#I have used this to great effect many an occasion

[rubberbutton]

So, I have this wacky Javert & Cosette detective agency AU idea that I’ll probably never write…

Post-Seine Javert starts a private detective agency — reuniting loved ones, shutting down extortion rackets, stopping forced marriages, things like that. He doesn’t make any money because he fails to collect payment on the rare occasion he’s not working pro bono. [Very Angel Investigations, sans vampires … unless?] The work is both penance and its own reward.

Bored of social calls and society dinners, Cosette decides to help him in his work. Javert refuses her, but she keeps showing up. She proves herself useful, as no one ever suspects her of being a double agent, she’s clever, and she can cry on command — which is an incredibly effective distraction. Since Paris’s underworld is already familiar with him from his previous profession, Javert has had difficulty making progress on some of his cases. But Cosette is entirely unknown. Grudgingly, he allows her to help on his smallest, safest, most respectable cases. Which rapidly escalates into her running the place. He’s really not an ideas man.

There are capers! Escapades! Daring rescues! A heart-warming Christmas episode!

Valjean and Marius are given to believe that Cosette’s time is spent volunteering with ladies aid societies. When the truth comes out, Valjean is apoplectic, and it’s the first real risk to his relationship with Javert (well, post Seine, haha), especially when Javert makes it Cosette’s choice whether to continue. Marius’s anger burns out much quicker; that boy is nothing if not easily led.

Meanwhile, Montparnasse has filled the leadership vacuum left by Thénardier and has made great inroads in the Parisian organized crime scene. With Javert foiling many of his more lucrative business interests, Montparnasse decides it’s time to deal with with him more permanently...

Other odds and ends for this ‘verse:

Javert accidentally adopts some urchins when he attempts to cultivate them as informants, but they keep showing up like stray cats when they realize he’ll feed them. 

Having heard it in her tenderest years, Cosette quickly picks up the accent and argot of the street and becomes a mistress of disguise.

She also purchases an umbrella with a stiletto hidden in the handle, which she mostly uses to underline her better rhetorical flourishes.

Whilst Javert is not an easy man to like, Cosette appreciates his honesty. Granted, that honesty is couched in the most pessimistic, condescending and insulting way imaginable. But after her father and her husband gaslighting her for years, it’s a relief to not second guess the information someone gives her. 

They both appreciate having someone to commiserate about Jean Valjean’s idiosyncrasies with. “You know the way he clears his throat when he disapproves, but won’t say he disapproves — and if you ask him if he disapproves, he’ll deny it?” “I know it very well!” 

After Jean Valjean is finished being furious, he moves right on into being jealous. He wanted them to get along, but not quite this well. He of course would rather eat glass than admit it. 

Also, as many of les amis survive as I can reasonably get away with. Definitely Courfeyrac, because I like him. Probably Bahorel, in case they need some additional muscle when working a case. And Joly because they’d need someone with a medical background to identify the cause of death/provide medical aid. Also no one should die with a cold, talk about insult to injury. 

Anyhoo. Everybody lives happily ever after with a gentle ’90s TV glow. Fuck you, Victor-Marie Hugo.

[rainia]

real talk though the best way to deal with mean/manipulative people is to counter with being aggressively kind. To not rise up to the bait, and to be appear obliviously nice and kind. For example, I had an ex-coworker who loved drama and being mean to people behind their backs. And the response that was most infuriating to her was to be like “oh so-and-so? Yes they’re soooo lovely! I just adore working with them ���” And it would stop her in her tracks, but more importantly, she couldn’t pass on gossip about me. What could she say, “btw Rainia is always saying nice things 😒.” A losing battle. You’d be surprised how many times this is effective in shutting down bullshit.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

What the fuck is a PBM?

TOMORROW (Sept 24), I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Terminal-stage capitalism owes its long senescence to its many defensive mechanisms, and it's only by defeating these that we can put it out of its misery. "The Shield of Boringness" is one of the necrocapitalist's most effective defenses, so it behooves us to attack it head-on.

The Shield of Boringness is Dana Claire's extremely useful term for anything so dull that you simply can't hold any conception of it in your mind for any length of time. In the finance sector, they call this "MEGO," which stands for "My Eyes Glaze Over," a term of art for financial arrangements made so performatively complex that only the most exquisitely melted brain-geniuses can hope to unravel their spaghetti logic. The rest of us are meant to simply heft those thick, dense prospectuses in two hands, shrug, and assume, "a pile of shit this big must have a pony under it."

