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Home Is Where The Heart Is

zayne x fem!reader

⤷ cw: domestic!zayne, girl dad zayne x fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, use of "you", teeth rotting fluff ^^

⤷ word count: 3.7k

⤷a/n: hello, this is my first time uploading a fic here on tumblr and i'm still in the process of figuring things out, this is also my first zayne fic & i'm looking forward for writing more! hope you enjoy reading : )

ao3

The rays of the morning sun made its way through the bedroom window, Zayne slowly stirred from his sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, he blinked a few times, adjusting to the morning light. His gaze drifted across the room, landing on the peaceful scene before him. There, nestled between him and his daughter, was the sight he had grown accustomed to: you, resting comfortably between them. 

You lay on your side, back gently pressed against his chest, his arm draped lovingly across your waist. Your five-year-old daughter, Hyacinth, with her small, messy curls, was nestled beside you, her tiny body curled up against yours in the most perfect display of familial love. Her soft breathing was steady, matching the rhythm of yours, and a serene smile rested on her face.

Zayne’s heart swelled with affection at the sight, a quiet, tender moment that filled him with a warmth deeper than words could express. He gently moved, careful not to disturb you and Hyacinth, and leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear. He whispered, his voice hushed with awe and adoration, "This... this is everything."

You stirred slightly, feeling the faintest brush of his breath against my skin. You didn't need to open your eyes, since you know exactly who it was. His presence, so familiar, brought an overwhelming sense of comfort. Instead, you smiled, feeling his lips pressed against your cheek. Your daughter shifted a little, instinctively wrapping her tiny arm around you, as though trying to hold on to the peace of the moment.

Zayne smiled softly, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your waist, as he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Good morning my love.” He whispered as he leaned closer to kiss your cheek. “Good morning.” You mumbled as you smiled at him, then after a while Hyacinth lifted her head, her eyes still half-closed and slowly blinking to adjust to the morning light. Zayne chuckled softly, his heart melting at the sight of your little girl slowly waking up. Hyacinth yawned, her tiny hand rubbing her eyes as she shifted beside you. Her sleepy gaze wandered between you and Zayne, still not fully awake, her lips curling into a drowsy smile when she saw you both.

"Morning, Daddy," she murmured, her voice hushed but full of warmth. She reached her small hand toward him, her fingers lightly brushing against his chest as she nestled closer to you. Zayne grinned, his heart swelling even more as he lifted Hyacinth and placed her on his chest. "Good morning, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice soft and affectionate.

You couldn’t help but smile at the pure, tender moment unfolding before you. It felt like time had slowed, and in that moment, nothing else mattered but the three of you—together, in your little cocoon of love. You shifted to face the both of them, head resting on Zayne as you gently brushed Hyacinth’s hair, her face buried in the crook of Zayne’s neck as she snuggled closer to him. You enjoyed a few minutes of silence, contented as you nestled against Zayne, then that silence was interrupted by a grumble of stomach. You and Zayne glanced at each other, holding back laughter then Hyacinth lifted her head, “I’m hungry…” she said shyly as she buried her head on Zayne’s chest and she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

Zayne chuckled, “Alright sweetheart, what do you want for breakfast?” he asked softly as he brushed Hyacinth’s hair. She looked up to him and whispered “pancakes” followed by a small giggle, Zayne smiled, his heart swelling at the sight of his little girl’s happiness. “Pancakes, huh?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from Hyacinth’s face. "Alright, you’ve got it. Pancakes it is." He leaned down to kiss the top of her head before shifting his gaze back to you, his eyes filled with love. I sat up and I carried Hyacinth, “Let’s change our clothes first okay? Then you can help daddy make your pancakes. Is that alright with you sweetheart?” You asked, Hyacinth nodded eagerly. It made you smile before getting out of bed, Zayne folded your blanket and fixed the pillows, making sure that the bed is tidy and fixed before making his way towards you. 

His hand found your waist and he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, “I’ll wait for the two of you at the kitchen okay?” you hummed as a response and Zayne slightly pinched Hyacinth’s cheeks before leaving your bedroom. The door closed behind him, leaving you and Hyacinth alone in the soft, quiet morning light. 

“Mama,” she murmured softly, “will Daddy make the pancakes super fluffy today?” You smiled, your heart swelling at her innocent question. “I’m sure he will, sweetheart,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “He always does and you can help him make pancakes.” you kissed her cheek which made her giggle, then you headed towards the cabinet to grab a new set of clothes before leaving the bedroom. 

***

Hyacinth’s little footsteps echoed throughout the house as she ran towards the kitchen where she saw Zayne mixing the pancake mix. You approached behind her, when Zayne saw the both of you, he immediately grabbed two cups of hot cocoa and placed it on the kitchen counter, then he lifted Hyacinth to place her at the stool. “Here’s a hot cocoa for you, my love.” He said as he gave you your mug. “Thank you.” you said as he kissed your cheek, then Hyacinth spoke “Daddy, can I help you make them? And can you make them extra fluffy?” She pleaded and it made you and Zayne chuckle, “Of course sweetheart, you just need to hold this and I’ll help you mix the pancake batter okay?” Zayne said as he gave the whisk to Hyacinth, he guided her as she mixed the batter slowly. 

You sat on the stool beside Hyacinth as you watched the both of them, giggles and laughter echoed throughout the kitchen as Hyacinth helped Zayne prepare the pancakes. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick snapshot of the moment, capturing the pure joy radiating from their faces. Zayne, with his apron tied around his waist, was smiling down at Hyacinth, who was standing on her little stool, carefully pouring batter onto the griddle with a look of intense focus. Her small hands were a little messy, but the joy in her expression was unmistakable. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene, your heart full as you watched the two of them. It was moments like this that made everything feel perfect—seeing your family so happy, so full of love and life. The sound of their laughter filled the room, and you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for these simple, beautiful mornings together.  

As you set the phone down, Hyacinth caught your eye, waving her tiny hand at you. “Mama, come see! I made the pancake shape like a heart!” she exclaimed proudly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. You stood up and moved to her side, bending down to get a better look. The pancake, though a little lopsided, was indeed shaped like a heart, and your heart melted at the sight of her effort. “It’s perfect, sweetheart,” you said, your voice full of love.

Zayne wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head, you smiled up at him, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, watching as the warmth of love and laughter filled the kitchen, making it feel like home.

***

After a few minutes of preparation, the pancakes are now cooked and are placed at the dining table. Hyacinth sat in her chair as you placed a few pieces of pancakes on her plate. “Daddy, can I have more syrup please?” she asked and without missing a beat, Zayne smiled and immediately got up from his seat, reaching for the syrup bottle. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, pouring the syrup generously over her pancakes, making sure she got just the right amount.

Hyacinth’s face lit up, her grin widening as she watched the syrup drizzle down onto her pancakes. “Yay! Thank you Daddy!” She lifted her fork and began eating, “Slow down sweetheart, you don’t want to choke on your food.” You reminded, she looked up to you with her mouth full of pancakes “Sorry mama..” she mumbled in between bites, her face flushing slightly with embarrassment.  “It’s okay, just remember to chew and take your time,” you said gently, reaching over to adjust her napkin as a piece of pancake fell onto her lap. 

Then you noticed the generous amount of syrup drizzled on her pancakes and immediately glanced at Zayne, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Zayne looked at you innocently, his lips curling into a playful grin. "What?" he said with mock innocence. "She asked for extra syrup, and I aim to please." You shook your head, trying not to laugh. "That’s way more than extra syrup, Zayne," you replied, eyeing the puddle of syrup on Hyacinth’s plate.

Hyacinth, looking up at both of you with wide, innocent eyes, chimed in, “I like it sweet, mama!” you chuckled as you shook my head, “I know sweetheart but that syrup is excessive. I know you like sweets like your daddy but we don’t want you to have a toothache, remember?” You said as you sat on your chair, Zayne, overhearing, rose from his seat with a smile and moved to the kitchen counter. “We can always make sure to have some extra brushing time later, huh?” he said with a wink as he carefully placed a couple of pancakes onto your plate. You gave him a playful look as he set the plate down in front of you. “I think I might need more than just extra brushing for this,” you teased, eyeing the stack of pancakes.

Once finished with breakfast, Zayne helped you clean up the dishes, his movements easy and familiar. You rinsed off the plates while he stacked them in the sink, both of you working together in a comfortable rhythm. Hyacinth, still full from her generous serving of pancakes, sat at the table, drawing on a piece of paper with her crayons, humming softly to herself. 

“Mama, Daddy? Can I ask a question?” she said, you and Zayne glanced at one another before drying up your hands and approached Hyacinth. “What is it sweetheart?” you asked as you sat at the chair beside her while Zayne sat in front of you. 

Hyacinth placed her crayons down as she looked at the both of you, “How are babies made?” she asked with such innocence  her voice full of genuine wonder. You and Zayne froze for a moment, exchanging a quick, surprised glance. The question was unexpected, but you could see that she was truly just curious, her head tilted to the side in that way she did when she was trying to make sense of the world around her.

Zayne cleared his throat softly, giving you a small, amused yet slightly nervous smile. “Well, sweetheart,” he began slowly, glancing over at you for guidance, “that’s a big question. Babies come from a mommy and a daddy, and they grow in the mommy’s tummy.” 

Hyacinth, clearly still processing, paused for a moment, placing both of her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands. She looked up at the both of you with wide, curious eyes. “But... how?” she asked, her voice filled with innocent confusion, her little brow furrowed as she waited for an answer. You exchanged a glance with Zayne, both of you trying to figure out how to explain something so complicated in a way that would make sense to her.

Zayne looked at you, clearly asking for help. You mouthed “answer her question, doctor.” Then, Hyacinth asked again. “You say babies grow from mama’s tummy. Why? And how did they grow in mama’s tummy?” Her voice filled with much curiosity, Zayne chuckled nervously, but then turned back to Hyacinth, realizing he had no choice but to keep going. Hyacinth’s brows furrowed harder, her small hands now gripping the edge of the table as she leaned forward.

“Well,” Zayne started slowly, glancing at you for reassurance, “when a mommy and daddy decide they want to have a baby, something very special happens. A tiny little seed from the daddy meets a tiny little egg from the mommy, and that’s how a baby starts.” 

“Huh?” she said confusingly, followed by another question “What seed and what egg?” You tried not to laugh at her confusion, knowing that this was turning into a more complicated conversation than you expected. Zayne looked at you, clearly trying to figure out how to explain in the simplest way possible.

“Well, sweetheart,” Zayne began carefully, “the seed is something very tiny that a daddy has, and the egg is something very tiny that a mommy has. When they come together, they create the baby.” She thought about this for a second before looking up at both of you again, her curiosity growing. 

Hyacinth looked at both of you, her brow furrowing even deeper. “But where do the seed and egg come from?” she asked, her voice full of genuine curiosity, as if she wasn't satisfied yet.

You and Zayne exchanged a quick look. This wasn’t going to be a simple explanation, but you could see that she was really interested, and you didn’t want to leave her with more questions than answers.

“Well,” you said gently, “the seed comes from inside the daddy’s body, and the egg comes from inside the mommy’s body.” Hyacinth’s eyes grew wide, her face full of confusion but also a spark of intense curiosity. “But… how? How do they get there?” she pressed, not letting go of the question.

Zayne shifted in his seat, leaning toward her with a soft chuckle. “Well, sweetheart, it's a little complicated, but basically, the daddy’s seed goes inside the mommy’s tummy where it finds the egg, and that’s when the baby can start to grow.”

“But how does daddy’s seed get inside?” she asked, her tone serious and expectant, as though she was prepared for an even deeper explanation. You blinked, realizing that she wasn’t going to drop it anytime soon. She was really trying to understand. You took a breath, trying to keep things simple but honest. “Well, when a mommy and daddy are ready for a baby, they come together in a special way, and that’s how the seed and egg meet.”

Hyacinth’s brow furrowed even more, as if this explanation still didn’t quite make sense. “But... where did the seed and egg come from before? How do they get in there?” she asked again, her voice filled with earnest curiosity, clearly wanting to know more.

You and Zayne exchanged another glance, knowing this was the moment when her questions were diving deeper than you’d expected. You couldn’t help but admire her persistence, though. She wasn’t going to let go of this mystery until she understood it completely.

Zayne took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly as he tried to simplify it even more. “Okay, sweetie, so… the seed and the egg are part of our bodies from the very beginning. The daddy has seeds inside his body, and the mommy has eggs inside hers. But they’re too tiny to see, like little bits of dust.”

You nodded, adding, “When a mommy and daddy decide they want a baby, the daddy gives the mommy one of his seeds, and it goes inside her body to meet the egg. The seed and egg are so small, you can’t see them with your eyes. They meet in the mommy’s tummy, and that’s when the baby starts to grow.”

Hyacinth’s face remained thoughtful, still trying to wrap her mind around it all. “But how do the seeds and eggs know where to go? Do they walk?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

You chuckled softly at her creative thinking. “Not exactly,” you said, smiling. “They don’t walk, but the seed knows where to go because it has to find the egg. The mommy’s body helps guide the seed to the egg, so they can meet and start the baby’s growth.”

Zayne smiled, seeing how hard she was concentrating. “It’s like a tiny race, and the seed has to get to the egg before anything else can happen.” Hyacinth giggled at the idea of a race but seemed satisfied for a moment. Then, her expression shifted again, and she asked, “So, does the egg just wait for the seed to come? Does it know the seed is coming?”

You and Zayne both stopped, realizing she was thinking deeply about how all of this worked. “Well, the egg doesn’t exactly wait on its own. It’s part of the mommy’s body, so it’s always there, ready when the time comes for the seed to meet it,” you explained gently. “It’s like when you’re getting ready for a playdate—you’re waiting, but you don’t know exactly when the other person will arrive. But when they do, you’re ready to start playing.”

Her eyes brightened as if that made more sense. “So, the egg and seed wait for each other, and when they meet, that’s when the baby starts?”

“Yes, that’s right, sweetheart,” Zayne confirmed, relieved that she was getting it. “The baby starts growing right after the seed and egg meet, and then it keeps growing bigger and bigger until it's ready to be born.” She thought about it for a moment before nodding seriously. “Okay, I think I get it now. The seed and egg make the baby, and they don’t walk, but they find each other.”

“Exactly,” you said, feeling a bit of relief. “You’re really good at understanding all this, sweetie.”

Hyacinth smiled, pleased with herself for figuring it out, then went back to her crayons. “Can I have one?” she asked, you and Zayne glanced at one another. “What do you want to have?” Zayne asked, Hyacinth looked at Zayne with a huge smile on her face, “A baby!” 

You chuckled at her, “If you decided to have one then you may honey, but having a baby comes with great responsibilities. You may have one, once you grow older. Just like your daddy and I.” You said as you brushed her hair, but Hyacinth frowned, frustrated that you didn’t get what she was saying.

“No mama, what I want is that you and daddy to have another baby.” Zayne blinked, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. You paused for a moment, realizing what she meant. Hyacinth wasn’t asking for a baby of her own, but rather wishing for a sibling, one more to join the family.

You and Zayne exchanged a soft, knowing glance. You smiled warmly at her, understanding her innocent wish. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s very sweet of you,” you said softly, running a hand through her hair. “But right now, we’re very happy with our little family just the way it is. Daddy and I are taking care of you, and we’re very lucky to have you as our daughter.”

“But I want a baby brother or sister! So I can share my crayons and toys with them.” She said as she continued to draw on her paper, “and oh! The four of us could also cuddle all the time.” She giggled.

You smiled at Hyacinth, your heart warming at her innocent wish. As you glanced at her drawing, you saw that it was a family picture, with you, Zayne, her, and the little baby sibling she hoped for. The drawing was filled with love and joy, with each of you drawn in bright, colorful shapes and her little sibling represented by a tiny figure in the corner.

For a moment, you just stared at her, your gaze softening as you took in the picture she created—her version of the perfect family. You couldn’t help but smile at how pure and full of love her little heart was. But as you were lost in thought, you felt Zayne's gaze on you.

When you looked over at him, you found his eyes fixed on you, a gentle smile on his lips. There was something in his gaze, a mixture of affection and gratitude, that made your heart skip a beat. He wasn’t just looking at you with love for the mother of his child, but also with the same warmth and tenderness he always had.

“Maybe someday, sweetheart…” Zayne whispered to you, his voice gentle and filled with warmth. You smiled at him, the corners of your lips curving upward as you met his gaze.

"Yeah, maybe someday," you echoed, the words soft but filled with the unspoken understanding between you.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to slow down. You both watched Hyacinth, so absorbed in her drawing, her innocent wish for a sibling hanging in the air. There was a quiet peace between you and Zayne, a shared feeling that, no matter what the future held, you were content with the love you had right here, right now.

Zayne leaned in just slightly, his hand finding yours and giving it a soft squeeze. "Whatever happens," he said quietly, "I'm glad it's with you." You looked into his eyes, finding that familiar warmth and affection that had always been there. "Me too," you whispered, your heart full. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

The two of you shared a quiet, understanding smile before turning your attention back to Hyacinth, who was now proudly showing off her drawing—her family picture, complete with the little sibling she hoped for. Her voice bubbled up with excitement as she pointed to the baby in the drawing, her face glowing with joy. "Look, mama! Look, daddy! This is us!"

You both smiled at her, your hearts full, knowing that whatever the future brought, your little family was already perfect just as it was. And maybe, just maybe, someday, her dream of a baby brother or sister would come true. But for now, you were content, surrounded by love and happiness in this moment.

And little did you know that Hyacinth’s wish was already being quietly fulfilled, though none of you knew it yet. The seed of a new beginning had already been planted—hidden, just beneath the surface—waiting to reveal itself when the time was right. Life was unfolding in ways you couldn’t yet see, but soon enough, the love you shared as a family would grow even more.

divider by : @enchanthings

[lvrgurlblobbu]

ꪆৎ QIN CHE | SYLUS

beating hearts - smut, fluff (4.1k) ↳ following the aftermath of his match, sylus shows you how much he adores you.

close to you - smut, fluff, fwb 2 lovers (4.9k) ↳ a sleepy morning with sylus results in unravelled feelings.

red tape - smut, mma!sylus (8.8k) ↳ the man you're in charge of is somewhat of a handful (...and a mouthful).

sweet summer breeze - smut (5k) ↳ date night with sylus gets out of hand.

winter's kiss - fluff (2.7k) ↳ luke and kieran rope you into spending christmas at the n109 zone (and kissing their boss).

stardust (series)

resonance | part one - smut, fluff (4.5k) ↳ with the aether core's auction quickly approaching, you're growing desperate to resonate with sylus. fortunately for you, he has a suggestion... even if it is less conventional.

a lust for love | part two - smut, fluff (5.7k) ↳ ever since you've left the N109 zone, you find yourself missing a certain white-haired man.

you'll warm the night (series - ongoing)

i only bleed for him | chapter one - smut, angst, beyond cloudfall myth (4.5k) ↳ admist the blooming flowers in tarus city, the dragon claims his beloved.

headcanons/drabbles

ex-husband!sylus

cockwarming with sylus

mma!sylus

ꪆৎ LI SHEN | ZAYNE

blush wine - smut, fluff (5.5k) ↳ a pressing personal issue has you turning to zayne in desperation. he is a doctor, after all.

in every life - mild smut, fluff (1.3k) ↳ zayne wants to spend the morning of his birthday with you.

take a chance with me - smut, fluff (4.4k) ↳ zayne gets called into work, so you bring him dinner.

the emperor's affection (series) - historical au

the first fall of snow | part one - smut (7.7k) ↳ the emperor isn't interested in his concubines, but an encounter with you is enough to change his mind.

keep my hand in yours | part two - smut, fluff (6.9k) ↳ the emperor is intent on convincing you that you are worthy enough to be his empress.

headcanons/drabbles

giving zayne head under the desk

[lvrgurlblobbu]

The First Fall of Snow

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 2!

summary: the emperor isn't interested in his concubines, but an encounter with you is enough to change his mind.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, oral sex, praise kink, breast play, masturbation, thigh riding, mentions of exhibitionism, virginity loss

wc: 7.7k

a/n: i did imagine long-haired zayne for this (like his master of fate card!) and he just gives off emperor vibes soooo

also on ao3!

The Emperor was a peculiar man. 

He was not a man who fancied company. When the years for marriage had passed, his royal advisors had grown increasingly anxious. All potential candidates were refused, princesses from far lands given profuse apologies and lavish gifts in hopes of quelling their anger after they had traveled such vast distances, only for the Emperor to turn them away. 

In an effort to try and draw out the Emperor’s romantic and sexual nature, several concubines were gathered. The Emperor had never overseen this, the affair carried out in veiled whispers as his advisors had sought to dispel their desperation by pooling their efforts into securing an heir for the dynasty. 

That was what you were told when you arrived in the palace anyways. It had been a year since you were hand-picked as a concubine, along with a few other girls who had been eager to accept when the opportunity had been provided to them.

You had only met the Emperor a handful of times, when you first been brought to the palace and during private meetings that had been scheduled. He had never touched you or any of the other girls, had never sought after pleasure or secured an heir, much to the chagrin of Imperial staff. Like any other person, you thought it was odd. 

Part of you felt as though you were wasting away in this palace, days spent outside by the pretty gardens and overlooking the fish in the ponds, entertaining stray cats or inside, like you were now.

You stare down at the steaming water in the teapot, watching as the tea leaves stain the water. The blurry reflection of your face looks back up at you and there’s a soft sigh escaping you, wondering what might’ve been if you hadn’t been chosen.

Such thoughts are lost when a short, stout man comes hobbling in. He grabs at your arm, teacup filled with hot tea tipping to the side. You wince when the hot liquid lands against your skin, burning you.

“The Emperor needs tea,” the eunuch hisses, pulling another set of teaware from the shelves as he tugs you closer.

“Why does that involve me?,” you ask, trying to free yourself so you can soothe your irritated skin under cool water.

“You will deliver it to him,” he says, fiddling with your robes and straightening out the fabric to make you look more presentable.

“Have another one of the girls-” you begin to complain, shrinking away when he sends you a glare.

You huff out a breath, making sure the pin in your hair is in place. There’s no time to tend to the burn on your forearm, the reddened skin hidden by the sleeves of your robes as the eunuch passes you the tray. 

Sending him a glare of your own, you don’t stay behind to be chastised. Feet padding against the floor, you pass through the courtyard and hallway. Imperial guards stand outside the Emperor’s quarters and you bow your head, stating your business. 

One of the guards opens the doors and you suck in a sharp breath, gathering your confidence as you step inside the Emperor’s quarters. 

It’s a familiar place. The room is large, scrolls stacked upon shelves tucked against the walls, decorative screens partitioning the entrance to where his bed was placed. You swallow nervously, eyes blinking about. You can’t seem to find the Emperor. Deciding to step forward, you’re pushing your luck, sticking your head outside the open doors at the other end of his quarters. It opens into a private courtyard, greenery pruned to perfection.

There’s a frown pulling at your lips when you can’t see him. Perhaps he had left? Just as you’re about to give up, a man clears his throat. You jolt in place, tea sloshing as you struggle to keep a hold on the tray. Whirling around, you find the Emperor standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. There’s a curse entering your mind, placing the tea tray down on a table nearby before your knees are bending, meeting the floor as you bow in a seated position.

“Please forgive me, your majesty” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut. 

You would rather not feel the wrath of the Emperor.

“I did not ask for tea,” he says bluntly.

“The- the eunuch insisted,” you supply lamely.

The Emperor only sighs and your eyes are peeking open, head tilting slightly as you try to get a glimpse of his expression. 

“You may stand,” he murmurs, waving his hand. You do as he says, stumbling to your feet, teeth gritting together when the cloth of your robes rubs against the still fresh burn on your forearm.

He takes a seat on a cushioned mat and you’re standing awkwardly, trying to taper down your fidgeting as the pain flares up again.

“Is something the matter?” the Emperor asks when he sees your inability to stand still. 

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. The Emperor only stares at you, unimpressed. His gaze drags over you and your cheeks are flushing in embarrassment. 

“Sit,” he says suddenly, pointing to the space across from him.

“I-” you begin to refuse, restless to get out of this stifling place and tend to the burn that was currently beginning to sting.

“Sit, or will you refuse an Imperial command?”

To refuse an Imperial command is to forfeit one’s life. It’s why you’re sitting down in a flurry and looking everywhere at everything except him. 

“Arm,” he murmurs, holding his hand out.

You extend your arm towards his hand without question. He hums when he brushes the sleeves away, moving your arm closer to his eyes so he can examine the burn. The Emperor’s lithe fingers prod at the edges of your reddened skin, and a whimper slips out of you, the tender skin sensitive.

He pulls away from you and your eyes are darting towards the doors, wondering whether it would be worth it to make a break for it. The Emperor returns soon after, a small pot in his hand, containing some sort of salve.

“Your majesty, it is beneath you to tend to such a matter,” you remind him, feeling his cool fingers wrap around your arm again.

“Perhaps so, but I happen to take interest in the ailments of the body,” he replies, spreading the salve against your skin.

So the rumors were true then. Many spoke of the Emperor’s affinity for the study of medicine. You had assumed he would’ve taken more interest in other pursuits such as hunting, but it appeared the Emperor valued intellect above all else. 

As the salve soothes your skin, you find your gaze slipping over him. Pale skin, intelligent eyes framed by dark eyelashes, a strong nose and long hair tied back neatly, there was no doubt that the Emperor was a handsome man. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours, his own gaze dipping over you once again. You feel as though you’re being scrutinized, so you’re sitting up straighter, trying to not present yourself as a mess.

“He sent you here to entice me,” the Emperor explains, beginning to wrap your wound using a thin, silken cloth.

“Oh. Is- is it working?” you ask tentatively.

“If you consider making a fool of yourself enticing, then maybe so,” he says, the side of his mouth curling up as amusement flashes through his eyes.

There’s a sharp scoff leaving you, arm tugging free from his grasp. The bandages are tight around your arm and you send him a frown, placing your hands in your lap.

“You take liberties that others do not,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I apologize, your majesty,” you whisper, head hanging low. He was right, you were taking liberties. 

“Zayne,” he says, opening a scroll.

“Your- your majesty?” you reply, confusion flitting across your face.

“Zayne,” he repeats, not bothering to even spare you a glance “you may address me by my name.”

You hold your tongue in return, eyes narrowing as you stare at the Emperor. It must be a trick of some sort, you think, a ploy to make you slip up, and just like the traitors of the Empire, your head would be severed from your neck. 

“You would distrust my own command?” he asks, sensing your hesitation. “I never said such a thing!” you protest, exasperation spreading across your face.

Sitting in place, you pout to yourself, tracing random shapes onto the cushioned mat. Zayne ignores your presence and it has you fidgeting even more, a huff of air leaving you. 

The Emperor only continues to read the scroll in his hands. Pouring out some tea, you decide to indulge yourself. Your face contorts when you taste the now lukewarm liquid. It’s hardly enjoyable. Letting out another deep sigh, your body sags. There’s nothing for you to do here, the Emperor won’t carry a conversation and you only find that you’re making a fool of yourself even more.

“Shall I leave?” you ask him, feeling hopeful that you might be able to escape.

Zayne shakes his head. 

“Stay a little while. It would do good for my advisors to think they have succeeded.”

“Succeeded?” you echo, brows furrowing.

“They expect an heir,” he sighs, setting down the scroll to give you his full attention, “surely you are aware of my… aversion to the entire matter.”

“I cannot say I understand,” you murmur, “you need an heir, and an illegitimate heir is an heir nonetheless.”

“The duty will be fulfilled when I am ready,” he says firmly.

Your head tilts at that, eyes narrowing. When he was ready? There would be no reason for the Emperor to not be ready.

“Other noblemen take pleasure in using women’s bodies,” you mutter, peering over at him, “it is strange that you have not yet touched any one of us.”

“You wish for me to use you?” Zayne asks, raising his brows. 

“N- no! I just meant, it is odd that an Emperor whose rule has granted him anything he may possibly desire chooses not to engage in anything,” the words come out of you in a rush, your cheeks flushing. 

“And have you engaged in anything?” he shoots back, his eyes sharp.

Admitting your own virginity wasn’t on your plan of things to do today. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, eyes averted to the side. Your silence is answer enough, and Zayne sighs, his fingers rubbing at his temples.

“I did not ask for concubines,” he says quietly, “and so, I do not expect you to serve me in such a fashion.”

“You may leave,” he says after a few moments, standing up with you.

Your head tilts, teeth worrying into your lower lip as he stares down at you.

“It appears you care for me,” he murmurs, his hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart flutters at the unexpected action, eyes widening when he touches you.

“Only for the dynasty,” you breathe out.

Zayne lets out a low laugh at that. He gives you a faint smile and your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look so ethereal, but such is the favor of the gods.

It’s probably why you’re leaning forward, hands reaching to fix the crumpled collar of his silk robes. He stiffens under your touch and you pretend as though you don’t notice. Your fingers graze his skin and his hand curls around your wrist, stopping your movements.

“I shall expect you here in a week’s time,” he says.

“A week’s time,” you nod, feeling his fingers touch the cloth wrapped around your burn.

The Emperor lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin gently so he can stare into your eyes more intently. He seems lost in thought as he swipes his thumb over your chin, his head nearing until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

It’s almost too much for your racing heart. Your already half-lidded eyes are slipping shut, lips parting as you lean in closer, waiting for him to kiss you. But it never comes and your eyes flutter open to see Zayne staring down at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes. He was making a fool of you yet again. 

To preserve whatever dignity you have left, you’re pulling away, freeing yourself from his suffocating grasp. Bowing in deference, you don’t look back to see his expression, pushing past the doors as you leave his quarters.

Almost immediately, you’re met with the eunuch from earlier.

“Well?” he asks, his cheeks puffed with exertion as he tries to keep up with the pace you’ve set in an attempt to escape questioning.

“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly, looking back to see the short man totter after you.

“Nothing?” he repeats, voice laced with irritation, “not even-“ his voice lowers, mindful of the other staff working in the palace, “he did not even touch you?” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t need to know that the Emperor had indeed touched you; tended to your burn even, that you were hoping the Emperor would hold you close and kiss you, and he most certainly didn’t need to know about your little displays of insolence. 

The eunuch soon loses interest in you, grumbling curses under his breath as you retire to your own chambers shared with the other girls. It’s no secret that many of them have become bored with the Emperor’s apathetic outlook, some turning their charms to try and garner the affections of noblemen at court.

-

It’s raining the day you’re meant to meet the Emperor. 

You step inside his chambers when the guards permit you, your hands clasped in front of you.

“Your majesty” you bend at the waist, bowing.

Zayne hums in response, striding closer to you. His fingers lift your arm, undoing the gauze to uncover your injury. The salve he had applied to your skin had soothed the burn, and it had begun to heal nicely. 

“I told you to address me by my name,” he reminds you, his brows furrowed in concentration as he examines your skin, “must I remind you again, or will phrasing it as an Imperial command suffice?”

Your mouth opens automatically to retort sharply. He looks at you, brows raised. Spending more time in his presence has only vexed you, irritation making you almost forget who you were with. Mouth clamping shut, you send him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Forgive me,” you say begrudgingly, “Zayne.”

“Better,” he murmurs.

You don’t know whether he’s referring to your obedience or the state of your wound. 

“It will scar,” Zayne continues, turning your arm so that he can see your skin in better light.

“Badly?” you ask, a frown tugging at your lips.

“More salve will lessen the effect,” he says, finally letting go of your arm.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The Emperor stares at you, his gaze unwavering. It has you wishing that you hadn’t listened to his request at all. The palace physician would have more than likely provided you with the necessary treatment, and yet here you were, being tended to by the Emperor of all people.

“Do you wish for me to repay you?” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Did we not already have this conversation?” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I had assumed-”

“Do not assume anything.”

Zayne’s voice has hardened, the slight softness in his eyes no longer present. You’ve overstepped. He pulls away from you, turning his back to you as he walks towards the open doors of his quarters. Rain wets the inside, the mats on the floor darkening but the Emperor doesn’t seem to care.

Feeling like a scolded child, you trail after him.

“Forgive me,” you whisper, keeping your gaze trained on the floor.

It seems to be all that you’re doing now. Apology after apology after apology. It’s a miracle you haven’t yet been executed for your impertinence. 

He turns to face you, his hand lifting. For a moment you think he’s about to slap you, a grimace settling on your face as you await the stinging punishment. Instead, all you feel is his hand on your head, petting you like you were some sort of unruly cat.

Zayne’s fingers begin to slip and you can feel the soft tips of his fingers graze the side of your face, traveling lower as he traces your jawline. You hold still, eyes wide with anticipation. He doesn’t stop, his fingers dragging down the length of your neck, parting your robes until you feel his fingers swipe across your collarbone. 

“You are stubborn,” he says softly, “steadfast and oddly endearing. Perhaps I should keep you by my side.”

You stare up at him, jaw slackening, baffled. 

“I thought you would appreciate it,” he murmurs, the sharpness in his eyes returning, “just moments ago you were offering yourself to me.”

It’s a struggle to bite back the whimper that so eagerly wants to escape when his fingers drag lower, skimming across the soft skin of the tops of your breasts. His other hand plays with the knot tied at the side, nimble fingers untying the only thing keeping your robes together. The soft fabric slips from your shoulders and you find yourself in front of the Emperor, breasts bared.

