it's not half bad

That's my muddy, obstructed, and broken vision of the future- It’s not half bad

These lines focus on something being damaged or broken. Ignoring the original song’s references to Mount Penglai, which are completely absent from this MV, I would interpret a character’s “sacred mountain” as their central motivation. The pursuit of this goal would be very important, or “sacred” to them, and just as majestic as it is difficult to traverse and achieve. That pairs well with Ellie losing his view of the future, as both indicate that he’s completely forgotten what his purpose in life is.

And yet, he insists that it’s not half bad. Why? The most likely reason is that, for whatever reasons made him look like this, Ellie has just adopted the same sort of fatalistic behavior as Gumi did in her MV. However, you also might not think that forgetting something was bad if you ever forgot that you forgot it. For the majority of his life, Charles hasn’t thought that forgetting Ellie was a terrible ordeal because he had no clue that Ellie even existed. For Ellie, it could be frightening to know that you’ve forgotten a lot of who you are, but also freeing. That dichotomy could be what resulted in his current pensive yet playful behavior.

Getting drunk again and again, unexpectedly- Ah, it's not half bad I'm a drunkard unaware of my rival in love, so

I'm a drunkard unaware of the story

These lines are ones that really made me think that Ellie could have forgotten Charles in particular. I’m really not sure what “rival in love” was supposed to mean in the original song, but for Ellie, that rival being his brother makes sense. He doesn’t have a lover, as far as we’re aware, but he may have had to fight against Charles for his parents’ affections in the past. Many siblings have a competitive relationship with one another, so Charles could also be described as a rival who Ellie loves. Charles is an easy stand-in for “the story” as well, as long as we assume that the main plot of the killing game is considered “the story.” Charles is a major player in the killing game who’s already been going on a major story arc of his own, and, being Ellie’s little brother, it would make sense if Ellie’s priorities in the story were Charles-focused were he aware of the killing game.

What would it mean if Ellie had forgotten Charles, though? It seems most likely to me that, if both brothers came to forget one another, the trauma would have stemmed from the same event. But, if Charles forgot about Ellie because of that dog attack, Ellie could have only had time to forget who Charles was if he survived for long enough after the attack to have that revelation. Also, don’t know how important this is, but if the attack gave Charles childhood amnesia, would it have had the same effect on a 20+ year old man? I don’t know enough about amnesia to know if the same circumstances that would cause a child to discard their memories would also result in an adult forgetting about aspects of their life. Then again, Ellie almost certainly suffered greater damage than Charles, so any aftereffects may have been more severe.

I obviously can’t declare with 100% certainty that Ellie forgot who Charles was, nor can I even get particularly close. Still, these strange threads seemed to be too prominent to ignore, and this was the best solution I could find to them with the information we know now.

#8: Who is “you”?

Twice in Yoidoreshirazu’s lyrics does the singer reference a character as “you.”

Neglecting my happiness, I never want to sober up until it's time to listen to your voice I’m giving into you, but you don’t even have anything to say and my body is dyed

Please don't let this fleeting happiness go away, until I can lend an ear by your side I’m giving into you, but you don’t even have anything to say and my heart is dyed

This person is quite important to the singer, as the singer craves their voice and succumbs to their person, their body and soul colored by the experience. And yet, there’s a sense of isolation, as “you” refuses to say anything back to the singer. It’s a classic tale of immense devotion met with quiet rejection for Ellie to partake in with… someone. I don’t know who.

For what it’s worth, I do think the lyrics imply that this is another human person as opposed to, say alcohol. While alcohol can certainly have a profound impact on a person, causing their happiness to come and go and changing aspects of their physicality, “you” is referred to with enough human traits that it doesn’t match up. Maybe anthropomorphized alcohol could have a voice, but when has it ever needed you to listen to it? To my knowledge, lending an ear to the bottle itself is pretty unheard of.

So, is “you” Charles? That makes some sense, as Charles is the only relevant character to Ellie’s story that we know much about. Based on what we’ve already established about Ellie and Charles’ probable bond, Ellie could definitely fit the devoted older brother character in one flavor or another. But then, why would Charles have rejected him? Could be the whole childhood amnesia thing, but then Ellie would have had to exist during a period of time when Charles had already developed the amnesia and also remember who Charles was enough himself to care. Charles could have also just not liked him much, but that contradicts with the evidence presented back at Question 3.

Honestly, I don’t think Charles is “you,” despite my lack of other options. Perhaps “we” can figure this out?

worn out, we all look horrible until all thousand voices become hoarse

Yeah, there’s also a “we” in Yoidoreshirazu, which furthers the idea that, wherever he is/was, Ellie isn’t alone. The lyrics make it unclear whether the “we” is the singer + you (and maybe others), or just the singer + others– I’d probably lean that it probably wasn’t meant to include “you” in the original, but who knows how DRDTdev chose to interpret the song. Still, as alcohol isn’t normally described as “looking horrible,” this further implies that there are other human characters referenced in Ellie’s MV. In the case of “we,” Ellie also has to associate with these people enough to include himself as part of them. He’s in a group. Why? How? When?

#9: What differences are there between this MV and the original?

This one goes out to all the people who thought to go back and check the original Literature Girl Insane MV for differences while we were dealing with that whole project! It inspired me to try the same thing here, and see what happened.

Yoidoreshirazu is a much easier task than LGI, though, because it’s a simpler song and MV on all fronts. Both MVs only portray one character, one location, and one color for the lyrics to be transcribed in. (There’s also only, like, a max of twelve words on screen at a time, unlike David’s mental library.) For the most part, the two Yoidoreshirazus are very similar. None of the lyrics were edited from Magenetra’s translation on the vocaloid lyrics wiki, the lights turn on and off at the same times, and the DRDT version doesn’t appear to include any additional puzzles or easter eggs. Still, they aren’t exactly the same, so I’ll write out the differences I found playing them side by side for both my own and others’ purposes.

Gumi is on screen at the start, then quickly disappears and comes back, while it takes Ellie until the lyrics start to appear.

Not much extra to explain on this point. It may indicate that Ellie was missing or absent for a longer period of time, or at least that he’s more mysterious/quiet than Yoidoreshirazu’s Gumi.

Gumi has her tongue out a lot more at the beginning of the song.

Before Ellie takes off his hood (so, basically for the first half of the song), he only sticks his tongue out for one part of the song, from 0:52 (“getting drunk again and again”) to 0:59 (“my rival in love”). Meanwhile, Gumi has her tongue out from the moment the lyrics start (0:09, “I woke up as an unaware drunkard”) to the end of the first stanza (0:25, “all thousand voices become hoarse”), and then does it again from 0:43 to 0:59, the entirety of the first chorus (“the sacred mountain” to “rival in love”). This gives Gumi the appearance of being more rebellious, while Ellie is more moody.

Gumi smiles a lot more than Ellie.

When Gumi returns from the first chorus (1:00), she’s already smiling. While she shifts from a satisfied smirk to a smug grin to an enraptured beam to a content smile, she doesn’t actually stop smiling from the minute mark on until the vocals stop (2:10). Meanwhile, Ellie doesn’t smile at all until 1:50, and drops the playful tongue-out expression after a mere six seconds. The only lines that Ellie smiles for are “I’m living / Getting drunk again and again– Ah, it’s not half bad,” which is quite interesting. The overall result is the same as the bullet point above; that Gumi is at least better at pretending to be happy while Ellie is lost in his sorrows.

Ellie and Gumi’s expressions are pretty different in general.

Here are all of Ellie’s expressions versus all of Gumi’s expressions. In the end, Gumi actually had more expressions, which I wasn’t expecting. Some of their faces are mirrors to each other, while others are different.

Both Ellie and Gumi have a serious eyes closed face, a bored/neutral face, a bored tongue-out face, a scary face with big eyes, and a sleazy grin. The only unique faces Ellie has on top of those are the more playful tongue-out smile (present only when his hood is off) and the contemplative downward gaze. Gumi has a knowing smile, a hopeful smile, and a content smile. With those differences, we conclude that, on the whole, Gumi seems to have a bit more hope in the world, while Ellie is downcast. I’m sure you couldn’t have guessed that by the results of the last two points (/s).

Ellie has a costume change.

Not hard to notice; Ellie takes his hood off mid-MV while Gumi keeps her outfit the same.

There’s a part of the song where Ellie disappears while Gumi is present.

If anything in this question is going to be important, it’s probably this tidbit. At 1:39 in DRDT Yoidoreshirazu and 1:37 in original Yoidoreshirazu, the line “and my heart is dyed” plays. At this point in the MV, Gumi is present on screen, but Ellie is not. Gumi then disappears alongside Ellie for the following “sore wa” before both reappear for the chorus, but the difference is still notable. Something about the line “and my heart is dyed” caused DRDTdev to remove Ellie from the MV when he otherwise should have been there. This could mean that Ellie’s absence is what caused his heart to be dyed, that Ellie was actually absent when the heart dying occurred, or something else. Regardless, the difference in visuals– especially one that leaves the lyrics as the only thing on screen for you to look at– means that “and my heart is dyed” is likely the most important lyric of the song for Ellie.

Ellie is doing a whole lot more in the final chorus.

This is probably why I thought that Ellie had more sprites than Gumi did, other than the whole two outfits thing. Throughout the entire second chorus, Gumi only uses one face, the smile with big eyes. Meanwhile, Ellie rotates through four different faces before returning to the one he started with; scary stare -> neutral -> eyes closed -> grin -> tongue-out smile -> scary stare. It gives Ellie a whole lot more character than Gumi had in that final portion. Granted, the inverse is also true: Ellie switched faces less frequently than Gumi at the beginning of the song. It leads me to believe that the lyrics at the end of the song may be more important to Ellie than the lyrics of the start, as the end is featured as the most memorable portion.

#10: So, um… What did we learn, exactly?

Honestly… I don’t know. Unlike the Chapter 2 murder, which is intended to be basically solvable, or even the characters’ secrets, which have had much revealed with minimal possible permutations, so little has been confirmed about Ellie that it makes it near impossible to settle on one answer as absolute truth. I can write out my current best theory about what may be going on with Ellie, but it’s honestly so implausible that I don’t really think it’s going to be canon myself.

If we prioritize the information given to us in this music video and the Q&As and disregard the effects that our conclusion might have on the story of DRDT as a whole, then I think the most likely option was actually Option D, Ellie became this way after he died. I think that Ellie was a bright young man– maybe not perfect, but still an older brother that Charles could look up to. Ellie and Charles were really close when Charles was a little kid, and they loved to hang out and eat pancakes together.

One day– maybe when Charles was about 4 and Ellie was about 16?– Ellie saw a dog on the side of the road and, loving dogs, brought his baby brother over to say hi to it. Unfortunately, the dog was feral and mean, and it bit Charles on the arm, injuring him greatly. Defending Charles, Ellie attacked the dog and told Charles to run away for safety. Charles made it back to his parents, bleeding and horribly traumatized, while Ellie did not. Ellie never came back home, so his parents had no choice but to assume he was dead. They chose to conceal the existence of their elder son from their younger, whether to avoid triggering Charles’ phobias or because they too wished him erased from the history books.

However, even though the world believed that Ellie had died, he actually survived! Though, not in one piece. He was probably severely wounded (perhaps leaving behind scars on any part of his body that wasn’t shown in the MV), and, just like his brother, suffered amnesia that caused him to forget who he was. From there, it depends on how he would have survived the dog attack.

If he barely emerged victorious from the battle due to his own power, then, with no memories, he was forced to live on the street. He gained his washed-up attitude from experiencing life’s hardships while being right on the cusp of remembering something more.

If he received aid from and then was indebted to a group like XF-Ture Tech, he may have been given some kind of help, but not without a cost. He probably started working for them in some capacity, even if he wasn’t a fan of his work/coworkers, and gained his washed-up attitude from years of nihilistically supporting the shady company.

The MV takes place in a time close to present day, when Ellie is reflecting on the state of his life and what he does remember. He hates the people he’s surrounded by, and can only lean on his bad habits (substance abuse and/or appearing more uncaring/airheaded than he actually is) to get by. He knows that he’s a shell of a person with no memories of his past or aspirations for his future, but there isn’t really anything he can do about it, right…? The vague memories of a “rival in love” and a main “story” are the only things giving him a taunting yet unerasable hope.

Woohoo, drama. But, like, that’s ridiculous, right? The secret literally said that Ellie was dead! How the hell could he still be alive? Did the mastermind’s source– whatever it was– just have the facts wrong, or are they actually lying? Wouldn’t the Cuevas family have looked harder for the body? Does amnesia even work like that? Does XF-Ture Tech even work like that???

Needless to say, I am still quite confused. The answer above is still the answer that makes the most sense to me, but it also has its own obvious flaws. I feel like I must just be straight up wrong about the identity of the Cuevas family, the method of Ellie’s death, the age at which Ellie appears in this MV, or something like that, but I don’t know what it would be. Even more than usual, I’d love to hear everyone else’s thoughts on this mysterious character. I feel like more analysis of the guy is going to come out soon, so hopefully some of the more numerical data like trying to pin down Ellie’s age or noticing the differences in the two MVs will help someone else make a breakthrough. Still, I encourage you to come forth with anything you have to say, because I want to hear it.

Thus concludes your instructional pamphlet on how to write an essay on a music video at a rate of 54 words per second of the music video. Thanks for reading!