MEGO and its Shield of Boringness are key to all of terminal-stage capitalism's stupidest scams. Cloaking obvious swindles in a lot of complex language and Byzantine payment schemes can make them seem respectable just long enough for the scammers to relieve you of all your inconvenient cash and assets, though, eventually, you're bound to notice that something is missing.

If you spent the years leading up to the Great Financial Crisis baffled by "CDOs," "synthetic CDOs," "ARMs" and other swindler nonsense, you experienced the Shield of Boringness. If you bet your house and/or your retirement savings on these things, you experienced MEGO. If, after the bubble popped, you finally came to understand that these "exotic financial instruments" were just scams, you experienced Stein's Law ("anything that can't go forever eventually stops"). If today you no longer remember what a CDO is, you are once again experiencing the Shield of Boringness.

As bad as 2008 was, it wasn't even close to the end of terminal stage capitalism. The market has soldiered on, with complex swindles like carbon offset trading, metaverse, cryptocurrency, financialized solar installation, and (of course) AI. In addition to these new swindles, we're still playing the hits, finding new ways to make the worst scams of the 2000s even worse.

That brings me to the American health industry, and the absurdly complex, ridiculously corrupt Pharmacy Benefit Managers (PBMs), a pathology that has only metastasized since 2008.

On at least 20 separate occasions, I have taken it upon myself to figure out how the PBM swindle works, and nevertheless, every time they come up, I have to go back and figure it out again, because PBMs have the most powerful Shield of Boringness out of the whole Monster Manual of terminal-stage capitalism's trash mobs.

PBMs are back in the news because the FTC is now suing the largest of these for their role in ripping off diabetics with sky-high insulin prices. This has kicked off a fresh round of "what the fuck is a PBM, anyway?" explainers of extremely variable quality. Unsurprisingly, the best of these comes from Matt Stoller:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/monopoly-round-up-lina-khan-pharma

Stoller starts by pointing out that Americans have a proud tradition of getting phucked by pharma companies. As far back as the 1950s, Tennessee Senator Estes Kefauver was holding hearings on the scams that pharma companies were using to ensure that Americans paid more for their pills than virtually anyone else in the world.

But since the 2010s, Americans have found themselves paying eye-popping, sky-high, ridiculous drug prices. Eli Lilly's Humolog insulin sold for $21 in 1999; by 2017, the price was $274 – a 1,200% increase! This isn't your grampa's price gouging!

Where do these absurd prices come from? The story starts in the 2000s, when the GW Bush administration encouraged health insurers to create "high deductible" plans, where patients were expected to pay out of pocket for receiving care, until they hit a multi-thousand-dollar threshold, and then their insurance would kick in. Along with "co-pays" and other junk fees, these deductibles were called "cost sharing," and they were sold as a way to prevent the "abuse" of the health care system.

The economists who crafted terminal-stage capitalism's intellectual rationalizations claimed the reason Americans paid so much more for health care than their socialized-medicine using cousins in the rest of the world had nothing to do with the fact that America treats health as a source of profits, while the rest of the world treats health as a human right.

No, the actual root of America's health industry's problems was the moral defects of Americans. Because insured Americans could just go see the doctor whenever they felt like it, they had no incentive to minimize their use of the system. Any time one of these unhinged hypochondriacs got a little sniffle, they could treat themselves to a doctor's visit, enjoying those waiting-room magazines and the pleasure of arranging a sick day with HR, without bearing any of the true costs:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/27/the-doctrine-of-moral-hazard/

"Cost sharing" was supposed to create "skin in the game" for every insured American, creating a little pain-point that stung you every time you thought about treating yourself to a luxurious doctor's visit. Now, these payments bit hardest on the poorest workers, because if you're making minimum wage, at $10 co-pay hurts a lot more than it does if you're making six figures. What's more, VPs and the C-suite were offered "gold-plated" plans with low/no deductibles or co-pays, because executives understand the value of a dollar in the way that mere working slobs can't ever hope to comprehend. They can be trusted to only use the doctor when it's truly warranted.

So now you have these high-deductible plans creeping into every workplace. Then along comes Obama and the Affordable Care Act, a compromise that maintains health care as a for-profit enterprise (still not a human right!) but seeks to create universal coverage by requiring every American to buy a plan, requiring insurers to offer plans to every American, and uses public money to subsidize the for-profit health industry to glue it together.