He lets out a low hum, both of his hands coming to cup your breasts. Your teeth have been biting into your lip so hard that you can taste the tang of blood on your tongue. Zayne swipes his thumbs over your nipples and you find yourself unable to rip free from his wandering touch. 

“Should you not tell me to stop?” the Emperor asks, his face nearing yours.

There’s no will left in you to answer, a sharp gasp escaping you when he pinches your nipples to punctuate his question. The sensation only adds to the wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper, the desperation clear in your eyes, “please, Zayne.”

“I may have the favor of the gods, but I cannot foresee your desires,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours, “tell me. What is it you want?”

“Kiss,” you manage out, “kiss me, please.”

The Emperor’s hands haven’t stopped their exploration, squeezing and groping at your breasts. Zayne lowers his head, forehead pressing against yours as you mewl and whimper under the onslaught of his caressing touches. The ache between your thighs has become unbearable with the way he plays with your nipples. He tugs and pinches, thumbs swiping over your areolas to grant you reprieve before rolling your nipples between his fingers again. 

“Wantonness has made you far more polite,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours.

It’s not a kiss, and you’re squirming in frustration with the way the Emperor is stringing you along, driving you to the edge of pleasure and yet refusing to grant you what you desire the most. 

“I- I can be even more polite,” you mumble pathetically, hands curling into his robes.

You chase after his lips, brows furrowing when he draws up to his full height, smiling down at you. Lips jutting out into a pout, you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to tug him back down so you can kiss him. It’s a futile endeavor, the Emperor only manages to evade all of your attempts to draw him into a kiss. 

“I shall look forward to it,” Zayne murmurs, his lips pressing against your forehead gently.

There’s no way to discern what exactly is going through the Emperor’s mind. He no longer continues with his lustful touches, pulling away with a final caress of your breasts as he pulls your loosened robes over your shoulders again. You can only watch with dazed eyes, frozen in place as he helps redo the knot holding your robes together, covering you up properly so that unnecessary slivers of skin aren’t showing anymore. 

“Do you do this with the others?” you ask, eyes finding his.

“Does the thought make you jealous?”

You frown at his retort, sending him a glare, “the Emperor may do as he wishes,” you grumble.

It’s hard to hide the jealousy that underlies your words. You want to be the only person he touches, to be the object of his affections. It’s a selfish desire to want the Emperor to need you only, but you can’t help yourself, envy flaring up inside of you at the thought of him touching another woman the way he touches you. 

“You are the first to elicit such a reaction from me,” Zayne says, his fingers tilting your head so he can stare into your eyes more directly.

Letting out an irritated huff, you feel irked by his subtle way of trying to please you. He doesn’t reply to your display of irritation, nudging his forehead against yours as though trying to convey his affection. 

“Go now,” he whispers, petting your hair again before he’s moving away, turning his back to you as he returns to peer out at the rain that falls outside.

You have half the mind to call him out on his behavior, but the reminder of your position is the stifling reality in which you live in. Despite his gaze elsewhere, you bow to him, turning on your heel to leave.

Thankfully, there are no lurking eunuchs to question your brief stay in the Emperor’s quarters. The palace staff don’t pay you any mind as you return to your chambers, and you explain to the other girls that you feel sick. 

The whimpers that spill from your mouth are muffled by the pillow that you’ve pressed your face into, the fingers of one hand rubbing at your clit and the other hand pinching at your nipples as you try to mimic the way the Emperor had touched you. With the image of Zayne’s face ingrained into your mind, it doesn’t take long, a soft moan escaping into the quiet of your chambers as you come apart on your fingers. 

-

You’re spying on the Emperor. 

The past year had been plenty of time to explore the palace and figure out the little passageways that weren’t well known. Perhaps you were just as bad as his advisors that were intent on prying into Zayne’s private life, but you just couldn’t help yourself. 

It’s why you’re here now, hovering outside his quarters, pretending to take great interest in the portraits that line the halls. Every now and then, your eyes flick over to where the guards stand, trying to discern whether anyone was entering or leaving his chambers. 

You almost feel pathetic for acting in such a way, but he was the only thing you could think about. Visiting the gardens had grown dull, despite the leaves turning into pretty shades of orange and red in the autumn air, thoughts of the Emperor taking root in the crevices of your mind instead. 

“My grandfather,” a deep voice breaks through your thoughts. You don’t have to look to know who it is.

“Handsome,” you mutter, taking a step closer to examine the portrait genuinely this time.

“My guards have complained about a woman hiding in the hallways,” Zayne says, his hand falling onto your shoulder. “I did not realize it was an offense to admire fine art,” you shoot back.

“There are far finer things in this palace,” he murmurs, stepping forward until you’ve been backed up against the wall.

It’s becoming more and more apparent to you that the Emperor must be suffering some sort of illness to the mind. You struggle to come up with a reason as to why his arm curls around your waist, whilst he presses himself closer. 

You try and push at his firm chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“People will see,” you whisper heatedly, eyes darting to the sides despite Zayne being so close that you can hardly see anything but him.

“So let them.”

Zayne reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. You stiffen under the sudden touch, eyes widening when his thumb brushes over your skin.

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, frowning.

“Is my mind not allowed to change?” he asks in return, head lowering until his forehead is pressed against yours.

“I am far more concerned that you have lost your mind.”

The Emperor lets out a deep chuckle and you think the air around you both has somehow grown thicker with how lightheaded you’re feeling.

“I assure you, I am still of sound mind.”

His nose brushes against yours, and you rise to meet the challenge, nose nudging against his gently. The heat of his body is intoxicating, his arm tightening around your waist as he exhales. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating the feeling of his lips against yours.

It’s not to be, not when an Imperial guard insists on interrupting your moment with the Emperor.

“Is this woman bothering you?” the guard asks, his gaze dragging over you with obvious disregard. 

The utter nerve. Eye twitching, you ready yourself to snap back but Zayne’s squeeze to your waist has you staying silent.

“She was feeling ill,” Zayne lies steadily. 

The Emperor’s mask of cool indifference slips over him easily, his lips pulled thin as he speaks to the guard. 

“I shall escort her to the physician,” the guard offers, his hand reaching for you.

Zayne pulls you out of reach before the guard can touch you, tucking you against his side.

“No need,” Zayne says, “I shall take her myself.”

You can almost hear the nervous gulp that the guard takes, his face paling at the Emperor’s stony disposition. Unfortunately, you don’t get long to revel in the satisfaction that spreads through your body when Zayne reprimands the guard. Zayne tugs you along, his hand wrapped around your wrist. It appears the Emperor knows of the passages as well, and a few twists and turns later you find yourself back in the Emperor’s quarters, having bypassed the Imperial guards.

“Did you see his face?” you snicker, looking over at Zayne.

Your smile fades when he doesn’t reply, the grip on your wrist almost painful without how firmly his hand is still holding onto you.

“Zayne? Are you-”

You nearly trip over your own feet when he suddenly pulls you closer. Zayne’s lips are slotting over yours, his large hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you. There’s a small noise of surprise coming from you, eyes widening before they flutter shut, your body lulled into submission with the feverish kisses Zayne gives you.

He groans into your mouth and you cling to his robes, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kisses better. The Emperor might’ve been starved with the way he’s kissing you, his lips firm and insistent against yours whilst he holds you in place. 

Zayne pulls away after a while, and you’re completely and utterly dazed, chest heaving as soft pants fill the space between you both.

“Will you have me?” he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek.

No man has ever spoken such words to you. Your breath catches in your throat, heart clenching uncomfortably in your chest. As the Emperor, he shouldn’t say such a thing. 

“It is beneath you to ask,” you murmur, averting your gaze.

“And yet, I am asking,” Zayne replies, his hands maneuvering your head until you have no choice but to look into his eyes.

Letting out an irritated huff, as though he had somehow inconvenienced you, you lean forward and press a chaste kiss against his lips. You can’t bring yourself to say the words out loud, feeling uncharacteristically shy as you shift on the spot.

“I see.”

Zayne’s surging towards you again, lips crashing onto yours. You whimper, hands scrabbling at his shoulders as you press yourself closer. His arms are wrapping around your waist, keeping you flush against him as he ravages your mouth. His tongue is teasing your lower lip, coaxing it open. You have no choice but to obey, letting out a muffled moan when his tongue slides deeper into your mouth, his hand pulling at the pin holding your hair together. 

You squeak when he picks you up, his lips trailing burning kisses down your neck as he nudges the partition blocking his way to his bed. Zayne undoes the knot holding your robes together before long, your thighs straddling his hips as you sit perched on his lap once he sits down on his bed.

“Have you really never given yourself to anyone?” Zayne asks quietly, his fingers tracing across the soft skin of your shoulders.

You nod, body leaning forward to chase after his touch as his fingers find their way back down to your nipples, rolling the pebbled buds between the pads of his fingers.

“H- have you?” you ask, biting your lip as he presses heated kisses against your collarbone.

He shakes his head, lips drifting lower and lower, until your body twitches as his lips enclose around your nipple. A whimper leaves you, and Zayne grows bolder with his movements, sucking harshly as his tongue swirls around your nipple, flicking the little bud in his mouth.

Your hands have drifted into his hair, pulling free the band that holds his long locks together. His dark hair runs past his shoulders, the strands soft under your touch as you pull at his hair, moaning as he continues his exploration across your chest.

Zayne looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, spit-slick lips dragging across your chest to pepper kisses against your other breast, his mouth enveloping your nipple yet again. He lets out a low groan and you whine, pulling at his robes desperately to pull them off.

“Oh,” you breathe out when he lets you, biting your lip at the sight of his bare chest and abdomen. Your fingers spread across his chest eagerly, mapping out the expanse of his skin. There’s a sly smile spreading across your face when you see his cheeks flush pink as your fingers drag lower, past his navel.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks hoarsely, his head tipping back.

“Should I not?” you whisper, fingers delving lower until you can feel his hardness through his robes.

You rub your hand against the bulge experimentally, eyes lighting up when he lets out a grunt. Face tucking into the crook of his neck, your breasts squished against his chest, you place hungry kisses against his neck, palming at his bulge.

The Emperor tugs at your hair, pulling your head back. You stare up at him, meeting him in the middle when he leans forward, sharing a sloppy kiss. His hands squeeze at your waist and you shift in his lap, letting him undress you completely.

Nervousness flits across your face as he stares at your bare body, hands leaving him to cover yourself up. He grabs your hands before you can, placing a soft kiss to your jaw.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers, lips drifting to kiss the shell of your ear.

A shy smile pulls at your lips and he squeezes your waist again. Your brows furrow when he jostles you, making you straddle his thigh instead.

“I want to watch,” Zayne says, his fingers dimpling into the fat of your thighs.

“Watch?” you echo, head tilting in question.

“I want to watch you come undone,” he clarifies, gripping your hips as he guides you into grinding against his thigh.

A strangled noise leaves you and he pats your hip, satisfied. You’re so aroused that your slick has begun to wet his silken robes, the fabric darkening as you roll your hips, dragging your pussy against his thigh.

“I- I want to watch you too,” you gasp out.

Zayne obliges and you watch as he pulls his cock free. The sight is almost enough to have you coming on his covered thigh. His fingers wrap around his cock and you whine, hips rolling faster. “Is it to your satisfaction?” he murmurs.

You nod rapidly. It is. You’ve never seen one before, but you just know Zayne’s is pretty compared to the others. His cock is thick, flushed prettily at the tip to match the blush on his cheeks and you lick your lips, wondering what it might feel like in your mouth. 

“Another time,” Zayne says, smiling when he sees the expression on your face.

It’s entrancing to watch the way his hand drags up and down his cock, his long fingers wrapped around himself. Globs of pre-cum bead at the tip, wetting his hands and his cock, creating a sinful sound. Unable to help yourself, you tilt your head, tongue lolling out as you let your own spit drip down onto his cock. You hum in delight when his thighs twitch, your eyes peering into his as you drag your cunt against his thigh, clit catching on the fabric of his robes just right. 

“I did not know my concubine was so depraved,” he murmurs, his hand kneading the flesh at your hip roughly.

You give him a dopey smile, eyes slipping back down to watch his hand move around his cock whilst you rock your hips. Head falling against his shoulder, your lips drag across his chest, landing soft kisses against his skin before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, nipping his skin lightly.

Airy sounds fill the air, his quiet moans and your soft whimpers emanating in his quarters. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you press yourself closer, guiding his head into another kiss. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth with no hesitation. Zayne’s pulling apart suddenly, his previous desire of watching you come undone on your thigh forgotten as he manhandles your body, making you lay down against his bed.

The Emperor kisses you over and over, and your head is swirling, trying to keep up whilst his fingers have found their way down to your pussy, rubbing your wetness across the sensitive flesh before he finds your clit. All it takes is one firm press of his thumb, your thighs twitching violently as you grasp at the sheets, moaning loudly as you come. He smiles against your lips, granting you one last kiss before he directs his attention elsewhere, his face disappearing between your thighs.

“Z-Zayne!” you squeal, pushing at his head, trying to get him to stop as the overstimulation becomes too much.

The Emperor ignores you in favor of thumbing apart your folds, his eyes trained on your clit.

“Pretty” he whispers, the pads of his fingers stroking over your clit gently, “and so, so swollen.”

It has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he kisses the inside of your thighs, edging closer to your pussy, letting out a low breath, the air hitting your exposed pussy.

He groans when you tug at his hair, and you writhe, trying to somehow free yourself from the onslaught of his tongue as he laves over your pussy, pressing sloppy kisses against your skin, his lips latching onto your swollen clit. Zayne’s tongue flicks against the sensitive bud, teasing you.

Something between a moan and a scream climbs its way out your throat, the sound ringing in through his chambers as you come again, thighs firmly squeezing his head. Your eyes widen when you realize the guards are still outside the doors, panic flaring through your body as you scramble to sit up.

Zayne’s hand slides over your mouth before you can get anything out, the stern look in his eyes making you go still. The rapping of the guard’s knuckles against the door has you rigid, eyes widening in alarm as he begins to move his tongue yet again. 

You glare at Zayne, tugging at his hair roughly to make it hurt as you attempt to get his mouth off of you. Zayne only gives you a hazy look, looking utterly gone as he presses his face deeper into your cunt. It’s a struggle to keep the noises in, your body shaking as his nose rubs into your clit and his tongue fucks in and out of your aching hole. 

“Your majesty?” An urgent voice calls out from behind the door, and you can hear the faint scuffling noises of the guards’ boots. 

“Someone get this door open!” another voice hisses, the sliding doors rattling soon after.

The Emperor grunts into your cunt, raising up finally. The sight of him is nearly enough to make you come for a third time. Zayne is utterly disheveled, his cheeks pink and the lower half of his face glistening with your slick. 

You watch as he runs his hand through his hair, biting your lip as you let your gaze wander, catching on his cock once again. He looks painfully hard, cum smeared across his skin and drool is pooling in your mouth. Getting onto your knees, you crawl forward eager to envelop it in your mouth.

The tip makes its way into your mouth for a brief moment and you can barely suck when Zayne is yanking you off of his cock, his hand curled into your hair. 

“Everything is fine,” the Emperor snaps, narrowing his eyes when you pout.

“We heard-”

“I said,” Zayne’s voice grows louder, “everything is fine.”

You think he might take out his wrath on you with the way he grips your cheeks roughly, planting another kiss to your lips. He’s manhandling you yet again, pushing at your shoulders to make you lie down as he settles his hips between your thighs.

Zayne’s cum smears against your skin and you whimper when the fat tip of his cock nudges against your clit. He lands a gentler kiss to your cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as you squirm under him, whimpering as he grinds his cock against your cunt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as he lets his cock slide up and down against your folds, “my good girl.”

“Yours,” you agree, cheek squishing against the pillow, “all yours.”

“I want to see you like this all the time,” Zayne confesses, his hand grasping his cock to press it firmly against your cunt, coating it with your arousal, “all flustered and needy… perhaps I am losing my sanity.”

You need him inside of you. The emptiness in your pussy has made you all too aware, hips bucking with every drag of his heavy cock.

“More,” you whisper, voice slurring, “Zayne, I want more.”

Zayne draws back slightly and you watch as he squeezes his cock, pre-cum dripping steadily onto your thigh. He reaches for your hand, fingers lacing with yours.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

You nod, swallowing down your nervousness. He presses his cock into your hole and the stretch is uncomfortable, a pained whimper leaving you as Zayne guides his cock into you. 

“A little more,” he coaxes, kissing your forehead to try and distract you from the initial stretch.

He finally pushes his entire cock in, and you feel as though the air has been punched out of your lungs. Zayne fills you up so perfectly, his cock snug inside your cunt, the emptiness from earlier disappearing almost immediately.

It appears you have affected him just as much, his eyes squeezed shut as he pants into the crook of your neck, trying to get used to the wet heat of your cunt. 

“Perfect,” he mutters mindlessly, and you can feel the twitch of his cock from inside of you, “so- so perfect and warm and tight.”

A hazy smile drifts across your face, legs locking tighter around his hips as your pussy clenches around him.

Zayne lets out a ragged gasp, and you know he can feel it. His eyes bore into yours, brows pulled together in annoyance at your little tease.

“Little minx,” he hisses.

It’s you that gasping this time when he draws his hips back, nails clawing at his back as he thrusts into you. His cock is stretching you out, over and over, as he tries to press it in deeper, trying to carve a path from your pussy to your heart.

“Too- too much!” you wail, arms wrapping around his neck to cling onto him.

“Do you want the guards to hear?” Zayne murmurs against your ear, his hips slowing slightly.

Through the haze of it all, your head turns, eyes finding his. The truth is, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to the idea. Zayne can see the flash of interest in your eyes and he lets out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head.

“I should have taken you sooner,” he mutters, his fingers squeezing at your hips, “kept you close to me from the beginning.”

You preen at the thought, pressing sloppy kisses against his jaw, feeling his cock drag in and out of you.

“Next time, I shall take you on my throne.”

Your movements pause, eyes widening as he whispers those words, his lips brushing across yours.

“Not like that-” you begin to say, cheeks flushing deeper as you imagine him taking you on his throne, his hips rutting into yours like they were now.

“Why not?” he asks, “Shall I command it? Have-” Zayne lets out a shuddering breath “have my entire court watch as my pretty, little concubine loses her mind, drunk on my cock as I claim her atop my throne?”

You moan unabashedly, cunt clenching around him tightly. Zayne grunts, his hips stuttering when at the feeling of your walls tightening before he’s gripping your thigh, his chest flush against yours as he picks up the pace. It’s no secret that the guards must have heard what was happening inside, your loud moans most likely drifting through the wood of the doors. Both you and the Emperor don’t seem to care, lost in the blur of lust that swirls between you both.

“Deeper,” you mumble, pouting up at him, “need- need you closer, Zayne.”

“You are going to be the death of me,” Zayne mutters, dropping his weight on top of you.

You mewl in delight, the feeling of his body against yours deliciously warm. He hikes your thighs up a little higher, hips pressing deeper until you gasp. You can feel his balls pressed snugly against your ass, his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.

“Take it,” he whispers, his hand beginning to stroke your hair as he moves his hips. Short, sharp thrusts that serve to bury his cock into your cunt the way you want, “take it, my love.”

My love. Skin against skin. His hand stroking your hair gently. Girthy cock filling you up perfectly.

The sensations mixed with his affection are too much, pulling at your heart uncomfortably until you let out a sniffle, staring up at him with glassy eyes.

Concern passes through his eyes when he hears you sniffle, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes away a stray tear that beads at the corner of your eye.

“Am I hurting you?” Zayne asks softly.

You shake your head, lips trembling even more at his display of concern. 

“I just like you a lot is all,” you whisper, sniffling quietly.

“I like you too,” Zayne replies in kind, his lips pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “and I take care of what’s mine.”

He leans down, lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss. Your tears wet his cheeks as he keeps you there, kissing you gently whilst his hips roll into you.

“Let go for me, my love” he murmurs, and you’re clenching around him again, feeling his hand sneak its way between your bodies as his thumb rubs against your clit.

You whimper, head pressing back as you arch your back, the sensation of his cock and his fingers driving you further and further to the edge until he latches his mouth onto your breast, catching your nipple between his teeth. He bites down and a broken moan fills the air, body shuddering as you come on his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Zayne grits out when he feels the harsh clench of your cunt around his cock.

You can feel him bury his face into your chest and you reach up weakly, running your fingers through his hair. It’s enough to have him letting out a guttural noise against your chest, his fat cock twitching as his thick cum floods your pussy.

The Emperor lays on top of you, both of your bodies loosened completely. You whimper when he pulls out of you, his cum beginning to leak out from your cunt. Zayne stares at the sight for a moment, entranced, before pulling you closer, letting you press your face into his chest as he kisses your forehead. 

“Everyone will know by now,” you whisper.

“They will,” he agrees, his fingers prying your face away from where it hides.

Zayne peers down into your eyes, a faint smile playing across his lips as he swipes his thumbs against your skin.

“Stay here with me,” he says quietly, “by my side.”

You laugh softly at his proposition.

“I am your concubine,” you murmur, reaching up to curl your hand around his wrist, “nothing more.”

“You will be more,” Zayne insists, his voice hardening,  “I will have you.”

“Your advisors would not allow it!” you protest, eyes turning glassy again.

“Desperation will make them vulnerable to acceptance,” he retorts, his body pressing closer as though to keep you tethered to him, hands tightening around your cheeks.

“I am the Emperor,” he continues, forehead pressing against yours as his eyes bore into yours, “you said it yourself. I may do as I wish, and what I wish for is for you to be by my side.”

You swallow harshly, blinking up at him when you hear the sternness of his voice. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, kissing you desperately.

“Stay with me, my love” he whispers again, stealing kiss after kiss from you.

“Okay,” you relent, sinking into his embrace and returning his kisses just as desperately, “okay.”

The Emperor holds you close to his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. The heat of his body has your eyes drooping shut, his lips brushing over your forehead as he whispers sweet promises of his love.

Outside, far away from the warmth of love’s embrace, the first fall of snow has begun to drift from the sky.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Untouchable - Azriel x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Wicked Games - Batboys x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥Part III

➻❥ Halloween Special

Summary: Desperate to pay off a debt, you decide to break into the penthouse of one of Prythian’s richest males, one rumored to make his money in a less than legal way. But after witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, you find yourself caught in a wicked game of cat and mouse with three of the most dangerous males in Prythian. (Modern AU!)

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓞𝓷𝓮-𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 & 𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼

fluff ☀︎ angst ☾ smut ♡

Request guidelines

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓐𝔃𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓵

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Scared to be Happier - Azriel x Reader ☾ ♡

No Going Back - Azriel x Reader (Part I) ☾

↠ Now That We Don’t Talk (Part II) ☾

Mystique - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

Arcane - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

The Crow's Poet - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

The Shadowsinger's Secret - Azriel x Reader ☾☀︎

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader (Part I) ☾

↠ We Should Stick Together (Part II) ☾

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓡𝓱𝔂𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Falling Apart for You - Rhysand x Reader ☾ ☀︎

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓔𝓻𝓲𝓼

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader ☾ ☀︎

Last Solstice - Eris x Reader ☾ ☀︎

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓬

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Butterfly Fly Away - Batboys x Platonic!Reader ☾ ☀︎

[lvrgurlblobbu]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: scars, smut - glorious smut!!

word count: 5.1k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @tiredsleepyhead @celestialgilb @theflowerswillbloom @fuckingsimp4azriel @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @salvatoresister1 @imperfect0angel @stvrdustalexx @anneas11

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media.

********************

Chapter 21

Y/n POV

As I closed the door to my room, Azriel stood with his lower back leaning against my dressing table, his muscular arms crossed. 

He was here. 

He was really here. 

My heart pounded at the sight of him, and I swallowed hard, praying he would not see my hands shaking. 

Gods, he was still so sexy. 

Even after six months of being away from him, he still took my breath away. 

Why had nothing changed? 

Since I had been gone for what seemed like an eternity, I had thought my reaction to him might have been milder.  I had spent the last six months convincing myself that he may never want to see me again, that he might simply be a part of my past, never to be a part of my present or future. 

And yet, here he was…back in my life in an instant with that same sense of untamed spirit just seething below the surface.  He had the same hazel eyes that could melt me with just one look and those chiseled cheekbones resembling a God. 

My heart screamed at me to run to him as my fingers itched to touch him…to make sure he was real and not some figment of my imagination. My head, however, told me to stay put and maintain a safe distance.

I slowly crossed the room and stood several feet in front of him, my pulse beating erratically.  He fixed his magnetic eyes on me with a dark stare, sweeping me out of reality and into a wave of emotions I had not felt since the last time I saw him.  His eyes lingered on my curves before he let out a long sigh and finally spoke. “You look amazing, Y/n...”

“Thanks.” I mumbled as I stared down at my feet.  I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes.  I knew if I did, I would get lost in him and to do so again would damn near destroy me. 

I sighed heavily, letting my shoulders drop., before bringing my eyes back to his.  “What did you want to talk about, Az?”

Azriel stood up straight and shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes, filled with a mixture of guilt and raw emotion, never left mine.

“Us,“ Azriel whispered, his wings tucked tightly behind him, his hands clenched at his sides as if he were bracing himself for what he was about to say. The soft sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing him in a golden glow, but even that light couldn’t soften the tension in his face. I lifted my eyes back to his and he swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on mine.

“I owe you an explanation,” he said, his voice low but steady. “About everything. About Elain. About the way I’ve acted… the way I pushed you away.”

My expression didn’t waver as I tried to hide hurt lingering in my eyes, a wound he had inflicted and hated himself for. He drew in a breath, as if the words he was about to say required all the strength he had.

“Angel,” he began, his voice quiet but steady, “before you walked into my life a year ago, I never… I never believed I was worthy of something like this. Of you. I didn’t think someone like me deserved love, or even a chance at it.” His gaze flickered down for a moment, as if ashamed. “I didn’t do relationships. It wasn’t who I was. I thought it was easier to keep my distance, to let myself be… detached. To keep things simple. Physical. No strings.”

He took a step closer, his shadows stirring faintly around him, mirroring the turmoil he felt. “I had lovers. Many of them, over the years. But that’s all they ever were. I didn’t let them in. I didn’t… feel anything deeper. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I thought falling in love, letting myself be vulnerable—” His voice cracked slightly, and he looked away, his jaw tightening. “I thought it wasn’t meant for someone like me.”

“Elain,” he continued carefully, softly, like it might shatter in the air between us. “She’s… nothing more to me than a friend. She never has been. I thought—at one point—that maybe there was something there, something I could convince myself to feel because it was safe. Easy.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But that wasn’t real. None of it was. It was an illusion I clung to because it kept me from looking at the truth.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a huge lump in my throat.  

“What changed?”

Azriel stepped closer to me and smiled softly.  “You.  You changed everything.”  

His eyes looked down as though was grounding himself for what he said next. “The truth is… I was terrified. Of you. Of how much I wanted you, how deeply you affected me. You came into my life and turned everything I thought I knew upside down. You made me feel things I didn’t think I deserved to feel. And that scared me more than anything.”

His hands clenched at his sides, as if he were holding himself back from reaching for me. “So I pushed you away. I kept my distance. And I used Elain—without realizing it at first—as a shield. But the truth is, Angel, it was never her. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

“I never saw this coming, but now that I’ve had it – I never want to let it go.  I want you and only you, Angel.  You’re all I can think about.” 

Azriel’s eyes found mine again, and this time they held a vulnerability that made my chest tighten. “You shattered every wall I built, without even trying,” he said softly. “You made me want something I never thought I could have. You made me believe that I could be more than the shadows I carry. That I could be… enough.”

 He stepped closer still, his voice dropping to a whisper, raw and full of emotion. “I love you, Angel. Not as a friend. Not as anything safe or convenient. I love you in a way that terrifies me, in a way that’s overwhelming and all-consuming and so much bigger than I ever thought love could be. I love you. And I only ever want you.”

His eyes searched my face as if afraid of what he might find there. “I need you to know the truth, because you deserve that. But you also need to know that those pieces of my past—they mean nothing to me now. They’ve never meant anything, not like this. Not like you.” He stepped closer, his voice trembling with sincerity. “You’re my mate, Angel. My only. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.”

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were gathering strength to ask his next question.  He took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. 

“Is there someone else?” His eyes searched mine, his voice barely a whisper.

Azriel let out a shaky breath, his wings trembling slightly behind him as he waited for my response, every ounce of his heart laid bare before me.

I almost choked as the tears began to pool in my eyes before streaming down my cheeks. 

“What?”  

My breath caught in my throat as he closed the distance quickly between us, but he was suddenly so close to me, I couldn’t think straight.  It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and all I wanted was to be in his arms again, his body pressed against mine, kissing me until I couldn’t breathe.  

“I have to know,” He asked hoarsely as his hands cupped both of my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away my tears before his hands dropped back to his sides.

“Is there someone else?” 

At that point, my resolve completely obliterated.

“No, Azriel. There is no one else. I can’t love anyone else…because I’m in love with you.” I whispered as my arms fell to my sides, tears falling down my cheeks. 

Azriel wiped my tears. “Baby…please don’t cry.” he whispered  before closing his eyes, touching his forehead against mine, taking in what I had just confessed. We stood there for a few moments just breathing each other in before I got the courage to speak again.

I didn’t want to be afraid anymore. I didn’t want to believe that Azriel, of all people, would reject me. But the fear, raw and real, continued to claw at my heart, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that, one day, he might look at me—and see nothing more than the ugly scars left behind.

“Did you mean everything you just said?”

Azriel opened his eyes and gazed back at me, his face raw with emotion.

“Every. Fucking. Word.”  

He grabbed my hips and pulled me forcefully to him, slamming his mouth against mine in a bruising kiss.  Our kiss accelerated quickly, our lips slamming into each other for fear of this moment ending. My mouth responded hungrily to his and his kisses became deeper, his tongue seeking entry into my mouth…which I eagerly gave him.  As he wrapped his arms around my waist, I plunged my hands up under his shirt, feeling the muscles in his chest ripple under my hands.  He made a growling noise low in his throat as he pulled his mouth away from mine and began to kiss a trail down my neck.  

“Angel…baby” he murmured as he planted thousands of kisses on my tender skin.  “Fuck, I have missed you so much.”

His lips found mine again, his kisses becoming desperate, as if we needed each other more than air. I wrapped my hands around his neck to pull him tighter, trying to remove any space left between us.  His strong hands slid up under my shirt and caressed my back.  The heat of his palms burned my cool skin, and I arched my back into him, feeling his cock harden against me.  I inhaled sharply and felt Azriel smile against my lips, knowing full well the effect he had on me.  It was all I could do to cling to him to stop myself from completely drowning in him as tiny sparks danced across my skin.  

Desire pooled between my legs, and I moaned into his mouth as he claimed mine again and again, running his tongue along my bottom lip before gently sucking on it.  

“Azriel…” I moaned as his mouth continued to devour mine.  His familiar, masculine scent, cedar, shadows and mist, filled my senses and I began to tremble in his arms.  Not from fear or worry, but anticipation and longing. 

As he continued to kiss me, and the world seemed to fade away. His hands moved to cup my face again with a reverence that made my knees weak, as though I were something precious, something unbreakable. I let myself continue to sink into his kisses, into the warmth of his touch, the overwhelming sense of belonging he gave me.

But then, as his hands gently brushed down my sides, I froze. The memory of my scars flashed in my mind like a cruel reminder. The one on my abdomen, a trauma that I would carry for the rest of my life, I couldn’t bear to show him. I pulled away suddenly, my breath shaky, my arms wrapping protectively around myself as if to shield the parts of me I didn’t want him to see.

Azriel’s brow furrowed, his hazel eyes scanning my face with concern. “Angel? What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, as if afraid to startle me

I shook my head, my chest tightening as I struggled to find the words, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I just… I need you to see all of me,” I said, my voice trembling. “Not just the parts that are easy to love. The parts I’ve tried to hide, even from myself. I’ve spent so long feeling… ashamed of this. Of what it represents. But if I want to be with you—really be with you—I can’t hide anymore.”

Azriel exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He cupped my face, his thumbs wiping away from my tears.

“Show me,” he whispered softly.

I stepped back, my hands shaking as they moved to the ties of my dress.

Slowly, I pulled the ties of my dress, my fingers fumbling with the fabric as my heart pounded in my chest. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and let the dress to the floor, revealing the jagged scar that stretched across the lower part of my stomach—a mark left by a battle I had barely survived.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel held his breath as her dress fell to the floor, completely naked and bare to him.

Rage rocketed through him as he took in the scar below her navel, just above her pubic bone. A cruel mark that she would never escape.

A scar made using faebane, ensuring she would never heal and would be marked forever.

A word carved into her skin.

Whore.

The fury inside made him tremble.

A wave of protectiveness, so powerful it nearly took his breath away, consumed him. No one, no one, should have ever done this to her. She was the woman he loved more than anything—more than his own life.

“Fuck, baby…” he choked as he gathered her into his embrace, holding her tight against him as she shook in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing the top of her shoulder.