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #elliot cuevas #charles cuevas #fanganronpa #yoidoreshirazu mv #i “finished” the analysis hooray #wish i had a conclusion for it #this was a very different theory to write than usual but that did make it fun #i feel like i totally lost my mind in there somewhere though so hopefully i don't come out looking like too much of a clown #the heart is dyed thing dude... what does it mean...#also glad people are listening to yoidoreshirazu in this house we stan kanaria #my theories

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heerocks · 2 years

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CURIOUS CAT — lee heeseung.

SYNOPSIS ꕥ Curious Cat is an app that peaked three years ago where people use it to flirt with their crush anonymously and then suddenly forgot about it.

or wherein, Y/N was devastated when her crush, Lee Heeseung indirectly rejecting her in highschool. Three years later, both of them have this unknown beef in between of them that even their friends don't know the real reason behind. One day, Y/N suddenly remembered and opened her C.C account, and saw that someone by the name 'Ethan' confessed to her three years ago.

PAIRINGS ꕥ non-idol!lee heeseung x fem!reader ft. enhypen, ningning from aespa, wonyoung from ive, and jeongin from skz

GENRE ꕥ smau + written, on crack, slow burn, mutual pinning or past pinning, university au, kinda enemies to lovers troupe, heeseung is a simp, reader is kinda dumb, friends bullying friends

STATUS ꕥ ongoing! update will be every other day ^^ (august 17 - )

WARNINGS ꕥ profanity, cursing, kys/kms jokes. lmk if something came up later

NOTES ꕥ this is a pure work of fiction and all the characters are in no way connected with the actual persons in real life. all infos are subject to change, and please ignore timestamps. I don't have humor so please bear with me. pls do lmk if you want to be added on the future taglist. my request is open, or just reply below, I would be more than happy to add you ^^ banner made by yours truly!

PROFILES:

heeseung hate squad | the brodies + y/n hater | extras: priv PRIV

CHAPTERS:

CHAP 1 - UGH SCHOOL

CHAP 2 - tl's dead

CHAP 3 - suga '93 hoodie (written)

CHAP 4 - you're delusional (written)

CHAP 5 - she's a runner, she's a trackstar 🤩

CHAP 6 - y/n's fish

CHAP 7 - somewhat something

CHAP 8 - suddenly can't see (written)

CHAP 9 - miranda's head

CHAP 10 - guess who (written)

CHAP 11 - yang jeongin

CHAP 12 - siri sent that message

CHAP 13 - give me that mic sister 😌

CHAP 14 - the glimpse

CHAP 15 - curious cat

CHAP 16 - freedom wall

CHAP 17 - finding Ethan

CHAP 18 — heeseung not bitchless ⁉️⁉️

CHAP 19 — megamind memes

CHAP 20 — getting braver

CHAP 21 — ignore me

CHAP 22 — dumb and dumber

CHAP 23 — hold that thought

CHAP 24 — what could possibly go wrong? (written)

CHAP 25 — haha'd his way out

CHAP 26 — enemies to lovers

CHAP 27 — something productive (written)

CHAP 28 — heeseung glitched

CHAP 29 — unprovoked (written)

CHAP 30 — stars, ramen and you (written)

CHAP 31 — go get your girl

CHAP 32 — let us breathe?!?!!

=> . . . bonus chapter — surprise??

CHAP 33 — mental voodoo doll

CHAP 34 — y/n's fight or flight

CHAP 35 — the table has turned

CHAP 36 — finding heeyn

CHAP 37 — hoes mad

CHAP 38 — not dead

CHAP 39 — got me thinking...

CHAP 40 — a what plan?

CHAP 41 — heeseung's wooing teachnique

CHAP 42 — it's about time (written)

CHAP 43 — he'll finally do it!

CHAP 44 — eyes on the prize, heeseung

CHAP 45 — loud and proud

CHAP 46 — the butterflies on y/n's stomach (written)

CHAP 47 — the luck on heeseung's side (written)

CHAP 48 — niki's adopted parents

more to come....

CHAP 49 — the betrayal

CHAP 50 — the connection (written)

𖥻𖥻 taglist!

@ckline35 @meinapricity @gugudone @xoxodinaryheroes @lov3niki @ahnneyong @raikea10 @bigtoewinwin @tlnyjoong @sungookie @uwudaizy @jeongintwt @paragonofroyalty @captivq @lavisha7 @prdxinvade @lockburn-castle @chaemmie @xtra-cheese @mimikittysblog @zhaixiaowen @pb-n-juju @luvkait @myjaeyunn @redm4ri @oceanyocean @diestheticu @liliansun @yenqa @xiaoderrrr @flower-lise @mymeloem19 @jungwon-kitten @hoonieluv @vantxx95 @asherbl @alexayoonlee @spilled-coffee-cup @mdavt @kyexvly @would-bee @jhopesucker @tiramis-hoon @noascats @beomibeom @iea-tsand @ronnierites @flwrshee

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emjayewrites · 10 months

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Pastry Passions (Luca x blackfem!oc)

PAIRING: Luca x Symone (black!original character)

SUMMARY: When Symone secures a coveted position as the social media manager at Noma, the renowned Michelin-starred restaurant, she is thrilled to be part of a team that pushes boundaries and captures gastronomic excellence. As Symone immerses herself in the vibrant atmosphere of Noma, she catches the eye of Luca, a talented and career-focused pastry chef within the same establishment. Luca is captivated by her presence, however, with his desire to maintain a clear boundary between work and personal life, he resists the growing attraction he feels towards her. Despite their shared passion for the culinary world, Symone and Luca find themselves entangled in a delicate dance between friendship, ambition, and unspoken desires. As the duo collaborates on various projects, from showcasing exquisite pastries to capturing behind-the-scenes glimpses of the culinary artistry, they face numerous challenges that test their resolve. Amidst the intense pressures of Noma's demanding environment and the weight of their individual aspirations, Symone and Luca must navigate their relationship in a career-driven world, where the line between personal and professional blurs, and decisions made can shape not only one's heart but also their future in the industry.

WARNINGS: slow burn romance, drama, angst, grueling work conditions/not-so-glamorous life of the culinary world, cursing, slight age gap, sexual content. RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @cinewhore @stargirlfics @mauvecherie-writes @kdoxkeic @wakandamama @afro-hispwriter @nolita-fairytale @lovebittenbyevans @blowmymbackout @superhoeva @barefoothighlander @ihyperfixateoncharacters

AUTHOR’S NOTE: So this is my first fic for FX’s The Bear. This contains spoilers from Season 2, so please don’t read if you haven’t watched. In “Honeydew”, Luca mentions that he’s been working as a pastry chef/chef for 14 years, so he has to be in his early/mid-30s (32-34-ish?) and there will be a small age gap between him and Symone. Also, Chapters 1-3 is set a month or two before Marcus’ stage trip in January. Please send me a DM if you want to be added to the taglist. Enjoy reading! ;)

PREFACE: Bloom/Blooming

BLOOM/BLOOMING: A process where gelatin powder or sheets are soaked in cold water for a few minutes before using. This makes the gelatin easier to dissolve and disperse more effectively in the liquid that is to be gelled.

Luca stood in the bustling kitchen at Noma, surrounded by the aromas of freshly baked bread, simmering caramel, and delicate spices. He meticulously prepared a tray of miniature pastries, carefully arranging them with artistic precision. As he focused on his task, his keen eyes scanned the kitchen, taking in the flurry of activity around him.

Suddenly, his attention was captured by the distinct click-clack of high heels echoing against the polished floor. Luca's gaze shifted toward the entrance, and there she was — Symone, Noma’s social media manager who had recently returned from her stint in Brooklyn, where she spent a week creating social media for Noma's new test kitchen, Noma Projects, and the pop-up restaurant, Noma BKLYN.

Luca's gaze locked onto Symone, his eyes tracing the contours of her silhouette.

Symone glided through the kitchen, her cascading waist-length braids swaying with every step she took. Her curvaceous figure was accentuated by the form-fitting jumpsuit she wore and her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she walked along the pass, drawing attention from both the kitchen staff and the din of sizzling pans and chopping knives. Luca's eyes followed her graceful figure, his work momentarily forgotten.

“Bought you something,” her hypnotic voice drawled, placing a paper bag in front of him.

Eyebrows furrowing, Luca leaned toward to peek inside. “Is it poisonous?”

Symone rolled her brown eyes in mock annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest, causing her already low-cut blouse to sink even lower. His gaze briefly shifted from the bag onto the swells of her breasts and the golden pendant that dangled temptingly between them. “Don’t be rash, Luca.”

A flush of heat rushed to his cheeks as he realized his mind had wandered into territory he wasn't proud of. Straightening to his full height, Luca’s eyes connected with hers and he let out a chuckle. “Can you just tell me what’s inside please?”

Giving him a look, Symone slowly reached inside the bag to reveal a coffee mug with one of the most ridiculous phrases he’d ever seen: Being a Pastry Chef is as easy as riding a bike, except the bike is on fire, you’re on fire, everything is on fire, and you’re in Hell.

“For your coffee. I’m tired of seeing you with that broken ass cup.”

He scoffed at her and picked up the gag gift to examine it. “Wow...thanks Symone.”

His obvious sarcasm went ignored as a smirk tugged the corners of Symone’s mouth. “Your welcome, Luca. Now, if you excuse me, I’m late for a meeting.”

She pivoted on her heel, and with his curiosity piqued, Luca watched as Symone made her way toward the head chef's office, a space usually reserved for discussions with the culinary team and restaurant management. A mixture of intrigue and a touch of longing stirred within him, as he wondered what important matters had brought Symone into the midst of the chefs' domain.

What the hell is happening?

Knowing that he shouldn't allow his distraction to compromise his work, Luca refocused his attention on the task at hand. He continued meticulously measuring ingredients, skillfully mixing them together with precision and care. But his mind kept drifting back to Symone, her annoying yet attractive presence, and the secrets that lingered behind the closed doors of the head chef's office.

As he crafted delicate pastry shells, his mind conjured up images of the discussions taking place behind those doors. The clinking and clattering in the kitchen continued as Luca stole glances toward the office, eagerly awaiting Symone's return. He couldn't deny this magnetic pull he felt towards her, ever since her first day at Noma four months ago, yet he consistently reminded himself of his commitment to not fucking his colleagues; a promise he made to himself after a lapse of judgment almost screwed up his livelihood four years ago.

A tap on the shoulder caused Luca to snap out of his thoughts. Turning, he became face-to-face with his sous chef, Maria. The petite woman was holding a tray in her hands with an evenly lined row of shiso gelee. “Theo’s first try.”

Behind her stood Theo, a timid stagiaire who had been learning under his older brother Tom, Luca's chef de partie, and Maria for the past two weeks. Despite being a bit taller and lankier than his brother, Theo's body language shows an undeniable lack of confidence. His eyes darted nervously, almost as if he was unsure of his place.

Noticing Theo's unease, Luca paused for a moment to glance at Theo. He understood all too well the feeling of being the new kid in the culinary world, and he empathized with Theo's hesitance.

"Hey, Theo," Luca called out gently, his voice firm yet reassuring. "Come over here, mate."

Theo hesitated for a moment, uncertain of what was to come. Slowly, he shuffled towards Luca, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“You can do better. Try again,” Luca stated before gesturing over to Maria. “I want you to watch Maria once more, focus on what she is doing and I’ll be back to check in, okay?”

“Yes, Chef,” affirmed Theo with a nod.

Maria bestowed a kind smile upon Theo as she gently guided him back to their shared station, ensuring he felt supported and included. Maria's mouth and hands moved with remarkable fluidity, showcasing the expertise she had acquired over the years. Luca couldn't help but be amused, a chuckle escaping his lips, as he realized Maria was using examples from her own tutelage to guide and inspire Theo.

Reflecting on Maria's journey, Luca felt a profound sense of admiration for her determination and growth. He remembered when Maria was once a stagiaire herself, receiving his mentorship with open-mindedness and a hunger for knowledge. In just five short years, she had risen through the ranks and blossomed into a skilled pastry chef.

Amidst the whirlwind of activity at Noma, Luca took immense pride in his role as a mentor to the stagiaires. Guiding and nurturing aspiring chefs had always held a special place in his heart. However, as the demands of crafting a new dessert menu and engaging in intensive research mounted, Luca found himself stretched thin. Working at Noma had been a dream come true, a blessing that brought him both fulfillment and a sense of purpose, yet the environment was a double-edged sword. The constant flow of tasks and the pressure to deliver excellence at every turn created an atmosphere filled with stress and high expectations.

The sheer magnitude of Luca's responsibilities as the new head pastry chef left little time for personal mentoring. The hours ticked away, swallowed by recipe experimentation, flavor combinations, and the pursuit of perfection. Fortunately for him, he’ll be able to gain some respite once he hires additional staff.

With a swift motion, Luca pushed back his tousled dirty blond hair, freeing his face from its gentle veil. The kitchen hummed around him as he approached a nearby sink, its stainless steel surface gleaming under the bright lights. He turned on the faucet, allowing the cool water to cascade over his hands and tattooed forearms, washing away remnants of his pastry endeavors. Once satisfied, Luca reached for a kitchen towel, which conveniently hung from his apron, and gently patted his hands dry, savoring the brief moment of calm amidst the chaos.

The distinct sound of Symone’s heels followed by the rarely heard laughter of the executive chef and restaurant manager caused Luca’s eyebrow to raise in interest.

"Luca," the manager's voice carried a note of enthusiasm and he made his way over to him with Kenneth and Symone in tow. "I have an exciting update for you. Symone will be spearheading a new campaign for Noma's upcoming dessert menu. She'll be working closely with you and the pastry team, collaborating to capture the essence of your creations to bring them to life in the digital realm."

Luca's heart jolted, caught off guard by the manager's unexpected revelation. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions stirred within him, threatening to disrupt the delicate balance he had meticulously maintained.