Predictably, the cheapest insurance offered on the Obamacare exchanges – and ultimately, by employers – had sky-high deductibles and co-pays. That way, insurers could pocket a fat public subsidy, offer an "insurance" plan that was cheap enough for even the most marginally employed people to afford, but still offer no coverage until their customers had spent thousands of dollars out-of-pocket in a given year.

That's the background: GWB created high-deductible plans, Obama supercharged them. Keep that in your mind as we go through the MEGO procedures of the PBM sector.

Your insurer has a list of drugs they'll cover, called the "formulary." The formulary also specifies how much the insurance company is willing to pay your pharmacist for these drugs. Creating the formulary and paying pharmacies for dispensing drugs is a lot of tedious work, and insurance outsources this to third parties, called – wait for it – Pharmacy Benefits Managers.

The prices in the formulary the PBM prepares for your insurance company are called the "list prices." These are meant to represent the "sticker price" of the drug, what a pharmacist would charge you if you wandered in off the street with no insurance, but somehow in possession of a valid prescription.

But, as Stoller writes, these "list prices" aren't actually ever charged to anyone. The list price is like the "full price" on the pricetags at a discount furniture place where everything is always "on sale" at 50% off – and whose semi-disposable sofas and balsa-wood dining room chairs are never actually sold at full price.

One theoretical advantage of a PBM is that it can get lower prices because it bargains for all the people in a given insurer's plan. If you're the pharma giant Sanofi and you want your Lantus insulin to be available to any of the people who must use OptumRX's formulary, you have to convince OptumRX to include you in that formulary.

OptumRX – like all PBMs – demands "rebates" from pharma companies if they want to be included in the formulary. On its face, this is similar to the practices of, say, NICE – the UK agency that bargains for medicine on behalf of the NHS, which also bargains with pharma companies for access to everyone in the UK and gets very good deals as a result.

But OptumRX doesn't bargain for a lower list price. They bargain for a bigger rebate. That means that the "price" is still very high, but OptumRX ends up paying a tiny fraction of it, thanks to that rebate. In the OptumRX formulary, Lantus insulin lists for $403. But Sanofi, who make Lantus, rebate $339 of that to OptumRX, leaving just $64 for Lantus.

Here's where the scam hits. Your insurer charges you a deductible based on the list price – $404 – not on the $64 that OptumRX actually pays for your insulin. If you're in a high-deductible plan and you haven't met your cap yet, you're going to pay $404 for your insulin, even though the actual price for it is $64.

Now, you'd think that your insurer would put a stop to this. They chose the PBM, the PBM is ripping off their customers, so it's their job to smack the PBM around and make it cut this shit out. So why would the insurers tolerate this nonsense?

Here's why: the PBMs are divisions of the big health insurance companies. Unitedhealth owns OptumRx; Aetna owns Caremark, and Cigna owns Expressscripts. So it's not the PBM that's ripping you off, it's your own insurance company. They're not just making you pay for drugs that you're supposedly covered for – they're pocketing the deductible you pay for those drugs.

Now, there's one more entity with power over the PBM that you'd hope would step in on your behalf: your boss. After all, your employer is the entity that actually chooses the insurer and negotiates with them on your behalf. Your boss is in the driver's seat; you're just along for the ride.

It would be pretty funny if the answer to this was that the health insurance company bought your employer, too, and so your boss, the PBM and the insurer were all the same guy, busily swapping hats, paying for a call center full of tormented drones who each have three phones on their desks: one labeled "insurer"; the second, "PBM" and the final one "HR."

But no, the insurers haven't bought out the company you work for (yet). Rather, they've bought off your boss – they're sharing kickbacks with your employer for all the deductibles and co-pays you're being suckered into paying. There's so much money (your money) sloshing around in the PBM scamoverse that anytime someone might get in the way of you being ripped off, they just get cut in for a share of the loot.

That is how the PBM scam works: they're fronts for health insurers who exploit the existence of high-deductible plans in order to get huge kickbacks from pharma makers, and massive fees from you. They split the loot with your boss, whose payout goes up when you get screwed harder.