He pulled back, lifting her chin with his fingers, his thumb brushing over her cheek to steady himself. His hands, usually so controlled, shook as he held her face. His eyes softened for a moment, the love he felt for her shining through, but when his gaze fell again on the scar, his jaw clenched with a force that nearly cracked his teeth. He couldn’t look at it without feeling a surge of anger, a primal need to protect what was his.

Slowly, with a tenderness that contrasted the fury inside him, he sank to his knees before her and lowered his lips to the scar, pressing a kiss there. His lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary, as if he could somehow erase the pain from her body, but the truth was, he knew he couldn’t.

Azriel looked up at her, his gaze holding hers, his hands on her hips and whispered.

“You’re beautiful. Every single part of you.”

He kissed the length of the scar reverently. As he stood back up, his eyes held hers, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with an intensity.

“The man who did this to you, whoever thought they could break you, you are strong and fierce, my beautiful mate.  I swear, I will never let anyone hurt you again. No one—no one—touches what is mine.”

His words were fierce, raw with emotion, and as he spoke, he kneeled again to kiss the scar, a slow, deliberate press of his lips, as if to mark it as his own, as if to take back the ownership that had been stolen from her.

Azriel pulled away just enough to look up at her face,��his voice now softer, but no less intense. “And I will kill anyone who touches you.”

His gaze filled with a tenderness that seemed to be at odds with the intensity of violence in his promise, but she could see the truth in his eyes. The depth of his love, his protection, and his unwavering devotion. He stood and pulled her close. 

“I love you more than anything. And I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone hurt you again.  You are mine.”

She smiled softly, her eyes darting to the floor.

Gods, if she only knew how being away from her for the past six months was slowly killing him every day.  He lifted her chin back up to look him straight in the eyes.  

“Azriel - “ she started but there was nothing left to say except show her.  He silenced her, pulling her into another kiss.  Her lips were so soft and sweet that he began to feel a rush zip throughout his body.  

She slid her arms back around his neck, pulling him closer until he could feel every curve of her petite body up against him and he began to lose himself in her.  She was like a drug to him, and the more he had of her – the more he craved her.  The pull she had over him was overwhelming and in the past, it had scared him.  But after losing her for months, he was no longer scared. He wanted all of her…body, mind and soul. Her sighs and moans spurred his kisses on as her nails dug into his neck as his lips continued to caress hers.  

And the little sounds she made…fuck.  

He had not even touched her pussy yet and the smell of her arousal mixed with his own, and the taste of her lips were driving him crazy.  As her soft hands moved across his chest, her touch set fire to his skin, leaving him with a desire for her to touch every inch of him.  

He stopped long enough to pull his shirt over his head before his lips landed back on hers. He placed little kisses down her jaw to her neck and then licked the little patch of skin underneath her ear.  It was one of her most sensitive spots and as he licked it, she moaned his name.

Gods, how he loved her moans. 

He worked his way back up to her lips, eliciting a whimper from her that sent him right over the edge.  Desire flooded through him, and he slid one hand up her side cupped her breast.  He ran his thumb across her nipple and felt it harden quickly beneath his touch.  She began to tremble as he continued to kiss her and he felt her body press more into his, completely succumbing to him. 

No longer able to control himself, he slid his hand down to the front of her stomach to the apex of her thighs.  Her body’s response to his was intoxicating and his cock began to throb.  

He wanted to be inside of her.  

Now.

“Az-“

“I know, baby…” I whispered back to her, between kisses.  “I’ve got you.”  

An audible exhale escaped her lips as his fingers slid across her clit. He felt her hold on his neck tighten as he continued his caresses, increasing in pressure with each swipe.  He moved his mouth back to her neck and slowly nibbled and sucked on it. As her moans grew louder, his cock strained against his pants, and he ground it against her. 

He moved away from her clit, slid two fingers inside her and her breath caught.

“Gods baby...you’re dripping wet for me.” 

Fuck, her pussy was soaking wet.

He began to slide his fingers in and out of her.

Silky and tight

He moved his mouth back up to her lips and thrust his tongue into her mouth.  

Mine.  

He was never letting her go again and he would fucking kill anyone who ever tried to take her away from him. 

******

Y/n POV

As I rocked my hips in sync with his hand, it was almost more than I could take. 

“Angel…you are so fucking beautiful.”

Azriel began to kiss a trail down my neck to my breasts. He swirled his tongue around one of my nipples before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it with soft, little tugs. He then swirled his tongue around my nipple again, lightly bit it and pressed his soft lips to it, kissing it to soothe the slight sting of his bite. He was slowly driving me crazy, and I felt wetness trickle down the inside of my thighs as he moved from one breast to the other. 

As he kissed a trail back up to my neck, I tightened my arms around his neck and pressed my hips into his as his fingers continued to slide in and out of me. I felt his hard cock against me, and I could no longer stand his pants between us. 

I had to have Azriel now. 

I was tired of waiting. 

“I need you, Az.”

He pulled back slightly and looked at me, his breathing heavy.

“Say it again…”

I stared back into his hazel eyes, his pupils blown. I pulled him closer and whispered against his lips. 

“Make love to me, Azriel.”

He moaned and kissed me again, sliding his hands under me to grip my ass, wrapping my legs around his waist. He picked me up and carried me over to my bed, laying me down carefully. He stood up and unzipped his pants and slid them down his legs, never taking his eyes off me. His cock sprang free, and my eyes drank in every detail of his gorgeous body. The tip of his thick cock was seeping from the head and just knowing I had this effect on him and his body made me even wetter. 

He climbed over me and laid down with his arms on either side of my head. As he kissed me again, one of his hands caressed down my stomach and I arched my back into him to let him know I wanted his hand to continue roaming down my body. As he reached my pussy, he slid his fingers up and down my clit several times before sliding a finger inside of me. He groaned as he continued to kiss me while inserting another finger inside me, eliciting a whimper from me. 

He pumped his fingers in and out of me several times before moving his fingers back up to my clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make me writhe underneath him. He slid his fingers inside me again, arching them up to hit the spot he knew would soon send me over the edge. I arched my hips against his hand, seeking to satisfy the building release inside of me. Azriel groaned and then stilled his fingers inside of me, pulling back to look me in the eyes. 

“I need to taste you, baby.” His said, his voice deep and dark with desire. “Not only am I going to taste your pretty pussy, I’m going to taste every inch of you.”

Mother above, Azriel had a filthy mouth. 

He slowed the pump of his fingers as he kissed his way down my neck, breasts, and stomach. It felt like he was everywhere at once and my senses were overloaded with his scent, his tongue licking my body and his fingers curved up inside of me as they slid in and out so easily. 

I felt my orgasm begin to build as he made his way down my body. When he reached the apex of my thighs, he settled in between them and latched onto my clit, sucking it into his mouth, alternating with licks up and down. 

“Mmmm.  You taste so fucking good, Angel.”

He lapped, licked and sucked on my clit until my legs began to shake. My breathing grew heavy as I was right on the edge of my release. I closed my eyes and arched my back when he suddenly stopped and pulled his mouth away. I gasped from the sudden removal of his mouth, and I pulled up to lean back on my elbows, clearly annoyed. 

“Az!”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Eyes on me, baby. No closing them. I want to watch you fall apart while I am eating this sweet pussy.”

Looking at Azriel as he feasted on me was one of the most raw, intimate things I had ever experienced in my life.  Watching him as he made me come was like baring a part of my soul that would only belong to him and no one else.  

I nodded my head as he began to suck on my clit again, alternating between lapping it with the flat part of his tongue before latching onto it. He pumped his fingers in and out of me faster and his other hand found mine, slowly intertwining our fingers together. It was almost as if he was afraid I’d disappear into thin air. I never knew just how intimate holding someone’s hand could be until now. 

With my free hand, I reached down and ran my hand through his dark wavy hair as he continued, his eyes locked on mine. When he began to moan as if he couldn’t get enough of me, the vibrations sent pulses straight to my clit and I began to shake, my orgasm building at a speeding frenzy. 

He pumped his fingers even faster and whispered.

“Let go, baby.”

Azriel latched onto my clit and sucked hard, ripping my orgasm right from me and sending me over the edge, screaming his name. I kept my eyes on his as long as I could before I became a writhing mess with my head falling back on the bed. He continued to lick me slowly, letting me ride out the pleasure as long as possible before he stopped and slowly kissed his way back up my body. 

******

Azriel POV

The sunlight illuminated the soft curves of her body, and he had never seen anything more fucking sexy than watching her come with his face between her legs. He missed her so much that he wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her body, staking his claim to her and coming inside her sweet pussy, permanently marking her as his.  

As he kissed his way back up her body, his eyes drifted over the cruel scar left behind. He pressed gentle kisses against the scar, against her skin. He let his gaze continue over taut curve of her stomach, the soft swell of her breasts, and her swollen lips from his kisses. He settled between her hips and pulled her hand, still intertwined with his, over her head.  With his free hand, he ran his thumb softly back and forth over her swollen bottom lip. 

“Angel, these past six months have been hell. I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t fucking breathe without you. Everything is going to shit because I’m without you.”

She smiled softly, her eyes filling with tears. One slowly slid out of the corner of her eye, and he wiped it away with his thumb. 

“The way you make me feel safe, loved, and seen – even with all of these scars…I don’t even know what to say.” She whispered as she raised up to kiss him softly, tasting herself on his lips. “I love you, Azriel.”

He brushed the hair back out of her face as his beautiful eyes lovingly gaze back at her. “You just said everything I needed to hear.”

Azriel leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, his tongue swiping across her lower lip as she opened for him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he ground his cock against her core, eliciting a mewl from her. Azriel smiled against her mouth, fully aware of what he was doing as she rocked against him, again desperately seeking that needed friction.

“Az – please,” she panted, her breathing shallow as she writhed underneath him.

He chuckled deeply, as his eyes danced with mischief. “My Angel is so greedy.”

She looked down at his cock, glistening and dripping from the tip and wrapped her hand around him, pumping his shaft with several long strokes. As her hand slid back up to the tip, she rubbed her thumb in a circle over it and slid it back down again.

And that was Azriel’s undoing.

Growling, his restraint snapped as he grabbed her hand away from his cock, intertwined his fingers with hers and pushed both of her hands above her head. He lined up the head of his cock with her entrance and pushed into her in one thrust. Her breath caught, and they both moaned as he seated himself inside her.

Fuck, she was so tight around him.

He stilled as she adjusted to the size of him, kissing and licking her neck.

“Azriel-I need –“

He brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her long and slow. “I know, baby. I know.”

He started thrusting inside her, slowly, almost pulling completely out before he slid back in again. He wanted her to feel every inch of him moving inside her. He moved his hands to her waist and wrapped them around each side, watching the outline of his cock sliding up inside her abdomen.

“Fuck, Angel – look at you.  Taking my cock so well.” He murmured, his hazel eyes darkening as he gazed down at his cock sliding in and out of her.

Her breathing became heavier as her blue eyes darkened, full of love and desire for him.

He could get lost in those eyes for the rest of his life.

He picked up his pace as thrust into her, the head of his cock dragging against the walls of her pussy, as he bent one of her knees so he could thrust deeper inside of her.

He felt her pussy tighten against him and he knew she was close. Her gasps of pleasure were music to his ears, and her body’s responsiveness to him was addicting.

As if she were made just for him.

And at that moment, he decided he could spend the rest of his life between her legs and die a happy man.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of their lovemaking, the creaking of her bed, the rustle of the sheets, and the sounds of wet flesh as his cock thrust into her.

He had dreamt of this moment for so long and it was all he could do to hold on.

“Come for me, Angel. I want to see you come all over my cock.”  He commanded as he stared down into this blue eyes.

That was all it took for her to go over the edge, screaming his name as her head tilted back, writhing underneath him. Her walls fluttered around his length as she rode wave after wave of ecstasy.

Watching her fall apart for him, he followed her over the edge, her name a whisper on his lips as he emptied himself inside of her.

As he pulled out from her and laid on his back, tucking her into his side and grazed his fingers across her lower back, he felt the weight of his devotion, the depth of his passion and the breadth of his love for her. He whispered his love to her, his voice hoarse with emotion, and her response was a soft, sweet whisper that sealed their love.

And in that moment, he knew, that she was his forever.

He was finally home.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: torture, beating, captivity, depression, hopelessness, serious angst

word count: 3.4k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @tiredsleepyhead @celestialgilb @theflowerswillbloom @fuckingsimp4azriel @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @salvatoresister1 @imperfect0angel @stvrdustalexx

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media

********************

Chapter 17

Y/n POV

My world was a blur of confusion and terror as I was pulled into the dark, cold space. Panic surged within me, my heart hammering as I struggled against the binds that restricted me. Every breath felt shallow, choked by the overwhelming fear gnawing at my chest.

The first blow hit, sharp and sudden, a burning sting that tore through my skin, a violent reminder that I was no longer in control. I gasped, my body instinctively flinching, but there was nowhere to run. Pain pulsed through me, each strike and each cruel movement adding to the weight of helplessness pressing down on me. It wasn’t just the physical pain that tormented me—it was the sense of being completely powerless, of being at the mercy of someone who relished in my suffering.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to cry out. There was a strange numbness creeping into my mind, a survival mechanism that dulled the worst of the agony. The pain still seared, but my thoughts became disjointed, my mind retreating in an attempt to shield itself from the constant assault. Yet, the darkness of my reality was undeniable. I had no idea where I was, or what my captors wanted from me—each unanswered question making my fear grow deeper.

In the moments between the torture, my mind drifted, desperate for any escape, any distraction from the overwhelming pain. But instead of finding solace, my thoughts inevitably turned to him—Azriel. His name was now a ghost in my mind, lingering in the back of my thoughts like a phantom I couldn’t escape.

Azriel.

I remembered him—not the brutal warrior I saw on the battlefield, but the way he had been before the war and before he started pushing me away. The quiet strength in his eyes, the kindness hidden beneath his sharp exterior. He had always been different from the others, a presence that was at once distant and somehow familiar. I had admired him from afar, the way he carried the weight of his past with such silent dignity. There had been a time when I thought, in some impossible way, that he could save me—that he could be the one to rescue me from the nightmare that had now become my reality.

But now, all of that felt so distant, so hopeless.

I will come for you.

But he never did.

Why?

My chest tightened with the weight of the unanswered questions, the impossible hope that had died with each passing day of my captivity. I had waited, silently, for the moment when Azriel would burst through the door, his shadows swirling around him, his voice the calm in the chaos, telling me it was over, that I was safe.

But it hadn’t come.

And now, with the cruel reminder of Elain’s rescue, that hope felt foolish, childish. The reality set in like a vise around my heart.

I was his mate.

I love you.

He had whispered.

But perhaps I was now just a shadow in his past that would never be worth saving.

My stomach twisted in despair, the thoughts spiraling downward into a dark pit.

Did he even think about me?

My body trembled as fresh tears slipped down my cheeks, the hopelessness of it all crushing my spirit. The memory of Azriel’s hazel eyes, his quiet strength, felt like a distant, unreachable fantasy.

At first, I tried not to count the days. In that dim, stinking cell—walls of rough stone and iron bars—time had become slippery. The only constants were darkness, the taste of old blood on my tongue, and the murmurs of distant voices, each more merciless than the last. Hybern’s men had kept me trapped, their cruel methods refined over decades of brutality. And no rescue had come before they left their mark upon my flesh and mind.

The scars were more than the thin white lines traced over her shoulders and wrists. Those could heal with salves, with magic, and eventually fade to faint memories on her skin. However, the cruelest marks were made, given with doses of faebane, to ensure those scars would remain forever.

The one on my abdomen, an eternal reminder of their cruelty.

Inside was another story. I no longer dreamt in colors. Sleep now brought shadows shaped like leering grins, the sound of steel dragging over stone. I woke gasping, heart pounding, disoriented and panicked. But in the quiet hours before dawn, every moan of the wind brought a hiss of a guard’s voice in my ear, every shifting shadow the approach of another torment.

They hadn’t been kind.

I hadn’t expected them to be.

They’d yanked at my wings, twisted joints until I screamed, and laughed when I begged them to stop. They starved me for days, providing only enough water to ensure I remained alive to feel the next blow, the next invasive question. They’d demanded secrets I didn’t have, forced me to repeat answers until my voice cracked and the words meant nothing. When I didn’t speak—when silence was my only defense—they pressed hot iron to my skin, delighted by the way I bit my lips bloody to hold in cries of pain. Eventually, they’d learned to savor my struggles, not for information, but for entertainment, as they each took turns in subjecting me to their own personal style of torment.

That was the worst of it: understanding I was no longer a person in their eyes, only an object whose suffering could amuse them. Over those endless nights, my sense of self had frayed. I’d once been proud, fierce in my own gentle way, but how did pride survive when reduced to sobbing and shaking at the sound of approaching footsteps?

My dignity had slipped through my fingers along with my tears, leaving only raw survival instinct and the desperate hope that someone would come.

Azriel would come.

Tarquin or Rhysand would come.

Anyone would come.

But no one had arrived in time before I was drug off the battlefield.

My body ached, but the worst of it was the crushing weight of vulnerability—how small and insignificant I felt in that moment. I tried to hold on to memories of my life before, of moments where I felt safe, where I had the control I now craved desperately. But even those memories seemed to fade, like distant, unreachable stars.

******

Azriel POV

The war was over. Hybern had been defeated, their forces scattered, and Prythian stood victorious.

Yet, for Azriel, there was no relief, no celebration.

Azriel stood at the edge of the House of Wind, staring out over Velaris as the night wind howled against his wings.

Three months.

Three long, torturous months since she had been taken.

Three months of searching, scouring every possible lead, sending his spies far and wide. And they’d found nothing.

Not a trace.

Not a whisper.

His shadows curled tightly around him, restless and agitated as they whispered in his ear—whispered nothing of use, nothing about her. He had hoped, desperately, that one of his spies would come back with something, anything, but every report brought silence.

An empty trail.

Azriel’s hand clenched around the railing so tightly the wood splintered beneath his grip. He barely noticed. His mind was lost—lost to her. Y/n. The name was a ghost in his chest, echoing through the hollow space she’d left behind.

Three months since he’d seen her on the battlefield, fighting with every ounce of strength she had, her wings flaring defiantly as she told him to go, to save Elain. Three months since he’d felt the bond snap for her and seen the confusion and love in her tear-filled eyes as she whispered, You’re my mate. And the last words he’d told her…

“I love you. I’ll come back for you.”

A promise that now mocked him.

Azriel exhaled a shuddering breath, his head falling forward, his wings drooping under the weight of it all. He had fought wars, spilled blood, ended countless lives, faced horrors that would break lesser males—but nothing had prepared him for this.

For losing her.

For three months, he’d led the search personally. Every waking moment was spent hunting for her. He combed through every camp, every hideout Hybern’s soldiers had fled to after the war. His spies followed every lead, but they all ended in nothing but cold trails and dead silence. As though she had vanished from the earth entirely.

The bond in his chest still pulsed faintly, like a flicker of a candle nearly snuffed out. It was there, a cruel reminder that she was alive—somewhere. But it was so faint now, so fragile, he feared it would disappear at any moment. And then he would know. He would know she was gone.

He sank down onto the edge of the balcony, his hands running through his hair as he tried to breathe, to steady himself against the tide of grief that threatened to pull him under.

“I didn’t get to kiss her again,” he whispered brokenly to the shadows that curled at his feet. “I didn’t get to—” His voice caught, and he dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders trembling. “I never got to hold her. To touch her the way I wanted to. To… love her the way she deserved.”

He had tried to connect with her every day since the war had ended, had poured everything he had into that fragile thread that tied them together. But there was no response.

He could still see her in his mind’s eye—the way her black feathered wings spread wide with such beauty and strength, the way her eyes, deep as the ocean, had looked at him with love even as she was surrounded.

Why did I leave?

He had told himself he didn’t have a choice. That she had made the call. But it wasn’t enough to ease the torment in his mind—the gnawing despair that he had left his mate to be taken, to be broken, to be tortured.

“She’s gone,” he whispered hoarsely to no one, to the night, to the stars that offered no solace. “She’s gone, and I’ll never—” His throat closed, a single tear slipping down his face as he gripped his knees tightly.

Never hold her. Never feel her warmth against him. Never run his fingers through her midnight hair or kiss the sadness from her lips. He would never get to take her flying over the Sidra, never get to tell her just how deeply, how irrevocably he loved her.

Three months of silence, of failure, of waiting for a truth he couldn’t face.

“Please,” he murmured aloud, his voice raw, his hazel eyes staring into the night as though he could find her there. He closed his eyes, focusing all his energy on the bond, tugging at it gently, trying to send her something—anything.

Y/n, he called through their connection, his shadows curling around him in frustration and despair.

Talk to me.

Please.

The shadows whispered restlessly around him, unsettled and agitated, as though they, too, could feel the truth of what was happening.

The bond.

The fragile thread in his chest pulsed faintly—so faint it might’ve been a ghost. A cruel trick of his own mind. For three months, he had felt it weakening, fraying at the edges. She was still alive. He clung to that truth, that faint hum. She is alive. But it wasn’t enough.

Because there were moments—terrible, shattering moments—when the bond screamed.

Azriel’s head snapped up suddenly, his breath halting in his throat as the sensation hit him like a physical blow.

Pain.

Agony.

It tore through him, scorching every nerve, leaving him doubled over as though he’d been struck with a blade.

He clutched his chest, his heart hammering as the feelings bled through the bond, unrelenting.

Fear—so potent it made his own blood run cold.

Desperation—like hands clawing at a prison that wouldn’t break.

Pain—sharp, bright flashes, as though steel had been dragged across skin.

And through it all, the silent scream.

Her silent scream.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, desperate, as though she could hear him. “Angel…”

She wasn’t doing it on purpose. He knew that. She didn’t even realize what she was sending down the bond.

It had started shortly after she’d been taken—those flashes of raw agony that would break through the silence of the bond like lightning through a storm. At first, they had been faint, just the barest flicker of something—of her. But as the months wore on, as Hybern’s remnants worked to break her, the bond had become a lifeline of its own, even as it sent him to his knees.

The bond pulsed again, sending another sharp wave of fear and unbearable pain, and Azriel gasped, his wings snapping out behind him as he fought to breathe through it.

“Baby,” he whispered, closing his eyes tightly, trying to steady himself. “Hold on. Just hold on.”

There were no words in response—no whispers from her side of the bond. She had never sent anything willingly. This… this was her body, her mind betraying her, the terror bleeding through to him against her will.

Azriel pressed a hand to his chest, where the bond still flickered faintly, like a dying candle in the dark. It wasn’t fair.

The Mother, the Cauldron—it wasn’t fair to give him a mate, to bind them together so deeply, only to tear her away before he ever had the chance to love her the way he was meant to.

But he could feel her, even now. The way her fear trembled against the bond, as though she was trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

His teeth clenched, his shadows spiraling wildly around him in response to his fury. He could do nothing. For months, he had searched, sent his spies, combed through every whisper of Hybern’s remnants. And yet she was still there. Still in their hands.

And every time he felt her pain, felt her terror, it killed him all over again.

“Hold on, angel,” he whispered, the words raw, his voice breaking as he stared down at his trembling hands. “I will find you.”

He didn’t know if she could hear him. He doubted it. But still, he sent those words down the bond like a prayer—like a promise.

The bond trembled, faint and fragile once more, the storm of agony fading into a haunting silence. Azriel slumped back against the wall, his chest heaving, his body shaking from the force of it all.

She was slowly dying.

He buried his face in his hands, his entire body trembling with the weight of his emotions. He could feel the agony that was breaking her piece by piece. The thought of her being tortured, of her suffering alone, was a torment he couldn’t escape.

“Angel,” he whispered again, his voice breaking as he pressed his hand to his chest, where the bond pulsed faintly beneath his ribs. He could feel the distance between them, the fragile thread connecting them stretched so thin it felt as though it might snap at any moment.

His shadows swirled restlessly around him, reflecting the chaos in his heart.

He didn’t deserve her—he had told himself that over and over.

But Gods, he couldn’t lose her.

Not like this.

The thought of her dying alone, her last moments filled with pain and suffering, was more than he could bear.

He had thought the war was the hardest thing he would face, but this—this slow, agonizing loss—was worse. The silence through the bond, the absence of her presence, the knowledge that she was still alive but beyond his reach, was a torment that consumed him.

Azriel leaned forward, his wings curling around him as he let out a shaky breath. The stars above blurred as tears filled his eyes, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a crushing tide.

He had left her behind.

He had made the choice that haunted him every moment since, and now she was paying the price for it.

Azriel leaned back against the cold stone wall, staring up at the star-flecked sky with hollow, haunted eyes. The world around him was silent, still—so at odds with the war raging in his heart.

And Azriel let himself cry—quiet, broken sobs that echoed through the night.

Because he knew, deep down, that he was losing her. That the bond would soon flicker out. And when it did, he would feel it—feel the moment she was gone forever.

That was the thought that shattered him completely.

And as he sat there in the dark, sobbing, clutching at the bond he feared would slip away entirely, he made a silent vow.

He would find her.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much blood he spilled to do it. He would find her and destroy every single soul who had dared to harm her.

Because every ounce of pain he had felt through the bond—the fear, the torture—he would repay a thousandfold.

And when he held her again, when he pulled her into his arms, he would tell her—tell her that she had never been alone, not for a single heartbeat.

Because even across the vast, empty silence, Azriel had been there.

And he always would be.

******

Y/n POV

The days bled into one another in a haze of exhaustion and despair.

Three months.

Three long months of silence, of waiting, of aching for something I couldn’t have.

It felt as though time had stopped, as though I had entered a place where nothing, but torment existed. Desperation set in, my mind cycling between thoughts of escape, of somehow fighting back, and the sickening realization that I was alone.

The scent of damp stone filled my nose, and the flickering light from the small torch in the corner did little to soothe the cold in my bones. But the deepest chill came from within, from the gnawing emptiness in my chest.

I was his mate.

The bond between us should have been enough, but it hadn’t been. It was like I no longer existed in his world. In the three months since I had been taken, I hadn’t hadn’t felt his presence the way I once had when the bond snapped for me…so strong, so real, so undeniable.

Perhaps it was the faebane.

Or worse, he had moved on.

But even in the silence, a part of me still longed for him. The bond tugged at me, subtle but undeniable, pulling my thoughts to him in the dead of night when I couldn’t sleep. I could still remember the way his touch felt, how his eyes would soften when he looked at me, how his lips felt when he kissed me that night in the alley at Rita's.

I could still feel the warmth of his presence, as though he were just beyond the reach of my fingertips, and the ache to have him near me again gnawed at me relentlessly.

The fear grew, not just for the pain, but for the terror of what might come next, of the uncertainty stretching out before me in a never-ending void. Would it ever end? Or was this my life now? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that I couldn’t escape, and the torment felt like it would never cease.

The bond, that maddening pull, kept me tethered to him even as my mind screamed at me to let go. Every day, every hour in this dark prison was a reminder of my helplessness, of how little control I had over the one thing that mattered most.

I’d thought I could fight it. With hopelessness growing more and more each day, I thought I could erase the memories of him. But with every passing day, it only grew stronger, as if my soul itself was tethered to his. It didn’t matter that he had saved her and not come back for me. It didn’t matter that Elain was now the one he would protect, the one who had his care and his attention.

I would never stop longing for him.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: none yet, but they are coming in subsequent chapters!

word count: 1.4k

story tags: if you want to be tagged, leave me a comment!

This is a slow-burn, angst filled story! So buckle up and hang on for the ride! Thank you for reading my dive back into writing fanfiction!

____________________________________________________

For all the girls who have been told you are too different and too weak, always remember you have everything you need inside of YOU and you are stronger than you know!

You are enough!

Chapter 1

Azriel POV

The missive arrived at dawn, delivered by a pair of Summer Court guards who greeted the House of Wind’s wards with nervous smiles and relieved sighs when it was received without incident. The guards from the Summer Court handed over a slender roll of parchment sealed with wax that bore the familiar crest of a seashell twined with vines of coral. Rhysand stood at one of the balconies as he cracked open the seal, his violet eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he read the elegant script. The morning light caught the silver accents in his tunic, and the wind ruffled his dark hair, but he paid neither any mind.

Azriel lingered just behind him, half in shadow. He noted every flicker of emotion that danced across Rhysand’s face—slight tension in the jaw, a thoughtful crease between the brows, a subtle shift in posture. Not displeasure, Azriel decided. More like careful consideration. Whatever was in that letter, it had piqued the High Lord’s curiosity.

Azriel moved to stand at his shoulder, reading over his friend’s arm. He noticed immediately how few details had been included. There was no mention of why Tarquin had requested their presence, no explicit reason for this sudden summons. Instead, the High Lord of Summer had written in polite, measured phrases—couched in formality and courtesy—but the essence was elusive. Tarquin asked for Rhysand’s “counsel” and his “company,” hinting vaguely at a matter of some sensitivity, a topic “pertaining to connections long misunderstood.”

The letter itself felt more like an invitation to a private conversation than a formal diplomatic gathering. No agenda was outlined, no negotiation topics listed, not even a hint of trade routes or mutual enemies. In fact, very little addressed the broader alliance between their courts at all. Instead, Tarquin’s words circled around the mystery he wished Rhysand to solve. It was an artfully arranged puzzle, each line carrying a quiet promise: come, learn what has been hidden, what might redefine all that you think you know.

Yet Tarquin never said what that secret was. He didn’t explain why now, after all this time, he was willing to peel back this layer of secrecy. It was only in the final line that Tarquin’s meaning became something Rhysand could almost grasp: “In your presence and hers, truths may finally step into the light.”

Azriel studied his friend’s face, searching for any sign of distress. Instead, he found curiosity, guarded hope, and wariness. “How do you feel about going?” Azriel asked gently.

Rhysand turned back to the view of Velaris below: the spires and terraces, shops opening their doors to the morning’s first customers, the Sidra glinting in the rising sun. “I don’t know yet,” he said quietly. “I must be careful.”

Azriel’s wings rustled, a subtle shift that conveyed understanding. Caution was wise. Still, Azriel could sense Rhysand’s intrigue. He, too, felt a stirring of curiosity. 

“Do you trust Tarquin?” Azriel asked.

Rhysand sighed, not taking his eyes off the shimmering city. “He’s a proud High Lord, one who wants to do right by his people. We’ve had our differences, but I believe he respects me—respects what we’ve built here. I trust his intentions enough to find out what he wants.”

“And if it’s a trap?” Azriel’s voice was mild, but his hazel eyes were cool and sharp.

Rhysand inclined his head, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I doubt it,” he said. “But if it is, we’ll be prepared. That’s why I want you there, Az. Your shadows have a way of seeing what others miss.”

Azriel nodded once, accepting that charge. “When do we leave?”

Rhysand folded the parchment with careful fingers. “I’ll send a reply that we will come in three days’ time. That gives me a moment to inform Feyre, let her decide if she wishes to join us or remain here. But for this initial meeting, it might be best if it’s just me and you.”

Azriel dipped his head in agreement. “I’ll be ready.”

Azriel felt Rhysand’s tension increase as he read that last line. They exchanged a glance, and Rhysand’s brow furrowed. There was no denying the note’s courtesy, but its omissions were glaring. The High Lord of Night flicked his fingers in silent frustration, and Azriel understood his meaning at once: they were being invited into something unknown—perhaps delicate, perhaps dangerous. And the vagueness was intentional, forcing them to come to Summer if they wished to learn anything at all.

In the early morning hush of Velaris, with the dawn just breaking across the Sidra, they stood there a moment longer in companionable silence, the rolled parchment in Rhysand’s hand, knowing that the answers they sought would not be found in these few polite lines. They would have to go to Summer to discover what Tarquin truly wanted—and what secrets lay behind his carefully chosen words.

3 days later…

They chose a quiet, windswept terrace high atop the House of Wind as the place to winnow from. The morning sky blushed faintly with pink and gold, the hush of the early hour wrapping Velaris in soft silence. Rhysand and Azriel stood side by side, the brisk mountain air tugging at their hair and the edges of their cloaks.

Azriel could feel the taut energy humming through Rhysand—keen anticipation tempered by wariness. This would not be a show of strength or pageantry. It was a journey into unknown territory, a meeting built on secrets and hints rather than clear truths. Still, Rhysand’s posture remained confident and poised, his violet eyes steady as they fixed on a point in the distance only he could see.

Azriel took a breath, readying himself. Winnowing was second nature by now—a single blink, a gathering of night and shadow, and then the world would shift. No matter how many times he did it, there was always that brief, disorienting pull, as if reality blurred and stretched like ink swirling in water. But he trusted Rhysand’s ability to guide them both, to weave their powers together and reemerge exactly where they intended.

Rhysand offered him a faint, reassuring smile. “Ready?”

Azriel merely inclined his head. Words were unnecessary between them at a moment like this.

With a subtle shift of magic, Rhysand reached out, as though cupping the very night sky in his palm. Azriel’s shadows flattened and stretched, wrapping them both in a whisper of darkness. The terrace, the fresh mountain air, the distant murmur of Velaris below—they all fell away in an instant, like slipping out of a familiar dream.

Time folded. Space bent. A heartbeat passed, maybe less, and then the world settled again.