"Me?" Luca's voice trembled with astonishment as he pointed to himself, seeking confirmation of the news he had just heard.

As much as he found Symone alluring, Luca was acutely aware of the boundaries they had consciously set. Their interactions had been kept professional, with fleeting moments of connection. He respected the divide, understanding the perils of allowing their paths to intertwine too closely. The mere thought of being in such close proximity to her for an extended period might cause him to do something reckless like bend her over the kitchen pass and fuck her senseless, especially while she’s in those sky-high stilettos.

Fuck me.

"Can this get any worse?" Luca muttered under his breath, frustration mixed with a tinge of self-deprecation.

“What was that?” the manager queried.

“I can’t wait,” said Luca, giving him an assuring grin.

But the manager's announcement didn't end there. James continued, his voice filled with vigor, "And that's not all. In February, as part of our commitment to continuous learning and growth, you will be embarking on a trip to Japan with Symone and you will have the incredible opportunity to learn from the renowned pastry Chef Natsuko Shoji."

With his mind still reeling from the implications of working closely with Symone, Luca tried to steady himself as the manager's words echoed in his thoughts. A trip to Japan, and an opportunity to learn from the esteemed Chef Natsuko Shoji — both prospects were simultaneously thrilling and daunting.

As Luca fought to maintain his composure, his thoughts swirled like a tempest in his mind. The chance to expand his knowledge and refine his craft under the guidance of a culinary master was a dream come true. But the prospect of being in such close proximity to Symone, a woman whose presence stirred a fire within him, added an entirely different layer of complexity to the equation.

He took a deep breath, attempting to quell the rising tide of desire that threatened to consume him. Luca knew he couldn't allow his emotions to overshadow his commitment to professionalism, but the allure of what could be lingered in the air like a tantalizing fragrance.

As the manager and executive chef left the kitchen, their voices fading into the distance, Luca's eyes connected with Symone's once again. In that fleeting moment, the unspoken tension between them pulsed in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the desire that simmered beneath the surface.

Quickly, Luca averted his gaze; he couldn't afford to unravel the delicate threads that held their professional world together. He would focus on the trip to Japan, the opportunity to learn from Chef Natsuko Shoji, and he would keep his desires at bay.

Symone's eyes sparkled with excitement, her enthusiasm undeterred by his noticeable aloofness and the distance he seemed to be keeping. It was a familiar pattern, one she had grown accustomed to over time. Luca's guarded nature and reluctance had become a constant presence, an invisible barrier between them.

Symone leaned against the nearby countertop, a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. "I've been thinking about the campaign, and I have an idea. What if we create a series of behind-the-scenes videos, showcasing 'A Day in the Life of a Pastry Chef'? We can capture the intense preparations, the creativity that goes into each dessert, and the passion that drives the team. It will give our audience a glimpse into the magic that happens in Noma’s kitchen."

Luca's mood softened slightly as he listened to Symone's proposal. He couldn't help but appreciate her creativity and dedication to showcasing their craft. Despite his reservations, her enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself intrigued by her vision. Taking a deep breath, he decided to engage in the conversation, albeit with a touch of caution.

“Sounds good, Symone,” he tells her, his blue eyes gazing into her intently as he mirrored her stance and leaned on the counter behind him. “Let’s discuss this later. I have to get back with prep and research.”

"Okay,” smiled Symone as she pushed herself off the counter. “When will you be free to discuss the specifics?"

Luca, his demeanor still gruff and distant, replied curtly, "I'll let you know."

Symone couldn't help but sigh inwardly at his response, a mix of frustration and understanding, but she refused to let it dampen her spirits. With a playful smile, she retorted, "Come on, Luca, don't be a sour puss. We're going to have fun!"

Her words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the connection they shared, a hint that there had to be more to their partnership than just work. With a wink, Symone sashayed out of the kitchen, her graceful movements leaving a trail of confidence in her wake.

Luca's eyes followed her, unable to resist the pull of her departing lush ass, his mind filling with conflicting thoughts and desires.

She definitely knows what she’s doing to me.

Part of him longed to let go of his reservations, to embrace the possibilities that lay before them. But another part, the part rooted in caution and self-preservation, reminded him of the risks that lay in intertwining their personal and professional lives.

TO BE CONTINUED....

#emjayewrites #luca x black!oc #Hulu’s The Bear #the bear fx #the bear season 2 #luca the bear #marcus the bear #carmy berzatto #luca x reader #the bear fanfiction #The Bear fanfic #The Bear #spoilers #season 2 of The Bear

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joelalorian · 2 months

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Tides of Desire - Chapter Twelve: Turn the Corner

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Angst, cursing, some deep conversations, forgiveness, fluff, and a lil bit of smut. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: So, I thought there'd be a couple more chapters, but Joel said no. He wanted the tale to end here, so it does. What can I say, that man gets what he wants. There will be an epilogue, though. He's not the total boss of me. Hope you enjoy!

Series masterlist

Days after the fall, you felt a lot better. Physically, at least.

Emotionally? That was an entirely different story. You didn’t know how you felt, torn between two dueling desires – one for self-respect along with the respect you are due from Joel and the other a life with Joel. Was it too much to hope for both at the same time?

You and Joel still hadn’t talked about that morning, each of you dancing in circles around the topic but never coming right out to discuss it. There was no getting around it, you knew that, but still you hesitated. Why was it so hard?

Joel, being a man of action, showed you he was trying every minute after you were hurt. He took exceptional care of you, making sure you wanted for nothing as you recovered. His efforts bordered on too much after a few days, leaving you wanting a bit of space to think. Despite the care he took of you, you couldn’t get past the hurt in your heart once the pain in your head eased.

The anguish in his big, brown eyes when you told him you needed space haunted you, but you stood strong in your convictions. The return to your cabin was surreal after the luxury of Joel’s quarters and spacious bed, but it was necessary to decompress and sort through all the jumbled thoughts bouncing around in your muddled mind.

“Ah, the prodigal bunk mate returns!” Tess teased as you sauntered into the cabin the morning before the next charter started. “Finally gracing us mere peasants with your presence, are you?”

“Oh, shove off, ya muppet,” you snarked, plopping down on your bunk. Holy hell, Joel’s bed was a lot more comfortable that this lumpy pile of cotton and springs, you thought.

“How are you feeling?” Tess jumped down from her bed to perch herself at the end of yours.

You shrugged. “Physically, I’m fine.”

A single eyebrow arced upwards, reading between the lines as always. “And emotionally?”

Again, you shrugged, tears tickling the back of your eyes at the soft, sympathetic look on Tess’s face. The pair of you leant back against opposite bulkheads of your bunk and Tess stretched her legs, softly bumping her knee against yours.

“Let it off your chest, Brit,” Tess encouraged. “Better out than in, as they say.”

A snort escaped before you could stop it. “I think ‘they’ were referring to vomit, Tess.”

“Whatever, the sentiment is still the same. You need to vent and I’m here for it.” Tess smiled, a little mischief glinting in her eyes. “Plus, I’ve known Joel a long time. I’m well aware of what an emotionally constipated fuckwit he can be sometimes.”

That drew a laugh from you, which you realized was her goal. “He really can be, yeah?”

“You have no idea,” Tess agreed with a chuckle. “He’s gotten a lot better with age, but he’s still a man, so of course he’s as dumb as a box of rocks when it comes to emotional intelligence and expressing himself properly.”

The two of you spent the morning chatting as you recounted your view of things between you and Joel and Tess shared some insights into Joel’s mindset and how he’s tripping all over himself to make things right again. It was an enjoyable morning, especially once the conversation moved away from Joel and more onto Tess’s life and what she like to do during off season.

As you chatted, you briefly thought back to the initial days on the yacht, how you thought she and Joel were an item, and how much that bummed you out. Knowing the both of them as you now did, the idea of them as a couple was laughable. Tess would run circles around him until inevitably driving him crazy.

Around mid-day, Sarah joined you both, bearing leftover sandwiches that Tess made yesterday. She squeezed in between the two of you, her back against the bulkhead wall. It was a tight fit with three grown women and the low ceiling of the top bunk looming overhead, but you all made it work.

The addition of Sarah raised your spirits further. She was such a spitfire, caring and witty, and always ready and willing to throw her father under the bus for one thing or another.

“My dad’s an idiot,” she blurted around a mouthful of food as you lamented once again on not knowing how to proceed. “But he’s an idiot in love, anyone can see that.”

That stopped you in your tracks.

Eyes wide and unbelieving, you stared at Sarah. “You think he’s in love with me?”

Meeting your gaze head on, Sarah nodded, dark brown eyes speaking volumes. “Oh, I know he’s in love with you. He told me yesterday. It’s why he’s so distraught over everything and why he wouldn’t let you out of his sight until now.”

“Geez, kid, you don’t think he’d want to be the one to tell her something like that?” Tess chimed in with a chuckle, shaking her head at the younger woman.

Still stunned, you just sat there staring between the two of them. Joel was in love with you. He was in love with you.

“I’m in love with him, too.” You didn’t even realize you spoke the words aloud until you noticed Sarah and Tess staring at you with bright, knowing smiles on their faces.

“Duh,” Sarah teased, patting your leg. “We already knew that.”

Nodding, Tess added, “Maybe it’s time for the two of you to sit down and have a very serious conversation. Get it out of the way before this next charter starts.”

An hour and a shower later, you found yourself making your way to the bridge in search of Joel. The girls were right, this would all weigh on your mind until Joel and you sat down and had a serious chat. But what would you say? How do you even start a conversation like the one you needed to have?

You practiced some openers on your way up the decks, mumbling them to yourself with each step. Joel, you great knob head… No, no, that wouldn’t work. Joel, you bloody prat… Why was everything your brain came up with some variation of a British insult? You did not want to sling insults at the man, just let him know how very hurt you were.

Before you knew it – and well before you thought of the right words to say – you found yourself at the door to the bridge. It was now or never. You opened the door with a shaky hand, stepping through only to find Frank manning the helm. Your face dropped before you could stop it, but your lips quickly tilted upwards into a smile, oddly relieved.

“Hey doll, what are you up to?” Frank’s warm smile immediately calmed your frayed nerves. “Looking for Joel?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought it due time to talk.”

Frank smiled encouragingly. “Yeah, it’s definitely that. You two have a lot to figure out. He’s in his quarters.” Gesturing around the corner with a supportive nod, he added, “Good luck, not that you need it. Joel might, though.”

Flashing Frank a grateful half smile, you edged towards Joel’s room, knuckles rapping on the door twice after a deep breath. Maybe you should have asked Frank for pointers on how to start the conversation. Too late now. You’d just have to go with whatever came out of your mouth and hope for the best.

The door opened to reveal Joel, dark curls awry and thick glasses framing his red-rimmed eyes. In a word, he was a mess. You wondered if he even left his quarters since you returned to yours. Glancing around, it didn’t look like it. That made you feel better. He was as wrecked about things as you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes apprehensive and distressed. “Everythin’ alright? Is your headache back?”

Even a mess, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway was a sight to behold. God, he was too handsome for words. And his obvious worry over you only made him more so. Clearing your throat, you reminded yourself why you were standing in his doorway mere hours after insisting you needed space.

“Can we talk?”

His brows darted up in surprise. “Uh, sure, yeah, of course.” Joel eyed you for a few moments, clearly uncertain about what to do or say, before adding, “Do you, uh, want to talk here or go somewhere less…”

Your lips tilted up as he trailed off, knowing his brain was working a mile a minute to find his words. “Here’s fine. It will give us privacy.” Your response visibly stunned him. He obviously wasn’t expecting that response from you.

Stepping back after another long moment, Joel ushered you into his private space. The bed still unmade from when you left first thing that morning, you opted to sit in the chair at the desk along the bulkhead, leaving Joel to take a seat on a corner of the bed. You stared at each other for a while, neither knowing how to start, until you couldn’t take the silence anymore.

After a few false starts, you were finally able to find your words.

“Joel, I’m in love with you, but you hurt me. Like really hurt me. And I don’t know how to come back from that.” You watched the expression on his face vacillate from awed and hopeful to wounded and regretful.

“Sweetheart –” he started, his dark eyes round and wet and not quite meeting yours, but you cut him off.

“I know that morning was hard for you, that you were hesitant to start anything with me during season to begin with, but you made the conscious choice to take things further. You did that and still you made it out to be my fault the moment something didn’t go right. You made me the fall guy. That… that really hurt. And it wasn’t fair.”

You paused, already feeling a heavy weight lifted from your chest at having spoken your peace, giving Joel the opportunity to respond. His beautiful brown eyes were large and glassy, lips in a pout as he searched for words to justify his actions, but there were none, you both knew. He was silent so long, dejectedly staring at you that you opened your mouth to say more when he finally found his words.

“I’m an utter asshole, sweetheart. I told you the other day, I won’t do you the disrespect of giving you poor excuses. I was completely in the wrong. I know it, you know it, everyone on this damn boat knows it – believe me, I’ve heard it from nearly every one of them. And I’m glad they feel comfortable enough in this environment and with me to defend you and put me in my place.”

Your lips quirked at that, causing his own to tilt upwards slightly. “We have great people on this crew,” you admitted fondly. Joel’s smile widened ever so slightly.

“I never meant to hurt you – never intended to treat you like I did. I’m ashamed, plain and simple.” Joel cleared his throat, hands running up and down his thighs in a nervous tick. “I can only promise to do better because I love you, sweetheart, and I never want to be the cause of your pain.”