But wait, there's more! After all, Big Pharma isn't some kind of easily pushed-around weakling. They're big. Why don't they push back against these massive rebates? Because they can afford to pay bribes and smaller companies making cheaper drugs can't. Whether it's a little biotech upstart with a cheaper molecule, or a generics maker who's producing drugs at a fraction of the list price, they just don't have the giant cash reserves it takes to buy their way into the PBMs' formularies. Doubtless, the Big Pharma companies would prefer to pay smaller kickbacks, but from Big Pharma's perspective, the optimum amount of bribes extracted by a PBM isn't zero – far from it. For Big Pharma, the optimal number is one cent higher than "the maximum amount of bribes that a smaller company can afford."

The purpose of a system is what it does. The PBM system makes sure that Americans only have access to the most expensive drugs, and that they pay the highest possible prices for them, and this enriches both insurance companies and employers, while protecting the Big Pharma cartel from upstarts.

Which is why the FTC is suing the PBMs for price-fixing. As Stoller points out, they're using their powers under Section 5 of the FTC Act here, which allows them to shut down "unfair methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The case will be adjudicated by an administrative law judge, in a process that's much faster than a federal court case. Once the FTC proves that the PBM scam is illegal when applied to insulin, they'll have a much easier time attacking the scam when it comes to every other drug (the insulin scam has just about run its course, with federally mandated $35 insulin coming online, just as a generation of post-insulin diabetes treatments hit the market).

Obviously the PBMs aren't taking this lying down. Cigna/Expressscripts has actually sued the FTC for libel over the market study it conducted, in which the agency described in pitiless, factual detail how Cigna was ripping us all off. The case is being fought by a low-level Reagan-era monster named Rick Rule, whom Stoller characterizes as a guy who "hangs around in bars and picks up lonely multi-national corporations" (!!).

The libel claim is a nonstarter, but it's still wild. It's like one of those movies where they want to show you how bad the cockroaches are, so there's a bit where the exterminator shows up and the roaches form a chorus line and do a kind of Busby Berkeley number:

https://www.46brooklyn.com/news/2024-09-20-the-carlton-report

So here we are: the FTC has set out to euthanize some rentiers, ridding the world of a layer of useless economic middlemen whose sole reason for existing is to make pharmaceuticals as expensive as possible, by colluding with the pharma cartel, the insurance cartel and your boss. This conspiracy exists in plain sight, hidden by the Shield of Boringness. If I've done my job, you now understand how this MEGO scam works – and if you forget all that ten minutes later (as is likely, given the nature of MEGO), that's OK: just remember that this thing is a giant fucking scam, and if you ever need to refresh yourself on the details, you can always re-read this post.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[salmonskinrolltf]

Soulmates 2

[Here's a sequel of sorts to my previous story Soulmates (you don't need to have read it to understand this story). With thanks to @guytransformedforever, @beardobession, @tf-vigilante, @maletransformationlover, @clevertreephilosopher, @scorpionofredsand, and @maletffanatic for providing the photos used as inspiration.]

Hello, my name is Tyler. This is me:

And this is my roommate, Dylan:

Now look, I don’t have a problem with gay people. My cousin is a lesbian. And Dylan is a great roommate. Stays out of my way when we’re not gymming together, but is always down to hang when I need someone to talk to. I just wish he would be less in my face with all his gay shit. Rainbow flags everywhere, blasting Ariana Grande at all hours, constantly bringing new Grindr hookups back to the apartment but giving me side-eye when I ogle women. It’s just… too much for me.

Here’s the thing. I might actually be able to change that. I have this friend Evan, who I’ve wingmanned for on a few occasions over the past year. One night, when we were getting drunk together, he shared his secret with me. He has a magic gift. He clasped my hand and said “tomorrow, you will wake up and have this magic too.” And sure enough, the next day I could feel a tingle coursing through my veins, and I automatically had the knowledge of how to channel it.

Now I have the ability to change somebody’s future. I can’t fiddle with anything that’s innate or has already happened to them. Like, I can’t just make Dylan straight. But I can shape his future decisions or actions, and my magic will make alterations to speed the process along. Like if I made him decide to work out more, he would basically become a muscle beast within the week. Not that I’d do that. I still gotta be the alpha here. I just want to make him a little more… palatable. Someone cool to kick back with all the time, even if he sucks dick. Let’s see... I think I know what will work.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL BECOME OBSESSED WITH SPORTS

———————————

Hello, my name is Dylan:

Sports are my LIFE. I never cared about them much growing up, but about a month ago I felt the urge to join my local queer volleyball team and never looked back. It became my everything. It’s been great exercise, but on top of playing volleyball and getting totally jacked off of it, I’ve loved the sense of camaraderie. I love my team. So much so that I even pierced my nipples on a dare when we lost the semifinals. My teammate River also recommended I stop dyeing my hair, and I think the look is really working for me. For some reason, even though it’s only been a month, my hair has grown out significantly since then. Was the red dye stunting its growth or something? Anyway. I also feel like my roommate Tyler and I have really bonded. We’ve been watching baseball games together and I think he appreciates how into it I am. He says he’s excited to bro out while watching football together in the fall.