They stood on a patterned marble courtyard bathed in golden sunlight. Salt-tinged air drifted around them, warm and humid, carrying the distant cries of gulls and the gentle hush of waves rolling onto shore. The stone beneath their boots gleamed with the Summer Court’s signature warmth, and lush greenery framed the path ahead, leaves shimmering with tiny prisms of light.

Azriel adjusted to the sudden brightness and warmth. Only a moment ago they had been amid Velaris’s cool dawn. Now the day was brighter, the atmosphere heavier with the scents of citrus and brine. This was Tarquin’s domain—familiar in its own way, yet each visit offered something slightly different, as though the Summer Court’s beauty changed with the shifting tides.

Rhysand drew himself to his full height, his demeanor that of a High Lord who had come by invitation but would take nothing for granted. Azriel let his wings relax, but he remained vigilant, his senses attuned to every soft footstep or change in the breeze. They had left one home behind to step into another’s territory. There would be courtesies, discussions, revelations. And beneath it all, the unspoken question of what waited for them in these sunlit halls.

A pair of Summer Court sentinels approached, cautious but polite, their spears angled low in a gesture of greeting rather than threat. Rhysand inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Azriel noted how the guards seemed relieved to have their arrival proceed without incident. After all, High Lords did not always travel so peacefully into one another’s realms.

As they followed the sentinels toward the palace’s open corridors and glittering chambers, the hush of the morning terrace in Velaris already felt like a memory, a point on a distant shore. The path ahead was bright, uncertain, and filled with the secrets that had drawn them here.

Chapter 2

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LA DOULEUR EXQUISE (n.) the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable.

✦ azriel x reader ✦ canon divergent. slow burn. eventual nsfw. ✦ summary: Hewn City is breathtaking in her beauty, known for her cruelty, and simple in the way she is ruled. a city lead by darkness and her people are rumored to thrive within it. no one came and no one went; it was a true court of nightmares. but, like all cities, Hewn holds a well kept secret. there were those who detested the darkness, who were wary of the nightmares. there were fae that wished for something more, for something different, and you made it your purpose to help them. for centuries, you disappeared those who wished to leave, who wished to survive — until Keir calls for your head and the High Lord himself arrives to collect it.

✦ authors note: this series will be chock full of angst and my take on fae politics. there will be mention of abuse, SA, and torture — but none of it will happen in real time or be described in detail. warnings will be included in the affected chapters. we’ve got one-sided pining, one-sided enemies to lovers, found family, and so much more. enjoy <3

✦ part one ; how it ends ✦ part two ; the inevitable ✦ part three ; failed expectations ✦ part four ; questions asked ✦ part five ; questions answered ✦ part six ; decisions made ✦ part seven ; a surprise ✦ part eight; a choice ✦ part nine; an answer - PUBLISHED 11.19!

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I Need You | Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I am LOVING all of your comments on each part. So many of them either brought a smile to my face or made me actually laugh out loud, so thank you!!

Summary: You can't hide your emotions anymore and some things aren't what they seem to be.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: angst, talks of torture, let me know if I need to add any others :)

Azriel and Rhys came running into your room.

"What happened?" Rhys shouted as you stood there crying

Both of the Illyrians looked over to where the shattered glass laid, realizing what had happened. The shadowsinger gave Rhys a look letting him know he would fix this.

Rhys had everyone leave the house and stayed close by in case Az needed help.

"Hey, sunshine, let me help you" he barely whispered while taking steps towards you.

"You!" you screamed at him "You left me. You didn't care enough to let me know you weren't coming. And you didn't care enough to save me. I needed you and you were gone."

You took a deep breath and continued

"When they showed up to take me, I looked around for you. Thinking you would show up and save me. Now that I think about it, maybe I'm the stupid one. For believing you would choose to spend time with me instead of her for once. How stupid could I be? When I was being tortured all I wanted was to let go, to die. And not because the pain was too much, but because I knew that coming back and seeing the pity on your face would be so much worse. Seeing you finally 'care' about me because you feel guilty would break me beyond fixing." you took steps toward him as you yelled

His back was now against the wall.

"And now I'm broken! Nothing can fix this. And Cassian, poor Cassian was forced to watch while they rid me of my clothes and beat me. Why couldn't you just love me back? I needed you" You were pounding on his chest with your fists and he let you.

You could barely see through the tears. It felt nice to get some of it out. You collapsed into his chest, still yelling and crying. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him and you both sank down to the ground. You were now resting on his lap and he held you while he cried.

"I needed you, I needed you." you cried "I need you"

"I know, I'm right here. I promise I'm not going anywhere." He spoke with his lips on your head. His own tears falling faster.

You eventually fell asleep on his lap and he carried you to his room. He laid you down on his bed and was about to go clean up the mess when you grabbed his arm.

"Please don't go" you spoke

"You want me to stay?" he wanted to make sure he heard you right.

"Yes" you stated, you couldn't keep the act up anymore. You needed your best friend back for right now. He could explain himself later.

He pulled up a chair next to his bed as you got comfortable under his covers. It was silent for a few minutes, your head was pounding from all the crying you had been doing.

"I always hoped that my mom had got away somehow and was out there looking for me." you whispered, barely audible

"Every time I went somewhere on a mission, I sent my shadows out to look for her, just in case." Azriel confessed just as soft

A small smile grew on your face, and with a million thoughts swirling through your head, you went to sleep.

You woke up the next morning and saw Az sleeping on the chair next to you. As quietly as you could, you slipped out of bed and went to your room. Everything had already been cleaned up and the guilt from the night before started to creep in.

Feyre was sitting on the edge of your bed, holding the note from Elain.

"I promise Elain truly meant well with the flowers." your High Lady told you

"I don't know why I did what I did last night, I'm sorry-" you started but she stopped you before you could finish.

"No, I would have probably done the same thing. Her note was, well, pathetic. But you have to understand that she wanted to apologize to you but was embarrassed. So, she thought the flowers would have been good for now." Feyre explained

"I was tortured and she's embarrassed?" you couldn't understand.

"When you're ready, maybe try talking to Elain? You deserve a true apology but only when you are ready. And while you're at, try talking to Cassian too. You both went through a lot together and it might help you. He won't say it but he's struggling." Feyre spoke while standing and walking over to you.

She pulled you into a hug and you let her. You leaned into her and she hugged you tighter. You were ready to accept help from your family.

You got dressed after she left and were going to head down to the kitchen to see if anyone else was up.

As you left your room, you heard a few voices coming out of Azriel's. You couldn't help but pause and listen.

"And why have you been so quiet? You were there, you saw what she went through. You should be trying to help her. Instead you've been avoiding her" Az spoke

"Alright lets stop-" Rhys started to say

"Why have I been so quiet?" Cassian asked sarcastically "Hmm let me think? Maybe it's because I stood there completely helpless while I had to watch Y/N be stabbed over and over again, dragged by her hair, relentlessly beat?!" His voice rose with every word

"And did you know, on top of all that, as she was about to be tortured in front of me, she comforted me? She told me that it was ok, that she could take it, told me to not worry about her?! He had the knife raised in his hand about to stab her, and all she could think of was to comfort me? I do not deserve her kindness and friendship. None of us do."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." the shadowsinger told his friend

"It's fine. It's just so hard to look at her and not see the fear and pain in her eyes. I failed her and I don't know how to make that up to her." Cass responded

"Listen, she just needs us to be us right now. She needs love and support. All we can do is be there for her." Rhys told them

"I'm just happy she showed emotion last night. Having her scream at me is so much better than her pretending she's ok." Az said

So Cass wasn't disgusted with you, he just felt guilty?

You opened Azriel's bedroom door and walked straight to Cassian.

"Y/N" the male stuttered, not knowing what else to say

You wrapped your arms around him and after a moment he embraced you too. You stood like that for a couple of minutes before separating, still keeping your hands on his arms.

"If you weren't with me in that dungeon, I would've given up. I wouldn't have had the strength to keep fighting. You were there for me, and that was all I needed." you told Cass

Azriel flinched at that last sentence. He knew you didn't say it to hurt him but he will never forgive himself for what he did.

Cassian sniffled, "Well, I think I could use a drink after these past few days, shall we crack open the most expensive bottles Rhys owns?"

"Seeing as it is still morning, I think we should save the drinking until later." Rhys chuckled

The four of you laughed and it felt good. You missed this so much.

"I'll take you up on that offer, but how about after dinner?" you offered

"Sounds perfect" "I'm in" Rhys and Cass responded at the same time

The three of you looked at Az and the male smiled and nodded.

You were looking forward to hopefully having a simple night just sitting with your family and enjoying their company. But right now, you needed to find Elain.

You were exhausted pretending everything was ok, and you figured talking to her could help.

After checking the kitchen with no success, you headed to your second guess of where she was at. The garden. You spotted her immediately, bent over some beautiful flowers.

"Hello, Elain" You started

"Oh! Y/N, I wasn't expecting to talk to you so soon. Um- I need to tell you, I...well I really didn't know...." the girl choked out

She seemed so nervous and upset.

"Elain, I'm here to apologize" you spoke softly and took a seat next to her. Her eyes growing wide at your words.

"What?? No, you were kidnapped and tortured and all because I was jealous of you? No I need to apologize. I didn't know the extent of what happened to you until after I sent the flowers. I was told that you were hurt but it wasn't until last night that Rhys showed me what you went through.. I am deeply sorry" she told you

"You were jealous of me?" you questioned

"It's stupid.. after everything that occurred with Graysen, I was scared to feel that pain again. When I first got here, Azriel was so kind to me. I started to get that feeling again and was terrified of being hurt. Az was so close to you so I convinced him to stay with me. I was embarrassed that I let myself act like this over a male. I am appalled with myself." Elain admitted

"You couldn't have known those men were after me. Am I hurt that you tried to keep my closest friend from me? Yes, but you should not carry the burden and guilt of my trauma because of that... and the flowers did come off as a little insensitive" you elbowed her playfully as you spoke the last part, hoping she would see it as a sort of truce.

She looked up at you with embarrassment on her face.

"In my defense, Nesta helped me write the card, and you know she's not very good at emotional apologies" Elain said and you both giggled

After a moment, the air seemed to turn serious again.

"He couldn't have known either," she gently added, "have you talked to him yet?"

"Well, I screamed at him and blamed him for a lot of it last night but besides that, no I haven't talked to him. The problem isn't just that he stood me up that night, which led to all of this. He started drifting away from me long before that and it hurt like hell." you admitted to her

"Ask him why. Be straight forward with him and perhaps he will do the same with you." she advised you

You gave the middle Archeron sister a genuine smile and went back inside.

That wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. You felt lighter after all that clarification but there was still something big weighing you down.

You needed to find Azriel next and you had a feeling this conversation wouldn't be as easy as the last.

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Masterlist

Azriel x Rhysand’s sister

He’s my mate - When you get poisoned by a mysterious poison and only happiness can save you, Azriel shows your brother his favorite moments with you.

We named someone else after you - After centuries of trying to get pregnant, you had lost hope when a miracle (or two) happens

You’re bleeding - Fae cycles are not for the weak. Lucky for you Azriel and Rhysand help you through it. However, their roles have changed throughout the years

YOU’RE MATES???- You and Azriel finally accepted the mating bond and surprise your family.

Mate stealers - After you lost your wings, you have been dealing with back pain. Lucky for you, both Azriel and his shadows are there to help.

All other lifetimes All lifetimes - You and Azriel have a bargain that you remind each other about at hard times.

Missing Mates - both you and Rhysand are missing your mates for different reasons, but talking about it always helps.

Azriel x shadowsinger!reader

Shadowsingers are rare, but they still exist. You’re a hidden shadowsinger that lives in The Middle. You hunt in an organized community and are working towards paying your debts to the leader.

Azriel saw you on the battlefield against Hybern and has been thinking about you since.

What happens when your most sacred secret comes out and a war is on the horizon?

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

1. The Shadows Comfort 2. The Shadows Date

3. The Shadows Eat 4. The Shadows Hurt

5. The Shadows Love 6.The Shadows Heal

7. The Shadows Mate

Azriel Appreciation Week 2024

Day 1: Cool Quiet

Day 2: Scared

Day 3: Belonging

Day 4: Paid Time Off

Day 5: No Need for Poetry

Day 6: Song of the Wind Part 2 Part 3

Day 7: Free

December Masterlist

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In This Shirt

Azriel x Rhys!Sister!Reader

Summary - It had been a distant dream, to reunite with your mate, but you never believed you'd live long enough to experience it.

Warnings - angst, depression, trauma, swearing, fluff,

Like it had happened yesterday, Azriel could remember the moment he had found out that you, his beautiful perfect mate, and the Princess of Velaris, had been trapped Under The Mountain.

It had been Cassian who had told him, he was the only one strong enough to battle against Azriel's fury and be able to walk away from it. His eyes had been brimming with anguish but Azriel already knew, he felt that last rush of love flow through his body like a current before it vanished, leaving him cold and broken.

Cassian didn't even need to utter the words.

Y/N is gone. So is Rhys. They've been taken Under The Mountain. Amarantha has them.

Every day that passed made his world feel heavy, and dark. Azriel had forgotten the sound of your voice one day, and it had tore his heart straight from his chest. He knew that your voice was melodic, he often likened it to that of a sirens song, pretty and serene.

The fight to get to where you were, mated, married, was long and turbulent on its own. Rhys had refused to accept it, he was furious with Azriel for it. You were his youngest sister, the light of his life, and he knew Azriel would never hurt you, he had always doted on you, he never let you do anything by yourself, but your older brother had certainly struggled with the news.

Rhys had gone as far as to ban Azriel from being near you and sent you away to reside in the Day Court for a couple of months, truly believing that the distance would make you both see that a path together was not one to be walked. In actuality, the distance had almost killed you, the land spanning between you and your mate had settled so deep within your soul that you had become very ill.

Never wanting it to go so badly, but always feeling the need to protect you, Rhys saw the error of his ways and brought Azriel to you, and watched as you cried as the colour returned to your cheeks whilst Azriel held you in his arms.

From that moment on, Rhys had been your biggest supporter, and he had cried like a baby when he saw you in your wedding dress, telling you how much your mother and sister would have loved to see you looking so perfect.

The Light of Velaris had vanished that night, you and Rhys had both sacrificed yourself to Amarantha to protect your court, your home, and it was because of that fact alone that Azriel couldn't tear at the foundations of the fortress beneath the mountain to get you out.

It was rare to get a smile out of him, or anything notable really, but Cassian had been the one to find him that evening, when the stars were hurtling across the blank canvas of the night sky, crying on his knees in your shared bedroom. One of your dresses was furled between his fingers, his shadows coiled around the velvet of the skirt, breathing you in and wishing you were there with them, "I can't remember the sound of her voice," his voice was hoarse, like it was the first time he had spoken in years, which it had been, all he emitted were huffs and grunts, but no words.

Cassian had stepped into the room, the room that had become darker since you had left, just like the rest of the family home. Just like Velaris. Shirts and dresses were strewn about the room, some on the floor, some splayed across the bed, as if Azriel had sifted through your closet to find the thing that held the strongest scent of you, of nightfall and starlight, of the faint salted oceans and warm sand.

"Az," Cassian fell to his knees. pulling his brother into his side and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Azriel had let his wings drop to the floor, he didn't bother holding them up anymore. "It's going to be alright. She's strong, they both are, they'll come back. She'd never leave you forever, you have a bargain to fulfil."

Azriel glanced to the bargain inking his forearm, a symphony of shadow and stars, holding one another like lovers in the night.

Then your wings came.

Your beautiful wings of midnight purple, so dark in their hue that many would think they were black, with the thick onyx membrane that Azriel always used to run his fingers along and smirk at your shivers, were gone. Packaged up with a blood red bow and dropped onto the table.

Azriel couldn't think about it. All he could do was pray to the Mother that you had at least been unconscious as they were taken from you. Part of him expected Rhys' to follow, but then the stories came, stories of Amarantha's whore and his ill-tempered sister who fought so hard that she was rid of the only things that gave her identity as punishment.

The wings were drooped at the tips, curling inward from the pain and torture from being away from their mate for so long. Comparing wingspans was something you did often, you were small compared to Azriel, your wings even smaller, but they were incredible things. Azriel could have sworn on countless occasions that he saw them hum with light whenever you were overcome with love.

The fiftieth year of your absence had crept in, and Azriel had forgotten what your lips tasted like, how the felt against his. There was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do to bring you home, to him, where you belonged.

Until someone did.

Loud cries awoke him that night, he sat upright, the shirt you usually wore to bed nestled against his chest, the ever-faint aroma of you clinging to it like the last snow before spring. Frowning, Azriel shifted from the bed. He knew that voice, he knew that low rumbling power, and when he looked out of the window, his heart stopped.

Rhys was on his knees, bundled up into Mor's arms as he cried, but Azriel couldn't listen, he couldn't listen to the pain in his brothers voice, he couldn't stop himself from bursting from the room and running down the staircase.

His mind was blinded by hope and love and the mere possibility that you might have made it back too, "Where is my wife?"

Rhys rose to his feet, looking around the space as if he would find you not standing too far away, and frowning when he saw that you had vanished, "She was just here," Azriel could have crumbled at the words.

She was just here.

You were back. You had come back to him.

Rhys went to speak again but Azriel was already gone, he scoured the house top to bottom, checking every room and hallway, he went to the library, hoping to see you curled up in your spot like you had never left and the last fifty years had been nothing but a putrid nightmare.

Azriel's heart ached, he reached deep within him, deep into a place he couldn't bring himself to graze, and tugged.

Once. Twice.

The gates opened.

Azriel saw the golden thread pour from his chest, he saw it hum like a pulse as it stretched out and slithered around the corner, and his shadows danced outward to meet it, to wrap around the golden threat leading him to you, peering backward as if telling him to go.

Your mate, your husband, followed that thread, he followed it up the staircase and down the halls, breezing past the portraits hanging on the wall until he stood before the closed door of the bedroom. Azriel reached out a hand that was trembling and twisted the doorknob, softly pushing it open to reveal you.

Weight had dropped from you, and your posture was shrouded with fear as it hunched inward, your hugged yourself as your head surveyed the space. Then he saw the scars, the marred flesh poking from the back of the dress that hung from your body, a humiliation to everything you stood for, and his eyes landed on the rings of scarred flesh around your wrists and ankles, some still angry and red and peeling.

What had she done to you?

Shuddering, you turned around, stopping in your tracks at the male in the doorway being kissed by the moonlight pouring in from the thin slits of the curtains.

He was as beautiful as you remembered, hazel eyes that you had dreamt of nightly to allow you to hold onto some hope, the sharp jaw and cheekbones that you imagined your fingers brushing against, his lips that would often call out to you, not like you remembered the sound of his voice.

"Az?"

His breathing hitched and became shaky, you knew he was doing his best to not be overcome with emotion, not when you had every reason to cry and fall apart, "Say it again."

A soft sob broke through your lips at the sound, so low and hoarse, raw, but still teeming with warmth and beauty, of brighter tomorrows.

Say it again.

"Az."

Even in the dark he could see your face crumple and contort, and he rushed to you as you weakly reached for him, not being able to stop the sobs pulling from his chest either.

It was all there. Nightfall. Starlight. Salted oceans. Warm beaches.

Azriel cupped your face in his hands, so delicately, like he was afraid to break you, and tears fell from his eyes. It was you. Glazed orbs of plum peered up at him, your fingers reached to brush his tears away, "Is this some beautiful nightmare?"

Air rushed from his lungs, your eyes were glazed over, almost as if you were in some sort of trance, "No, my angel," his voice was a hush above a whisper, his fingers caressed your cheeks, "This is real."

"I'm home?"

Realisation hit you and your eyes became clear, "You're home."

"I thought I was lost," you placed your hands on his arms, and he watched your tattoo dance in the moonlight, a twin to his own, "I knew I'd find you."

Azriel pulled you in close, he cradled your head against his chest and held you tighter as the weight of the last fifty years crushed you, "My wings," you cried and Azriel's wings pinned themselves backward, dipping themselves from sight, "She took them. How can you love me? How can you see me as anything other than weak?"

Lifting your head to meet his, Azriel's finger trailed the line of your jaw, "You are not weak, my love. Weakness would weep at the mere thought of being associated with you, for they will never get to know what it's like to have courage in the most awful of odds. It would never get to know you, because it is not a part of you and it never will be. I love you, y/n. I have always loved you and always will. I would love you in any form, in any life, in any universe. You are mine. You are my everything. You are the strongest thing I have ever encountered and the most beautiful thing to walk the heavens."

"You would not save your entire court, your family, and your husband, and go through everything you have been through, and lost what you have lost, if you weren't the strongest creature on this planet," Azriel's lips curled downward, uneven breaths fell from his lips, "I forgot the sound of your voice."

In the worst moments of your torture, all you thought of was Azriel and this moment, the moment where it would have all been worth it just to see him healthy and alive, "I forgot yours too."

Azriel sighed, he pressed his forehead against yours and took a moment to just inhale you, to let the ocean breeze pour into his soul and bring him back to life, "Can I hold you?"

Nodding softly, you felt Azriel pull away, he peeled that dress from your body and pulled one of his jumpers over your head. He led you gently over to the bed, placing you down on the side of the mattress which had forgotten the shape of you and pulled you into him.

"I'm sorry for what this has done to you."

It hadn't escaped your eye at all, the curls of onyx under his eyes, the droop of his wings, the worry that clung to him and haunted his every step. It may have been awful Under The Mountain, but you'd never want to be the one waiting for their love to come home. It would destroy you.

Azriel didn't say anything as his fingers raked over your scalp, loosening all the tension in your mind. The scent of cedar and night-kissed mountains flooded you and you nestled into that spot on his chest, reaching behind you to pull his wing over your side and smiling softly at the feeling of it. To have wings.

"I'm home," Azriel just held onto you tighter, moulding your body to the curves of his own, pressing kisses into your hairline and running his fingers through your hair.

Then your breathing fell soft, your eyes had drifted closed, and you looked peaceful, a soft smile lingered on your lips.

Azriel slept better than he ever had that night, knowing that you were back, that you had come home to him, and knowing that no matter where you walked, Azriel would always follow.

Author's Note

I love himmmmmmmm

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Masterlist

Updated on - 20.05.24

Requests are currently closed whilst I work through the requests on my list🫶🏻

Series and Multi-Parts

A Fate Inked In Starlight - Ongoing

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight (coming soon!!)

When I Kissed The Teacher - Ongoing

Azriel x Teacher!Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Another Love - Complete

Azriel x Fem!Reader and Eris x Fem!Reader (Intermission)

Original Alternate Ending Intermission

New Pages - Paused

Modern!Az x Fem!Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three

The Fox and The Fawn - Ongoing

HighLord!Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve (Coming Soon)

One Shots and Drabbles

Eris

Wicked Game

Eris x CassianSister!Reader

Here

Dark Paradise

Eris x DayCourt!Reader

Here

Can't Keep My Hands To Myself

Modern!Eris x Reader

Here

Lost In The Fire

Eris x Fem!Reader

Here

Azriel

My Tears Are Becoming a Sea

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Constellations

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Darkest Hour

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Work Song

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Reckless

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Moth To A Flame

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Worthy

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Say Yes To Heaven

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Little Thing

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Sparks

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Sweet Creature

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

In This Shirt

Azriel x Rhys!Sister!Reader

Here

Shine

Azriel x Fem!Reader - SMUT

Here

You Are My Shelter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Here

Cassian

Skin and Bones

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Here

White Flag

Cassian x Rhys!Sister Reader

Here

These Hallowed Halls

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Here

Arsonist's Lullaby

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Here

Helion

Precious Gifts

Helion x Fem!Reader

Here

Crescent City

Ruhn

10:35

Ruhn x Reader

Here

Upcoming

When I Kissed The Teacher Part 5

A Fate Inked In Starlight Part 8

'These Hallowed Halls' - Unnamed Eris version

Unnamed 'Princess of Hybern' Fic - Azriel x Reader pairing

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Last updated December 5th, 2024

Drabble masterlist here (fics under 1k words) <3

⁂ Azriel ⁂

→ Multi-Part Series/Oneshots

∙ Of Oblivious Minds (Part I)

You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Part II, Part III, Part IV

∙ If It All Fell (Series Masterlist)

If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

∙ Compliments to the Line Cook

Azriel never goes for any of the girls on staff. Cassian can't figure out why—and it's pissing him off. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel)

∙ Favoritism Azriel always seems to be working. Well, not always. Sometimes he's on the phone outside the restaurant with a massive smile on his face. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Lessons in Care Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Colds and Retold Confessions Azriel would never be one to not take care of his girl when she's sick. That doesn't mean he won't make her blush. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Across Town A coffee date with Azriel. It's snowing. He doesn't seem to mind. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel)

∙ Trial and Error (Part I)

Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V -> Part V Bonus, Part VI

∙ If You Cared to Ask

Azriel hasn't been listening. You got hurt. Sometimes, an argument can't be boiled down to just one instance.

Part II

∙Fable (Series Masterlist)

Watching in silence was all you had ever done. And silence was fine, it was safe. But with silence came consequences, and with consequences came hard truths.

→ Standalone Oneshots

∙ Only in Dreams

In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

∙ Reversal

When protecting your mate brings out a side you swore to keep hidden, you have to deal with the consequences.

∙ Set in Stone

The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

∙All Over Again

You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

∙ By the Book

Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

∙ To Feel At Home

Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

∙ A Promise

As war inches closer on the horizon, Azriel reminds you of a promise you made to him—one you aren't sure you can keep.

⁂ Cassian ⁂

∙ R&R

Cassian was tired and you were taking forever to get your ass back home.

∙ The Construct of Loyalty

After months of "disobedience," your father calls upon Cassian to be your personal guard. That leaves Cassian, a soldier in the Night Court army, your childhood friend, and a man deeply in love with you, to protect you from all fronts—including the arranged marriage you were born into.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Masterlist

Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)

Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Pre Series Content and Extras:

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Shadows of their Hatred

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

A New Life's Darkened Lust

Interlude of Jealous Desires

The Trials of Resurrection

The Injured and the Perverse

NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for part 3 and 4)

Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)

Fresh Heals of Old Pain (a modern!au part 2)

The Aftermath of Envy (a modern!au part 3)

Stoking the Flames (a modern!au part 4)

Then Came the Explosion (a modern!au part 5)

A Family Conflicted (a modern!au part 6)

A Small Bundles Flash Forward (a modern!au part 6.5)

Part 1:

Wolves of the Lone Stag

Mouth of the Lion's Den

An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Standing Behind a Betrayal

A War of Tragic Beginning

Part 2:

King and Queen in the North

Shadow of a Fiery Stag

Reunion of New Enemies

Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

The Sanctity of Children

What Lies Beyond The Veil

Part 3:

The Cost of Our Sins

Dragged Through the Violence

Only the Cold

Fire for the King's Blood

Part 4:

Ashes of Various Grey

Plans of Pain and Horror

Afraid of a Ravens Flight

Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Visions in Eyes and Flames

A Bastard or The White Wolf

Part 5:

Home of Bloodsoaked Stone

Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Ghostly Dreams of Old

Sailing Through the Glow

The Last Dragon

The Winter Rose

Part 6:

The Clash of Three Kings

Shrouded Truth in Sickness

Winged Shadow in the Sky

Light in the Darkest Storms

Peeking the Realms Woes

Blood, Roses and All Lies

Broken Love of the Dead

The Souls Tethered in Death

Wolves of the Past and Back

The Crows and The Sight

Part 7:

A Brewing of New Mystery

Great Wolves of White Mists

Darkness Heavy in a World

Past Becomes the Present

The Thing in the Night

Waving Tides of Turmoil

Greenish White Boodraven

Dark Blood of Blinding Light

And Wait for the Snows

Part 8:

Into the Haunted Forest

Fist of the First Men

Through the Frost Fangs

News From the South

Lies Within the Sunlight

Night of Two Distances

Screams of Cracking Ice

The Final Marching Trek

Fear Overtakes a Night

Wolves Teeth and Claws

Part 9:

Forcing Past Our Safety

One Whirlwind to the Next

Court of the North

Glimpse into the Rains

Scattered Pieces of Truth

Reunions and Realizations

Laws of Gods and Men

A Mockingbirds End

The Cold and the Rats

[lvrgurlblobbu]

Chapter 1 Heir to the iron throne

Chapter 1 of Sandstorm

A/N- First chapter I hope you guys like it!

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, death and blood, talks of sexual assault, fluff.

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

Episode- 7x02 & only the beginning of 7x03

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*21 YEARS AGO*

“Mother, when is father going to return?”

He has been gone for months now, you can’t seem to recall what he told you last, but you know you miss him.

“Soon,” your mother assures you and tucks you in bed. “I swear.”

It was always the same answer. Vague, “he’s fighting a war.”.

“Now, Little Sunspot,” your mother continues softly and sits at the other end of your bed. “It’s your turn to pick a story for tonight, so what will it be?”

Without a moment of hesitation you beam at her and give her your answer. “Tell me the story of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters.”

“Oh no!” Rhaenys whines from her side of the room. “Not that one again, Visenya, pick a different one!”

You pull your blanket over your mouth and snuggle under your blankets. “That’s mine and fathers favorite,” you mumble and then look at your mother to bat your lashes. “Please mother, tell it!”

Your mother offers you a sweet smile and nods in agreement. “I will, but I must warn you, I am not as good as Rhaegar is at telling it, but I will try my best.”

——

Home.

What a fickle thing. Home is as some say where your own family is. But for the 21 years you lived at Sunspear with your family; with your late uncle Oberyn and his daughters you thought of as sisters, and with your late uncle Doran and his son, both of them brothers to your mother, both beloved uncles, it seems you could never find such belonging amongst them.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t feel peace and happiness at Sunspear. Because you did. Yet it’s that sense of belonging that you’ve always craved and missed.

It’s a belonging you hope you’ll find here in Dragonstone, your family’s ancestral home, amongst the only living relative you still have from the House of the Dragon, from your fathers side of the family. Amongst your aunt Daenerys Targaryen.

Your great reunion has been a long time coming, years perhaps, but time only seemed fitting now. Especially since it’s not until recently that she herself has arrived back home, at Dragonstone.

A place you were born at and left a long time ago, a place you did not recall in any of your memories.

Coming upon it in the clouds seems so surreal, like a dream maybe, a faded one. It was a lot grayer than you imagined, colder; but that’s maybe due to the fact that you’re several hundred feet in the sky—The ocean's waters are darker as well; a lot more than the ones at Sunspear. It was strange, truly.

Dragonstone seems a lot smaller too—or seemed a lot smaller, but as you began to descend from the sky the castle became larger. Not only that but now that the clouds didn’t hide you anymore something else came to view, three dragons. They all looked dark and small, but the more you began to descend the larger they got, the more you can see their colored scales.

There was a green one like the green fields of grass, but it seems it’s also mixed with bronze. There was a cream and gold one, smaller than the other two. And the third one was larger, a beautiful black dragon with red mixed within it as well. And without fault all three of them screech, sing their song as they catch sight of Eraxis, your beautiful white She-dragon descend to the sand in front of the castle gates.

All three of them circle Eraxis as she lands. And Eraxis just watches them before she sings, a loud echoing and sharp song.

Once you climb down her and hit the sand, you can’t help but smile at her and caress her neck. “It is alright girl. It’s okay, they're family.”

Eraxis turns her head and tilts it before she looks back up to the sky as the dragons keep circling her.

You look up and smile at the three dragons before you drop your eyes to the sand beneath your shoes, and slowly crouch down to scoop up some of the cold sand in your hand and watch each grain drop out between the gaps between your fingers. You proceed to dust off the sand and rise up again until you hear a soft thump on the sand behind you.

“Welcome home,” you break your silence and begin to grin a soft smile. “Rhaenar.” You look back and meet the pair of dark brown eyes of your son.

Said boy lets out a small breath and looks up the castle gates to slowly examine it and watch the guards that stood in front of them. “It’s cold,” he mutters and buttons the top button of his shirt as if that would make any difference

You sigh softly and nod. “Quite is. Come on, let's get inside then.”

Rhaenar drags his hand along Eraxis as he follows you to the gate, but hesitates to depart from her as you reach the guards.

“I’ve come to see the Queen,” you tell them.

The guards eyes shift over your shoulder and land on the white dragon who watches them intently.

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “She won’t do any harm.”

The guard's eyes shift back to you before he shifts to push the doors open, finally letting you see the long and grand stairway that leads up to the castle.

“Come Rhaenar,” you tell the boy who you know has probably only moved an inch from the dragon.

“And if she does not like us?” He asks in a timid voice that let his Dornish accent come out even after he tries to hide it.

You sigh and turn to reach him. “You do not have to worry about that my Sunspot,” you assure him. “Okay? She is family, your grandfather's sister, it will take some time to get used to one another but I am sure she will love you.”

Rhaenar lowers his gaze and nods, letting you smile as you cup his cheek. “And do not hide your accent, what would your uncle say?”

“Targaryens do not talk like me, mother,” he mutters and fists his hands.

You scoff. “Who said that?”

Rhaenar goes quiet, so you grab his face with both hands and press him. “Rhaenar, tell me.”

“Myself, books I have read about our family,” he whispers.

You sigh. “Oh my sweet boy, we talk how we damn want to, no one can tell us otherwise. Not books of old dead ancestors. Be proud you are part Dornish. That only makes you more fierce than any other Targaryen.” You smirk and brush the strands of hair out of his face. “Come. Let’s go.”