Your eyes leaked fat droplets of saltwater down your cheeks. “You love me?” Even though Sarah basically told you already, it was completely different hearing those words directly from Joel’s lips, the rough timber in his voice matching the sincerity in his gaze.

He nodded, flashing you a watery smile. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I don’t even know how it happened so quickly, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even if you don’t forgive me, I’ll never regret falling in love with you.”

“Joel…” you drew out his name in a long sigh. “I love you, too, but you can’t ever treat me like that again. It’s perfectly fine to be nervous or scared, but we need to communicate rather than snap and push each other away. Okay?”

Joel stood, nodding solemnly as he moved to kneel before you. “I understand. I promise to never treat you like that again. I promise to work on my communication skills. I promise to spend every day proving that I’m worthy of your love.”

His hands clutched your waist by the time he finished speaking. You ran your fingers through his thick curls, mussing them further as you pulled him in for a kiss. The press of his lips against yours soft and sweet, it almost felt like the first time again.

Your heart still hurt, but the pain ebbed away with every soft touch and loving word from Joel. Everything in you told you to forgive him but not let your guard down fully, still wary of getting hurt further. As if he could sense your hesitation, Joel held you close, asking you to stay the night in his quarters. You couldn’t deny him, wanting to connect physically to ease the residual emotional ache.

Joel spread you out on his bed, his mouth tasting every inch of your dewy skin with reverence, as if he needed to sear the taste and feel of you into his memory. He worshiped your body from head to toe, no spot left unexplored. You longed to return each kiss, each tender touch, but Joel insisted this evening was all about you. There would be plenty of time to explore him later.

“I adore you,” he whispered into the soft skin behind your knee.

“I ache for you,” he murmured against your belly.

“I. Love. You,” he said with finality before his lips connected once more with yours.

Shooting stars flashed across your closed eyelids when Joel slipped his cock inside you. Rocking with the gentle flex of his hips, he moved inside you, cock caressing that spongey spot that set you ablaze with each thrust. His mouth alternated between fervent kisses to nibbling on your earlobes and whispering lovely, naughty things in your ears.

It was so different from the other times you had sex together. It was softer, sweeter, and somehow more intimate and meaningful than the other times combined. This… this was making love, you thought. Something you’d never experienced before, and you wondered how you ever lived without it.

You came hard at the realization, giving into every feeling Joel drew from you with his movements and words, the fluttering of your walls around him nearly choking his cock. He came shortly after, stilling as he spilled inside you with a drawn-out cry of your name.

You stayed just as you were, your body beneath Joel’s, his cock still sheathed inside you, staring into each other’s eyes and seeing right into the very essence of each other. This was love. The caring, the forgiving, the open vulnerability… the cracking wide open of your souls to admit that you were hurt or scared and finding the strength to admit flaws and love in spite of them, or because of them.

Life and love were imperfect, and there was beauty in those imperfections.

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you whispered into the night, falling asleep with your head tucked into the curve of his neck, his warm skin blanketing you better than the warmest down comforter ever could.

The echo of your name sounded far away as Joel whispered the words back to you.

This. This was love.

The final weeks of the charter season passed in a blur with long days of work and longer nights of pleasure. The two of you could not get enough of each other, not caring about the exhaustion from limited sleep. You never returned to your cabin for sleeping after that night full of confessions and new beginnings with Joel. It was no surprise to any of the crew, really. There were no secrets on the yacht, nor any talk of impropriety or special treatment. Every person on that boat could see the love practically floating in the air between the two of you as if it was a tangible thing you could hold in your hands.

To demonstrate their approval of the two of you together, the crew placed bets on how soon you’d move to Austin, how soon you’d get engaged, how soon you’d get married. Those little buggers bet on everything when it came to you and Joel. They didn’t bother to hide it either, flaunting the board in your faces with Tommy proudly taking the lead as bookmaker. You couldn’t even be mad about it. They were all just so damn happy for you both, it was infectious.

Once the final round of charter guests departed, Joel took the yacht back out to sea for one last day and the crew celebrated with a party on the sundeck. Tommy and Jake emptied the lazarette of all the water toys for the crew to enjoy. Tess cooked up some delicious tapas on the barbecue. Sammy played DJ with the massive collection of songs on his phone And Sarah, sweet Sarah, made sure the sundeck bar was fully stocked with everyone’s favorite alcohol.

After racing around on a jet ski with Joel, the pair of you settled into the hot tub, sharing a bottle of wine as you watched Tommy, Ellie, Tess, and the interior crew dance around the deck in cheap, fake grass skirts they dug up from who knows where. Frank and Bill sat on the loungers sharing their own bottle of wine, Bill scowling away at the raucous behavior of the others. You would miss every single one of these people who became friends who were more like family to you in a few short months.

You marveled at that. Everything moved faster on the yacht, but what was time, really, when you forged such connections that would last a lifetime?

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #pedrostories #joel x f!reader

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rise-my-angel · 4 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

32 - Peeking the Realms Woes

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 15.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, body shaming, derogatory language, mild descriptions of blood and gore, references to past torture/rape, past character death, smut, public sex, p in v, slight exhibitionism

Notes: If you're hungry for extra content, at the top of the masterlist there are 4 oneshots which are side companion pieces. All canon to the plot but just did not fit into any main story chapter. There's 2 prequel esque chapters, one smut based chapter set in an ambiguous point in the story, and a nsfw alphabet. Just if anyone's curious! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You had never walked and travelled lands as something called a Queen in any times but war. Not for a second in the Westlands did you nor Robb go anywhere without a number of guard, being in war torn enemy territory. But you also had an army camp anywhere between twenty to thirty thousand depending on where exactly your men were stationed at. You were always around a vast number of soldiers and guard.

In a similar fashion, you were somewhat used to it in Kings Landing. Either you had a flock of hens chattering about behind you at Cersei's insistence of giving you handmaidens. Or you had a guard with you most typically when travelling the streets beyond the Red Keep to the docks and waters but you also lived in a city with what now was likely close to a million people. It was normal to have a guard of at least one.

But here? In the North? It was odd. Trying to implore them to keep their distance most of the time as you appreciated the quiet. Jon had discussed it with Theon, where he felt he fit here now more and gave him his full trust to lead as the Queen's Captain of the Guard. Acting the one in charge knowing exactly when to force them to give you that quiet. It was not a long trip to get here, leaving early and not caring to stop until you reached it, but as soon as you did, they were allowed to stay guard and keep their eyes out but you were thankful Theon knew to force them to give space to what was unfolding.

The raven was simple, coming from Castle Black addressed to you specifically and the moment you had read it, a weight hit you once more. Looking at maps of the land to connect the paths of where exactly to go, knowing it would be a rather simple path to get there if they let you go at the speed you needed to get there quick. Jon was the one who insisted to send people with you, and Theon recognizing the protest about to come from you as he spoke up about gathering a few guards and himself. You had leaned somewhat against the table in a moment alone with a playful raise of one eyebrow, “I know it is a hard thing for you to imagine, but I think I can manage one teenage boy on my own.”

He had all but yanked you into his front at that one, a dark tease in his eyes with a tone that of an playful condescension. “How well did that go for you, when I was the teenage boy?”

Crossing your arms best you could in the space between you, your tone was flat and almost made the playfulness in his grow. “Most boys don't throw girls up against trees to ravage them.” Narrowing his own eyes he leaned down more into your face, feeling his breath dance along his skin as he questioned the word ravage. It was your turn to smirk as his face fell flat. “Oh, so if that wasn't my first kiss you're saying you would have had the restraint not to do anything more?”

His silence almost made you laugh, both of you knowing Jon had no rebuttal to such an accusation.

But it was now as you slowly walked through the snow looking at the remains of once was, and you once more could envision exactly what had taken place here. You knew too well what war looked like and it was easy to see how such a simple village was left in tatters and the remains frozen in time to remind of the pain. If any but him had been left alive, they ran and never returned to this place.

The homes were all small and quaint, much of the decaying remains of tools and lands told you much of their lives and work were outdoors together as a community instead of singular. It made it easy to target, and you knew that's why it would have been picked. It was a village of innocent people and such an atrocity was supposed to draw the Nights Watch out, as was the attack on Mole's Town.

Slaughter innocents to draw the good men out to avenge them, but they knew better and forced the wildling group to them instead. A fight which beyond North was stopped before it ever began with the help of the Baratheon army, but it was Jon's leadership that held off the entire fight from ending before it begun with the ones coming south.

But, that didn't mean the cost of getting them there wasn't devastating.

By the time you had seen Olly, you had such an imagine painted that you knew only agony would be across his heart once reaching where he stood. His back to you as there was one area he hadn't moved from since you arrived, and his eyes likely rarely blinked looking to it. Not easy to see through the snow and ice covering, but it was the remains of bodies. Winter had encroached on them early and what should have decayed to bones was left stuck frozen and the evidence of their use haunting.

No doubt he heard you approach, but it was his pain to address, not yours to guide. You dared not think about how long he had been here waiting, or the heaviness in your heart at how he knew you would come without question. Coming up to his side, you stood close and watched as he did. He had told you what the threat one of them made was, and the degree of mutilation you knew in some mercy was done after death. Easier to carve into a body to eat if they aren't alive to fight back.

You were both quiet for a long time, and when words finally spoke, it was with a shaking breathe stemming from such a heavy heart did Olly finally find the right words to form. “He wasn't the first person I killed.” Your face didn't shift at all, but he knew to elaborate anyways. “Jon. He was the first that meant anything to me...but I killed someone before. The woman who killed my father.”

His eyes were filled already with tears wanting to fall and no doubt the crack in his voice as he continued, threatened to extend to such watering. “None of us knew they were even there until she killed him. Fell to the ground right beside me, he was already dead before I even knew what had happened to him..and then I looked over and saw her..there was nothing. Nothing in her eyes, she shot him in the neck and didn't even care one bit about it. Just moved on to everyone else..”

Stepping forward, Olly knelt down to the frozen pile as you stepped with him, kneeling as well to stay right by his side with a dutifully quiet listening. “The last thing my mother ever said to me, she just looked at me yelled for me to hide, kept telling me to hide and the second I ran..I didn't see them do it but I heard her scream..”

His hand reached out to something, running over the snow before dropping down now as the tears let themselves fall loose along his cheek. “They attacked us at Castle Black and I shot arrows into her back. I was scared the whole fight..but then I saw her, holding an arrow up and she was going to kill Jon..but then he saw me, and he trusted me to do it. He trusted me to save his life that night, and that was how I repayed her. I wanted her to know what it felt like, the way my father died not seeing it coming..but it didn't hurt. It didn't feel bad not the way it felt when..” His cracked voice fading away, you both knew the words going unsaid.

You looked over to him, eyes flickering away narrowed in thought before looking back. You knew Olly could see you were looking at him, but you didn't beckon him to face you. “I didn't know anything about the first man I killed.” His brows narrowed but he wiped at his tears with the back of his hand but more came anyways in small, silent drops. “Didn't know his name, who he was, barley what he looked like.” Finally his head turned to yours, and there was a long passed distance in your eyes fading out. “I shoved a dagger into his neck and after he fell to the ground, I never thought about him again.” Asking why, you inhaled before looking back to the sight in front of you both.

It had been a long time since you thought about what happened that day. It felt like nothing compared to the ones which followed suit. “They attacked us first. Lord Stark, his men, we were all attacked in the streets of the capitol and the only people we killed attacked us first. They killed three of his own guard that day, men I knew for years. They attacked us, and after I killed one of them another shoved a spear through Lord Stark's leg and everything after that only ever got worse. I didn't think about the fact that I had killed someone until after we had won our first battle. I never thought about that man again after everything else I did. Until right now.”

The winds around you two blew quietly, brushing your exposed faces with dustings of snow picked up from the ground and flying through the air to a new destination. “You were defending yourself.”

“And you were defending Jon, and avenging your family.” Olly exhaled shakily, before nodding a bit. “We all do bad things, but those bad thing's aren't all equal in nature. You don't feel bad for killing her because you were righting the horrible wrong she did to you. But you feel bad for what you did to Jon, because you always knew that was wrong.” He didn't move away as you slowly let your hand sit comfortingly in the middle of his upper back, “We can't pick and choose what we feel guilty for, but the ones that we do is what defines us. You aren't a bad person because you don't feel guilty for killing her, and you aren't one for being forced to kill someone because Ser Alliser made you. People have done far worse in this world then you'll achieve in your lifetime.”

The winds sat between you once more until his voice was but a whisper, “You said that I didn't need to forgive them for what they did..but I would have to learn to live with them..” You nodded, waiting for the detached thoughts to assemble together in his mind. “I don't know if I'm ready for that..but if I stay at Castle Black I'll never know.”

“We can only try. I'm not asking you to make promises, only that you do your best and tell me when it's getting difficult.” Moving your arm across his shoulders, you pulled him more into your side, running that hand up and down what you could reach of his upper arm. “That and perhaps not to get too friendly with knives when alone with the King.”

Olly choked out a laugh as he leaned into you with an exhaustion. You both sat for a good while, as the boy found no energy in him to move anymore. “The snow is too heavy to bury them.”

Nodding, your voice was soft, “So we burn them. Do your mother and father one last thing, and not leave them here like this. We won't leave them to come back when the storm does.” Olly didn't move to get up, but he nodded his head. You wouldn't get up until he was ready. It was his parents he was looking for, and until he was ready to look away once he found them the two of you would sit there.

“Why do you want me around? After what I did..”

A smile easily sat gentle on your face, pulling him a bit closer. “I could ask you the same question.”

Olly's answer though, smacked right into your heart almost making you want to feel those tears sting behind your eyes. “My mother would have liked you.” You didn't need him to elaborate, you understood that with a tightening in your heart right away. Your eyes now watering without letting them drop.