I love Tyler, but here’s the thing. Maybe I love him too much. I’ve always had this huge crush on him, and no matter how many random Grindr hookups I try to distract myself with, I just can’t stop hoping that one day he’ll give up women for good and decide he loves me. Especially now that we’re spending all this time together, bumping chests when our team wins and shit.

I know us getting together is never going to happen, but I have this… temptation. I was born with a gift. Or maybe I wasn’t. Something my twink friend Paul told me made me think maybe he had something to do with it. Anyway, I have the ability to reshape someone’s past. I change just one thing about their past, and everything about their present just ripples forward to reflect that change. It’s a delicate art. Changing something big can have huge effects that are totally unpredictable. It’s a major temptation to make Tyler gay, but who knows how he’d turn out. Plus, I think that’s just too invasive.

But… Maybe I could change something small about him. Something that would make him less my type, and allow me to move on and focus on finding a boyfriend who would actually be into me. I’m into nice guys. I really love how kind and caring he is. And come on, he’s a FIREFIGHTER. So maybe I can try…

TYLER GREW UP SELFISH AND SPOILED

———————————

What’s up, I’m Tyler.

You dig the jacket? Yeah, I’m still a firefighter, I’m just off duty. But babes dig whatever look I rock, you know what I mean? I get what I want, and what I want is a lot of one night stands. I know how to get ‘em, too. I’m so glad I made the decision to grow this beard out a year ago, it’s opened so many doors for me. And opened a lot of legs.

I’m getting what I want from Dylan, too. Finally, I have a roommate who’s willing to grab brews and watch the game with me. But I think I fucked up when I changed him. Queer volleyball isn’t exactly “sports,” at least not in my book. I thought he’d come out like a linebacker or something! I mean, nipple rings were never part of the plan. The gay guys seem to really go for them, too, so he’s got an even steadier stream of Grindr hookups coming in and out of the place.

On top of that, I’m a little sick of his shit. He’s always giving me lip about stupid stuff like leaving my dishes in the sink or dropping my unwashed uniform on the bathroom floor. He says it’s unsanitary. Like his parade of twinks aren’t dying to sniff that shit anyway. He just doesn’t get it. I think his volleyball teammates are a bad influence too. They’re all so obsessed with aesthetic and anti-hetero rhetoric. I still can’t make him straight, but I can definitely make him less… annoying.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL START HANGING OUT WITH MORE STRAIGHT PEOPLE WHO WILL HELP HIM STOP WORRYING ABOUT STUPID SHIT AND BE LESS PRISSY, WELL-GROOMED, AND UPTIGHT

———————————

Yo, I’m Dylan.

Yeah, I cut my hair shorter than the last time you saw me. The upkeep was just getting to be too much, y’know? A couple weeks ago, about the time I dumped that lame-ass volleyball team I was on, I just got bored with shaving every day, too. I invested in a trimmer and now I rock the stubble look, and it’s working for me. I’ve gained a bit of weight since then, and it’s all for the better because I joined my local football league. Having a few extra beers with my new buds afterward just adds to my potential as a linebacker, anyway.

I thought hanging out with more straight people would make me get used to their vibe and kinda inoculate me against Tyler, but I’m still totally obsessed with him. He’s more of a bad boy now, but I’m finding that less unappealing than I used to. Plus, he’s still parading around in his uniform all the time. I can’t help it! I’ve jerked off more times that I can count to his Mr. June photos in the local firefighter calendar.

Whenever I see his mom, she’s constantly going on about how, out of all his Tonka toys growing up, the fire truck was always his favorite. She thinks that’s why he grew up to be a firefighter. Maybe I can change that core memory into something a little more… disreputable. That would definitely make him not my type anymore. I hope.

TYLER’S FAVORITE TOY GROWING UP WAS A TONKA MOTORCYCLE

———————————

Fuckin’ A, man, I’m Tyler.