You turn back to face the gate and offer him your hand, but he just scoffs and shakes his head.

Now without any more delay and falters, both Rhaenar and you walk up the long stairway, catching Eraxis now flying overhead, keeping her distance from the other dragons flying in the sky. You can see the grand castle getting closer and closer.

Yet, before you can reach the castle gates, an army of unsullied, and tall, dark and muscular men in fur garments walk out and meet you halfway.

“Halt there,” a slender and tall man orders, causing you to do as he said.

“I have come to see the Queen,” you inform him. “I am…family.”

“Doubtful,” you hear a familiar voice interject between the crowd of men. “Who are you…” the moment the men part to the side to let him meet you halfway, the tiny man trails off and looks at you in shock and yet a puzzled look.

You scoff in amusement and smile mischievously as you instantly come to recognize the short man. “I am sorry, Lord Tyrion, it seems the last time we met, my hair was a different color.”

The small man hums and loses the confusion and now looks more serious. “Y/N Sand. Prince Oberyn’s daughter. I thought Dorne was not meant to get here yet.”

You shake your head. “No, but they are on the way, I,” you glance up at Eraxis and smile, “flew here.” You glance down at him. “And my name is not Sand. I am Princess Y/N Targaryen Martell,” you reveal yourself. “If you want to get technical, my true name my father gave me is Visenya, but well…I’ve grown accustomed to my new name.” You sigh. “I am the niece of your Queen. I have come to meet her, to join her.”

Lord Tyrion studies you for a brief moment with doubt lingering in his stare, making you smirk.

“Do you wish for me to prove myself to you, my Lord? Wash my hair? Bleed my veins, or tell my dragon a command?” You retort.

Lord Tyrion sighs and shakes his head. “No. Please none of that. I was just trying to progress the fact that a supposed dead princess is standing right in front of me.” He counters.

You swallow thickly. “I was never presumed dead, was I?” You ask rhetorically. “Nevertheless, I have no reason to lie, nor am I, Eraxis can prove that.”

Tyrion looks up at the white dragon and watches her as she keeps circling the area.

“Well,” Lord Tyrion says and meets your gaze. “Greetings Princess. It is very nice to finally meet you.” He offers you a faint smile. “Now please if you don’t mind please hand your weapons over.”

Usually parting from your weapon is a condition you don’t like to follow, but in this case it’s only fair, besides these large handsome men didn’t seem like they were going to let you pass if you didn’t follow orders.

“Rhaenar,” you say and hold a tall man’s dark gaze as he watches you unsheath your weapons. “Hand over your weapons.”

Without arguing, your son does as he’s told and hands his sword and daggers to the men, leaving you to bend down to unsheath the daggers you have hidden under your dress.

“Dothraki, I assume,” you comment as you keep holding the man’s gaze with a sly smirk.

“Yes,” Lord Tyrion confirms. “The Queens warriors.”

You stand up to your given height and catch the tall, dark man smirking at you as he takes your weapons. You then smirk back at him.

“Follow me,” Lord Tyrion breaks the tension and pulls your gaze back to him. “The Queen is already waiting.”

When you walk inside, the soldiers that had come out to greet you continue to follow you inside. They surround Rhaenar and you, and don't let you take in your surroundings very well.

“I do pardon for such a cold greeting,” Lord Tyrion interjects. “We just don’t know the true intentions of you or your…dragon.”

You scoff. “Do not worry, Lord Tyrion, I understand.”

“Tyrion,” he corrects you. “I am not the Lord of anything now.”

“My apologies.”

“It’s alright,” he assures you and brings his army of men and you to a halt in front of big black doors that lead to only one obvious room, the Throne Room.

Now it’s closer than ever. The moment you have dreamed of since you found out about her being alive. Beside your son Rhaenar, she was the last piece of family you have remaining from your Targaryen bloodline.

Her….

Let’s just say that happiness isn’t the most powerful feeling you feel now. Rhaenar senses that it seems, your nerves, and reaches for your hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

You look down at him and offer him a soft smile before you secure your hold around his hand.

Before the doors can be opened, Tyrion asks for your name and titles. It’s only after you give it to him that the guards begin to push the doors open, letting the gray dimly lit throne come to view.

As you proceed to walk inside, you see her. She’s sitting so poise on that stone throne at the end of the room. You see the color of her silver-white hair that matches yours. You see her fancy black garments and her red cloak elegantly hanging off her chair. You see her pale face, her blue eyes. You see her, your aunt, the Queen. She’s there, she’s real.

“Princess Y/N Targaryen, Princess of Dorne, and Daughter of late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen,” Tyrion announces as you keep slowly walking inside.

Now you notice a bald man, a man you know as Lord Varys. You catch his gaze narrow, and see him take a slow step forward as if fascinated by your presence. You then don’t fail to notice the Queen's face twist to something you can read as disbelief and…anger.

“Prince Rhaenar Targaryen, son of the princess.”

You come to a stop before you can reach the unsullied guards standing in front of the steps that lead to the throne, and let go of Rhaenar’s hand to curtsey; while he bows to the Queen.

“My Queen,” you say and return your gaze back on her as you stand up straight. “It is an honor finally getting to meet you.”

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains.” A woman with brown skin, and dark curly hair announces the mouthful of titles that must be a pain in the ass to see each time.

Nevertheless, Queen Daenerys holds your gaze and retorts. “I am sorry I am not rejoiced by your presence. Until now I had no idea you were alive.” She slightly raises her eyebrows as she seems to pierce her glare in you.

You scoff in amusement. “That’s good, it means my uncles did a good job in hiding me from the world that wanted me dead,” you rebuttal confidently and pass a discreet glance at Tyrion. “But I do swear to you on my fathers memory that I am who I say I am. I mean…if I wasn’t would I have come flying on a dragon?” You smirk. Yet no one else finds it so amusing.

“You have no reason to believe me,” you continue. “But I do know people who know of me.” You glance over at Lord Varys standing a bit a ways from the Queen, and make her gaze drift to the man.

“Lord Varys, can you attest to her word? Can you prove that who stands before me really is a niece I have thought long dead?” She asks and looks at you.

The Lord slowly steps forward and stops at the top step to study you from closer.

“Yes, I can,” Tyrion speaks up and walks to the top step. “I can attest to her word. I have met her before. However, back then she went by another name.”

You scoff and nod. “Yes. Back then I went by Sand. I was just another bastard daughter to my uncle Oberyn Martell, but it was for my own safety. After all, it is his family who wanted me dead.”

Tyrion nods and accepts your accusation. “Yes. It was my family.”

You clench your jaw and let out a deep sigh.

“Her uncle died for me,” Tyrion continues. “He was a good man. That is why I trust her word.”

The Queen slowly stands up from the chair and begins to head your way, yet she stops at Tyrion’s side. “If it is you. If you do have a dragon, where have you been this entire time?” She asks you.

You clasp your hands in front of you and part your lips to speak, but then Lord Varys speaks up before you could. “She was hiding, by her uncle's demand. Sworn to keep her identity a secret until the right time came. As was I.”

The Queen shifts her head to the side to look at her Lord.

“She is who she says she is. She is Princess Visenya Targaryen, daughter of your brother Rhaegar Targaryen. She is blood of your blood, My Queen.”

You shake your head and correct them. “No. It’s Y/N. Not Visenya. Not anymore.”

The Queen begins to glare at the man for a second before she finally returns her gaze to you and begins to step down the steps to meet you halfway.

She then continues to study you, to check out the gold dragon scale corset over your red dress, the golden rings on your fingers, the golden snake around your bicep. She looks at your silver-white hair probably trying to see if your hair color was actually real and not fake, or if you were actually real or not. Her eyes then shift to Rhaenar for a brief second before returning to look at you again.

You don’t do anything, you let her take her time, and take this time to study her too; to realize how beautiful she is, how tiny she is as well now that she’s not sat on the throne.

“Who might you be?” The Queen breaks her silence and looks back at Rhaenar.

Said boy bows and then tries his best to once again hide his Dornish accent. “I am Prince—”

You clear your throat to correct him, making the Queen glance at you in confusion before returning to look at your boy.

“I am Prince Rhaenar Sand, your Grace,” he shares in his normal voice, and this time you glance at him slightly concerned since he refers to himself as Sand.

The Queen scoffs softly and her lips are just faintly showing a smile. “Sand?” She questions.

Rhaenar nods. “I am a bastard,” he tells her, making you sigh.

“And like I have told him before,” you interject. “That does not matter. That does not change who you are descended from.”

Daenerys nods. “Your mother is correct,” she agrees in your defense. “You are still the blood of the dragon aren't you? You are a Targaryen first and foremost.”

Rhaenar shrugs. “I suppose.”

The Queen offers a soft laugh before she looks at you. “Let’s take a walk.”

You nod, and without a fault when you walk out, the curly headed woman, the Unsullied, and the Dothraki warriors follow you out and walk behind you like lurking shadows. It’s something you have never grown unaccustomed to after your years of being somewhat free in Dorne.

“What’s your dragon's name?” The Queen asks once you’re out of the castle and walking up a stairwell that leads to some place you can’t see yet.

“Her name is Eraxis,” you share with a faint smile.

Queen Daenerys eyes snap to you, and you catch her surprise at your comment.

“Your dragon is a female?” She questions.

You nod. “Yes. She is. Or at least that’s what I like to say, I don’t think we can really place a gender on a dragon.” You smile.

The Queen nods. “Yes, I suppose we can’t.”

A screech sounds from the sky before Eraxis flies down past you. Both the Queen and you look up to watch her, to admire how her white scales glimmer like diamonds against the sun's rays; to watch as she let her large wings soared, and how her horned tail swung to the side as she flew up.

“She’s…quite big,” the Queen points out with an admiring smile. “How old is she?”

Once Eraxis passes, the Queen's black dragon flies past you to follow Eraxis up in the sky.

“She is fifteen,” You answer softly, and catch her swallow thickly before she brings you to a stop so you can watch the both of your dragons as they begin to twirl up to the sky together, like if they’re dancing. Like if they were familiar with one another already.

“It seems Drogon is quite taken by Eraxis already,” the Queen says. “That should be good.”

You rest your hands on the stone before you and nod. “It is. It means Eraxis won’t be alone anymore.” You look down to look at the Queen. “What are the names of your other dragons?”

The Queen drops her gaze and answers, “the green one is Rhaegal, I named him after your father.”

Your smile falters, and your eyes go soft.

“And the gold and cream one is Viserion, named after my brother, Viserys.”

Ah. Him. The youngest brother. The uncle you only have one memory of, and it’s not a pleasant one.

“If I may ask,” the Queen continues. “How was Eraxis born to you?”

The story is something you hardly know how to explain to make it sound sane. Yet it is one people ask for a lot.

“To be honest,” you laugh softly. “It’s going to sound funny, but…” you avert your gaze and begin messing with your rings. “…a dream…”

You hear the Queen's feet shift against the stone ground at the sound of your comment.

“…it was a dream I scarcely remember anymore. But it was of my dragon being born from fire and blood.” You let out a deep breath and slowly look up to once again meet her gaze. Now you notice her look slightly disbelieved.

“It was fate then,” the Queen interjects softly.

You shrug and smile faintly at your rings. “Perhaps.”

You could tell her what you did to have the egg hatch, every detail. You can tell her that even if you don’t recall every detail of the dream, you still have a fragment of it painted so it could keep your mind from clouding at that time.

Yet you don’t.

At least it doesn’t seem so fit yet. Instead you let the conversation drift, you let her continue to lead you up the steps. And it’s now that you can see you’re being walked to some green cliffs where you spot her two other dragons resting.

“I have heard a lot of great things about you, not only because I have made it my job to keep myself informed, but word travels. I am more than in awe, I am fascinated,” you share sweetly, and make her smile a lot more timidly.

Yet when you reach the cliff her smile begins to falter, a serious and almost threatening look paints on her face as she comes to a stop and faces the ocean.

“If you have been alive this whole time why have you not tried to take what’s yours,” she says seriously. “You have the right claim, you, my brother's last living heir.”

You look away from her and face the ocean as well to watch the horizon as you think of what to say. Something that would sound like you’re not lying. “There’s many reasons, one, I am a woman. My claim is not as strong.”

“But you have a son,” she cuts in.

You nod and peer back at Rhaenar, catching him watching the dragons with awe. “A bastard. In Dorne they might not be shamed, but here they are. They would never accept my son, even if he is my fathers grandson.” You sigh and face her. “There is also time,” you reveal carefully. “My uncle had a plan, we couldn’t just risk ourselves by flying down to Kings Landing and burning everything. We needed a lot of time, ally’s, and resources. I actually was meant to marry your brother, but,” you scoff with a playful smile on your face, and catch her stare. “Before the proposal was officially announced, well, we heard the news he passed.”

The Queen scoffs and smirks. “Maybe it was a good thing,” she interjects, making you slightly furrow your brows in confusion. “I loved my brother, but I don’t think he would’ve made a good husband. Especially not to someone who already had a dragon before him.”

You laugh softly. “Is that so?” You query. “Well I for one was quite excited. More so for the promise of seeing the family I thought I had lost.”

The Queen lowers her gaze before she goes serious again, letting you continue.

“Anyway, before much else could be done my uncle…died, and the dream died with him.” You swallow thickly and let out a deep sigh. “Albeit, I can’t say I ever shared his dream, that's another reason I haven’t tried to claim what’s “mine”. I never had a desire to rule. Not after what happened. That’s why I have not taken the throne, that’s why I am here. Why, I sent Dorne to ally with you.” You meet her gaze and raise your head proudly.

“I don’t want the throne for myself. I want to help you take it,” you share confidently. “I want to take back what is ours with fire and blood, I want Cersei to pay for what her family did to mine. I know,” you sigh. “You have no reason to trust me, but know that I am done hiding and tired of doing nothing. I want my son to be proud of me, I don’t want him to hide anymore either. I just want to help you, at your side, united like family. Just like how Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters did, together.”

Daenerys continues to look at you with a threatening and piercing glare, she lets out a deep breath and looks past her shoulder. And without saying anything both her dragons walk over, causing Rhaenar to step back. When her dragons stand behind her you see the same burning, piercing glare that their mother carries.

“If it’s true, bend the knee,” she orders in a menacing tone. “Swear to me that you nor your son will go against me, that you will fight alongside me and help me win this war to take back what belongs to our family. Swear to me, Y/N Targaryen, and you and your son will have a place in my court. You will keep your title as Princess, your son as Prince. If not….” She pauses and her dragons begin growl. Yet you don’t react out of fear, you hold her gaze and stay calm.

“…I would hate to consider my last living relatives as traitors.” She finishes.

You look back at Rhaenar, and he meets your gaze, and together without hesitation you get down on one knee and look up to meet her gaze. “I swear to you,” you assure her. “I swear I will have no ill intentions. I will not fight against you. I will fight at your side.”

Daenerys begins to smirk and continues to walk over to you to offer you her hand. You’re confused at first, but when you take it she helps you up to your feet and keeps you in front of her for a moment, before she pulls you in for an embrace.

You’re caught off guard for a brief second, but once you feel her grip tighten you return the embrace and clutch onto her with relief, and joy.

Finally after years, here she is. You’re finally together.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Nights were already hard to sleep. Returning to Dragonstone sounded like it could be a solution to your restless nights, to the nightmares that plague your mind, but the bitter night air made it harder. There was some reassurance in the morning when you woke up and saw that meeting Daenerys wasn’t some fever dream. She was real.

As slow as things are between her and you currently considering you only just met, she was a comfort, that instant familiarity. Plus, you shared the restless night and got to speaking about everything you were missing about her current progress of the war, you spoke of other mindless things until the sun broke the sky. After the sun started to rise from the earth, you shared a mutual craving and spent no time finding your dragons.

“What’s on Eraxis back?” Daenerys points to the saddle on your dragon's back as she lowers her neck down to the ground.

“A saddle,” you say slowly and find it surprising she had to ask. “I can’t ride her bareback, not anymore at least, I have the scars on my thighs to prove that,” you laugh softly and approach Eraxis to grab one of her many horns that align her neck. “It helps me steer her too. And since Rhaenar rides her with me, I had it made so he wouldn’t fall off.”

Daenerys approaches Eraxis and then glances at you. “May I?” She asks and points to your dragon's body.

You nod, and watch Daenerys turn and begin to smile at your dragon as she carefully begins to stroke a part of her neck.

“I find it quite easy to ride Drogon with no saddle,” she shows off, making you scoff in amusement. “Then again it’s not like I have had much of an education besides what feels natural, and the few books I did have.”

You hum and smile at her. “Well don’t worry, I am here now. I can teach you all I’ve learned about our family.”

Daenerys eyes drift to you and her gaze softens as a softer smile appears on her lips.

“Now,” you say playfully and begin to climb onto Eraxis. “Let’s fly, yes?” You smirk down at her, and Daenerys begins to grin before she rushes over to Drogon to climb on him.

Since this won’t be a long flight, you don’t bother restraining yourself on her, you just climb on your saddle and grab your handles before you speak to Eraxis in High Valyrian. “<Fly, girl.>”

Without hesitation Eraxis begins to run off the hill, and Drogon follows, creating thunderous stomps on the green hill until both dragons flap their wings and take flight.

At first Daenerys and you are riding side to side, glancing once at one another with playful looks as both dragons gain more momentum and fly higher. However, it’s once Eraxis reaches the clouds that you turn her to her side, exposing her belly to Drogon, before you then drift to the left to hide within the clouds.

Drogon calls out for Eraxis, most likely to know her whereabouts, but Eraxis stays quiet and flaps her wings, blowing air and clouds behind her before she twirls upward rapidly and shoots out above Drogon. Once again the black dragon calls out, and this time Eraxis responds. You then lift your body off the saddle to peek down, catching Daenerys urge Drogon forward so she could lead, instead of being right under you.

You grin at the action and push the handle forward, causing Eraxis to flap her wings harder and get ahead of Drogon with ease. Daenerys looks up and sees, and then as if they have been mentally communicating, Drogon flies up.

Before they both could lose them, you motion Eraxis to fly up as well. Now both dragons have their bellies exposed to one another as you all fly up.

The dragons screech, and you snicker before you lean forward and exclaim happily, “<Dracarys!>”

Eraxis blows out a cloud of fire, and as Drogon was going to approach it, you make Eraxis drift to the side so you both could then begin diving down.

Daenerys doesn’t notice you flying in front of her anymore until she’s past the fire cloud. And when she sees you and Eraxis diving down, she beams and makes Drogon do the same.

Since gravity is what is pulling you down, Daenerys and Drogon don’t take long to catch up, but Eraxis and you do end up beating her to the surface of the ocean water. Albeit before Eraxis could splash in, she instead flies up and only lets her body barely skim above the water, creating ripples on the surface as she flies past.

Drogon and Daenerys on the other hand drift to the side and he skims the tip of his wing in the water as he flies at his side. When he fixes himself he then flies at your side, letting Daenerys and you turn your heads to smile at one another.

Now as little as you have known one another, there was a sense of a connection no one else can understand. For the first time you both could share the joys of flying with another soul, for the first time it wasn’t just the two of you alone in the skies with your dragons. It was now you and her. Her and you. Together.

However, as you flew, as you got closer to the castle, you could now spot Dorne, Greyjoy, and Tyrell ships sailing to Dragonstone. Daenerys sees them too, but instead of flying above them like you, she flies ahead without you. Yet you don’t stay just above them for long, you instead fly to the first Dorne ship leading the way and stay flying by it.

And since only the people you were truly closest to, and a few trusted guards knew of Eraxis, those who didn’t gawked as they saw you on a dragon, and as they literally saw a dragon. Those who did know about Eraxis however, like Tyene, looked excited and happy to see her again. Your other sisters climbed out to deck to watch Eraxis too, but unlike Tyene, they watched with more calm and collected demeanors.

Once you landed on the sand to wait for them to get to shore, Tyene shares that same excitement for your dragon when she arrives. She didn’t even bother to greet you.

“Eraxis!” She exclaims and rushes past you to reach Eraxis. And since Tyene, Nymaria, Tyrstane, and Obara helped you raise her, Eraxis was comfortable around their presence and didn't fail to let herself get caressed.

“This is where you wanted to come to so badly?” Nymeria asks in a teasing manner as she and Obara approach you after they climb off the boat.

You look back at the castle gates and nod. “This is where I was born…albeit I do prefer Dornes heat, and the Water Gardens.”

“It’s very bland,” Obara doesn't hold back from saying.

You hum as you can’t help but agree since you are used to more color because of where you were raised.

“How is it going?” You hear your late uncle's paramour, Ellaria, ask as she approaches all of you.

You glance at her and swallow thickly before you speak. “Good. I’ve made peace with my aunt, we were just bonding.” You meet her gaze briefly, but can’t stand looking at her for too long because all you see when you look at her is her with a knife in your uncle's stomach; all you can see is his death, you remember him dying in your arms after you were too late to save him.

You remember pain and grief, and feel it all over again. Ellaria is only alive now because of the love your uncle Oberyn had for her, you only tolerate her because she's Tyene’s mother. Otherwise she would no longer be here.

“Rhaenar is inside,” you say and look back at your sisters. “He’s excited to see you all again. It’s as if he hasn’t seen you in months.”

Obara smirks at the mention, and before you could spend more time out in the chilly air they follow you inside.

——

*LATER*

“If you want the Iron Throne, take it,” Yara Greyjoy tells Daenerys, making her turn to face the table you're all gathered around. “We have an army, a fleet, and four dragons now. We should hit Kings Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

You scoff to yourself and drop your gaze to the table.

“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorm,” Tyrion protests.

“It’s called war,” Ellaria interjects. “You don’t have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

You roll your eyes and proceed to lift your leg over the other.

“I know how you wage war,” Tyrion snaps. “We don’t poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent.”

“She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannister’s,” Ellaria says, and to some degree you can agree with her. But not about what she did, not about Myrcella; like Tyrion said she was innocent, she was also never cruel, not to you, not to Rhaenar. You can understand Tyrion’s anger. Yet you can’t accept their bickering, not if you’re meant to be ally’s now.

“My great regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you,” Ellaria continues to spat, finally causing you to cut in.

“Ellaria, that's enough. Please. Tyrion is the hand of the Queen, you will treat him with respect.” Without bothering to look back you glance over at Tyrion and sigh. “More so because we both know my uncle died fairly. Tyrion is no one to blame for my uncle's carelessness. Besides…” you peer back to side eye her. “You would find it wise to try and forgive him just as I have forgiven you for what you have done.”

There is a bit of silence for a lingering second before Ellaria talks back. “Yes, Princess.”

You hum and let the meeting continue.

“I am not here to be Queen of the ashes,” Daenerys finally inputs.

“That’s very nice to hear,” Lady Olenna of House Tyrell interjects. “Of course, I can’t remember a Queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her. The nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they’re all just children, really. They won’t obey you unless they fear you.”

You glance down, clasp your hands over your knee and let out a small sigh. “May I add something?” You interject and gain everyone’s attention.

“Go on,” Daenerys encourages you.

You sit back and share what comes to mind. “A century back, when our ancestors were fighting amongst each other in the Dance of Dragons…it’s those same commoners that raided the Dragonpit and killed our dragons.” You glance at Daenerys, and then at Lady Olenna. “And I know for damn sure that dragons were feared back then as they are now. Burning Kingslanding down will turn everyone against us. We have to be smarter. We have to make them fear us without killing the people.”

Daenerys nods in comprehension and pulls her gaze away from you to look at Lady Olenna. “I’m grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your counsel,” Daenerys says. “I’m grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me, I will not attack King's Landing. We,” she makes her word clear. “Will not attack King's Landing.”

You nod in agreement, but Lady Olenna on the other hand doesn’t seem so convinced.

“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne?” She questions. “By asking nicely?”

“We will lay siege to the capital surrounding the city on all sides,” Daenerys shares. “Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people.”

“But we won’t use Dothraki and Unsullied,” Tyrion adds after your aunt. “Cersei will try to rally the Lord of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty.” He begins to walk around the table as he continues to speak. “Their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.”

“And I suppose we’re providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria questions,

Tyrion nods. “You are,” he agrees. “Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear.”

You slowly begin to put your leg back and lean in as your interest is piqued.

“And her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army,” Tyrion continues, “back up to King's Landing. The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms United against Cersei.”

“So,” Lady Olenna quips. “Your master plan is to use our armies. Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?”

Tyrion places down a dragon figurine that represents Daenerys and her people as he begins to explain and walk again. “The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Greyworm—” you have learned that he is one the Queen's most trusted war advisors, and the commander of the Unsullied army, an old friend now to describe it better.

“…will dial for the Rock and take it,” Tyrion continues and knocks down a lion figure to place down the dragon, leaving a silence to linger thereafter as everyone takes in what was explained.

Yet, it’s you who breaks that silence rather quickly to comment on something else. “In regards to the upcoming siege on Kings Landing, I will meet up with them on Eraxis.”

Both Lady Greyjoy, and Ellaria turn their heads to look at you, and agree with their look alone.

Yet...“no, that would not be wise,” Tyrion interjects. “People still believe you’re dead, Princess. We can use that to our advantage.”

You scoff and argue, “what better way to reveal myself than to stand with my people? Cersei’s fleet will be there as well, I will fight with my people.”

Tyrion looks back at Daenerys to share a quick look before they look to Lord Varys, and all come to a speechless agreement.

“Go then,” Daenerys says. “When the day comes you can meet with the army and stand to fight alongside them.”

You offer her a kind smile and nod. “Thank you, my Queen.”

Daenerys offers you a nod herself, and then rather than letting the meeting proceed you share one more question.

“What about the North? Have we heard anything from the King?”

Lord Varys steps forward and responds this time. “No. Not yet.”

You hum and sit back to continue on the matter. “Well, as we well know, the North is made up of proud people. The Starks as well have just taken back their house, what will we do if they want to keep being an independent Kingdom?”

“You have dragons,” Lady Greyjoy interjects.

You scoff. “So did Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters when they wanted Dorne to pledge their allegiance to them. What did we do? We resisted for years.” You remind them.

Daenerys slightly narrows her gaze and questions your comment. “What is it you’re trying to say then?”

You begin to smirk and meet her gaze. “Well if they come on their own accord. Listen to them. I doubt they’ll come just to bend the knee, no, they probably want something. If they resist.” You pause briefly. “Then offer them a marriage proposal. What better way to unite the grand Kingdoms than through marriage of the Queen and King?”

Daenerys quirks her brow in disbelief to your suggestion, and Tyrion speaks for her. “That could work. Winter is among us. They will need food for their people, what better way to sway them than to bargain. It will be hard to decline.

Daenerys swallows thickly and interjects. “I hear you, Princess. I agree, but we will decide what to do when the time comes.”

You hesitate before you nod agreement, causing the silence to return for a moment before Daenerys continues to interject. “Do I have your support?”

Lady Greyjoy steps up first. “You have mine,” she adds.

Without hesitation you follow, “Dorne is with you, Your Grace.”

Lastly Olenna nods agreement, and with that this meeting is settled.

“Thank you all,” Daenerys ends the meeting. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?”

You get out of your seat and walk out of the room alongside Ellaria since you’re both going to the same place.

And it’s a quiet walk at first, you both wait for everyone else to pass by and get out of earshot first. Even then when you were approaching the hall your family was in, neither of you could right away say what you both had to say.

First actually, when you were reaching your chambers, you spoke to the guard bringing in your things. “How are my paintings? Did they make it alright?”

The Dornish guard nods. “Yes, my Lady.”

“Princess,” Ellaria corrects him. “Y/N is a Princess, you shall address her as such.

The guard looks nervously between her and you and immediately bows his head. “My apologies, my Princess.”

You shake your head. “It is quite alright. Go on please.”

The guard nods. “Neither your, nor the…Prince’s items got damaged.”

You offer him a faint smile. “Thank you,” you say and then continue to the hall.

This time Ellaria finds the courage to speak. “How can you not be angry? How can you even look at him after what he’s done to your family?”

You sigh and begin to mess with the rings on one hand. “You know why, Ellaria. He is not mine to make leave, nor is he at fault for my uncle's death. You have accepted the facts of his death. We were there that day, we saw.” You glance over at her, and she meets your gaze. “In regards to…my mother and siblings, it is other Lannisters I set my anger on. I suggest you do the same if you want to keep having a chair at that council, I can't let your anger get in the way.”

Ellaria lets her gaze linger on you as she scowls for a brief moment before she nods. “I will try,” she says.

You nod and offer her a faint smile. “That's all I ask,” you tell her before you open the hall doors and make yourselves known to your sisters and your son.

“Mother!” Rhaenar greets and breaks away from his fighting stance to run over and greet you.

You grin down at him. “Hello, my Sunspot, what have you been doing?”

He points back to Obara. “Aunt Obara and I were just training.”

You smirk and ruffle his dark curly hair. “Did she kick your ass?” You tease him as you make your way to the wine tray.

Obara begins to snicker. “He held his own for a few minutes. It is a much better improvement.”

You grab a cup and serve yourself some Dornish wine before walking over to sit with your back facing the fire so it’s easier to face your family. Whilst Rhaenar returns to Obara to pick up the stuff they had around them.

“Dorne will be part of the siege on King’s Landing,” you share with your sisters.

Tyene stands from her chair and begins to smirk. “Are we?” She questions. “Does that mean we can finally kill Cersei?”

You snicker. “I wish it were that easy. Albeit if all goes well, we will be one step closer.”

“Will you accompany us?” Nymeria asks.

You nod and take a sip of wine before speaking. “I will. Once you reach King’s Landing I will go on Eraxis and help fight the enemy fleet.”

“We will be done in no time then,” Tyene says cockily.

You smirk and nod in agreement. You then proceed to take a longer sip of wine, and when you set your cup down you share a thought you've had since you knew you were coming here.

“I have a proposal for you, sisters.” You sit up and look between the three of them. “After this siege, I want the three of you to join me in the fights to come. I want you to be by my side.”

“Like what? Your ladies in waiting?” Obara asks teasingly.

You scoff and shake your head. “Not quite. More so my protectors. I may have Eraxis, but one can never be so sure now that I am going to reveal myself to Westeros again. Of course only if you want, I won’t force you.”

All three girls look at one another, and Tyene looks at her mother before the three of them look back at you.

“I will join you,” Tyene says first. “Father would have wanted us to stick together. Besides,” she begins to smirk mischievously. “It seems there’s a lot of Dothraki men here I would like to get to know.”

You smile, and then look at Nymeria as she interjects. “I will also join your side.”

Lastly, Obara walks over to be in your pherial view and says her response. “I will also join you too, sister.”

“Yes!” Rhaenar exclaims as he runs over to be a part of the conversation. “Does it mean we won’t have to be apart?”

You glance at him and assure him. “Yes. Exactly.”

Rhaenar grins with excitement, causing Tyene to ruffle his hair whilst he turns to face Ellaria. “What about you aunt Ellaria?” He asks. “Will you stay with us?”

Ellaria draws in a deep breath and shakes her head. “No, little warrior,” she sighs. “I will have to stay with our armies. But I will come see you frequently.”

Rhaenar gets comforted by her response and then takes a seat amongst you all.

In the meanwhile you lift your cup of wine and offer a toast. “Thank you, sisters. And to our bond, may it only get stronger.”

All three of them lift their cups and Tyene is the one that interjects with excitement. “To us! And to our battles to come!”

——

*A YEAR BACK*

The doors locked. The windows are sealed.

Why—

Footsteps are approaching the door.

“Rhaenar?” You call out in hopes it’s your son. “Rhaenar, is that you?”

The footsteps stop and a thud sounds at your door. You run back to your door and try to open them again, but to no avail.

“Rhaenar?” You call again and try to peek through the doors creak. But there’s nothing there. You get on your hands and knees to peek at the creek below and see only boots.

“Hey! Let me out! Guards! Let me out!” You yell and jump back up to your feet. “What’s the meaning of this?!” You pound your fists on the door before you begin to kick it. “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out or I will feed you to my dragon!”

There's a shift at the sound of that threat. Yet the damned door remains closed.

“Do you hear me out there? I will feed you to my dragon,” you curse and step back to look around your room for anything that could knock this door down. “Let me talk to my uncle!” You yell as you search your room until you think of your daggers, and sneak over to snatch them from the chest.

“I will give you one more chance,” you sneer and tiptoe back to the door to pick the lock. “Open…” you pause as you hear the lock click. “The door,” you mutter before you throw the doors open, startling the guards that were for some reason placed outside.

“What's going on?” You demand to know from the guards as you point your daggers at them. “Where is my uncle?”

The guard to the right clenches his jaw and gives you an answer. “Go back to your room, Princess.”

You scoff and then lunge at him to throw him back to the wall and point your blade at his throat. “Tell me now,” you sneer and side-eye the other guard who keeps his hands out to show that he won’t hurt you. “What is going on? It’s only a matter of minutes I assume before my dragon comes to me. Should I throw you to her first? Or you,” you point at the watching guard.

“The prince's chambers, he’s there,” the watching guard spits out.

“See,” you scoff and drop your dagger before letting the guard go and stepping back. “Easy. Next time you disobey, I will make Eraxis eat you.” You offer them a sweet smile before you turn and storm over to your uncle's chambers.