Whispering in a strained silence only for him, “And she wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for a mistake. So I won't either.” Prompting him to stand as soon as he found the strength to sit back up properly, “Now we give them a proper funeral, and tomorrow you start fresh.”

No one helped you both, but you had given Theon a shake of your head when he moved to ask and he told the rest to leave you both be. He had told you that boy admires you, but Theon watched and came to the same conclusion you previously did. That maybe, you were just the closest thing to a mother Olly had left. Theon also didn't say it, but he certainly noticed how easily acting as one, fell upon your shoulders.

Certain things were undeniable sore spots for many of you now, and breaching such topics tended to mostly be spat between the two of you in jokes. It was easier to cope with what had happened to both of you if you joked about it, but certain ones he still didn't know how to bring up. It didn't pass your notice or Theon's that neither of you came anywhere near any kind of joke or insult coming close to a topic remotely sexual.

You two never had any actual attraction or interest. It was always from jokes in origin. You were pretty and innocent but short tempered and rigid. Theon was older, had a mighty appetite for women and knew you heard every time he snuck girls and whores into his chambers. He'd make a pass at you, you'd refute it with a clever comment and thus back and forth it became a game of wits to who could out sass the other.

Sex was just something you both were opposite about, and it made joking about it between you both far easier then Theon would ever get along with other girls. You never wanted him, he never wanted you and so flirting with you was safe, beacuse you both knew it meant not a thing. Jon had once joked, asking you if you shared that small corridor with Theon, how did you still know so little about sex. All three of them, Jon, Theon, and Robb all laughed at how flustered and offended you got. Saying you didn't actually listen you just heard it incidentally.

But, not once did anything close to subjects like that come up anymore. Not in jokes. Not towards you, and not about Theon's activities. Or lack thereof, now. You and Maester Wolkan were the only ones left who knew about it. Wolkan needed to know, he was the Maester of Winterfell now under Jon and when discussing his health, it had to be known. But you, not once did you ever bring it up. And he was grateful for it.

You weren't there for what happened to him, and he was glad of it. It was an indescribable memory that he some days couldn't piece together. He had meekly begged Ramsay to kill him after, and for a long time he still wished he would. But it got, not easier, but he had learned to cope with it as it would never change. Then Ramsay showed him you in the dungeons.

Theon knew why he was to be the one to serve you in Winterfell. Ramsay wanted him to get used to being around you, so that it would be a horrible shock the day he was dragged into what was being used as your chambers. And the sickening image he recalled, the extent of how violent it had gotten. Images that haunted Theon to the present. It was first night Ramsay made you and Theon watch each others eyes as he did what he did to you. And he only dragged Theon to watch the more Ramsay's appetite for cruelty towards you grew.

He purposely didn't tell Jon about a lot of the things done to you. Really, he had told Jon the truth of what happened to you, but he didn't tell him anywhere near the worst of it. He didn't know how to say it, and Theon knew that you still hadn't told Jon the worst of it, either.

If Theon were to be honest, it was clear that had Jon known the true extent of vile things Ramsay had done to you, he would've beaten him to death in the courtyard that very day they reclaimed Winterfell.

They weren't sights he liked looking back on, he knew it was to torture you as much as it was to torment Theon but it certainly stuck in his mind in the worst way possible. Ramsay had once mocked him about when men lose an arm or a leg and getting a phantom itch where it used to be. Asking if he would feel it now when seeing a naked girl, and he decided it seemed to test such a question out on you.

But he didn't feel that, he didn't look at you in that manner before, and now still he didn't see anything any mind could attain something good from, only horror. It wasn't until Winterfell too, did Theon for the first time find a reason to be thankful for being cut as such. Ramsay's voice so clear in his mind as he was forced to watch one night. You had been in a mood, and thrown a small mirror at Ramsay that smashed into pieces. So the Bolton stripped you down bare and let the broken shards cut into you as he did what he did, grinning at Theon the whole time.

“Maybe once upon a time, I would have made you do this part Reek, have you bond with my bride.”

He wouldn't be able to even look Jon in the eye had it come to that. He didn't know if he could even live with himself if he was to do something like that. He was Ironborn, rape and raid and all as such but that wasn't who Theon was in his blood, and that wasn't the man Eddard Stark raised him to be. So in that very home he once foolishly thought was the true prison, had to stand and watch it happen to you and be selfishly thankful that he was so mutilated that he wouldn't be able to be forced to help.

It was easy for you to joke about things before. What he did before Ramsay, it was so long passed that the transgressions were all but gone in your eyes. To you, if you both joked about it, people wouldn't look at him as if they should still hate him. He still wasn't sure how to thank you for that, nor if you would even want that. Very likely you would tell him to be quiet and go do something else if he tried to thank you.

You two used to hate each other too. Terribly hate one another. Your first week in Winterfell after Theon had been there, and as soon as he realized you were the daughter of Stannis Baratheon did he ever ramp up how rude he was. Didn't matter to him that you were younger and short and a girl, you were the daughter of the man who destroyed his uncle's fleet, and you had a smart ass mouth that he wanted to punch.

He could still see back one day he, Robb, and Jon were attending to something in the stables when you had thrown the door open and threw something at him hard. Jon had to grab him to stop him from instinctively going to hit you back, as you had yelled at Theon for something he now couldn't even recall. He yelled back and soon everyone came to see what was wrong, you got flustered at the attention, shoving passed everyone to leave when the amount of eyes grew. Robb left to go calm you down and shoved Theon into the wall in frustration as he passed.

Lord Stark had later, made you both sit down in his study side by side to force you both to grow up. He had told you that you could not come in and let your temper out on people and if you needed to have an outlet, “Pick up a practice sword in the training yard, and don't return until you're sure you aren't going to try to stab Theon with it.”

On his own, Lord Stark had told him to ease up on you. Robb and Jon had known you for six years at that point and were very close, they knew you well enough to tease. But also that while all three of them were verging on men, you had only recently had your fourteenth name day, that you were still little more then a child. Theon had grumbled, “Doesn't talk to me like one...”

But the man had only chuckled, he too had known you for those same six years and had watched you slowly grow out of your shell tremendously from that very first month. “I'm not asking you to be friends with her, I'm telling you that you both will need to find a way to tolerate the other's existence. You both will be working closely together from now on, and I'd rather not assign a guard to watch you both every moment of the day.”

He had gone back out to the yard, where you and Robb had started to spar. Trying to get your worked up energy out on something useful, and there you were laughing and smiling the more you and the eldest Stark would go. He would compliment how much better you had gotten, and he saw nothing of the bitter, dry and sarcastic little bitch he had initially thought you of.

Now however, watching you with the guard from afar, your eyes soft as your expression was the same harsh and still as ever, but you had your arm comfortingly around Olly, who was leaning into you with shaking shoulders Theon knew were tears. And not for a second did you try to make him feel better or even tell him it would be okay. You were exactly what the boy needed you to be in that moment. This was the village that was ruined in seconds and you stood with him in the cold snow as long as it took for the fire to take what was left of the frozen bodies of his parents and home.

Olly didn't talk to much of anyone as you all made your way to Winterfell. No one asked why an orphan boy from the Night's Watch was leaving there with you, and if the space given to you both as you came into the courtyard said anything, they were smart enough to not speculate either. It wasn't anything they would guess, you were certain of that. No one guessed it, and some days neither you nor the boy himself could believe what led him here.

But there was one thing to do, once you got him settled, notably getting him used to his quarters and around the castle as if a mother would, but if he was to be here, there was one person he needed to talk to. And he had avoided that conversation since the day he ascended the steps from the Ice Cells.

It was the Lord Commander he helped murder, but now it was the King in the North he was to answer too. But as you made your way to give them privacy, Olly had hesitated to speak up asking you to stay before realizing it was not his place. Jon however, caught it well and nodded for you to stay with not a shred of ire or blame in his eyes.

You'd seen the raging red and intense violence that could brew in Jon Snow's eyes but not for a second was such emotions and aggression directed at a child. That wasn't who he was, he in his blood without having to even try, was the man always on the front to protect the innocent.

Including the innocence of a child manipulated into doing something monstrous.

Samwell Tarly could recall a day when one of his brothers had asked him if he had ever dreamt of being back home since arriving at Castle Black, and his answer was blunt as he could have made it. “No, I hated it there.” And it wasn't anywhere near a lie, but it was so much more complicated then that.

No matter what good remained in his memories of home, it was still a place that he resented. He resented the torment, he resented being forced to leave, and he resented that he had to leave a second time all because once more his father refused to see anything worthwhile in him.

He had introduced himself that first day in Castle Black, as if it meant anything to those already looking at him with judging amusement in their eyes. Told to let them know what his name was, and he gave the proper greeting he was raised to introduce himself as only the shaking nerves made it sound pathetic as he spat it out, and rambled further.

“Samwell Tarly, of Horn Hill. I mean, I was of Horn Hill..I've come to take the black..”

Only to have the first thing he heard from any of their mouths, was the spitting Rast laughing to himself, “Come to take the black pudding,” Truly in those first few days Sam was sure his life had gone from one kind of bad to a new without anything to look forward too. Ser Alliser mocked him, encouraged others to mock him, and looked forward to making his recruits knock him into the dirt.

One had stood up in his defence, angry and shoving him away from them all once he grabbed him off the ground. Fighting against the rest of them when Ser Alliser demanded it, and turned around scolding him that it wasn't about to get easier. It was the first time someone had truly come to Sams defence without any expectation in return, and it was a bit off putting to Sam how rough and stern he was about it though. He was so sure, when he was assigned as the mans watch partner up on the Wall, that he hated him, and would rather have nothing to do with him.

Part of it was not being comfortable around such heights, but when he was told to come stand by the fire, Sam didn't want to. He was freezing, but standing by the fire meant having to come closer and annoy the one person who had done something nice for him, so he lied.

Only, it was never that easy trying to lie to someone like Jon Snow.

He said he was fine, and Jon without missing a beat turned to him, “You're not. You're freezing.” After that night, it got easier. A lot easier. He found people and purpose and confidence and a true bravery, he had begun to feel pride in who he had become at the Night's Watch.

But then Jon was Lord Commander, and had returned from Hardhome seeing horrors beyond anything Sam imagined once possible as a boy. Much happened at once, Jon with the intention of opening the gates to let the free folk through, but before that, had told Sam he was sending him to the Citadel.

Maester Aemon was very sick by then, and very old and Jon seemed to decide to utilize Sam's love for learning for the better. Despite the fact that Sam knew too well, Jon had next to no one left. Sure he had Ghost, he had Edd, and the large one Tormund seemed fond of him, but Jon had no family left, no home, most of his friends were dead, and half a year later, Jon still hadn't said more then a few words about you.

He wanted to stay, to not be another person forced to leave Jons life, but it wasn't Sams choice. It was Jons. And he sent him, Gilly and Little Sam to Eastwatch by the Sea anyways. After getting on a ship, it was a port stop in Bravvos with more adventures there then he ever wanted, and finally before settling into Oldtown, Sam knew he had one more stop.

He had to go back to Horn Hill.

Sam had hoped that perhaps the many years since he had left, may have softened his father's ire towards him. His mother Melessa at least, had taken one look at Sam and smiled so brightly he could have cried, a laugh at how good he looked, and how healthy he looked.

Then when introducing Little Sam, an easier explanation to hide where Gilly had come from they told his family he was his bastard son. It was less complicated if they thought he was his blood, even though at that point in Sam's life, he knew what people would think about a man of the Nights Watch with a newborn. But Melessa had adored Little Sam, not once cared for any of the implications one way or another, merely excited to have a grandchild and meet the girl who wooed her son.

Talla was so much older now, while adulthood hadn't changed much in Sam it had made his sister go from a girl to almost a woman, one of the first things from her mouth, “Father says I have to marry Symun Fossoway. He has yellow teeth-” Considering the life he and Gilly had just come from, it was almost sweet she complained it to Sam as if it were the worst to happen to her.

His father and brother were on a hunt, and for only a moment as his mother told him, it made Sam swallow in nerves. He doubted his father had ever told his wife what his plans for Sam were.

“You're almost a man now, but you are not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the black. Forsake all claim to your inheritance and start north. If you do not, then we'll have a hunt. And somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die...or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more.”

But he was doing this not for himself, he needed this to work. He needed his father to accept Gilly, accept Little Sam so they could have a life. Little Sam would have a better education then Gilly knew she could give him, still on her own reading journey she wasn't anywhere near a teaching level.

He needed his father to look past Sam's own shortcomings just this once. Let them stay, and Gilly wouldn't have to work in a brothel cleaning after women who all called her a “wildling bitch”. She wouldn't be working in Castle Black where at any time they could corner her alone, the worst of his brothers would attack her for being nothing but a woman. They would be safe.

Talla and Melessa had brought them both inside, the former sharing ideas of what guest room Gilly could have as if she had any concept of the luxury being offered. His mother warming his heart, telling him quietly that she couldn't be happier seeing her son with something so proud to look at. But then his father and brother came home.

Dickon wasn't as openly gleeful like his mother and sister, but Sam also knew that the two brothers were indeed happy about to see one another. Dickon had accepted the explanation, and begun going over things on his mind as if no time between all these years had passed. He was tall, strong, capable, and skilled just like his father but he had, like Sam, inherited their mother's kindness.

Sam also wondered, how much of why Sam left, did his father not tell his brother either?