God, I love my hog. She’s a beaut, ain’t she? My parents wanted me to grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer or a firefighter or some shit, but all I ever wanted to do was ride my hog. Chicks want to ride my hog too, and I let them. As long as they don’t go near my bike! Hahaha, get it? Fuck, I love life. Let me take another drag on this stogie real quick.

Where was I? Oh yeah, my roommate, Dylan. I wish I didn’t have to room with anyone, but my boss at the garage keeps refusing to promote me. I should knock him around one of these days, see if that changes his mind. Anyway, sure, Dylan isn’t so much of a priss anymore. He doesn’t give me shit if I leave my grease-stained clothes on the couch or light up when we’re watching a football game.

But I wanted him to be straight-acting, you know? I tried to train him up as my wingman but he wore a super gay shirt with all these see-through holes to the party, and all the chicks kept their eyes on him the whole time! Fucker. Why can’t he be more like his brother? I’ve seen pictures. That dude is a full on redneck slob, got a Confederate tattoo and everything. I know they had the same backwater-ass trailer trash upbringing, why can’t he be rougher around the edges? You know what… maybe he can!

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL REALIZE HE WANTS TO EMBRACE HIS WHITE TRASH UPBRINGING

———————————

Hey y’all, I’m Dylan.

Hoo-ee, life has been good lately. I dunno why I resisted my good ol’ boy roots for so long. This goatee really makes me look rugged, dunnit? Also the chest hair. So grabbable. I decided to stop shaving my body, and poof! There it went. A full rug, within like two days I reckon. Like a sign from God. This is how I was always meant to be.

I know I was trying to push away my crush on Tyler by making him not my type, but what’s the fuckin’ point? I need someone who can handle me, and this hot as fuck biker dude I’ve created might be the only one who can handle me at this point. I ride ‘em rough and bareback, just like the horses back home, and weak city dudes just can’t handle it.

Will he be the same if he’s not straight? Maybe not. But as long as he can take my eight inches, I’ll keep him around. I vaguely remember having some sort of compunction about changing him so drastically, but I’m too horny to remember what it was.

Fuck it.

TYLER WAS BORN GAY

———————————

Uh… hi. I’m Tyler. Who are you again?

Sorry, I’m pretty forgetful. Daddy Dylan says I don’t gotta remember shit though, as long as I let him ride me as rough and as long as he likes. He’ll do all the rest for me. He tells me where to go, what to do, who to do. There are so many nice, hot guys who are willing to pay our rent if I turn a few tricks. I love it.

I’ve been like this as long as I can remember. My mom and dad kicked me out when I was 18, in my senior year of high school. I was caught sucking my English teacher’s dick behind the locker rooms. I never went to college after that, but it’s not like I was getting good grades anyway. Sucking Mr. Brentmon’s cock wasn’t for my health, you know. He had a nice juicy one, too. I still dream about it sometimes.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, I took up with this biker gang for a while after getting kicked out. I’ve always had a thing for bikers. But once they got through using my ass, they got bored. It was hard for a while, but now things are oh, so easy. I get all the dick I could ever want. I have a roof over my head, and no job to worry about. All I do is go to the gym and eat and fuck and I never have to think. Dylan said he might take me out muddin’ sometime too. I don’t know what that is, but anything Dylan does is fun. Fuck, I love the way his goatee tickles my skin when he kisses me, so rough, so manly. Way manlier than I’ve ever been. It’s so fucking hot. I love how he takes care of me.

I really have no complaints. I wouldn’t change anything about my life, even if I could remember how…

[httpiastri]

literally any driver: burying head in crook of neck, night kisses and shutting the other up with kisses

lacii my love <3<3 did this with lando, hope that's fine! merry christmas again, and i hope you enjoy this!! 😁

"lando, did i tell you about that time when i first met my friend clara?" the words are flowing out of your mouth like you're spitting bars. your boyfriend doesn't even get a chance to answer your question before you've started talking again. "oh my god, it's a great story. you'll love it. so, i was in a french class when my other friend, sarah-"

lando is smiling subconsciously as you ramble on about your adventures, just as you have ever since he picked you up from the club. his fingers help you slip out of your heels – not that you even seem to understand what's going on, way too focused on speaking – before one of his hands lands on your waist. he takes a deep breath to keep his composure and hold back the laughter threatening to burst from his chest at your continuous gibberish, before he guides you to his bedroom with soft touches. he chuckles quietly at the way you almost take the wrong turn and end up in his kitchen, too engaged in your storytelling to remember the layout of his apartment. he isn't surprised, though, because;

alcohol always makes you blabber.