And as you pass halls and step outside, guards begin to look at you weirdly, they pass odd looks between one another and give you second looks as they watch you storm past them. The closer you get to your uncle's chambers, the more suspicious they get. They even try to stop you, but you just ignore them and quicken your pace.

Once you begin to see the pool outside his quarters, the guards try to grab you, but you just swiftly slip past them without hassle.

“Princess wait!” One of them yells before you can turn the corner of the patio to reach your uncle's quarters. “Princess!”

He runs after you, and as guards around his pool see you approaching, they unstiffen from their stance and try to rush over to you. Yet you just run past them until you get to the steps of the deck. That’s when you notice the dead Maester and a pool of blood dripping down the steps. As you slowly look up you see Areo Hotah dead next to where Tyene is standing. Next to her is Ellaria pulling a dagger out of your uncle.

“No!” You immediately cry out and gain the attention of your cousin Tyene. “No!” You try to run over to him as he falls to the ground, but Tyene runs over to hold you back. “No!” You sob.

Your uncle Doran flips over and reaches his hand out to you. You try to pull away from Tyene, but guards then help her keep you away.

“When was the last time you left this palace?” Ellaria snaps at your uncle. “You don’t know your own people. Their disgust for you.”

Your uncle begins to cough out blood, but he keeps trying to drag himself away, making you try to squirm with more force to try and reach him.

“Elia Martell, raped and murdered, and you did nothing,” Ellaria spats out, causing you to hit the guards harder. “Oberyn Martell butchered, and you did nothing. You cloud your niece's head with that same ignorance.”

Your uncle flips over again and begins to pant.

“…You’re not a Dornishman. You’re not our prince.” Ellaria finishes spitting out.

“My son Trystane,” your uncle mutters.

Ellaria turns around and scoffs. “Your son is weak just like you. And weak men will never rule Dorne again,” she says spitefully. And finally the guards let you free so you quickly rush over to your uncle and fall down on your knees next to him.

“Uncle,” you cry and cradle him in your arms. “I’m here. I’m here. I will help.”

Your uncle groans, and slowly pulls his bloody hand away from his wound to cup your cheek. “My sweet y/n, you have the power to change the world, do not let vengeance cloud your judgment.”

You sob and shake your head. “I won’t, I swear to you,” you whisper, knowing deep in your heart that there was no saving him anymore.

He lets out labored breath and offers you a wobbly smile. “You have your mothers smile, you know that?” He whispers. “Smile for me, one last time, will you?”

A sob escapes your lips, but you muster a wobbly smile before he takes his last breath and drops his hand from your cheek.

“No,” you mutter as tears stream down your face, and your heart feels as if someone had just stabbed it. “No, no, no!”

“It was for your own good,” you hear Ellaria say from behind you. “Now you can come out of your uncle's shadow. You can finally fulfill your destiny and take back what is yours!”

You swipe your hands over your uncle's eyes to close them, and then slowly put him down.

“Now you can stop living in fear,” she continues.

You let out a shaky breath and drop your head, choosing to ignore her, choosing not to act out on your desire to stab her through the heart.

“Y/N,” she mutters and grabs your shoulder. “Now…�� she trails off as the sound of flapping wings sounds from the sky only seconds before Eraxis reveals herself and lands down on the ground, only barely managing to fit her body in the courtyard.

You keep staring at the ground regardless and only hear her growl at Ellaria as she stands stiffly behind you.

“Sister!” Tyene cries out, but doesn’t move.

Eraxis breath slowly unfurls out of her nose, blowing back Ellaria’s dress.

“I watched my own mother die,” you whisper in a quivering voice. “Every night in my dreams. Of course I didn’t know what it meant then, I was only four,” you feign a laugh. “And well it was only fragments of her death, pieces I couldn’t place together. Not until years later. And now it lives over and over in my mind.” You stand up from the ground and let out a shaky breath.

“Do you want to know how that feels, losing a mother?” You ask Tyene, and turn, seeing Eraxis keep her eyes pierced on Ellaria.

“Please,” Tyene pleads to you.

“Do not hate your sisters,” Ellaria interjects, making your eyes snap to her. “They had no fault in it. It was all my doing.”

You swallow thickly and slowly begin to walk around her. “Yes,” you say. “I figured as much. Only you are capable enough to fill their heads with poison.” As you reach Eraxis side you pierce your glare on Ellaria as well, mirroring your dragon's same burning glare.

Ellaria scoffs and lifts her head with confidence. “Tell me what you would have done if I hadn’t killed your uncle?” She spats. “He was a plague. You would have kept hiding, kept dying your hair pretending you’re someone you're not, you would have kept hiding your dragon. You would have kept living in ignorance here. It’s time to wake up y/n!”

Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps you have lived your entire life in fear. But she still killed him. And you still couldn’t avoid it.

“I am only sparing your life because of Tyene,” you change the subject, and Eraxis begins to lose her scowl and begins to whimper and lean her head against you. “Betray me again and I will burn you alive.”

Eraxis pulls her snout out the deck and then lifts her head as you walk over to begin mounting her.

Once you’re on your saddle you grab your handles, and Eraxis flies off.

——

*NOW*

“Lower,” you tell Rhaenar and walk over to push his arms down a bit lower. “Pull your arms down.”

The boy sighs. “Uncle Oberyn said this way,” he tries to argue.

You nod and move back. “Yes, I understand, but there are many fighting styles, you have come close to mastering his way, now you must use different tactics,” you advise him and slide your foot back to once again stand in your fighting stance. “If you want to become a great warrior you must know much more.”

Rhaenar sighs and mirrors your stance. He then looks at your blade and lunges, but you quickly change your stance and swipe off his feet.

“That’s no—” Rhaenar cuts himself off and instead pushes himself to his feet.

You drop your head and laugh softly to yourself.

“You did better,” Daenerys tries to assure him as she watches him train—out of simple curiosity she said. “Less complaining this time.”

You chuckle before you turn around and watch the boy scratch the back of his head whilst he walks to grab a spear off the rack.

“Perhaps the young prince could spar with me soon,” Greyworm offers from the Queens side, as he too was curious to watch your morning training session.

You glance at the soldier and then at your son. “How does that sound, Rhaenar, hm? Maybe Greyworm will be a much kinder teacher than I am.”

Rhaenar turns with his spear in hand and offers the soldier a grin that goes from ear to ear. “Yes I would love it!” He exclaims happily.

Greyworm smiles faintly and nods. Daenerys smiles at the boy, and you part your lips to tell him something, but the door then opens and Tyrion and Qhono, the Dothraki Lieutenant, walks in behind him.

“My Queen, Princess,” Tyrion says, and gains the attention of everyone in the room. “Your guest ship has been spotted docking at shore.”

Daenerys nods in comprehension, letting The Hand turn to leave. Qhono albeit lingers and meets your gaze, making you smirk at him before you turn to face Rhaenar. Daenerys catches your interaction but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Go change out of your training clothes,” you tell the boy. “When you’re done go to the Throne room.”

Without argument Rhaenar puts away his sparring weapons and does as he’s told.

Before long you also go and change out of your training outfit, deciding to put on a long red dress that perhaps is too revealing for the chilly weather of Dragonstone. The long matching red cloak that attaches under the golden dragon scales on your shoulders provides some warmth, but then again you never much mind being too cold or too hot in something if it means looking good.

And sure, The King of the North wasn’t yours to impress, if it came to it it’s not you he’d marry, but you still do choose to show off your golden chained gloves that connects to your golden rings, and matches with the golden breast plates that was elegantly carved to go over the dress. You still didn’t choose to cover your exposed chest, or a part of your sides, or your arms. Because the truth is, if it were a choice to choose between armor and dresses, you’d choose the expensive and most beautiful dresses, even for dragon riding.

And well there is maybe Qhono that you are trying to impress.

“Come,” you call Rhaenar over once you walk in the Throne room.

Rhaenar sighs and lets you walk to where he was standing already.

“Your pin is all crooked,” you let him know and unpin the dragon pin to correct it. “There. Better. Handsome.” You pat his shoulder.

Rhaenar rolls his eyes out of embarrassment, making you laugh softly before you fix his hair.

“Mother,” he whispers sharply and pulls back to then glance back at the Queen.

Daenerys catches his embarrassed glance and shoots him a teasing smile.

“Fine,” you scoff lightheartedly. “I’ll go.” You then go and stand in your spot to wait patiently.

Once those doors open, the first one to walk in is Qhono, Tyrion, and Daenerys most trusted advisor Missendei of Naath follow, but you watch Qhono, as he watches you while he walks past you. You don’t notice the King of The North right away, not even when Missendei says all of Daenerys titles, you instead then look at your rings when Qhono is out of sight until you hear your name.

“…and the Princess Y/N Targaryen Martell, Princess of Dorne, daughter of late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”

You finally blink and look up, finally taking in the sight of the King of the North, and noticing that his eyes are already on you. They were on you for most the time he’s been in here but you didn’t notice, not until now.

Until now you see that he isn’t as tall as you imagined Northern men to be, he isn’t as musclary built, or as hairy. He’s quite small, more lean. His hair is dark, as dark as perhaps a moonless night. His eyes aren’t rough, they’re soft and a very pretty dark brown you can get lost in. He has soft features, scars on his face that he wears more than well.

The King of the North is handsome and breath-catching. Much to your surprise.

“And Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, son of the princess.” Missendei finishes introducing everyone that she needed to, leaving a very long silence as the King of the North looks at his advisor.

“This is Jon Snow,” the advisor reveals, letting said man glance at the Queen. “He’s King in the North.”

You smile at the introduction and once again catch the softened gaze of Jon Snow, the King of the North. His gaze lingers on yours, as your eyes linger on him. Neither of you dare to look away, it seems in a way you’re both too mesmerized. For that brief moment until Daenerys spoke up all that existed was just the two of you.

It was such a…weird and new feeling. One you never want to lose.

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[lvrgurlblobbu]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Woes of a Modern Day Love

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 21.2k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, abusive relationships, pining, male masterbation, domestic violence, unhealthy alcohol consumption, implied sexual abuse, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: A modern!au of my main series, no knowledge of that fic is required though. Also if you thought this was going to be a fluff filled funny fic, I'm so sorry you must be new to my blog. Series Masterlist Here

Jon Snow could still recall that day as if it had just occurred. Six months had passed since then, and yet it currently felt like an utter lifetime of endless suffering. The way he knew right away as he picked up the phone that something was very wrong, how much you were trying to be quiet without crying and the swiftness in which you hung up as soon as yelling could be heard on the other end.

He had all but knocked his chair over how fast he got up before running out of the door, yelling back to Sam to tell Commander Mormont he'd apologize for leaving like this later. By his estimation as he had gotten into his car, it would take about five hours to get there if he, perhaps, didn't quite follow the speed limits. Double checking he still had something in his glove box, Jon shifted things around to prepare before leaving.

As morose of a thing it was to say, Jon had been long since preparing for it. Not a man to rub it in your face how much of a mistake he thought you had been making, but Jon did not sit idly by and wait for it all to implode leaving you stranded and alone. Jon had known this was coming since the day you had told him you were dating Karl Tanner. Not many men were known to be kicked out of the Nights Watch, but he had been one of them and Jon still could not fathom how he had convinced you to date him.

Or what he said to talk you into moving away from your friends and loved ones, to live with him five hours away.

But you were an adult, and Jon couldn't coddle you from the world. He couldn't just lock you in your room and tell you to break up with him. But he did know for a certain that when Jon had been the one originally planned to drive you there, Karl took it upon himself to pick you up instead. He knew why, giving Jon five hours alone with you was giving him five hours of time to talk you out of it.

No music played on his radio, he never bothered connecting his bluetooth, he only drove five hours in a seething silence, hand tense on the steering wheel counting down each mile remained. By the time he could see the house in the distance, you were waiting. Front door closed, you sat on the steps with your arms wrapped around your knees and a bag next to you.

The second you heard the sound of an approaching car you stood. Within the instant Jon got out of the car, he could see every sign you had been trying to hide the fact that you were previously crying but he didn't care for a second. Pulling you to him, his eyes wide and painting over with such a worry as he cupped your cheeks, “Did he hurt you?”

Jon was not convinced by the weak manner in which your tone said no. But you shook your head still barley finding the courage to grasp lightly at his waist, only a cracked whisper coming from you realizing he was still in his Nights Watch attire, that he had left the Wall to get here. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you-”

One hand running over the hair at the side of your head, Jon rasped gently. “No, darling. None of this is your fault.” Trailing off for a moment he glanced down to the small bag you had, no bigger then a gym bag and not even full by the looks of it. “Where's the rest of your stuff?”

Avoiding his eyes, you shook your head again, “It's fine, I just want to leave.” Jon asked far firmer that time, why you didn't have your things with you when your eyes drifted nervously to the side.

Narrowing down, grey eyes tinting down to more of a black, Jons voice grew rougher. “You had a full car worth of things,” gesturing down to the bag in your hand. “This isn't even enough for overnight.” It was the way he could tell you were biting your tongue to keep quiet that made him angry all over again. Either you were too scared to go back in and get the rest of it, or Karl wasn't letting you but either way meant he was still in the house.

Saying he'll go in, you suddenly perked up. Eyes going wide and almost trying to push him, or more, the both of you away from the door. “No, Jon, it's- it doesn't matter let's just go.” Jon persisted, one hand firmly on your upper arm keeping you in place as the other stayed on your cheek, you trying one last time. “I don't care, it isn't a big deal.”

Rasping in a soothing low voice, he assured you. “It won't take long.” But it was then he realized in a manner of speaking, why you hadn't wanted to press the issue. Karl had opened the door, and leaning against the frame his voice rung out with the same condescension he always had towards him.

“Lord Snow, of course you're the one who comes to her rescue.” Jaw clenching instantly, still with the childish nickname. He was the direct assistant to his stations Lord Commander, and so the nickname had passed amongst those who didn't like him as a way to mock his position. “I told her she can get the rest of her stuff, she's the one who didn't want to come back in. Not my fault.”

You looked up at Jon, imploring him to simply listen to you and leave, but his eyes had yet to leave Karl's with a growing rage burning in his blood. “And why would she be too scared to come back in, Tanner? What did you do to her?”

You tried calling Jons name, but he merely guided you to stand behind him as he took a step towards the unmoving man at the door frame. “Who says I did anything? Why don't you ask her.” Raising a smug eyebrow towards you behind him, “Go on sweetheart, tell him what caused our little disagreement.”

Jon hadn't yet realized his voice was already raising. “I heard you screaming at her on the phone, you call that a disagreement?”

Karl only shrugged, still as smug as before. “She likes to play rough, don't you?” Looking back to you once more Jon somewhat shoved you behind him far more down the grass. Muttering for you to wait in the car, and the second you tried to convince him to leave, Karl kept making it all the worse. “See, she doesn't listen to me, doesn't listen to you. Got ourselves a trouble maker, we do.”

Jon spoke over whatever you tried to say. “How about you stop talking, let me get her stuff and leave so you can tell Rast and Locke all about how you scared me into running away, and we can move on with our lives.”

“Of course.” Turning suspiciously to the side as if to give him space to walk in, but Jon didn't move yet when Karl couldn't help himself. “Take your time, I'll stay out here with our girl and make sure she doesn't wind up getting into even more trouble. Or, maybe you'd prefer her more then a little broken in?”

The second Jon moved, you had swiftly put yourself in front of him. Pushing him back, barley making any difference as he looked up, and you desperately tried to get him to look at you. “Jon, please, I just want to go.” Glancing down, his eyes softened almost instantly. “Please.” Swallowing roughly, he nodded.

Without another word, he had grabbed your arm to turn you around and once more push you ahead of him. Ensuring you were in the car first as he watched with a deathly glare at Karl the whole time. But not before one last thing came out of his mouth, now that you were in the car and Karl was sure only Jon would hear him. “If I were you Lord Snow, I'd ask her what it was she said while I was fucking her this morning that started the argument. I'm sure you'd find the answer rather interesting.”

Jon said nothing of it, slamming the car door before leaving without another word. And it took well over five silent minutes after that for you to find your voice to try and apologize. With not a shred of the harshness anymore, Jon dismissed your every attempt. Instead shifting the conversation to ask you what you brought.

“Toothbrush, toothpaste, my phone, journal, and a few clothes.” Jon asked calmly about your laptop and a glance to the side he caught you shaking your head. If he were to guess, Karl had likely already called Rast and Locke. They'd trash most of your things and sell what was left. You had sat outside already knowing you'd never get your stuff back.

Without skipping a beat, Jon simply told you “We'll go out tomorrow and I'll buy you a new one.” Protesting with a call of his name, Jon shut it down. “No arguing. I'll move things around when we get to the apartment. You can stay in my office, so the computer in there's yours but you need things of your own. We'll get whatever else you need too, clothes, furniture,” Still you protested weakly, but there wasn't any shortness in his tone. Only a gentleness mixed in with nothing but deep affection. “I have the money, you don't. You don't have to stay with us if you don't want too, but I'm still going to make sure you're alright.”

Now though, Jon could remember glancing back to you. The brightness in your eyes that he suspected you hadn't had in months as intense as you nodded a single yes to him. He never asked what it was Karl meant, it wasn't his place and you were upset, so he forgot about it.

You stayed in the apartment, no one was rushing to see you go. Jons brother Robb had known you as long as Jon, and in your own words, was just as frustratingly insistent at getting you back on your feet. The other in the apartment, a very old friend of the three of you, Theon had clearly enjoyed having you around again as well. The pair of you found your previous friendship picking up easily, acting closer to a brother and sister, meaning you contrasted well against Jon and Robb making the apartment always amusing to live in.

He knew you had trouble getting used to it, the way Northerners did things. In the South it was very much, move out, live on your own, form a new life away from family. But it was different here, it would be weird for people not to live together as such. It wasn't uncommon for when a couple marries, to move back to the family home when having their first child, so that they and the baby could be surrounded with a sense of family.

The Starks didn't have much in the way of outside family anymore, not since before Jon and Robb were even born, but it meant it only would be even weirder for them all to live apart. No one was pressuring you to find a place of your own. No one really wanted you too. And just as you were finally beginning to settle again, finding life and routine, did he come around.

Jon had blamed himself for you getting involved with Karl Tanner, you only even met him because he was pledged to Jons own station. But this time, he seemed to appear in your life out of nowhere. They all tolerated him, seeing passed his facade and not knowing how to explain it to you without sounding like they were attacking your new boyfriend. But they didn't like him, and he knew that. He knew especially, that Jon hated him. And he loved it. He loved how much Jon utterly despised him. Robb and Theon were civil, but Jon would barley speak two words to him knowing he would talk endlessly at Jon in return just to frustrate him.

He had spotted your vulnerability and used it to his advantage to slide in, and he had spotted thusly in Jon, how much he was desperately in love with you. The day he put that together, was the day Ramsay Bolton had made it his life's goal to torment Jon every single moment he could manage.

Jons office was right next to his room, which now meant you lived right next to him. He knew the layout, you shared a wall where your beds were. Now though, it felt as if when he was home he lived on the other side of his room. Distracting himself with work or really anything which came to mind in order to tune it out. Or worse, but he hadn't really been ready to even admit that to himself yet.

It wasn't right now, it was the middle of the day but that didn't change the fact that if Jon worked in complete silence, he'd be able to hear you talking. Which would inevitably lead to Jon eavesdropping, and he was trying desperately to not do that. Anymore. He couldn't stand it after months, when just talking turned to something else.

At first he tried listening to something. Shove on his headphones and tune it out, but that did not change he still knew what was happening. Jon still knew that Ramsay was doing it on purpose.

Spending the better part of the afternoon transcribing, Jon had gotten into the habit of recording his meetings with the free folk, so he could write them out and give Lord Commander Mormont a direct report of what happened, but he so rarely had time to sit at a computer and just listen and type when stationed in, that he tended to take it home. Doing it in the quiet was easier anyways, and it now gave him an excuse to hide away when Ramsay was over.

He couldn't stand there watching him dangle you in front of him, if Jon was busy working in his room.

By the time he emerged, Ramsay was nowhere to be found. Wandering into the kitchen, noticing that he had hidden away long enough that dinner had been made and cleaned up. Robb looked up to his brother, noting the eternal frown on his face and tense posture, he nodded to the fridge. “She left you a plate. Knew you were working, she didn't want to bother you.”

Opening it up, indeed whatever had been made you set Jon aside his own. Exhaling through his nose, Jons eyes shut not noting his hand gripping the handle of the door tightly, nor the slightly more rough shove he gave to close it. Asking low, Jon was grateful Robb was used to Jon when he was like this. “When'd they leave?”

Neither had to specify who. Robb knew Jon and Ramsay hated each other, and that Jon only endured it for your sake. It was why he and Theon endured it too, if Jon could set aside his short temper and overwhelming protectiveness for you, then the least they could do was match that. None of the guys wanted to upset you.

Robb returned back to whatever he had been writing out, “Hours ago. Said something came up at home, she's just in the other room with Theon for the night.”

A frown coming across his face further, Jon turned to him. “Wasn't he supposed to take her out somewhere tonight?” Robb nodded and looked no more impressed. It was a science exhibit that all three of them had poked fun at you, by calling it nerdy. But Ramsay had offered to take you, and judging by your jacket and boots still sitting by the main hall, had indeed, backed down on it.

Jon glanced up to spot the time, keeping the grumble to himself that it was way too late for him to take you, it'd be nearly over by the time he got you there. Besides, he knew you would be bashful. Saying not to go out of his way and you were perfectly content staying in, despite Jon knowing how much you were looking forward too it.

Robb read his mind. “What's that now? Four times this month he's cancelled on her plans?” Jon corrected him on five, recollecting the time you went out of your way to reschedule a dinner reservation at a nice place in Torrhens Square. Ramsay had called you quite literally at the same instance Jon was braiding your hair for you as you tried to put a little extra effort into your makeup, saying he couldn't make it.

Your shoulders had deflated under Jons touch, clearing your throat as you hung up and very awkwardly apologized for making him help you for nothing. Jon had tried to insist otherwise but you shut down, trying to laugh it off rather unconvincingly before leaving to your room and not coming out the rest of the night.

He hadn't told anyone, nor you, that he spotted the dress you bought specifically for that date buried the next day at the bottom of what you called your donate pile. Jon had been there when you bought it too. You had kept looking at it on the rack, this long sleeved dress in whites and ivory and lace trailing down the forearms as it draped along the floor like a gown. The restaurant was fancy and it would be perfect, but you were busying yourself with a thin strapped red dress. Short to the point it on you would hardly cover even part of your thighs, and a neck which would show plenty cleavage despite you not even owning anything showing off like that.

Jon had asked if you were sure of it, and you tried to play it off. Saying it was the sort of thing Ramsay suggested would look good for you to try, but as you were asking the assistant if it came in your size Jon had gently murmured he would be right back. A hand trailing along your back and hip as he passed you by.

Finding your size easy, Jon had brought it over to you before the woman even came back. Telling you to try it on in the meantime. Not mentioning he knew you had been looking at it the entire time, only prompting you into the dressing room with it. Thanking the clerk when she came back but you had reconsidered something else. The woman, a bit older had smiled a little bit, nodding to the curtain hiding where you were. “She's lucky to have a man like you at her side, most boyfriends already have gold and silvers out waiting to buy numbers like that.”

Jon never even considered to correct her that he wasn't your boyfriend.

You had asked him gently to come in, not wanting to make a scene of such a dress on you out in the open if you weren't sure. Not that you had known, but however turned on men would've been by you and your plush skin and soft curves in that tiny red dress, was nothing compared to how hard Jon felt looking at you in such an innocent, long and modest white dress. He didn't insist on buying it, fearing it would look as if Jon was just trying to manipulate you into getting what he wanted. He did want to see you in it, but because you had clearly wanted it so much.

And then a month later, the day after Ramsay cancelled the reservation the second time, it just sat at the bottom of a box. Nicely folded and clean to be donated because the return date had expired, and you no longer had a use for such a fancy dress.

It looked rather odd sitting in Jons closet, a long, white dress amongst far, far too much black mens clothing, but he didn't want you to give up on it yet. You never owned such fanciful things, it wasn't the way you were raised, to value luxury. But Jon knew if the right opportunity came up, if Ramsay bothered to put even a modicum of effort into doing something nice for you, then Jon would show you he kept it for you, so you could have one night in the dress you were so excited to buy.

Jon was so utterly lost in his thoughts, he missed half of everything Robb had said to him. Not even bothering to sit at the table with him, Jon just stood with his back and shoulders tense as anything as he ate at the counter. Only tuning into what Robb was saying as he called to him louder. “Snow.” Jon turning abruptly to look, Robb just gave him a flat expression. “You hear a word I said?”

At least Jon was blunt about it. “No.”

Robb only smirked, used to it at that point. “Father wants you there too, said he'll bloody pay your Lord Commander to give you the night if he has too.” Jon only asked in confusion what Robb was talking about and he shook his head. “You getting knocked in the head out there by the Wall? Starting to loose brain cells already.” Jon took the jest with a grain of salt when coming from Robb. “The Harvest Gala, all of Winter Town's coming into Winterfell, and all the older families are going to be there. Father told me to tell you, you don't have a choice. You're coming, and he's dragging Uncle Benjen down too.”

Moving to wash his plate, Jon only asked “Why did he ask you and not call me?”

“Fathers known you your whole life, if he asked directly you'd make an excuse.” Asking if anyone else was going, Robb dissected the root of Jons curiosity. “Roose Boltons coming, which means Ramsay will be going if that's what your asking.”

Jon only left the room muttering under his breath, leaving behind the sound of his brother laughing both at his expense and as a cope for how little Robb too, was looking forward to the later. “Great. A whole night with you highborns and watching Ramsay shoving his tongue down her throat.”

Oh Jon hated how much effort he put into willing his cock not to get hard now of all times. Not an usual sight, Theon sitting on a chair in the main room working his way through a game, and you spread out gently on the couch across the television watching. Only, you were utterly ruining Jon. He had been wondering where one of his Nights Watch shirts had gone and there you lay wearing it like it was normal you would wear Jons clothes. Sometimes the guys things would mix with your laundry, but normally you gave them their things back right away. Yet you laid out in his shirt, clearly oversized on you. He dared not think that it was large enough and the material thick enough, you could completely hide were you not wearing a bra.

Before he could embarrass himself further, Jon closed his eyes to let an exhale out and get himself together.

He said nothing of it as he approached, only gesturing to your legs as you looked up at his approaching figure. Pulling them more towards your chest, Jon very casually and without thought, grabbed them once more to return you to your previous position just now with your thighs resting in his lap. Your voice was quiet enough for Jon to pick up on without completely disrupting Theon. “Did you see the plate I left you?” Nodding, you sighed out in a relief. “I tried to message you while I was still cooking, but you didn't answer so I figured you were busy. I would've come and gotten you otherwise.”

Narrowing his brows, Jon pulled his phone out and it had been some hours since he checked it clearly. Sam and Grenn both with messages in the group chat, a few from Tormund separately, emails no doubt from Cotter Pyke down at Eastwatch by the Sea bothering him for some thing or another, and of course a single message from you, sweetly asking if he was going to miss dinner and if not you would keep enough for him to sit aside.

Glancing back down at you with a low rasp, “I'm sorry, I haven't even looked at it in hours.” Jon could feel the restraint not to call you by the term he used for you alone. He had always called you darling, he had since he was ten. But it felt unfair to keep calling you that when you were with Ramsay, and Jon also knew if he kept too comfortable it would one day slip out in front of the man himself, and Jon would not have gotten to live it down.

Shaking your head, you flipped more on your back, head turned to see the screen but more easily face Jon when you needed too. “It's alright. I only didn't want you to think I didn't make anything for you.”

Jon would've said you didn't need to make him anything in general, but you both have had that discussion too many times to count. It was fruitless task. Robb and Theon had more normal schedules so sharing who cooked when between you three was easy, but Jons schedule was never consistent day to day. Jon typically came home having not eaten most of the day and so you liked to cook for him. If he worked into the night, you always would check in when he was coming home and if it was in time, you liked to be the one to make dinner.

Since on those nights, you always tried to make sure things were done by the time Jon walked into the apartment, and almost always, at least one part of the meal would be something you knew he specifically liked more then the others. He had long since given up trying to tell you that you shouldn't feel obligated to do that, but you would then have that narrowed expression as if confused why he thinks you feel obligated.

It was quiet between you both when he breached the topic, feeling you stiffen up right away. “Next time something comes up, you should tell me. I would've taken you to the exhibit.”

But you only shook your head, “It's fine. It isn't your responsibility to drive me around like that. You have more important things to do.” No words were appropriate which came to mind, as Jon felt deep within the confines of his heart, that you were what was most important to him.

So he only muttered back, “Just tell me next time. I don't want you missing out on things.”

Your brows narrowed, something hesitant and not understanding flashed in your eyes as you glanced between Jon and the screen. It was risky going further you knew, but your brain did not understand his meaning. “I'm not missing out on things, Jon. Ramsay and I can go on another date any other time.”

Both of you were too stubborn to let it drop. “Dates are one thing, it's another to cancel everytime you have something you're looking forward too.” Jon could tell something about what he had said bothered you. Your jaw clenching a bit as you no doubt bit down on your tongue. Shifting to look back to the screen and no longer keeping Jon in sight.

Were you more childish, you'd have something clever to retort with, but you didn't. Because Jon was right. You simply did not like to think about how often that statement was turning out to be right. You could go to an exhibit anytime. Well, not that one. Only was there for the night and then the event was leaving the North, and it was the only one you truly wanted to go see, but it was fine. There were other things you and Ramsay did other then stupid events you wanted to go to like a child.

You however did not like that when trying to come up with other things Ramsay liked to do with you, the only conclusion that kept coming to you, was how often Ramsay turned down doing anything or going anywhere with you, in favour of just having sex. Then leaving. Much like what Karl was like, fuck and then fucked off elsewhere for the night.

No, you certainly did not want to think about that, because then you'd have to acknowledge the warmth behind your face in an unpleasant manner, and the sting in your eyes. Or how just laying here with your legs draped over Jons lap, his hand respectful as it was caressing, his thumb trailed along where one hand rested on your thigh, was the most intimate feeling you'd gotten from a man in well over a year. You felt dumb wanting to cry at such thoughts. You were an adult, adults in relationships have sex, what was your problem. Telling yourself, you should be grateful Ramsay was even kind enough to fuck you in the first place.

After all, that's exactly what Ramsay would tell you to your face, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if it were obnoxiously loud. On the other side of the back stretch of the apartment were Robbs room, then Theons. It left yours and Jons just on their own at the left end. It was never loud enough it reached their rooms or even the living room. No, it was something so purposeful. It was just loud enough, that only Jon could hear, and he knew Ramsay did it on purpose.

Prompting you specifically to be louder, trying to prompt you to talk more, boast about what he was doing to you more, and mocking you about being shy. All the while, Jon would sit at his desk, gripping his pen so tightly it threatened to snap, because Ramsay would always ensure your headboard banged against Jons wall. The absolute obscene things Jons heard Ramsay say to you by this point, and he could confirm to the no one who asked, that Ramsay wasn't just mean during sex, he bordered on sadistic and cruel.

Jon hated that he knew you were naturally quieter in bed, because of how often Ramsay would make you go louder and louder, and the more perverted things he'd force you to say that sounded unnatural coming from your beautiful, sweet, high pitched voice. It was an unspoken thing only between Jon and Ramsay that this went on. Jon gave zero indication to you he could hear anything, and he knew Robb and Theon heard nothing.

It was something Ramsay did just to make him miserable.

At first he had a routine. It would start, then Jon no matter the time of night, would quietly prompt his direwolf Ghost to go for a night hike in the woods just outside the Stark properties his family all lived on. Sometimes if he was awake, Jon too would beckon Robb's direwolf Grey Wind to join. Ramsay never stayed until morning, and so Jon would wait until he saw his car leave and only then would he make his way down the path from the cliff side and try to sleep. Only one time did Ramsay stay, and he was smart enough at least not to cause a scene that would wake everyone else up.

Jon had just rolled in, a thirty two hour stretch at the Wall and he only had gotten home. Making something simple to eat before a very quick shower, and finally planning on going into his room and passing out, Jon stood in the kitchen in time to hear quiet creeping footsteps. Coming out to the hall, Jon came face to face with Ramsay and it was the only time he'd seen Ramsay hesitate.

Jon still dressed in the black leathers uniformed along the Nights Watch with eyes so seething and black they matched what he wore, Ramsay had finally found one instance where he knew Jon would have the upper hand. It was easy for men like him, highborns who never worked for anything in his life, to mock the Nights Watch right up until he stood before Jon in his dark, imposing uniform. Remembering that as much as the North called them peacekeepers, almost every brother of the Nights Watch was somewhat trained for combat, and Jon was the primary teacher for his station after all.

Jon remembered feeling that Ramsay was lucky. The more skilled men at his station would carry weapons. Partially a left over from when the Nights Watch was entangled in active conflicts with the free folk, and now partially serving as a reminder that the Nights Watch was not governed within the same confines of law. Jon used to bring it home with him, the sword strapped to his side called Longclaw, but he stopped bringing it home when you moved in. Not wanting you to feel uncomfortable with it. He was also lucky Jon remembered thinking, that the shorter dagger Jon kept for safety purposes, still sat in the glove box of his car.