Who knew but his father he had threatened to murder him for simply growing to be who he was? And sure, Sam all those years ago knew he wasn't proud of himself. He was a coward, he was shy, he had no idea what his purpose was, but now? Sure, he thought he was still some of those things to a degree, but now he at least knew when it came down to it, he would push forward for the people he loved. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere near enough, not for his father.

Sam preferred to read over learning to hunt, and his father hated that about him. Hated that his nose was always on a book rather then learning from whatever nightmare his father was putting him through that day. But it was the way one man at Castle Black had said those words to him, discussing how Sam wasn't a fighter like his father.

It was Stannis Baratheon who told him with a pride in his eyes and voice, as he realized Sams goal was to search the old manuscripts for answers of the threat far North.

“We have to know how to fight them. Keep reading, Samwell Tarly.”

The King who answered their call for aid, the King who still cared, had seen Sam's worth in his love of books and learning. Had not looked at him judgmentally for it, and instead seen him for something Sam could provide which others couldn't.

Yet, that night as he sat at the table with his father, mother, Talla, and Dickon, and at his own side Gilly and Little Sam, his father looked no more happy with him then the day he left. Dickon would ask what beyond the wall was like, and when Sam was honest that all of the food he had from the wild was hunted by Jon, his father found it pathetic. As if Jon being the fitter, stronger one who knew how to hunt was shameful against Sam who simply had no talent for it.

Gilly knew how to hunt, but she didn't shame him for it. Jon had hunted all of the animals the two of them ate beyond the wall and he didn't judge Sam for letting him do that work.

When Gilly had mentioned she knew how to hunt, especially rabbits, Melessa had not been phased, only knowing enough to say Gilly was from the North. “I imagine it’s common where you’re from. We once met a man, Lord Umber from Last Hearth, wasn’t it, Randyll, who said he taught all his daughters how to hunt.” Talla had been impressed on her own, looking at Gilly, “Your father taught you to hunt? Our father would never teach us. I think our father could learn a thing or two from your father.”

Agitated with the conversation, when Sam had politely went to accept bread from one of the servers, his father had dismissively scolded him, “Not fat enough already?” And it all had begun to spiral from there. “I thought the Night’s Watch might make a man of you. Something resembling a man at least. You managed to stay soft and fat. Your nose buried in books. Spending your life reading about the achievements of better men. I’ll wager you still can’t sit on a horse or wield a sword.”

Sam wanted to tell him he could ride a horse, he killed a Thenn, he killed one of the Others with nothing but a dagger made from dragonglass to protect Gilly and Little Sam. But he wasn't here to convince his father of that, and Sam could tell that Gilly wanted to bring it up in his defence, and had spoken of it before he could come up with a way to change the subject. Once the image of Gilly being North of the wall was out there, there was no hiding who she was.

Sam wasn't ashamed of it, nor did he care how people looked at him for it. But he certainly did not like how instantly, instead of making any notion of Sam breaking his vows, he had taken his ire out on him through Gilly. Randyll Tarly pointing to a shining, sharp blade. Sat on a wall mount made out of antlers, the hilt of it shaped as that of a bow and arrow with such images carved deeply into the wood surrounding it, whereas the rest of it looked little to stand out. “It’s called Heartsbane. It’s been in our family for five hundred years. It’s Valyrian steel. Only a handful of them left in the world. It’s supposed to go to my firstborn son after I die. To him.” Gesturing to Sam in the dead silence of the room, “But he will never wield that sword. If he were to become Lord Tarly of Horn Hill, it would be the end of this house. I took you for a Mole’s Town whore when I saw you and I made my peace with that. Who else would have him? But I overestimated him. No. It was a wildling whore that seduced my son.”

Turning back to his son, he was standing tall but no one else moved an inch, and everyone but him, was greatly uncomfortable as he grew more spiteful. “This you getting back at me, boy? Bring that to my table and making me dine with it. And you got what you were after, didn’t you? A bastard. A half-breed bastard.”

Melessa had stood, disgusted by his blatant hatred, guiding Gilly and Little Sam away with Talla following. Slowly leaving last was Dickon who stayed silent, wishing he had the bravery to stand up for his brother's side instead of saying nothing.

Sam was angry, however. Gilly being a wildling didn't make her any less of a person. And there certainly wasn't anything wrong with being a bastard. Jon was a bastard of the North, and was the most admirable man Sam's ever known, a far better man then the father before him.

Randyll had approached his son, now standing with a held back anger of his own looking up at the man. “Your mother’s a fine woman. You’re not worthy of her. To please her, I’ll take the wildling in. She can work in the kitchens. The bastard will be raised here. But this will be the last night you ever spend at Horn Hill.”

It was a risk, but he had left, and taken them with him. Gilly and Little Sam were his family, and they all belonged together, so they took what little they had and left in the middle of the night. Perhaps it had been childish or maybe it was the first brave act of rebellion against his father he found the courage to do, but he had taken Heartsbane with him, saying it was his families sword after all, not his fathers.

When Gilly had asked if his father would come for it, Sam said with the only pride he had.

“He can bloody well try.”

As you sat there in Maester Wolkan's study, you supposed you were lucky that no one saw what led up to it. Wrapping the underside of your forearm as you tried not to shake from the blood loss that took place as you made your way to see him in the first place. He no doubt had heard the whispers of you losing your mind by that point, but took no question that you simply said your hand had slipped. It became a problem however, when Jon had come into the room with tense eyes as he stared at you as if hiding a horrible secret.

“What happened?” His voice was tight and controlled likely a bit too much to not come off as trying to hide such intentions. Stepping closer to where Wolkan had you perched on a stool so your arm could lay flat as he previously had been stitching the worst of it.

He answered for you when you had paused with wide eyes, “Her hand slipped with a blade, she came to me before it could get out of hand.”

Jon watched how hesitant you were to speak and you both knew that he had realized why. Taking the moment he kept a more controlled volume, despite the twisting of angry worry in his face as he spoke to you instead. “Out of hand? The amount of blood I just saw-”

Wolkan kept his cool and you thanked him with a silent glance. “The wound is deep but it didn't cut a vein. It will heal easily and she got to me at the perfect time to clean and close the wound. Little things to be thankful for, sometimes.”

Inhaling deeply, Jon watched silently as your eyes nervously flickered between him and Wolkan, the later wrapping the rest of your forearm now that the worst of the bleeding had stopped. “You should come see me in the morning.” Putting away some of his tools as you pulled your arm gently into your lap. “I will want to check for any sign of infection, and regardless I will rewrap your dressings and clean it out.”

Nodding at him, you felt a strain in your chest as you raised an eyebrow at him, a silent unrelated question Jon could not see, but Wolkan only hummed quiet in an answer that spoke what none could gather but you two. Moving to politely held you stand from your perched position, but Jon had already stepped to your side, an arm wrapping around your waist to all but do the hard work for you, lifting you up and to the ground as he spoke. “I appreciate you helping her, Maester Wolkan. Thank you.”

“Always what I am here for, your grace.” It was a stroke of luck you felt that being sworn by oath to a family of monsters did not mean it made the maester for them the same. Getting to Winterfell at the captive of the Boltons and realizing they brought Wolkan with them, you knew it meant for whatever reason Luwin was gone and you dared not think what led to it or why.

There was getting used to Wolkan, but he did his best under the leadership he was put under and at the least was a little bit easier going in the time he had seen you in those months of a hell. The man was quiet but kind and very smart. On the relieving side, serving Jon seemed to bring him far more peace then years under the Boltons ever did.

You hoped that for just right now, it meant he could keep another secret just until you could ensure that secret's safety. A raven had come in for you, and after reading it's contents as you had finally settled back into Winterfell, you told him to keep the information to himself. With what you now knew, this one needed to be protected and that included ensuring it was somewhere not out of your reach and protection before revealing it safely.

Jon leading you through the quiet of the halls, you had glanced up to him from the side noting he had not moved his arm from your waist. “Do I even need to ask how it was you knew where to find me?”

Instead of what you expected, a deep chuckle vibrated through Jon's chest instead, pulling you a bit closer to his side playfully. “Next time don't choose a steward who used to be mine, and maybe he wouldn't tell me right away.” Only half a smile on your face, you almost could shake your head at the thought. You had told him to clean the blood up and not go get someone as it wasn't a big deal, but Olly had clearly not listened as soon as Jon came into the room with questions at the sight.

You didn't know what the two of them talked about, but they had been in the study for a while before coming to a conclusion, and that it was likely a little easier for Olly to serve Jon through you rather then jump back into his service as if it was just like before. A new trend in Jon's life it seemed. Getting used to someone who backstabbed him or his family though their forgiveness in you.

Continuing beside you, “He was worried about you, don't blame him.” Ensuring you didn't, Jon nodded before glancing around. Turning you with both hands at your upper arms, did he direct you to stop and face him, keeping his hold there as his grey eyes were bright but worried looking down at you. Your own hands, one wrapping around a wrist of his and the other toying along his waist distractedly. “He also said when he came into the room it had sounded like you had been screaming.”

You bit your lip but Jon didn't even blink, just a building concern swimming in his gaze that had you weak to it. Shrugging a little bit, you tried desperately to play it off. “It was nothing, he probably-” Jon more sternly murmured your name as his head tilted a bit with a sharper look as if warning you to not lie to his face about this. Quiet as you looked into his eyes before dropping them as your face fell a bit, “Last time I don't even recall getting out of bed, but I was wide awake and..I didn't even realize I had even dropped the blade across my arm until Olly came in the room..”

Olly wasn't sure to believe you when you said it wasn't a big deal, but you knew you couldn't get Jon to believe that in any capacity. Not now. His own expression falling almost a bit more upset, one of his hands came up to run along the hair at the side of your face before cupping your cheek. “Was it the same as last time?” Shaking your head no, Jon glanced down the corridor but still none were around at least. “What was it?”

There was only two you recognized this time, but it was two you had seen before in the last. One woman, a bit older then you, hair almost a silver white and a cold, yet smug look as she had cared not for the pleading. The one with her though, was the Westeros knight you had seen before but his face escaped you from knowing the name attached to it.

But the mind you found yourself in? The things which happened, and the lack of any emotion on her face but perhaps that of some enjoyment, it shocked you. Even coming out of it, it shocked you. The mind you looked through was not someone good, but there was a conflicted mess of emotions swirling in their mind.

The way he ended though, the way she let it happen? It didn't matter what occurred, there was not a thing even a man like that could've done which would have made him deserve that. Perhaps you felt so shaken, as you felt the screaming agonizing heat as he did in the seconds before your mind returned to you, blood across your arm as Olly called your name in a panic.

But trying to relay that properly to Jon? It was hard to explain. It was hard to word how terrifying it felt, the way she looked at him as he was pleading desperately for any mercy.

“Dany, please-”

Jon stared at you in a distant unnerved manner, this was the second time the same woman was at the centre of both. Looking up at him, you could feel your throat burning from the desperation and your heart racing as it recalled the fear of how uncaring she looked at him through your eyes. Murmuring your name fading into a tense quiet, Jon moved his other hand from your upper arm to wrap around your back and pull you into him.

He hadn't mentioned it, but he had seen the way you almost disappeared in the hall during the reception. The way you looked sick and terrified for only moments when he gently coaxed you back to earth before you were kept too deep into whatever it was you saw or heard. He knew trauma, and that was far more then just a memory. He didn't say it, but the way he held you close told enough, that whatever was pulling your mind here and there was beginning to scare him.

The worry that if he left you on your own too long again, what could this escalate too before you hurt yourself even more? How was he supposed to protect you from something he couldn't even slightly control? Jon knew his entire life at that point was strange, unexplained things happening to him, but they weren't supposed to happen to you. They weren't supposed to leave you looking this shaken and panicked at what you were seeing.

Muffled against him, you tried to reassure him, “We've been through a lot in a short amount of time, maybe it's only stress.” Jon shortly muttering back a question of is it, before you paused. Holding him around the back of his neck more, “No one has ever died and come back, this could be normal.”

“I saw visions of you before and they were nothing like this.” Inhaling deeply once more you could hear his voice was deep and tight trying to keep himself collected against you. “Something is doing this to you, but I don't know how to help.”

Pulling back, you found the need in your heart straining to quell the tone break in his voice. Cupping both sides of his cheeks, you hated the concern so blatantly across his eyes. “You can't protect me from everything, Jon.”

Shaking his head once, he grabbed one of your hands to twist. Pressing a kiss to your palm, “That won't stop me from trying.”

But for just a moment, the way in which his large hand gripped part of your hand and wrist did you not stand there anymore. Looking up brightly at not the man your present mind knew was in front of you, you were sitting. In a room glowing with gentle firelight as innocuous music played around you that set nothing in your mind off.

You had your hand rushing towards him in a much more playful manner when he snatched you just like this, holding it in the air just like this but a smirk across his lips and bright blue eyes tinged with a complete mischief as he pulled you a bit closer.

“Striking your King is an act of treason.”

But as soon as you could see Robb, you were back here. In the halls of Winterfell as Jon murmured your name with that same panic returning to his eyes. Instead you pulled your hands down to rest over where the carve in his heart was. You looked much more reassured then Jon did, despite the floating in your chest warning you that this was starting to happen at an alarming frequency.

Changing subjects swiftly was the safest route, which worked easily to bring him down to something simmering in his shoulders. “Come, we have a bit to do before we meet with everyone. At least have our affairs prepared before we get yelled at for it.”

Jon relaxed, chuckling again as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “This is my order, I'll be the one getting yelled at if anything.” As you both made your way down the corridor once more, you shook your head with a sigh. “I'd rather they be angry with me then you.”

“I think that ship has long since sailed, Snow.”