in most situations, you're not the most talkative, preferring to choose your moments to speak with great care. but when you start to get tipsy, it is like you are the world's greatest extrovert. even after getting just a little alcohol in your system, you talk to anyone with ears, somehow assuming that they're really interested in whatever you're ranting about.

thankfully, if you have your friends around, they usually drag you away by your arm, apologizing to the poor stranger to whom you've over-explained the storyline of your favorite movie.

lando learned about this side effect of your drinking early on in your relationship. on your third date, after sharing a few drinks at a local bar, you wouldn't shut up for half an hour, not giving him a second to interject with anything. he'd been surprised, but mostly confused, until he got your text message the following morning: oh my god, i did it... didn't i?

he'd tried to pretend he didn't know what you meant, wanting to put it all behind you, but you'd persisted. i didn't shut up. i never do when i drink. i'm sorry :(

lando was always one to be quick to forgive and forget, not wanting you to feel too bad. everyone does some questionable things when drunk, and he'd seen tons of people act worse than you did. but after that date, there would be uncountably many more occasions of you not being able to hold back when booze was in the picture. award shows, drinking games at home with friends, podium celebrations. once, he even found you outside a club after a race, sitting on the curb with one of your hands petting a stray dog as your other helped you explain the meaning of life. safe to say, he is used to your habits by now.

so tonight, when he picked you up from your night out with a few of your friends, he wasn't surprised that your mouth didn't shut once during the trip back to his apartment. you were excitedly telling him about the people you'd met and the drinks you'd had, so eager to explain every detail to your boyfriend when you were getting into the car that you forgot about everything around you and he had to lean across the console to put on your seatbelt for you.

most of the time, he finds your habit endearing. but sometimes, like right now, it gets just a little tiresome.

"and then, when jamie came around, she was like, what are you doing?, and i was like, i'm just having some fun!"

you're both sitting on the edge of his bed by now, after lando's helped you change into something more comfortable for the night, your mouth still running like you're one of the gilmore girls. you don't even flinch when his hands reach for your cheeks and he stares intently in your eyes – but he can't do anything other than smile.

lando loves your voice. he loves it when you're whispering something in his ear when you're out with friends, when you're ranting to him about some stupid coworker, and maybe especially when you're moaning and whining his name.

but now, he reckons you've talked enough for today. your vocal cords must be sore, and his ears are about to fall off, so it's time to call it a night – and he only sees one way to shut you up.

mid-sentence, lando leans in, pressing his lips to yours. he swallows the yelp you let out in surprise, one of his hands gliding to the back of your neck to keep you close. it doesn't take long for you to relax into the kiss, your lips moving with his while your hands reach for the neckline of his hoodie.

it's so easy to get lost in kissing lando. when he parts the kiss, you find yourself wanting to seal your lips again, already missing the feeling. your mind is now completely blank; all you can think of is the kiss. the man beside you laughs at your hazy expression, utterly amused by how you're suddenly quiet for more than five seconds (something he's sure hasn't happened yet tonight).

when you slowly open your eyes, the very content look on lando's face makes something click in your mind. he sudden kiss, his big grin...

"was i rambling again?"

the silence that follows gives you your answer, and you throw your head back as you let out a little groan. "hey, don't worry about it."

"i really didn't mean to. you know how it is, it just happens, and i don't really feel it as it happens, you know? it's just, the alcohol, it's not my intention. i actually told sarah today that-"

and for the second time, lando pulls you into him, quieting you down with his own lips. this time, as you (for the most part) understand what he's doing, you can't help but giggle into the kiss. your boyfriend matches your smile, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as a joking warning. he lets it flop back against your teeth as he pulls away to look at you again, but you've already lunged forward, head resting against his shoulder.

"i'm sorry," you start, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. "i really am."

his arms snake around your waist before he leans back against the bed, pulling you down with him and into his side. "don't be," he answers, one of his hands reaching up to the back of your head, stroking your hair. "it's cute. you're cute." you continue hiding in his skin and he makes himself more comfortable in bed, pulling the blanket over you both. "we'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

he feels you shake your head. "i'm done talking. i've talked enough. you know those tiktok videos where you only have a certain amount of words you're allowed to say every year? that's me. i've run out of words, i used them all today."

"oh yeah, i can tell," lando chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "close your eyes, baby. tell me about those tiktok videos tomorrow."