Or maybe, Jon was unlucky he didn't have those with him. Maybe Ramsay wouldn't have come back.

Ramsay only rose an eyebrow at him in knowing before leaving. Jon hadn't blinked nor spoken a word as he watched him leave. Going into the bathroom you two shared, all Jon planned was to forget about it. Wash the grime from his body and rinse out the sweat in his long curls from keeping it up so many hours, but he couldn't stop thinking of it. Of how Ramsay had only been here to sneak off, because he had fallen asleep after fucking you.

The thought was made far worse when Jon realized in his absence, you had restocked everything for him so he wouldn't have to rush out to the store when finally coming home. He couldn't stand it, how domestic you treated Jon while knowing Ramsay got the rest of what came with that.

People mistakened Jon for your boyfriend nearly everytime you two went out alone somewhere. It always happened, and eventually you stopped correcting people on it, not thinking the truth worth explaining to people you barley knew. Someone called you Jons wife once, and he nearly blacked out at the thought. But for all you two treated each other as, Jon sat in his room that night with his jaw clenched so hard he wondered if it would break.

Headphones on, Jon was trying to find anything to distract himself. Abandoning his report open, and leaned much more relaxed back in his chair, connecting his headphones to his phone now, he tried not to consider why he did it. He was a man, men didn't need a reason so why did he? Why was Jon trying not to listen to what he could hear of you specifically as he opened up his browser. If it was nothing in particular working him up, why did Jon double check looking to his door to ensure it was locked?

It was only a coincidence that the search terms he looked for, were physical traits that just so happened to describe you. It had nothing to do with anything. And it was not at all, anything but lack of interest that had him close his browser after searching through nearly fifty pages. Because if Jon let himself think about the truth, then he'd have to admit that he had spent the past half an hour searching through a porn site looking for a girl who looked like you. And when he found no one who came close, Jon would have to admit that he exited the site, and very intentionally opened a message thread between he and you.

It didn't take long to find, many times you instead of typing longer messages, would send him voice notes. Knowing if Jon was at his desk at his station, he could just plug an earbud in to listen instead of stopping to read. The conversation he had found, was nothing even close to erotic. You were simply talking about something that funny you found even working from home now, did you still find ways to be annoyed each time your co workers reached out to you.

You were just too natural. Light and airy in tone, high pitched as you were much more quick in tone and not so formal for once. You were the most you in your voice notes in contrast to your typed messages, and yet despite there not being a single thing about the words you were saying being seductive, Jon felt his cock stir, unfairly hard he was and just as he was going to talk himself out of this idea, Ramsay had clearly prompted you to go again.

The second Jon heard your unsure voice on the other side of his wall, his free hand was already undoing his belt.

He loved your voice so much, the way you sounded so sweet when it was only the two of you. How from sure of yourself, how put together and stern you were all melted away into a gentle but kind shyness when with Jon. So few people ever heard you laugh, but Jon had so many voice notes of you laughing or giggling to yourself with whatever you were saying.

Jon could tune out what was on the other side of the wall, as long as he had your voice in his ear in whatever pathetic capacity he was allowed to have. He was also not in a rush, his hand slow as he moved his fist up and down his length, enjoying the building pleasure running through him at the sound of your voice. His hold a bit tighter when you would say his name. One hand kept scrolling, as soon as one series of voice notes as done, he searched for more.

Each new one, Jon stroked his cock a little faster, hand holding a little tighter. Breathing heavy, jaw clenched, Jon contained a grunt in his chest at the way you would say his name. Seven hells did Jon love the way his name sounded on your lips. Tighter more he gripped himself, running his hand up and down faster again.

It was why he kept headphones always charged. He couldn't dare have this interrupted now, and he couldn't listen to it out loud. Jon needed to cum to your voice, but he needed it to be for him and not for Ramsay. The desire ran through him, overwhelming Jons head. It was like an addiction, some men took shade of the evening to get themselves through life out of their minds. But Jons addiction was you, it always had been.

Truth be told, he hadn't even noticed a groan left him. Head falling back, his cock throbbed in his hand at the sound of your giggle. He was a doomed man, he replayed the sound again and again. Then another voice note, then the next and the next. Until he came along one you were not just giggling, but affectionately saying his name as well.

His insides burned, his hand running up and down his cock rough, fast, needing and desperate to cum with each stroke, which each sound of his name from your voice. How long had he been going, he wasn't even sure. All Jon knew was that his mind was consumed with thoughts of you so much his cock begged for you.

Hissing through gritted teeth, “Oh fuck-” Jon prayed to the old gods he had not said your name. He was lucky they answered, but he had come so dangerously close to groaning your name as he came, that he felt himself almost forming the first letters it. Cumming into his hand, Jon kept stroking until he had nothing left. And it seemed, Ramsay didn't either. It was dead silent next door.

Not sparing time, Jon tucked himself back in, tossing his phone and headphones onto his desk, before opening the door to his hall. Ramsay always left your door partially open, and as he peeked in, you were under your covers still bare, turned away from the door looking rather alone. Likely your sleeping self was wondering why your lover was not next to you to comfort you in your sleep. Jon closing it silently, and noting properly Ramsay was nowhere to be found.

His phone told him that it was two am. Jon knew he wouldn't get any sleep before needing to leave for the Wall. Ensuring the apartment was empty and sleeping, Jon didn't go to bed. No, sitting back at his desk, that time Jon spared no time in once more pulling his already throbbing cock out. Jon spared not a second in pretending he wasn't getting off thinking about you, wishing he would ever know what being inside you would be like.

What made things more complicated, was a message informing Jon he needn't come in that day, and thus he sat at the table that morning with Robb and Theon plagued with two thoughts. He had always tried to deny it, but this was the first time Jon had been so brazen with himself that he would stroke his cock thinking explicitly of you. Hoping that it wasn't about to change the way he acted with you, only he didn't get the chance to know right away.

You had been very late getting out of bed. Which was unusual, you were very disciplined about not sleeping so late. Your alarm goes off and your feet were out of bed within seconds. But it had reached the point you would have been up and getting settled into whatever project you had going on for the day, when you only had just emerged the first time.

They only heard it from the sounds of your door opening and closing, but it was Theons quick muttering in an angry confusion of, “What the fuck?” Did it have Jon and Robb look up.

You had been awake the whole time, you were however, hiding. For a good reason. As quick as both Robb and Theon were to stand up and call your name, Jon was already down the hall with a bit of a short tempered shout of your name as you ignored him. Grabbing your coat you didn't even wait to put it on before walking out the door.

Stepping out to the porch, Jon watched you swiftly rush to a car waiting for you. Recognizing inside the driver as Loras Tyrell, and in the backseat where you joined was his sister Margaery. You had shut the door without ever acknowledging him and clearly had told Loras to just go, taking off before Jon had a single answer from you.

You had left the house in a hurry, avoiding the guys all, because when they last saw you, it was with Ramsay who was clearly taking you to bed to fuck. But the next time they saw you as you rushed out the door, the guys had recognized the very distinct look of a bloody cut across your lip and a bruised eye.

It had been a longstanding joke within the Stark household that whomever built the family home, must have purposely Stark proofed everything in advance, protecting the house from the wolves tempers. Ned Stark was currently trying to quell his sons anger, Theon was sitting more firmly at the table trying to convince you to answer your phone. Robb was perched with his palms against the table on the other side seething with anger, while Jon leaned against the wall arms crossing his chest and truly looking nowhere but with his eyes so grey they appeared as black as they were angry and intense.

They had only just stopped slamming things about as Catelyn sent them into the dining room before they broke a plate with all their ruckus. Ned still was trying to be the calm voice of reason for the three of them despite his own feelings on the matter. He did not know the boy, Ramsay, but he knew his father Roose Bolton all too well. And that told him enough.

Emerging from where she had headed upstairs, Sansa returned looking at her phone confirming what their father had asked her to find out. “Margaery says she is with her and Loras, but she doesn't want to talk about what happened.”

Robb shook his head with a clench of his jaw, “We let him stay in our home, and he expects us to stand by as he beats-”

Ned cut him off, “Now we don't know he did that to her.”

Robb interrupting as soon as his father stopped talking, “She goes to bed with him fine, and she comes out the next morning alone with a black eye and cut lip? So, she what? Busted her face up all on her own by accident?”

Running his hand over his mouth, Ned sat down before both elbows propped up on the table to clasp together in thought. “I'm not saying that. I am saying that we should think before you three all go back out there and hunt the boy down.”

Nothing but a low rasp was Jons voice coming out in a restrained anger. “We don't need to hunt him down, we know where the Dreadfort is.” Ned gave a slight tilt of his head towards Jon, but he only clenched his jaw and turned to look back out the front window as if you'd appear in the driveway.

Trying to speculate why you would want to hide it, and Sansa looked up from her phone to say with a passing casualness. “It's obvious.” Raising an eyebrow at Jon with a look almost stern like a lecture, “She didn't want to deal with your reaction, if she's upset and you come lashing out of course she'd want time away.”

Jon pushed off the wall, face twisting into an anger as he raised his voice slightly. “Ramsay beat her and you're blaming me?”

Sansa only shrugged, a look almost smug like she had her point proven. “Maybe if you could control your temper.”

Once more Ned had to speak up interrupting what would inevitably turn into an argument should he let the two of them keep going. “Sansa, try and get Margaery to find out when she plans on coming home without making her feel pressured to come back now.” Robb tried arguing why shouldn't you come home now, and Ned once more shut it down. “She's upset, and so are all of you. It will not help anyone, give her space and she'll come back. In the meantime, don't do anything rash about Ramsay. Only until the gala is over, I'd rather not have the Boltons pull their support before we direct their funding.”

He knew it was a bit of a bias, not being anywhere close to the traditional Stark family business, Jon piped up with a dismissive mutter under his breath. “Of course, wouldn't want to scare them away after they've scared her all the way to Highgarden.”

“Jon.” Looking away in a bit of shame at the sternness in his fathers voice, Jon knew it was far more complicated then that but the agitation of not being allowed to do anything was getting to him. He just wanted to know what the hell happened.

You could tell she was surprised that you hadn't flinched once. The small swab of alcohol running along your lip and only your hands clenched slightly before relaxing again as she cleaned it. Voice soft but something attempting to be convincing against a difficult target, “Are you sure you don't want to tell us what he did?”

Inhaling slightly, you straightened your posture slightly as Margaery took that as her answer. Sighing of her own as her shoulders deflated, she glanced somewhat behind her, looking at Loras to implore him to help. But he only gestured towards you with an outstretched hand. “If she won't tell you what happened, what could I do differently?”

You had long gotten used to the manner in which the two siblings could joke about you as if you weren't in the room. “She's too used to my feminine wiles, maybe she needs a mans touch.”

Though, it slipped out before you had the sense to stop it. “If he closes his eyes and pretends I have grown a few more inches, maybe.” The glare was not meaning what so ever, not towards you. Despite the family you came from, it was still your Uncle Renly which Loras was seeing. He had long stopped wondering if such comments from you were serious. Attempting to change the subject, you tried dismissal as the first tactic with it. “It was only an accident.”

Tilting her head, she looked at you as if you were stupid. “If it were an accident, you wouldn't have messaged me first thing in the morning to come get you. Not caring about something is not the same as avoiding it all together.”

Truly, you did not wish to come here for a lecture. If you wanted that, you'd have stayed in the apartment. Margaerys eyes peeling away from you for a moment, taking little time to tap out a response to something as part of you wondered how she could possibly use the screen with nails that long. Turning back, you glanced at it with a knowing question.

“It's nothing.” Your expression fell flat as Loras's behind her grew into a smirk. Changing her tone to much more casual explaining, “Sansa was asking me if you're alright. Don't worry I told her you don't want to talk about what happened, just that you're staying with us for a little while.”

If anything had you close your eyes in defeat. That meant it had already spread as far as the main Stark house, by nightfall all of them would know. Loras at least had done the smart thing early, leaning his hand to the back seat telling you to give your phone over. Saying, “You can't be tempted to look at it if you don't have it on you.”

Had he not promptly turned it off, you'd no doubt be seeing it light up every few minutes with one of them either messaging you or calling you. By the time Arya finds out, no doubt eighty percent of such notifications would be from her. They could last without you for a few days. The Winterfell Harvest Gala was only three days away, by then hopefully things would have cooled down.

If not, then Margaery had at the least, assured you that your eye would be healed enough by then she could cover most of the bruise with makeup. For now though, you knew over the hours from when it happened, your eye had begun looking far worse as the bruising colours finally set in. You hadn't even known it was hard enough of an impact to leave a bruise until you woke up. Instantly, you had messaged Margaery asking if she and Loras could come get you.

Correctly assuming the second the guys saw it, they would get angry and that was exactly what happened. You thought you had a better chance of not being seen, thinking if it were only Robb and Theon, then maybe you could sneak from the door when they were near their rooms getting ready to leave, but then you realized Jon was still home for whatever reason.

That was when you added an additional message saying to just reply here when they arrived, and you'd come out to them, not wanting more of a scene to be made. The second you realized Theon saw you, you snatched your coat and walked out the front door. Of course Jon was the most angry, he and Ramsay hated each other. But you didn't want to deal with that after what happened.

You had been in their kitchen, assisting their ever immaculate and tart tongued grandmother Olenna with the baking. Whomever the highest of family names attending the Harvest Gala were, it was a tradition that the Starks provided the main feast and the subsequent families would provide a dessert unique to their region.

The whole kitchen smelled of a mixture of baking apples and fresh lemons, it was peaceful. For as quick on the draw as Olenna Tyrell was, she knew when to get down to business and your quietness only meant that you were a diligent worker to make up for the lack of conversation. Which she was fine, with, as long as she could pull a small smile from you now and again she could affirm you hadn't been knocked around that badly.

Oh she took it seriously, but she also did not coddle you. Which was what you wanted. “It won't make you feel better, but it will distract you long enough you may finally rid yourself of that sulking expression.”

You almost went to protest you made such a look, but her eyes shined in an amusement for you to prove her point. Huffing out what may have been a hint of a smile, you returned to the tasks she had delegated you towards. “So why is it your grandchildren get out of doing any of this?”

Olenna never failed to be as blunt as she was quick. “Those two out there are talented at many things, but baking certainly is not one of them. At least you know how to make something look attractive more then just the reflection in the mirror.” All said with a love you knew she held, the Tyrells never ones to withhold a jest at the others expense.

Decorating the very top of the small surface you had to work with, you heard the front door open as you did her voice accompanied by Maragery. You knew she was coming, and if you had any stroke of luck it was that there was one person in that family who wasn't going to hound you about it, it was Sansa.

You could tell her eyes sought you out the moment she walked into the kitchen, trying to keep whatever reaction to your not yet healed eye to herself. Though, it was easy as you without much thought on any other matters, grabbed one of the smaller pieces and turned towards her. “Perfect, I need you to tell me if it's missing something.”

Grabbing the small lemon cake from you, her face twisted from a purposeful look of thought to an easy enjoyment and a hum of satisfaction. Barley managing to her herself swallow the pastry, boasting with genuity. “That's delicious, do you make these often?”

Shaking your head, you turned back to carefully pipe the tops of the full sized ones into each matching design. “Not really. Usually my family brings something seafood in origin, so sweet isn't my normal handling.”

Normally she would have been over here for Margaery, but as she sat down at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, you suspected she came with not so hidden intentions. “Everyone was worried about you yesterday morning.”

Saving grace, Olenna spoke up from her own work on the mixture going around the apple fillings. “Yes, yes, one muddied up face and the Starks send themselves into a pack formation.” Trying to protest, Sansa was as used to the woman as you were by now. “We needn't beat around the bush, my dear. Her brute of a boyfriend knocks her around, and every wolf within a thousand mile radius gets sent on a hunting spree. If they had reason to be worried, she wouldn't be here suggesting to bake lemon cakes simply because she knew you loved them and were coming over.”

Head raising just the slightest, you'd have rather wished that she didn't rat you out so quickly, but you only tilted your head in no denial when Sansa looked at you brightly. “Don't tell the others, I have a badly tarnished image to maintain.”

Margaery walked into the room, her light voice floating about as did she move with her usual, yet annoying level of grace. “Only your hypothetical image. I'll have that face prettied up for the Gala like none could guess.” Her own hands toying with the bright orange hair loose down Sansas back, did she also lean in to mock whisper. “Aren't I so good at hiding when someone marks up a girls pretty skin?”

A fluster came about Sansa pulling away as you and Margaery both laughed at her reaction. Sharing a look with the later, before raising your eyebrows to the former. “You're lucky I'm good at keeping secrets.”

Looking between all of those in the room she tried to deny it once more, “It isn't like that-”

“So you didn't change your foundation to a new brand, because it was easier at hiding when this one,” Pointing the now empty piping nozzle towards Margaery, “Gets a little bit too carried away in her spare time?” Both girls pretend to be annoyed with one another, but there was little weight behind it.

Margaery was likely the only person who Sansa couldn't stay mad or annoyed at. Almost drifting your mind away, considering the simple fact that you however, were the one who got everyone angry with you. A talent of yours.

You didn't want to think about it, it was a completely different situation then that.

Nothing in common, you felt so much more at your wits end here, the opposite of relaxed as Margaery and Sansa fussed about you. Their touch felt yanking at trying to decide how to this time dress up their new doll, when all you could recall was the last time anyone did something like this for you was before you threw that beautiful dress into the box to donate when Ramsay cancelled your reservation a second time.

You were focused on trying to paint up your eyes, while Jon stood behind you. You had asked if he would help put your hair in a braid, just a simple one until you could decide what you wanted to do, when he took over. Warm against your back, Jon begun carefully and expertly moving the strands around into a braid far more fancy then you could have ever accomplished yourself. Rasping low that braids suited you, whereas here both girls were arguing you should keep it down.

“Make him feel guilty. Show off a little.” You wanted to toss away the dress they handed you, but Margaery grabbed you and walked you to step behind her privacy screen to try it on. “You want Ramsay to realize what he may be missing out on if he keeps acting like this.”

Not being able to see her, you picked up the doubt in Sansas tone as she perched herself on the edge of Margaerys bed. “Are you sure that's the right approach? It may look like she's trying to impress other men.”

The dress itself was fine, but it showed off so much in terms of your back, arms, waist, too much. “That's exactly what we want. He needs to chase her a little, show why he's better then other men, give her a reason to stay other then familiarity.” Suddenly turning with a small shout, “Are you done yet?”

Sighing out, you shook your head without caring they could not see. “Do you have something a little less..revealing?” Sansa laughed, reminding you whose closet you were borrowing from. A deep sigh came out, “Try.”

The next two were also a no. “The Gala is tomorrow, you can't say no to everything.”

Cutting back quickly, “I can if I don't go.”

Sansa spoke before Margaery could once again. “If you don't go, you know my brothers will come and drag you home themselves.” Clearly the two shared a look as she explained quieter, “Shocked they haven't already.”

Oh you were even less sure about this one. The both of them dragging you out to stand before the full mirror in the room, one at each side somewhat behind you the doubt was radiating from your face. “You don't think it's too-” Shutting you down, Margaery only grasped at your hair once more, fiddling with it as she thought through what she wanted to do to match.

Still, her feeling and touch was nowhere near as comforting as Jons.

It was the same every year, but this year it bothered him more. The fact that you would sit up with those of the Baratheon family, occupied around by those who lived around Kings Landing. You had arrived with the Tyrells, but dutifully took your place by your family when Jon wished you would at least look over to him once. Wounds like that do not heal so easily, but it appeared as if there was no bruise around your eye at all.

You should've been allowed to walk in without covering it up, force everyone to see what a man like Ramsay does to his partner. Luckily, Jons morose attitude was easily hidden as well, but by the simple make up of that his Uncle Benjen beside him was equally as unhappy. But they suffered there together, both arriving in a variation of their attire with the Nights Watch, as if to separate themselves from those around.

Some laughs were found between the two of them. Jon knew Ghost was not supposed to be in the banquet hall, but as his name, no one noticed the direwolf laying by Jons feet unseen under the table. Without much thought even, in one moment sat by him a whole roast chicken, the next Jon had flipped a knife up, stabbing it in the meat and depositing it under the table to the very happy Ghost, as Jon continued like he hadn't done anything. Benjen tried not to laugh into the beer in his mug, and he too could see Jon failing to hide his own smirk as he brought his own up to his lips.

Every family who mattered was in attendance in the banquet hall, and outside the muffles of music and laughter where the thousands of other attendees shared the boasts of their own harvest. Thousands of years ago it was a tradition between those only of noble birth, to celebrate the Northern harvest together but the longer the years passed and more of community being formed within the lands less separated by monarchy, it had turned into something much more.

There were always two which switched, the Harvest Gala always took place in the North, hosted in the vast lands of Winterfell always by the Starks. The other was a much more specific celebration taking place in the capitol of Kings Landing.

Jon had never attended it, most Northerners didn't as most never even would go south of Moat Cailin. Close by his fathers seat, Jon could see the ever elusive Howland Reed. An old friend from worse days and the man only ever came out of his home in Greywater Watch for Ned's sake. His two children, Meera and Jojen sat next to each other as they would gesture across the way to Bran.

Even from where Jon was sitting further away, he amusingly could see Sansa desperately trying not to look over to the Tyrells, and then down to her lap only to recall father had forced them all to leave their phones in the main house. It had taken some years for her to settle, her attitude high strung and dismissively childish for many years all coming into a clarity the day she had sat down with their father and her mother. Robb and Jon being the eldest naturally being there too, as she had apologized for her behaviour.

It was much more easy to forgive her when her apology was followed with the admission that she and the Tyrell girl were seeing one another. Now that she had it out in the open, it was easier for the rest of them to move passed the rough years. But it also meant, that he knew for a fact Sansa had spent some time with you in the days previous.

Wanting to ask her about how you were, how your eye looked, if the cut across your bottom lip was indeed healed or if it was simply the red shade painting your mouth hiding it. He knew both his sister and Margaery must have had a hand in choosing how to dress you for the event.

Trying not to consider that the dress you were wearing clearly was borrowed and not your size, as certain places where your curves stood out so beautifully to him looked that much more alluring then it would on the rather small Tyrell. He knew for a fact you must have been embarrassed beyond anything walking in the main doors wearing something showing that much. It draped along your shoulders like a fine silk and down your back scooping low enough a few less inches of fabric and your hips would have been showing next. You kept a darker shall wrapped around you though, still not at all comfortable with how much the dress emphasized your breasts.

The amount of make up was their choice too, he knew that. The bold shade of red staining your lips as if meant to tempt men to ruin, it was not a choice you'd do on your own. It was as if you had been dressed to catch one's eye and as Jons flew across the hall a pair of pale blue ones had certainly been trapped in that net.

Ramsay had no right to look at you that way after what he did, Jon thought. He never gave you respect as it was, and this was something else. But Jons own watchful eye also caught what no one else was seeing as well. How every now and again, Ramsay would turn to the small dark haired girl next to him and the two would blatantly flirt and touch.

Were it a glass Jon was holding and not a much more sturdy made mug, it would've shattered from the force Jons hand was tightening around the grip. How often did Ramsay leave you after fucking you, to sneak off to whomever this girls bed was? How long had he been using you as a public shield to then sleep around behind your back?

Once more his eyes caught yours not looking at anyone. Sometimes sharing half baked smiles or a fake huff of laughter with your cousin Myrcella, but little else. You hardly touched your food, and the only other person in your families sitting who was out beating you in the amount of wine you were drinking, was your uncle Robert.

You had showed up trying to look as if everything was fine, but Jon knew the amount you were drinking was telling him you were anything but. Whatever dessert was sat in front of you as the night progressed too was passed by. Already forming a plan in his head, the moment the meal would end, Jon needed to make his way over to you. He needed to apologize before you were too drunk to be able to fairly understand it.

He was so angry when he had seen what Ramsay did, but he knew it was wrong to let that anger out around you. You deserved better then that, but he was beginning to sense you wouldn't be anywhere near sober enough to understand any apology at this rate. And the more you drank, the less he noticed Ramsay did.

Jon had too, but he stopped because he hadn't wanted to let any intoxicated emotions get the better of him about you. He suspected however, Ramsay had stopped, in order to gain back any sobriety he lost, so that he held all the power when he'd inevitably approach you. He would take advantage of your drunk state to weasel his way back into having you forgive him. Men like Ramsay, like Karl Tanner, they took advantage of girls like you.

Quiet and not confrontational, insecure and quiet so manipulating you into staying with them, and relying on them was easier. It was why Jon said he'd make sure you owned your own things once leaving Tanners house. He wanted to help you, but he didn't want you to rely on him. That was what Tanner did, moved you away from everyone who cared and made you rely on him for everything.

How long, Jon thought, would it take for Ramsay to convince you to leave the apartment and move in with him? Keep you away from the rest of them, and no doubt whisper things in your uncertain ear about Jon to drive a wedge between you. Tanner tried doing it to you about Jon as well, but it wasn't so personal. He spoke lies as such about anyone who wasn't himself. Not even Rast nor Locke, cravens that they were, were immune to that.

But Ramsay knew. Jon knew that Ramsay was fully aware of what Jon felt for you. It was why he loved dangling you in front of him, why he fucked you just loud enough to make Jon lose his mind at what he wasn't the one getting. Cancelled plans you were looking forward too, only ever did just enough with you to convince you to let him fuck you, and Ramsay had the audacity to touch and flirt with other women in the same bloody room as you, knowing you were too nervous to look at him.

Jon would rather you never date, then watch you continue to date men who saw your worth as nothing but something to shove their cocks in. You were so much more then that, but they had convinced you otherwise. Why else would you stay with a man who made you that upset so often normally, because you had figured it was all you deserved.

He didn't want to sit there and pretend he was a selfless man, Jon had the shame of knowing three times in one night he had gotten off to you before all this happened. You were his best friend and in more ways then romantic did he love you, but Jon still knew he couldn't lie to himself about the way he looked and thought about you. All you'd see is your best friend trying to take advantage of your weaknesses to get you into his bed.

The crowd was immense as you all stood. People everywhere you turned and your quiet self had gotten lost and forgotten in the sea of social waves passing you by. You hated this dress, you hated how much makeup was painted on your face, you hated having to play nice when all you wanted to do was find a bed to cry in for how much you let your life turn into this.

The air was warm, too warm as so many bodies took up the space in the room and spoke with their warm breath increasing. How did no one else notice the heat? How hard it was becoming to breath in such a heavy fog. Heart racing more as you felt your lungs tighten, you needed to walk away. Find a corridor mostly empty and walk until there was an alcove isolated to collapse against.

Nothing of what you drank told you if you were sober, you couldn't sense it underneath the racing in your head which flooded your nerves. You hadn't wanted to come, you hadn't wished to face how you were ruining your second chance at having a partner all for the same repeating reason. Whatever rationale you could lie to yourself with this time, did not exist when it was Karl Tanner in the role of Ramsay.

You had said it, and couldn't take it back. Karl didn't say what had happened, he didn't care about any of you involved once Jon drove you away, but Ramsay would. If you couldn't fix things with Ramsay he would use it against you, and who knows how many people would abandon you after that comes out?

You were pathetic, you always were. He's never wanted you, he still doesn't and yet you were broaching two separate relationships you've ruined over someone who does not want you. As your head leaned against whatever surface you found yourself at, you felt the world spin even as you stood still against a stone support.

“Now tell me, love, who did you dress like such a whore for?” Opening your eyes, the world still spun while still as a statue as you looked at Ramsay. Standing before you with a narrowed expression you had seen in the seconds between what happened that night, and how hard he had slapped you with the rough back of his hand. “Speak up now. Did you let the Tyrells slut you up to try and beg for me back, or did you just want to tempt any man in here that you were walking around with a sign hanging against you, that you'd spread your legs for the first one who walked up to you with a cock?”

Shaking your head, your words slurred as they were forced you beyond the heart pounding stammer overtaking with your nerves. “You- you always wanted me to dress like this.. I was, I'm only trying to listen to what you told me..”

The chuckle was fake, but you were far too drunk to also pick up the more sinister echo which matched behind his eyes as he invaded your space. Grasping rough at your jaw he didn't let you flinch away too much from his hissing. “Such a poor memory, do you need me to repeat what I actually told you? That if I'm going to fuck you, you may as well start dressing like someone who my cock would actually get hard for.”

You were so stupid. He was always going to be mad at you. You couldn't imagine how angry he'd have been were he to have actually taken you to that restaurant in Torrhens Square. He'd have asked where you got that long, white dress, why it covered so much of your skin, and why you disobeyed him when he had told you to go to that specific store to buy the short, red one in the first place.

Trying to stammer out, “I- I'm sorry..” He just tilted your jaw up to force your eyes up at his darker ones now trailing down your frame. You read the words, what he wanted. He had taught you by now, but you shook your head as something unsettled bubbled in your chest. “Ramsay, there's other people-”

“Did I ask about other people?” Saying no, you tried to insist on finding an empty room but he leaned in more. “Did I say I was going to do this in private? You're lucky I don't leave you naked and covered in me, here so everyone can see what a real whore does in the dark.”

As drunk as you felt, you were still in your head enough to feel utterly humiliated. If you were caught now, you wouldn't ever be able to look the Starks in the eye. You'd just move out on the spot and return to Dragonstone, hide away from the world on your grim, dark girlhood home. Too slowly you tried to pull one of the silky sleeves down your shoulder but he took over, the fabric ripping as you tried to argue, “Ramsay, please this is Margaerys-”

Shoving your legs apart, he only raised an eyebrow. “So I know who to blame for turning my girlfriend into a walking cunt begging to be filled.”

No argument came against that one, you had none. Your mind was nowhere near sober enough to wonder if he was wrong. You just accepted it. You almost ruined this relationship because you couldn't keep your mouth shut in the worst moment, so it was your duty to let Ramsay punish you in whatever ways you always dreaded. The mood he was in, you doubted he would even care wasting a single second getting you even slightly wet.

When he used sex as a punishment, you weren't meant to enjoy it. That was how it worked.

It took you longer then normal to realize why he didn't do anything. Suddenly moving away from you, your slow mind hardly caught up to the fact that there were now three large figures slamming Ramsay against the wall. Trying to protest, “Wait- stop, he didn't do anything.”

It wasn't until one of them spoke did the blur in you vision focus enough to see a teeth grittingly angry Robb was on Ramsays left, now turning back towards you, as Theon took space up on Ramsays other side. Not recognizing until Robb was already talking, that Jon was in Ramsays face, keeping him pinned to the wall with only one hand. “Didn't do anything?” Robb calling your name with a confused anger, “Did you not hear a word he was saying to you?”

Theon piped up with anger clear of his own, “Or how he busted your face?”

Swallowing, you felt lightheaded and confused more then any of them. “I-” A slightly stumble trying to stand up straighter as if they hadn't already seen how drunk you were. “That was an accident, he didn't do anything.”

Ramsay was quick on the draw making intentional mocking eye contact with Jon, “See, bastard? I didn't do a thing. Our girl here is just a tad too slutty for her own good, needs a stern hand to put her in her place, doesn't she?”

The guys all started to speak, but you felt your eyes sting with tears. Shaking your head at him not to say it, but Jon captured his attention. Voice so low and rough it was but a husk teetering with something burning in rage. “Don't talk about her like you care about her.”

He smirked, as you felt your stomach twist. “Oh I care deeply, bastard. It's why I was just so angry, you see. I take her to bed, show her my love and in return all she does is-”

“Ramsay, please.”

You tried pleading with him not to, but it was too late, as soon as he started to speak it was too late to keep it contained. “Was that so hard? You remember my name here, but not when I'm inside you?” He had turned to make eye contact with Jon, nothing but a smugness in letting it fall free. “Imagine how much it ruined the mood, when I'm fucking her nice and rough and suddenly, more desperate then I've ever heard her ask for it, does she beg your name before she cums.”

But whoever was the first out of the three of them to look back to you in surprise, you didn't know. You had taken off so suddenly and so fast that none of them knew where you went. As it turned out, utter humiliation sobered a girl up, right quick.

You weren't sure the last time you had been here, likely too many years to be worth counting back to, but it was just as beautiful as you remembered. The white bark standing out against red leaves with a face carved into it as if watching over the North it stood within. Back against it as you used your shall to sit on, to try and not muddy up Margaerys dress, despite looking too many times at the no doubt expensive silk now ripped along your shoulder.

Long enough it kept your legs from the cold as you pulled your knees to your chest, forearms resting over them as you had long since stopped caring about the stain of tears on your cheeks. You were such an idiot. You had let your feelings for Jon ruin two relationships, and now he and likely everyone else knew about it.

What was more pathetic of a revelation then your best friend calling your name when having sex with their boyfriend, you weren't sure.

Enough time had passed to which your drunken fog begun to lift and a stressing headache wormed its way in to keep you sitting in the cold air hoping you could find the courage to get up. You had your phone, that was it. Maybe it would be enough, perhaps if you could pull yourself together long enough you'd be able to convince your father to let you stay on Dragonstone until you figured out what to do next with your life.

As long as you could find someone who could drive you to White Harbour, your father could send someone to come bring you the rest of the way. What other choice did you leave yourself?