A smirk so much easier danced across Jon's lips as he tried his best to walk forward and not just shove you into the nearest wall. “You know that one doesn't work quite as well when it's your name too now, Snow.” His tone dropping with a playful prominence on the name as well as he glanced at you trying to hide your own smirk.

“What are you going to do, your grace?” Pushing it a little as you didn't even glance at him letting the words pass you by with a quick dryness. “Going to punish me for using our name against you?”

And with that you had snapped the restraint he held. One hand on your hip now as he shoved you into the wall roughly, his other trapping you in as his palm rested on the stone wall beside your head, leaning close enough so your world vision was hidden with his curls. Grey eyes dark, looking down you with not a shred of shame for it before following it back up. Not even with a smirk, almost just a raw, dark, frowning lust that he couldn't contain. Like he did these things without any thought behind it.

The hand on your hip tightening, “I should punish you for taking my name in the first place.” Stepping closer he could almost press his hips into yours should he take a step more, as you felt the hand on your hip fisting the skirt of your dress as it raised slightly. His breath stuck hot against your skin, taking another step, feeling a teasing press of his hardening cock that almost made your mind beg and plead to just open your legs for him now, regardless of how anyone could see. The hand beside your head drifting down to your hair and raking his way through to the back of your neck, he tilted your head up to meet his eyes gently.

Your voice but a high pitched whisper as the blood in your veins sparked you like a spreading fire. “Too bad my King has a meeting with his high lords to prepare for. Not nearly enough time for that.”

You didn't mean it as a challenge, but you should have known better. You were in the hall where any could pass by, but as Jon pressed you up against the wall anyways it didn't matter. His hands grabbing your wrists and yanking them up above your head, switching to hold you there with one larger hand as the other yanked your dress up for him, his lips attacking yours rough and deeply.

As soon as he felt your bare skin under his touch, his mouth moved to your jaw and neck with sloppy kisses but rough bites as he rasped in you ear. “My men also expect their King to fuck an heir into his beautiful wife. I'm doing my duty.”

Shivering in his touch your fingers flexed wanting to reach out to him, voice barley there as his mouth continued to bite into your neck, his fingers of his other hand drifting under the soft fabric hiding you from his touch. “Is that all this is?” Holding back a high gasp as his fingers drifted down to run lightly along your wetness, “Not a very appropriate way of doing such a duty, my King. Where anyone could find us.”

Pulling back, his eyes darkening to a black as he stared you down, finding your clit with the wetness on his fingers as you jumped. The hold on your wrists tightened as you did so. Jon rubbing tight, rough circles into it and breaking your resolve as you melted into his touch. “Maybe they should find us.” Your lungs tightened as you opened your mouth to cry out as the pleasure burned into the roughness of your clit as he was relentless of the pace. Mouth trailing up to your ear as he roughly snapped his teeth into it as he hissed, “Make sure I'm doing right by my new wife and watch me take you apart. I'd have showed off how good you are for me on our wedding night, if it didn't also mean any of them had to touch you as well.”

Letting the touch on your clit slide down, Jon sunk those same two fingers deep to the knuckle inside of you with no hesitation, the heel of his palm roughly rubbing into the sore nub sparking you to cry out loudly. Jon capturing you lips with his to muffle whatever echo was left in you.

Running firmly along the sensitive wall inside of you, you arched into his touch as much as you could. Letting his lips steal your whine of his name into his mouth, and returning such a gift by sliding his tongue into yours.

Thankful the thin material was still there, collecting the otherwise unseemly evidence of how wet Jon's fingers were being soaked as your hips tried desperately to grind into his touch. The hand keeping your wrists above your head slipping down finally, grasping the side of your face near your jaw as he kept your mouth firmly against his.

Licking along your tongue with greed as he increased how deep and fast he fucked his fingers into your soaked core. Your hands raking through his curls in an instant as Jon pressed his hips firmly into yours before moving to grasp over your dress at your breasts, groping tightly before finding the collar of your dress and slipping under the fabric.

His fingers inside of you moving fast and soaked as you felt the coil twisting and begs for mercy unheard in Jon's kiss but how roughly he grasped, twisted and almost tugged on your nipple under you dress had you gasping desperately. Jon's incessant touch pulling you right over that line and your orgasm flooded between your legs as he still kept himself tasting inside of your mouth. As soon as you arched up and seized, the feeling washing across your veins and limbs with a cry as it snapped inside of you, your own hands reached down.

Hands almost shaking and fumbling as you tried to work past his layers as you still clenched around his fingers with a bit of a jump at the aftershocks still hitting your core from your orgasm. Pulling from your mouth Jon looked down to your hands before leaning to nudge your nose with his, taking over for you with much more ease even with one hand. Only undoing enough that he could reach into his breeches and pull his cock out.

Jon pulling from your wetness and two fingers soaked, he reached up so they sat obscenely at your lips before pushing them just as deep to the knuckle despite your whine, moving to sloppily kiss back along to your ear as his other hand yanked your dress up enough to manoeuvre under it. Almost looking back at you for a moment as he let you suck, before he pulled them from you and once more kissed you. Your tongues sliding along the other as he much more freely groaned at the heavy taste on his own tongue.

But just as you grasped at his shoulders in need, Jon yanked up one of your legs to rest at his hip, pushing you more into the wall just as he slid his cock deep inside you. Your cries in his mouth almost painful as the thick stretch burned but you arched into his touch. His hand on your thigh as the material slid down your leg and almost exposed what Jon was doing, holding it up tight at his hip as he fucked up roughly inside of you with a grunt.

This wasn't a fuck made to last, his pace was fast and he was rough and pounding where you could hear how soaked you made is cock in an instant. His free hand cupping your jaw as he pulled back to look at you, teeth almost gritting as his eyes black watched you try desperately to hold back any sound.

His cock burned you, made you want to scream and run from the pain of how long and thick he slid inside you, but the pleasure taken from you left you unwilling to fight back and raking through his curls tightly. As if all you knew to do was take it. Jon's eyes were dark as he looked down at you, each pound of his cock jostling you as he wished he could strip you bare then and there to watch better.

On the contrary though, his deep tones washed over with something so bright and soft as he looked at you, “I love you so much..” The degree to which you clenched around him had Jon bury his head in your neck to hide his own groans. Your hands gentle now through his curls as his cock rutted deeply into you.

Nodding into him, your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and up into his hair, your voice weak as your lungs held no air trying to keep any cries from your words and little able to come out as a result, “I- fuck, I'm yours..”

Another groan as he picked up the pace and slammed his cock inside of your soaked cunt at a rough and fast pace before biting deeply into your neck. Nodding into his biting, Jon yanked the leg at his hip up high and shoved you more against the wall at a better angle to fuck up inside you, but completely exposing how deeply he was fucking you should anyone walk by the side where your dress was slipped down.

You shook at how it almost felt as if Jon wanted someone to come by and see what he was doing to you. Yet unbeknownst to why, Jon desperately did. He never had this inclination before, but his new life with you, buried inside you, Jon was consumed with a few dark desires. One of them almost challenging his men to watch what they could never give you.

He hated how depraved of thoughts they could become. Jon pounded into you harder at the images in his mind taking over. What it would be like, having you pressed against the wall just like this, but making you face away, your back pressed against his chest and instead Jon would pull his head from your neck, rest his forehead against the back of your hair and watch his cock sink deeply into your ass, and how much the plush skin of your cheeks would bounce at the force.

Jon didn't think he knew how to ask you for that. You weren't some whore that men paid for, you were the woman he loved more then anything, his wife. But he couldn't stop himself as he fucked you fast against the wall. How filthy would it feel to spill deep inside your ass, or how much he wanted to lay you out, and shove his cock to fuck between your breasts after marking them up all for him with his lips and teeth.

He had no idea why he was consumed with thoughts like this, but the way you grasped at him, clenched around him and let him fuck you as if you were designed for his lips and cock alone, was doing something to his desires he never knew about before.

You hid in his shoulder, weakly crying his name as you suddenly came around him. The coil snapping after twisting so burning tight as you were pulled up to meet his lips. Jon biting and kissing you deeply as you came around him, before you felt his cum. Thick and hot as he spilled deeply inside of you, grinding deep until you clenched around him in too much shocking stimulation.

He shushed you with gentle kisses as you whined as he pulled out. Putting your leg back down gently, and cupping both of your cheeks tenderly with a kiss as he put both of your clothes back where they belonged. It was quiet between you both for a moment, gently tracing your noses along the other as you smoothed out the curls you had raked though until you felt your heart slow and world return to your vision outside of Jon.

Leaning up to give a tiny kiss, you looked back. His grey eyes bright with a smile charming off his face as you almost grinned back with a beam. “Now we are certainly going to be late.”

You honestly could have rolled your eyes, if he hadn't captured your lips in another kiss as Jon muttered, “Oh, I'll make sure of that.”

These Starks thought they were so terribly clever didn't they?

It was not an easy thing to do, making a Northern man cry. Reputation made people think that they never did because they couldn't. Unemotional and cold in heart as the winter around them, but in truth it simply was just held inside them securely.

It had been the first time in a long time that he cried, the day Howland Reed learned of Eddard Stark's death.

His son Jojen had seen it, he had the Sight. With no reason to doubt what his son had said, it hurt him greatly to realize he was the last of them. Everyone that had played a pivitol role in some capacity in Robert's Rebellion and all of them but him died before their time. But then again, they all had before their final days anyways.

Something in a lot of them died near the end of that war and no one had quite found a life beyond it, in a way they all were trapped in the rebellion twenty five years later until the last of them died too. Jon Arryn had been first. The brave man who had to make the hard choice of rallying his bannermen against the Mad King, died of a fever, but Howland knew better. He knew Ned would have known better as well.

Then it was Robert, the most obvious of them all. Robert had never lived passed learning that Prince Rhaegar Targaryean had kidnapped Lyanna Stark somewhere along the roads near Harrenhal. He became angry then and he stayed angry until his last day no doubt. He was a wild card, especially when contrasting him to the man Ned Stark used to be. Even looking past a man dedicated to the wife he loved, it was not in his nature to be like Robert.

Robert had bastards all over the country. The ones in Kings Landing were dead, but there were more out there. A man who drank and whored to that degree? Stones, Flowers, Waters, he likely had at least one in all of the Kingdoms. Most of them would just never know it. He could recall it was that nature which she hated.

Lyanna knew who Robert was at his worst, and the simple fact was she also knew that was a life many highborn girls would find themselves fated too. Rare for a highborn girl to have a husband like the way Catelyn Tully had eventually found love in Ned Stark. But in those days, Lyanna's prospects were looking at a lifetime of being insulted by her husbands infidelity.

Ironic, he thought.

But, it never got any better for Robert. He thought he loved Lyanna when he hardly knew a thing about her, and it was that thought which made him angry realizing what Rhaegar had done. And when Ned Stark came back from the war and she was dead? He stayed angry.

Howland only knew bits and parts of the story some from Ned, much from what Jojen could see but it wasn't pretty. Rhaegar Targaryean had been dead for twenty four years and Robert hated him as much then as he did that day they learned what he had done. He wished Baratheons were made a little more of what Northerners were. Just keep some things inside.

But, it was Ned Stark who Howland Reed cried for. Not many knew how deep their bond ran and none but the two of them knew why. They didn't often have the chance to see one another after the rebellion, and even less when Howland finally had his kids but they spoke in writing still. Just not willing to leave his home when he had them. Finally through the horror, Meera and Jojen were Howland's blessings and he missed them terribly.

He knew why they had to go, why they had to go to Bran Stark and now Howland could only hope that somewhere beyond the wall his children were still alive. But, Ned Stark still wasn't and it ate away at him since the years the Lannisters took his head. He hadn't come out since then. Ned died and Howland hid in his Keep in Greywater Watch, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn't anymore. He didn't know what would do it, but he knew it was coming.

But then he'd remember he was the last one. Not just of the men of those days, but the last one who knew. What was he to do with that information, he knew much many didn't. Much that Ned knew, much that Lyanna didn't want people to know and a lifetime of keeping it all inside making him turn inward at how stonewalled he needed to be to contain them.

But there was only one secret that mattered, one that was why Ned Stark had spent the rest of his life trapped within the traumas of rebellion. The reminder of that truth was there for him every single day and when it wasn't he was in a place that served to haunt him with what would happen should the worst come out. Come be Hand of the King Robert said, come to the place your brother and father burned alive trying to demand safe rescue of your sister.

Come witness a place that terrified him to have such a secret be in. But he kept that secret as far North as he could get once those days came knocking. It was all he could do to keep that secret safe still.

It was late at night as Howland finally left. Travelling on his horse along the Kingsroad. Winter was everywhere now, and it didn't slow him one bit. His horse would have to freeze and die to slow this journey down and even then he would keep going. Someone had to keep that secret safe and Howland was all that remained so he had to show his face. But it was along the road that he relived it. He and Ned's reason for why they became the men they were and the complications of what it all meant.

Still now he could recall how in one moment a young girl off in the distance had spotted what was happening, and how as quick as he saw her did she come to his aid. The girl likely no older then fourteen or fifteen, came to the aid of Howland who was even then, already a man. He had been jumped by boys over six years his junior in the roads towards the Tourney of Harrenhal. But, Howland Reed was small and quick. Not large and strong. They were though.

Yet that young girl with black hair and grey eyes came jumping to his defence without a second thought, using only a dull tourney sword to try and chase the boys attacking him off. How she that day brought him to her lair, as she had jested calling it, to get her brothers to help treat his wounds. He met all four Starks that day.