Robb and Theon would think you were pathetic, Jon wouldn't want you anywhere near him after this, and thus your presence in the Starks home no longer was welcome. You hadn't called Jon wishing he'd come get you that day with Karl because of anything like that, you had done it on instinct. He was your best friend, he was the only one you wanted to come get you but now it must feel as if you were a manipulative snake.

By the time you heard footsteps, you almost flinched to get up and apologize for being here, but it was in fact the rumble of Ned Stark coming to ease you from fleeing. “It's alright, no ones asking you to leave.” Muttering quietly why he assumed that was what you were planning, he without any care sat down next to you on the rock keeping elevated enough that a hand wrapped around your back and sat soothingly on your upper arm. “So you're telling me you weren't sitting here worried you were going to have to leave here and go back home?”

Looking away somewhat ashamed, your arms crossed more over the top of your knee. An uninspiring mutter, “I presume you know what happened.” Only a glance slightly to the side showed you his nod, and your head dropped into your arms. “Suppose everyone in the North knows by now.”

However, the man only chuckled. “Far from. I heard what happened, but put an end to any scene they were about to make before most noticed anything happened. No need to make a spectacle out of you after everything you've been through.”

Ned did not hear the first try, so you lifted your head and repeated your words as new tears gently fell once more. “I'm sorry, truly I am. I wasn't trying to ruin anything or manipulate anyone.” Asking where you had gotten that idea, you paused. Not yet clear enough from all the wine could you come up with but a shrug of a shoulder. “None of it was on purpose. It just happened. First with Karl, now with Ramsay. Two relationships I ruined by saying something I didn't even realize I had said until it was all over anyways.”

You were glad it was Ned Stark listening to this, not sure your own father would dare care to listen to anything even remotely close to a sexual topic like this, but he listened with the care he gave all his children, but to you. “None of us can control how we feel, sweet girl.”

The shrug and nod you gave didn't really indicate much, but he understood in your state that was all you could offer. The quiet of the night, this place far enough from the crowd not even the muffled nightlife of the gala could be heard. Only in that quiet did you say it, “You can tell him I'll move out.” Humming in question, you clarified. “Jon, I'm sure hes mad at me. Likely doesn't want to speak to me after that, you can tell him I'll move out. He bought a lot of my stuff, I won't take it with me he can sell it or whatever he wants. It was his money.”

Ned didn't say anything for a moment, and you had almost took it as a defeated acceptance that he would indeed deliver your last message to your best friend. But he didn't stay quiet, he only spoke in a quiet tone, pulling you closer to his side running his hand up and down your cold arm. “Tell me, if my son was angry with you, why when I last saw him, was he outside the hall worried sick that you had taken off drunk as you were.”

You struggled to envision it, but maybe it was the aforementioned drunkenness impeding your intelligence more then usual. “Because he's just a good person. Simple. Always has been, even now when I don't deserve it.”

It seemed whatever he had gleaned from such a comment had cemented an idea in his head. “Here's what we're going to do. We're going to get up, bring you back to the apartment. The boys are all busy right now hosting in my absence so you'll have it to yourself. We'll get you cleaned up and you won't worry about what comes next until you've slept the rest of this off.”

Truthfully, you were too tired should any argument have ever even existed within you.

Coming back down to the winding Gala late into the night, Jon noticed his father gesturing for him to come over to speak alone. Your name coming instantly out of his mouth, his father swiftly placated such worry. “She's alright. I brought her back up to the apartment to sleep tonight off.” Nodding, Jon stood tense as anything unsure as to how to breach the subject or if he should when his father did it first for him. “Whatever you're going to say to her Jon, go easy. She's upset and she's convinced herself you're mad enough at her she should move out.”

Face twisting in a mix of anger he could not fix from the night and a worry that everyone around you had let you get so intoxicated you spun a story such as that about him in your fears. “Did you tell her about-”

“I think she would take it better coming from you.” The two men stood for another quiet moment when he stepped towards him. A hand resting on his shoulder with a concern Jon knew was for both parties, himself and you. “And Jon, don't ambush her right away.”

Both nodded, his father leaving Jon to think. He knew he was right, he couldn't lay all his cards out on the table yet. Between Karl and Ramsay, they had done a number on your self worth. You'd jump in an instant to what Jon wished to say, if you thought it was a way to make it better. He needed it, only if you still wanted it once you felt safe in your own home again.

Strange, you had no dream and yet you were lulled into the world of the wake with something gentle along your hair. Not realizing until your eyes fluttered open that the morning sun was shining through your window. Jon was sat on your bed facing you, a hand running soothingly along your now loose hair.

Were your brain not about to explode from pain, you might have jumped up to apologize right away. But in your state, Jon continued to run his hands through the strands of your hair as he rasped quietly and comfortingly. “You're lucky to be alive. If I let Ghost come in here last night like he wanted too, he'd have cuddled himself into your side so much you'd have suffocated.”

The laugh was weak as you sat up, Jon not moving his hand from you as he tucked some of your hair behind your ear to more then cup your cheek and jaw. Your eyes heavy as you found a more shredded voice. “I could imagine worst ways to go.”

His grey eyes were as wide, bright and yet soft as ever. As if the night before was not an utter catastrophe you had brought upon your friendship, but the ship was steady on the water, you dared not yet rock the boat, listening to him with a warmth at his low rasp deep this early in your time awake. “You scared me last night, darling. Running off like that.”

Neither of you noticed how easily he slipped back into calling you that, or how you hadn't taken notice in any negative manner whatsoever. Sitting more against the headboard behind you, you were glad Ned Stark had insisted you wear something actually comfortable to bed instead of the ripped reminder of a terrible night. Your insides were warm as much as your front so close to Jon was warm from the proximity alone. “I'm the sorry one. About everything. Getting drunk, causing a scene..and..for-”

Mercy was what Jon showed you, but for why you couldn't put together. “You didn't do anything wrong. Ramsay's been barred from attending any Northern run event, and he's not allowed within two hundred miles of you.” Your brows narrowed in confusion, Jon giving you a gentle laugh in return, still toying innocently with your hair. “My father works fast when he's mad. I didn't think anyone could've been more mad at Ramsay last night then me, but he came back after bringing you home and went right to your Uncle to have a restraining order filed.” Asking why, Jon almost shook his head in a manner that was only amused by you. “You're like a daughter to my father, if he wouldn't let someone treat Arya or Sansa like that, he wasn't going to stand by and let Ramsay do it to you.���

Nodding, it felt strange that you weren't upset by it. Perhaps it was too early to feel it, but much was hard to care about when Jon was this warm and looking at you with such wide grey eyes pouring into your heart and soul as if he belonged there. “Jon..I really am sorry..”

But he only laughed a little, sliding his hand behind your head to pull you forward, Jon leaned enough to press his lips to your forehead. Murmuring against it, “Don't take off like that again, and you have no reason to be. Now come on,” Prompting you to slowly begin standing up, Jon rested a supporting hand at your lower back, pressing your unsteady self to his side enough he could rasp in your ear. “I'll make you something you can actually stomach.”

You didn't understand why Jon was making it so easy. For days now, things had been much like it had been before Ramsay ever entered the picture. Your days were normal, settled back into working without distractions and it all seemed as if the apartment was smoothly running.

Part of you wondered why it felt though, as if they were all waiting for something. You could only hope that it was not for you to fall off once more, you knew thus far your record had not been on your side but you hoped they had more faith then next to none. You wanted to start over this time, you were given that proper chance and you didn't want to waste it no matter what people were or were not presuming about you.

It seemed the restraining order was applied to those speaking of him as well. Margaery had not brought up anything, and when you had gone over to her house to profusely apologize over the dress she only wrapped an arm around your waist to drag you in, dismissing, “I have others.”

Trying not to fear this all had made you look as weak as you felt, but for how close you came to ruining things, Jon was the one easing that fear away. He was the only one who you didn't feel as if were watching and waiting for something you didn't understand, he treated you as the same as you two had been in your best of times. Before Ramsay Bolton, before Karl Tanner.

Things were normal enough between you that you, he and Ghost all went on a longer hike through the wolfswood for the first time in well over a year together. The warmer weather this time around was not quite what many would call warm in the south, considering heavier long sleeves were still the most necessary outerwear at the minimum, but it was not yet cold enough that spending so many hours outside wasn't preferable to ones health.

Small rolling hills led to cliff sides where the main river poured out in small divets of pooled lakes like a small waterfall, hardly anything for one who grew up on an island, but for here it was the most amount of a body of water you could get too within a days walk. Perhaps before you'd have worried about the quiet, but no longer did it feel stifling or on purpose.

Jon used to be the one person you could be your more naturally quiet self around and have it not be uncomfortable, he was the same way. The less talkative of the group of you, but together that silence was never filled only because the quiet as awkward. Jon would instinctively grab your hand to help hoist you up a steeper climb and push you forward with a hand on your lower back without sharing a single word and neither of you thought twice again.

Or how when you three had returned, Jon once again gently guided you to your shared bathroom first, quiet in your ear as it was late enough Robb and Theon were asleep. “You shower first, I'll get something started.” And without any more question, when you emerged, you took over what he had been doing and by the time his shower was done you both had a very late meal but in the comfortable presence of only you two.

For a while it went on as such, but you couldn't help those two same thoughts. Was everyone really just waiting for you to combust once more, and more importantly to you, why Jon hadn't even come close to bringing up what happened.

It went completely unspoken, but you didn't know why. Your friendship felt as strong as ever, but for what reason? You had completely violated his trust and it was as if he would rather forget, but it didn't work that way. He would've known you weren't to forget so easily, why was he? Were you lingering once more on the edges of feelings which Jon wished to pretend he never learned about? If so, why was he even more gentle and affectionate then before?

None of it made sense in your head, but you truly did not want to ruin things, not now. Not after being given another chance to keep him in your life. So you stayed quiet, didn't speak a word of it for as long as you could withhold the anxiety and nerves festering from your brain into entering your heart.

It was one evening, you both looked so much like you did as teenagers, sitting back against his bed, both too lazy to bother moving things around his room for a better set up, so your laptop was dragged in his room instead to watch something on there. Later into the night, the apartment was settled and only you two remained awake, but the mixture was dangerous for your subconscious.

His room always cozy and warm, and so was Jon naturally heated in his blood to never feel cold around and the dark from only a single lamp on his desk other then the screen, it all lulled you into relaxing a little too instinctively. You without realizing, allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, but Jon without asking you to move, stiffening up uncomfortably, or even hesitating, adjusted his position in order to wrap his arm behind you. Resting at your waist and tugging you firmly into his side as that same hand now ran lightly up and down your waist to hip and back.

Your- his shirt on you, rising slightly each time which his hand kept brushing your bare skin sending silent shivers along the surface. More and more did the film fade away, until you found a sleep more warm and soothing then you had in weeks.

Jon was caught between the concepts. Slowly shifting things as to not disturb you too much, Jon moved everything but the two of you off his bed, before turning to watch you carefully. The last time you fell asleep in his bed, it was in far more innocent times then what ran unspoken between you both now. He didn't want you to feel pressured, but Jon knew you were feeling the air between you different, and he did not wish to return to when it felt otherwise.

It was heavy and electric, but neither of you were such forward seducers to act upon it so brazenly. But, Jon still knew such feelings were there. So, instead of gently carrying you to your room and tucking you into your bed, Jon made a risky choice. Slowly helping you lay down on your side, Jon ran a hand over the hair at the side of your head, ensuring you hadn't stirred awake. Across the room, Jon turned his light off, and opening his curtains a slight bit to let some of the moonlight guide his vision.

On one end by the foot of the bed, the slumbering white ball of fur called Ghost slept soundly as you did, as if failing his guard duty to keep you safe laying only feet from him. But as Jon carefully climbed back onto his bed, he laid on his side to face you.

He watched at first, only watched. The peace in your face there was unlike the past years as tormenting figures appeared in and out of your life. Never did Jon presume his place, he was your best friend and he refused to act as if that made him obligated to your feelings. But it wasn't the same now, you had been keeping your own locked up just as, if not more tightly away from the world. Only coming out twice.

Jon knew now that was what Tanner was trying to tell him that day. That started the fight the morning he came to get you. You had spoken Jons name in the heat of the encounter, and then did it once more months later with Ramsay. He didn't want you to think you should stay here with him, but Jon also refused to allow you to push this all away in favour of lessening your value, to running to the next horrid man.

For now, as Jons hand ran up and down your arm, did you shift closer, and he spared no time in pulling your front into his chest. Meekly, your slumbering hands reached up, grabbing the edges of his shirt as if begging him to keep you there. And as he found a home to sleep in your hair and you in his torso, only quiet was found.

If you had one thing you needed to accomplish that day, it was to ask. You had to, even if you didn't like the answer, it was no longer appropriate to hide such wonders when he knew what you had done. But, part of you wished he wouldn't make it so difficult to be blunt about it. You had clearly fallen asleep watching the movie, and woken up in his warm, gentle embrace tucked into his chest. It felt right, and it also meant it felt unfair.

Jon should only show you such affection if he understood your mind had not moved on yet, if he wished to pull away then that was how it would have to be, but hiding your worry about it was not conducive to your dynamic anymore. But gods he made it so hard to get to it. Not even realizing you weren't alone in the waking world, Jon rasped in your ear so thick from the early morning it was just a heavy husk of a Northern accent slurring together. “Too early to think this much, darling.”

You breathed out a small smile, almost swearing you could feel him smile in your hair in return. Hardly loud enough to be heard by any not directly as close as Jon, you whispered back not yet yelling go of your fingertips toying with his shirt. “Not for how long I've been awake.” Oh that deep chuckle so close to your ear was deathly.

One of his hands around your hip and waist shifted up to run smoothing over your hair, slightly raking through the strands to pull a relaxing in your muscles against him. “Alright, why don't you wake me up by telling me what's going on inside here.” This thumb leaving it's touch to lightly tap at your head as if to indicate what he meant.

You had told yourself, ask it today. It came out as light, strained and breathless as if felt. “Are you never going to bring up what I did?” Instead of the hesitation you feared and worried, instead came the same soothing nature as he pulled you a bit closer.

Taking his own time to answer without making you worry of the passing moments to do so. “You mean when you called my name out in bed with Ramsay, or when you did the same thing with Tanner?” Your frozen nature must have given your shock away. “Wasn't difficult to put together once I knew the truth.”

Your voice muffled by his torso, but you were almost emotional at how grateful you felt he hadn't yet made you leave his warm comfort. “Aren't you mad?” Asking for what, you did not sound any more confident. “I violated your trust. Twice. Then hid it from you and lied about it.”

Once more his chuckle was utterly unfair, and his voice rasped so deep as his hands almost held you a bit tighter if you weren't imagining things. “Would you like to know what I was doing when you called my name out with Ramsay?” Not a clue how blind sighted you were about to feel, you shook your head before noticing for certain that time he held you tighter. “I was scrolling through all those voice notes you send to me, while my other hand was around my cock.”

Blood within you flooded with something warm like a burn, and only as you let a shaking breath out did Jon begun to somewhat ran his hand back to the side of your head, thumb much more firmly tilting you to suddenly meet his eyes, dark normally in colour but now the grey appeared closer to sinking into a black. “Why?”

Far too handsome for his own good when he laughed deeply, knowing your breath hitched as he leaned forward. Only to nudge your nose with his, letting his trace down yours. It seemed if your question was to be honest, he'd let his be as well. “Because I wanted to have you in my bed, instead of hearing you in yours with another man.”

Lips parting slightly, your eyes were wide trying to contain how both confusing yet unrealistic that sounded so early. And yet there was not a shred of lies or doubt within his gaze, only something far too dark yet affectionate that you wished to melt into. “But..you- why not say anything before I even met Ramsay..”

Thumb running firmly over your cheek, Jon had yet to pull away from you the rest of the way. Your mind trying to tell you otherwise, that you were imagining any other feeling. Jon though, was not you, and did not care about hiding it seemed now that the topic had been broached. “You finally had the courage to leave Tanner, I wasn't going to ambush you about my feelings when you needed someone to just be there for you. No matter how much I wanted you, still want you.”

Shifting you both every so sightly, Jon moved so you lay more on your back, and he partially still on his side, but somewhat hovered over you. Now looking at you with those bright eyes, curls all still pulled back from the night before. The hand on you cheek turned much more selfish in not pulling away from where it roamed. Tucking some of your hair behind your ear, before once more nudging your nose with his almost as it to tempt you with how close his lips would be at such a motion.

It felt like such an utterly girlish and child like question to ask, “Would all you want it to be is just..sex?”

Jons chuckle once more was deep, laced with something dark that should have set your nerves off and yet on him it only lit the fire within your bloodstream to flow. Muttering close enough to your lips you felt his breath dance across your skin as he cupped your cheek and jaw more to his control. “I want everything, all of it, as long as it's with you. I always have.”

Looking back up to his eyes, Jon looked you over carefully for a moment but in the heavy silence, slowly took over in seeking a path. Glancing between you and your lips, Jon was so close to closing that gap only as long as it took for your hands to so very willingly reach up to grasp at his shoulders and part of the back of his neck. The moment your own eyes slipped closed, you barley needed to move a single breath forward, for Jon to close the gap between his lips and yours.

Jons lips were softer then you could have dreamed of, guiding you in an instant as if kissing you was what he had been waiting for all his life, and not for a second did he waste time. Pushing up to hover over you properly, his hand at your face slid to cup the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to his lips with no escape. Not urgent, nor greedy, and without the incessant ask for you to get to it. Jon kissed you as if he enjoyed kissing you.

Which in truth, was foreign. Men didn't spend time kissing you unless they wanted to fuck, they didn't enjoy kissing, you had always thought that was the case with your limited experience. But Jon deepened his kiss as if the idea of leaving you yet was devastating, as if he sought salvation and he found it through kissing you rougher and needier. Small sounds left your chest, hands tight on Jons shoulders he begun to gently bite at your bottom lip.

Small as if only a nibble, it grew more and more of a bite until he tore a gasp from you, which was his sly plan. Using the opportunity to glide his tongue into your mouth, he brushed up against your tongue as if guiding you to explore him back all the same. Hardly did you, but hovering above you on the bed Jon was in control regardless. Stealing your very breath and drawing up small whines of need before he would pull back to only a deep kiss.

But then he'd bite and once more the entire process repeated but his need grew each and every routine. Harsher did he kiss you as your legs slid, bent by the knees you let them sit at Jons side when he tore from your lips. The saliva between you snapping as he spared no time in running his kiss along your ear and down to your neck. Lips and tongue setting the stage as he suddenly would bite down.

A gasp clawed from within, back arching up into his touch as Jon suddenly with a growl in his own chest begun to then suck at where his teeth indented into your sensitive skin, forcing the colours to turn to a tingling bruise of his making, swiftly marking down and down your neck until he reached the collar of his shirt. Hoisting himself back up, capturing your lips once more deep and breath taking did he pull back.

Both hands pressed beside your head as he looked down at you with a darker, more serious gaze. “Tell me if I'm taking this too far.” But you only shook your head, trying to desperately seek his kiss but Jon gently pushed you back down flat against his bed. That time his brows furrowing as if seeking something in your own need. “I mean it, we don't have to do this, any of this. Whatever you want we can take our time.”

It was a heart pounding need stealing your lungs away, and only a scrap of voice drenched in desire was left. Without even the means of seduction, it came off as better then any temptress could possible use her wiles towards Jon with. “We've already imagined it separately, but now I want to know what being with my best friend really feels like.”

Jons eyes fluttered closed, a low sound grunting inside to maintain but he surged back to cup the back of your head to leave a harsh, biting kiss to your needing lips before tearing away and back down the already sensitive trail he left on your neck. Kneeling up a bit for the leverage, Jon grasped the ends of his shirt on your body, looking up dark and face twisted so seriously to your expression. The single second it took for you to nervously nod yes, Jon had yanked it up off of you and tossed it far as if offended it covered you up for so long.

Staring at your heaving chest, Jon almost tore up in a glare had you not known any better. “You were with me all night and weren't wearing anything under this?” Your head shook no as the air shivered along your skin. Eyes closing again to sigh much more deeply Jon let a a hand reach up. Rough and calloused was striking against the soft skin of your chest, but it was as if his hands were made to fit with your breasts perfectly. Kissing back to your neck, now just as greedy at your collarbones, Jon spared no shame in only grasping at your other breast for the time it took for his lips to reach it. One hand pinching the small, pink bud of your breast to stiffen it up for his hand to twist at, chest arching up more for him while his teeth sunk into your other breast. Biting the same as his hand twisted the other and your hips writhed desperately at the feeling.

Trying to reach for his own shirt, Jon used his free hand to snatch yours, slamming it down beside your head and intertwining his fingers with yours, without ever easing up the treatment sparking such a burning coil within. Gasping his name, Jon bit and sucked at your breast as his hand groped a tightness that in another mans touch would've hurt. But Jon kept you on the precipice of pleasure and just enough pain to keep you pliable for him.

Pulling from you, Jons eyes scoured his work and the trail of saliva left on your breasts no doubt you could feel in the cooler morning air. His hands were slow as he reached your the top of your pants, but the second you didn't blink or flinch but slightly raised your hips Jon stared at every inch of skin pulling them from you revealed to him.

Tossing them away, Jon ran his hands up your calves as they once more parted for either side of his body, Jon held at your thighs. Spread for him and nothing hiding the rest, you had been next to him for hours this bare under the basest of clothes and yet he was only finding out now.

But he allowed you to lean up, drag his own shirt up and over his head. Grasping the back of your neck as you leaned up towards him, Jon licked back into your mouth much more freely groaning as he hoisted one thigh up at the side of his hip. Only the lower and lower down your body Jons lips and kiss explored the more your heart begun to pound irregularly, something unsure in your head making you sit up away from him when you realized. “What are you doing?”

Jons eyes were wide, almost as if stunned at your sudden confusion. “Wh- I'd like to taste you, darling-” Interrupting with a short and high pitched ask of why, Jon almost breathed a laugh. Leaning up to better meet your now on edge posture sitting up on your elbows. “Because I've always dreamed of it, because I really want you to feel good.”

You had no way of knowing how much you were ruining him, how hard you were making his cock still hidden under the jeans he fell asleep in. “No, I mean why would you ever want to do that?”

There seemed to be a disconnect. The ease in which Jon was so sure of the ways he wished to explore you, and you not at all grasping why Jon would want to do things Karl and Ramsay told you men absolutely hated. Tilting his head, he ran his fingertips along your cheek some. Sighing through his nose trying to collect his thoughts, low and rasping he explained to you. “Because if your lips taste that good alone, I'm dying to know how you taste between your legs. And I promise it will feel good for you.”

But you shook your head. “No it-” Sighing out of something unsure, you shifted up a bit more as Jon, returned to hovering somewhat over you. His hand never leaving your touch as it ran along your gentle cheek. Collecting your thoughts, ignoring how your neck and breasts stung with the same bruising from his mouth, and yet feeling lightheaded at how much you like the feeling. “Men only do that stuff in videos, none of you really want to do that.”

You didn't understand why Jon was looking at you that way. Confused and if you weren't mistaken, almost a bit heartbroken. Asking roughly and short in tone, “What else did those two say. About sex, about what people do together?”

That was easy, they told you consistent things. Which was why you were so confused as if it was the first time anyone was telling Jon something men were all supposed to have agreed on. Anything a man does to you, you owe him back, be it between your legs or getting on your knees. All that romantic stuff was for movies and all the stuff men did in porn to pleasure women was just that, for porn. They didn't like it, they both were just actors doing a job.

He had to look way for a moment, Jon couldn't look at the genuine, almost innocent expression on your face as you said all of this. Hands curling onto a fist as they rested beside your body in the sheets but he shook his head. Jaw clenching trying to keep it together before rasping out, “I need you to listen to me. And I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but you need to hear this. Karl and Ramsay were just using you for sex. They didn't care how you felt or if you liked it, they wanted to fuck you and all they cared about was that you let them.”

He was right, you didn't really feel good inside your heart hearing it. But it paired so oddly with the way he was looking at you with something you were a bit scared to admit you were hoping looked like love. Your voice was as week and unsure. “I..I just wanted to do this right this time..Ramsay used to always leave to go see another girl.. so I started just doing what he wanted because I thought he was losing interest because I was doing it wrong.”

Were you not laying gently out and naked on his bed, Jon may have found the anger in him to lash out at that. Unable to stop thinking that you knew, you knew Ramsay saw other girls and he wouldn't put it passed Karl to do the same. You were someone he loved, but in a way Jon knew he had his work cut out for him with you. You had a lot to learn about your own pleasure.

Leaning into you, Jon forced you to lay back down against his bed. Capturing your lips in a quick but biting kiss, muttering into them as he pulled back. “Will you let me prove you wrong? Will you let me taste you? Make you feel good like you deserve?” Trying to ask what about him and Jons eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head desperate for his mouth to just drink between your legs already. A growl deep in his words. “I promise, darling. This is as much for me, as it is for you.”

Nodding with a hesitant, “Please..” Jon knew he had to control his need. He'd keep you here pinned to his mouth another time, but right now he needed to show you why you deserved this kind of pleasure and why he wanted it so badly. “I trust you, Jon.”

His kiss was much softer then, muttering “I'll take care of you.”

Moving down, Jon hoisted one of your thighs up over his shoulder, nudging your other open wider on his bed as you shook. Feeling his warm breath, Jon pressed a gentle kiss to your clit. Jumping slightly in his tough, he reached out to grasp your hips, gently shushing you. “It's alright, I've got you.”

Each subsequent kiss was slowly followed by his tongue gently licking at the bundle of nerves, building the fire within up and up within you but keeping you perched on the edge of an orgasm, already feeling somewhat embarrassed by how quickly he worked you to it. Jon however, hardly cared. Sucking it more before running his tongue tightly against it, his eyes closed you felt his facial hair burn between you, gasping out at the roughness contrasted to his mouth licking and nibbling at your clit. But yet, it was another gentle kiss which pushed you. Arching off the bed, Jon grasped your free leg and threw it over his shoulder before yanking you down the bed.

Tongue hot and wet, licking flat down your folds to your core and were his eyes not closed he'd have them rolling onto the back of his head at the taste. If possible, you came quicker. Barley managing to drink every bit of wetness you gifted him between your legs, Jon heard you cry his name with breathless pleas as if this was even a fraction of how long he'd keep you there. Licking flat, he ran his tongue just barley inside of your cunt as you let go once more.

You had not realized how terribly worked up you felt until your orgasm let free within Jons tasting mouth as he grunted against you. Drawing back up to your clit he let those sparks of twisting need feel overwhelmed a bit more before kissing up your mound and to your stomach. Your mind a mess, not noticing really what he was doing now as your eyes closed and ringing in your ears from something so burning so addictingly inside your core.

By the time Jon surged upwards, he gently hooked your hip at his thigh, leaning to kiss you again, your hands winding behind his neck. A gentle smile came over him as he pulled away, “I know it was a lot, but tell me, did you enjoy it?” Nodding, still catching your breath, he smiled brighter. A single kiss to your lips. “Good, because we're going to do that longer and longer each time from now on. I want you to feel as good as I do. Now, we don't have to do anything more,”

Just as Jon trailed off, you felt a shiver run down your spine and arms into your chest. Feeling his cock gently run along your soaked core, you hadn't even been in the head space to notice when he took everything else off of himself. It was overwhelming, being bare against Jon who matched in his bed like this, but you couldn't feel the nerves normally present. You looked up at his bright grey eyes and closed yours to kiss him.

Hardly pulling back to whisper, “Please, Jon. I want to feel you inside me, I've wanted to for so long..”

Dropping his head in your neck, he muttered just as low and rough. “I know, darling. I know.” You read the unspoken of his own desire matching so perfectly for so long yet only now were about to join in a harmony.

Sliding inside of you slowly, Jon growled without removing himself from your neck at how smoothly you took his entire cock, but yet the tensing of nails in his skin at your sharp gasp. He stretched you so thick, you felt woozy thinking of his size, of how deep he was. A shameful thought would your hand even be able to wrap around him.

But he slid deep, and never sped up. Slowly pulling almost all the way out, Jon slowly pushed back in. Your cunt soaking around him, but only small sounds shared in the air other then the obscene sound each time his cock sunk deep as you were utterly wet around him. To either man before him, this pace would be unbearable and awful. But with Jon, you felt as shaking in need clenching around him as he throbbed inside of you.

Pulling up, his eyes hooded and his lips parted, he kissed you with a sloppiness that you matched, each slow thrust of his cock somehow less urgent then the gentle, slow manner he kissed your lips. Every step of the way you felt embarrassed how you came so easily, but Jon never stopped for one. Until you would cry out from too much, Jon wouldn't leave.

Slowly letting his cock push deep inside of you, licking his way into your mouth to match such a pace, but he kept going. Throbbing deeply as you let a leg wrap somewhat around him, Jon groaned your name just barley against your lips. As unexpected as your end was found with him inside you, Jon almost surprised himself with how suddenly he finished. Throbbing inside of your soaking, tight walls, Jon suddenly buried his head in your hair, pulling you to his neck as he pressed tightly against you into the bed.

Spilling inside of you, you felt his seed was somehow almost hot. Thick that you felt strange taking so much of it so deep but you let your other leg find your ankle around his back as Jon almost grasped at your waist to keep you steady as he slowly filled you with his thick, pouring seed. Your heart feeling light in your chest, but as Jon pulled you both up to meet your lips something in his passion told you he felt the same floating feeling.

Though you did notice, how he had yet to lose any shred of how hard his cock was inside of you despite cumming mere seconds ago. And when Jon didn't pull out, only sped his pace up just the slightest as he once more thrusted in and out of your cunt, his forehead leaned against your as you wrapped up in each other.

It was slow, and not urgent, and still very much brand new to a strange degree but Jons cock gentle inside of you was the first time you both felt as if you finally fit into each others life properly.

It was some hours later when you both properly emerged to the world. Only after Jon had lost his control when trying to clean you both up, and pressed you against the wall of the shower. Holding your hands above your head against the tile as he slid inside of you again and again. Only when the water turned cold did he pull out.

Each time a little faster, a little rougher, and a little more greedy for what you finally let him sink his cock deep inside as if you both desperately needed it. Which you did, only, your hearts also followed such a connection that time.

The topic though, was not at all addressed in the apartment until that evening when Robb and Theon came home. Jon had currently been hovering by you looking into the fridge as you both decided what you would cook together. His hand so freely pressing against your lower back in such an intimate stance for two best friends.

Theon had commented first, much to how quickly it made you playfully roll your eyes. “So, are we turning your room into a nursery, or have you two not moved everything into his yet?”

Robb's laugh was louder then Theons, but nowhere near as free and amused as Jons as he joined. Pulling your head close to press a kiss to the side of your hair, did it clue in. They had all been waiting for something to happen.

You were just the last one to find out it was not for anything morose. Theon and Robb had simply put bets as to how long it would take for Jon to finally make a move. Though, considering both of them handed the silver to Jon instead, your realized no matter what changed between the love you felt for your best friend, you still lived with three brothers who all were very unaffected by this new development.

Theon once more asking in jest about the nursery thing, and in truth, Jon had left you entirely flustered as he muttered both into your ear and loud enough for the others to hear, “We have a lot of years to make up for, shouldn't take long.” Your hanging head and deep sigh had all three laugh at your expense that time.

Some things it seemed, would always stay the same between you four.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

Jon Snow - Recommendations

will update this list as and when I find more fics/imagines/hc’s that give me visceral reactions x

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> fluff (f) angst (a) suggestive (s)

Imagines:

(f) Protector by @otteropera - Jon Snow is so boyfriend coded it’s actually unbelievable also my beloved wrote this and it’s a GIFT!

(f) Moon Of My Life by @depends-on-the-sellsword - bro this moon ass poetry bs really will be the death of me I’ve read this one so many fucking times and the impact never changes

(f) The Broken And The Bastard by @dearsnow - this. this one really did a number on me Im gonna be honest. it’s pure poetry and it’s so far up my street I’d consider it my religious building of choice bc I frequent it so regularly

(f) That’s My Girl by @in-my-feels-probably - I requested this one and it gave me heart palpitations, protective Jon?? UMM 💥💳💥💳💥💳

(f) Making Of A Man by @januaryembrs - THIS IS THE ONE FR!! absolutely iconic

(f/s) A Welcome Visitor by @darklyndivinely - the power shift in this literally sent me hurtling into the sun goodbye

(f) Snow by @l4verq - pure poetry surrounding a reader displaced in the GoT universe, SO beautifully written and such a genius concept, too

(f) Overheard by @tessimagines - now if there’s one thing this bitch (me) loves it’s a trope she’s read a thousand times that still has her kicking her feet and twirling her hair

Headcannons:

(f) He Worships The Ground Reader Walks On by @midnight-fairee - consider me the Iron Throne after Drogon breathed on it bc Im melted fr

(f) Songs That Describe Your Relationship by @th3rah - utterly adorable, such a sweet idea wtf ow

Blurbs:

(f) His Type (includes other characters too) by @luna-writes-stuff - I LOVE this sm, such a cute idea!!

(f) Happy Heart Day by @poisonsage808 - SO SWEET I love shy Jon sm