Brandon was the eldest, tall and handsome and had a quick wit and hot temper just as he had seen on the she wolf who rescued him. Benjen was the youngest, only a few years beneath Lyanna in age but laughed easily and held a maturity Howland admired. Offering him armour and a horse, saying if he wanted to get back at the boys who beat him he'd be happy to provide them.

He could still recall the way he and Benjen teased how quickly from a feirce defender Lyanna went, to a watery eyed girl. Hearing a sad song from the beautiful singing voice of Prince Rhaegar, and how she poured her drink on her brother for making fun of her. It was funny then, beacuse it was such a childishly little girl reaction.

It wasn't funny now looking back on it.

Beacuse she was a child. Howland was close in age to the Prince, so it made what followed after all the more horrifying. A pretty, feirce, rebellious maiden did not come to his rescue. Lyanna was just a hot tempered but caring and loyal child. Only a child.

But, he met one more Stark that day. Eddard Stark was the second eldest brother, not quite as well liked and charmingly handsome as Brandon, but more quiet and serious. Howland liked him right away. He liked all four of them he met that day, but he and Ned remained friends with a true ease from that moment onward. A friendship, that all these years later, still felt difficult to accept the end of.

They hadn't known each other for a lifetime, but it was Howland Reed that was trusted with the one thing which would remain only between them for the rest of their lives. And Howland never once wavered in how seriously he took that secret to heart. He could see that secret as clear as he could see that day he met the family of wolves.

It was warm that day. So warm in Dorne that Howland hated it. The sun bore down on them as they travelled, the seven of them, and not a clue what they were walking in on. Not really. The Prince's Pass was their destination, a circular tower standing high in the sky against the backdrop of the Red Mountains. There was hardly anything around it. It was chosen on purpose of course.

One could get to it from Harrenhal without much difficulty and yet it was isolated. Where if they ran from it, where would one go were these sands not their home? It felt like an insult towards Elia Martell to keep a teenage girl in the tower she gifted to her husband, but it also felt like a way to force the girl into relying on who she was trapped with. Even if she escaped, where would she go on her own?

There were seven of them though, and he saw all clear as day. Eddard Stark was at his limit of what he could put up with. Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar at the Trident, The Mad King was dead and yet all who died gruesomely were still gone. Everyone knew what happened no matter what Tywin Lannister later claimed. He had ordered his knights Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch to find and kill Elia Martell and her children.

The mountain had ripped the still infant Aegon from his mothers breast and smashed his face against the wall so hard that only blood and bone remained to him. Then dripping in his blood, he had raped Elia before splitting her in half with his greatsword. In the same royal apartments, hiding under her fathers bed, little Rhaenys had been dragged from under it by Lorch and brutally stabbed over fifty times.

And all Robert could say were that they were “dragonspawn” and cared not for dead, innocent children soley because they were Rhaegar's. Ned had argued with him at how disgusting his lack of care was and left Kings Landing alone. Meaning thankfully, Robert was no where near the Tower of Joy that day.

Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, Ethan Glover, Mark Ryswell, Willam Dustin and of course, Eddard Stark and Howland Reed. Seven good men, skilled men who were as serious as any Northerners and as determined as the brother who was there for the sister still kept away from him.

There were three in the distance. Their white cloaks blowing in the wind, they had not the threat of being out numbered and all knew why. They were there on orders and not once in the war left, it was insulting. Their vows as knights not more important then the thing they were there for, to keep a girl hostage. But, they were Kingsguard, and dangerous ones too.

On one side, Ser Oswell Whent was knelt down on one knee, sharpening his blade with a wetstone. On the other was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who stood with his greatsword, Dawn, hung over his right shoulder, a sad smile sat on his face.

Between them was Ser Gerold Hightower, The White Bull and commander of the Kingsguard who stood tall and stern between them. The men all stood at attention as Ned Stark stepped forward first, trying to find any peace when all knew there would be none. Were there going to be peace, they wouldn't be here in the first place.

Ned stood as tall as could be, and as calm as he managed. “I looked for you on the Trident.”

Ser Gerold was the one to respond, taking proper command of the situation for as long as it was leading to the inevitable. “We were not there.”

Beside him with all the confidence that felt both true yet unearned, Ser Oswell spat out “Be the end of the usurper if we had been.” Howland recalled thinking if they considered Robert a usurper, then perhaps they should have done their duty and worked to prevent such a thing from happening, but they either did not have such clarity or were blinded by their own hubris.

His face squinting harshly in the bright sun that was a mixture with the anger and impatience building within him, Ned continued past the offence. “When Kings Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your King. Your Prince lays dead now at the Trident, and I could only wonder then where you were.”

But Ser Gerold defended their failures of duty as if it was an excuse which mattered to any here. “If we had been there, Aerys would still sit on the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in all seven hells.”

It was only after that day, did Howland recall that and he wondered to himself on the journey North, perhaps the Kingsguard were not noble knights to be remembered as brave and valiant, if the final legacy they left behind was this.

Ned had only one plea and all knew it wouldn't work, but he would give them that option no matter what. “The Lords and Knights of the Seven Kingdoms have bent the knee in their defeat. There is none left for your orders to follow.”

Ser Arthur had moved to take his helmet into his hand, a firm but sad look of a man sure of who he was and what he was doing. “Our knees do not bend easily.”

Beside him Ser Gerold only added to their fates. “Nor do we flee our duty. We are Kingsuard. We swore a vow.”

But all men there, the three standing in the way of the tower and the seven against them all knew what vow it was they were still defending. As each remaining six of them came to Ned's side, weapons in hand, Ser Arthur donned his helm finally, and spoke what was to be his last. “And now it begins.”

Eddard Stark however, spoke the truth for more then one of them that day. “No, now it ends.”

Just as the metal of their swords clashed, from the tower was heard Lyanna Stark desperately screaming, “Eddard-” as the fight ensued to get to her.

Three men against seven and all but two remained. Ned Stark and Howland Reed were the only ones who lived to see the end of that fight and it was a bloody horrid sight. But once they were dead, Ned spared not a single second as he ran up the steps of the tower to get to his sister.

Howland stayed behind for a moment, exhausted and nerves shot he looked to the men at his side fallen now and hoped and begged that they did not die in vain. It took him a moment to do so, but with heavy footsteps did he begin the climb of the tower himself.

It was dark inside, not many had been in here for a long time that could tend to much of anything. But it was what was in the air, that made Howland feel a lurch of sickness. The air was thick with the scent of blood and roses.

As he approached the door, he could hear the strained voice of Lyanna Stark in a quiet desperation, filled with a heavy love that radiated too with fear. He heard the faint pleas of her voice which was the last any would, though the door the words, “Promise me, Ned.”

Only even as Howland Reed stood outside of it, Lyanna and Eddard Stark were not alone in that room.

Winterfell was as sturdy as it had been in years. Work still being done to rebuild what was burned down and yet it was still impressive. But Howland Reed was here when he never came before. He didn't come for Robb Stark, and tried to ignore the raven from Castle Black from their once dead Queen.

He didn't answer that call of aid until he had received the news that Eddard Stark's final remaining child, his bastard son, had been crowned King in the North. Howland showed up then, and the very second he saw his face? He felt sick. As if he had never considered the truth of this secret until then and there.

Ned had watched him grow up every day of his life, but Howland had never met him until he walked quietly and unnoticed, into the meeting hall of Winterfell. Hidden amongst the other Lords. Finally understanding that he too, had not truly lived passed that day at the Tower of Joy.

But, upon the truth that Aegon Targaryean was not only living, but had landed in Westeros and had battle first on the island of Dragonstone? There was no words in Howland's mind to describe how it felt, realizing who his opponent in battle had been. Perhaps that was why he rode to Winterfell so quick.

If he had not been too cowardly to come face to face with the memory of a ghost, Howland Reed might have been there to prevent those two men from ever meeting in the first place.

From a tryst against the wall as you and Jon were making your way to the main hall of Winterfell to see to a meeting with the Northern Lords, you had not the concept in your mind of what your life days later would have become. But you also, couldn't have known how much it would make you spiral. How much it twisted your mind into something panicked that you did not recognize.

You suddenly felt without purpose that specific night, and left to go find another in case you lost all hope to keep going before finding it.

Attempts had been made for you to look as nondescript as you could manage, as the pair of you walked into the loud and bustling noise of the tavern. Evening had fallen upon the sky and those nearby in the city took refuge in some of the only entertainment they would get in these early months of winter. Men drinking, laughing and joking as they made jesting passes as the barmaid's serving them more as their nights went on.

The raven scroll had only been able to describe the building as having a wooden sign handing over the entrance of what looked like a horse reaching in the air. If what was said was accurate, they would be here if not tonight then at some point. Your hair was messy in it's looks as you had made sure not to let yourself appear as being used to much effort. The cloak around your shoulders was dark, shabby and only enough to have a hood and cover the equally as unimpressive dress as you fit mostly in with all the others.

Not a single weapon but one hidden dagger. A normal lowborn woman wouldn't be armed as such.

More than once you had to remind Olly not to call you by your title, or even name. Sat on the back of the horse he had asked you, “What am I supposed to call you then?” Thinking about it, your creativity was not quite as good as others and you told him to make one up. A few second passed as he then came up with, “Mya?” So you nodded, saying then Mya it was.

Barrowton was coming into the distance as you and Olly went over once more the covering. “I don't want any to realize who I am, we are here to be discreet. Understood?”

The sun shined low in the sky with a gold as evening fell upon you. Walking into the tavern, you both stood there looking no more out of place then any other. “What's the name of who we're here for?”

Looking around, it wasn't obvious right away if they were here. “For our purposes? They're going by the name Satin.” Olly asking you how would he know if they were here or not, you glanced over at him. “Do you know what I look like?”

Taken back, Olly's face twisted in a confusion. “Yes..”

Turning away, you nodded once. “Good. They look like that.” You knew the boy was struggling to tell if he were annoyed or amused by your dryness over the vague details you were barley offering up. But Olly had known something deeply was wrong from the moment this little journey begun.

He had come across you in a unusually uncomposed state, asking why were you looking as if you were ready to leave, despite the lateness of the hour. “Would you keep it a secret if I told you?” You had asked, and when he assured you yes, you narrowed your eyes.

“I won't tell the King this time I promise.” It wasn't his fault, but he could see a tear in your throat scratching down into your heart that left your eyes hazy as you shook yourself out of it in seconds. Clearing your throat you instructed him that he was not to tell anyone you were leaving for the next day at the least. Not knowing what to say when Olly had asked “Won't the King worry where you went?” You simply sent the boy on his way. Beacuse you didn't know how to tell him that he wouldn't just not worry.

Jon would be grateful you finally were gone.

What was it he wanted? What had he said to you? For you to leave and stop being a burden to him. Leave him alone as he wanted, even if he wanted it for good.

Sitting down, you had ordered water, bread and stew for Olly. Giving him a stern glance to the side as he almost went to speak out to attend to you in that same manner. He wasn't here as your steward, he was here because he hadn't wanted to be left behind and you didn't have the heart to say no to him.

You were leaving in the middle of the night in secret, and Olly had to promise he wouldn't say a word if he wanted to come. You didn't know when you would be returning, how long this would take, but after helping a grieving boy burn the remains of his mother and father, the least you could do was not leave him behind again.

Theon was going to be furious with you for this one.

What you didn't expect, was the sad whine in Ghost when you had finally taken off. Having been out hunting in the wolfswood, he had caught you in sight as he stood perched on a nearby cliff side looking down at you. Wishing he weren't so smart, you knew he could sense what you were doing out here and when you gently tried to call up to him, telling him to go back, that it was alright? Ghost whined, whined more when you gave him a sorrowful look, and you heard him still when you rode off.

Maybe when he got back to Jon, Ghost would pick up what happened and hate you too finally. You had done what was advised against, told Jon the truth and it seems like that truth came at the cost of whatever love was left in his heart for you. He deserved to know, not telling him was cruel, but telling him came at a great cost it felt.

You couldn't even recall the extent of how not normal your mind felt that night. The only thing screaming at you in a very specific voice that Jon didn't want you, and for whatever reason, that might have hurt you into a panic more then anything else. In Castle Black you had been scared you would ruin his life by being in it again, but now it finally came to fruition. You did ruin his life.

As you sat in the tavern, looking around for the one person left to you, you wondered if you should do Jon the courtesy, find a way to free him from his new vows, and leave him to find a better wife you always worried he would want instead. You were tired of being the one to bring him problems.

Only days ago, you had not the inkling of what a disaster one man's appearance in Winterfell would spin into. Days ago, you still thought what Jon felt for you would stay real. You still thought you made him happy, and you now felt that toxifying poison of self loathing at how wrong you were. You told Jon the truth, and your only conclusion, was that the truth made him hate you.

But as the barmaid passed your table, clucking a plate onto it it pulled you right out of the memory. Olly's eyes narrow and concerned on you, but you just grabbed whatever bread was closest on it, and pushed the plate more towards him.

Mumbling through your chewing with a lecturing look, “You're the one still growing. Eat.” But as you chewed, washing it down a bit your eyes found a figure in the distance, and it was exactly the strange reaction you wondered if it would feel. But you looked at them, as they saw you. Jon Arryn was still not wrong.

“The seed is strong.”

One drop of Baratheon blood and the two of you looked just the same here. You could only wonder as you both looked wide eyed at one another, how alone did they truly feel to have reached out to you of all people? It had been many years since that day on the Street of Steel, and you never had a good or safe reason to think you'd see them again. Pylos said they were all dead, all of Roberts bastards. And yet, this one wasn't. The one which lived, you shockingly already knew.

Gendry had travelled all the way North, to try and find you himself.

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