"didn't you hear me? i said no more words. i won't talk tomorrow because-"

lando sighs. it's going to be a long night.

[alottiegoingon]

art fair

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: jackie taylor is the elementary school's art teacher.

warnings: too much fluff, jackie and reader being adorable, not proofread

you weren't expecting to stay for any longer than five days this time. that was the initial plan and the words you had said to your parents on the phone before you arrived to wiskayok, new jersey.

the second high school was over, you took the first bus to new york and never looked back. okay, never was a strong word. despite the strong feeling you had to free yourself from the place where you had an awful time in high school, sometimes you would come back to visit your family and your sister, in special.

not wanting to miss her growing up, you had to work extra shifts on the bookstore to pay for a decent looking car, capable of going back and forth from new jersey to new york twice in a month.

now, it was an special occasion. for her 8th birthday, you promised her that you would spend the week in your family home and spend time doing fun things. and by fun things, she meant fun things for her.

the first thing you were asked as soon as you put your feet inside was "what did you get me?"

after wishing your sister a happy birthday and watching her open her present, you sink into the couch with drowsy eyes after some good two hours driving, feeling exhausted. you were so tired that you weren't even paying attention to what the small human full of energy was chattering around you.

"what do you think we should do first? we can go roller skating!"

"bug, i hate roller skating. you know that." god, you remember the last time you fell on your face. you wore a purple eyes for weeks.

"...or we could go get me new books! mom promised me you would go out with me." she keeps talking, not paying attention to you. that was going to be a very long week.

the very next day, you could barely open your eyes when your sister forced you to wake up early and drive her to school, affirming that it was part of the birthday package you promised her even though you didn't actually recall that

[🎨]

you had the brilliant idea to go straight home after dropping the kid at school and sleep for the rest of the day. or until she got home with quick loud steps and a vibrant high-pitched voice.

your great idea fell apart when you were effectively blackmailed by a tiny human dragging you to her classroom, excited to show you everything. you weren’t even sure if you were allowed in there but you followed her anyway.

"that's cool, bug! you did that?" you encouraged her regardless of the many screams of the other kids hurting your ears, right after seeing the paint strokes in a small canvas forming the figure of a person. for a eight year old, the kid had some actual talent. it was better than what you could do.

she nods, extremely proud of herself. "ms. taylor is teaching us how to paint for next week's art fair. you’re coming, right?"

five days. five days was all you could do. it was a pain in the ass to convince your boss to let you skip work for a week and you only managed to do it cause she was a friend of the family. more than that and you would turn into a jobless woman.

“i’ll see what i can do, alright?” you get on your knees to match her height. “now i’m gonna go home and later we can watch…” your voice trails off when your attention is stolen by a woman entering the classroom.

wearing baggy and colorful clothes with glasses that made her look even more attractive, she had a few books threatening to fall from her hands and loose paper sheets. nothing like the old women you used to have for a teacher when you were young.

“good morning, party people! sorry i’m late today.” she doesn’t seem to notice you, too busy and overwhelmed while organizing her desk. she was probably used to be surrounded by loud gremlins all the time, you thought.

she was about to say something but her lips closed after not even a second, knitted brows and an uncertain but polite grin painted on her face. “oh, and i think we have a visitor today.”

and your world fully stops when she looks at you. flushed cheeks as you were practically drooling.

“that’s my sister, she's visiting for my birthday!” the little one fills the awkward silence, not looking like she cares about your unexpected loss of words.

“aw, this is so sweet.” she frowns for a second and all of sudden, her eyes are on you “and are you having a good time down there?” she chuckles, causing your heart to skip a beat, and only then you notice your knees hurting. you were still on the floor, looking like a full time idiot. you hear the other kids the room laughing as well.

“yeah, i was just… tying her shoes.” you stand on your feet as quickly as possible, nearly losing balance.

“no, you weren’t. my shoes don’t have-.” your hand flies over your sister direction to cover her mouth.

your legs were feeling like thin sticks as you walked towards the light haired woman, extending your hand to her. “hi, sorry.” you said falteringly.

“it’s all good. i like to stay on the floor sometimes too.” she offers you an empathetic smile. “i’m jackie.” she finally shakes your hand.

“jackie.” you echo her, subtly shaking your head. it felt like you were absorbing her name into your soul. even her name sounded like something that could be in a movie. “hi. i’m-“

“i know. your sister talks a lot about you. but i guess i wasn’t expecting you to be like this.” you freeze again.

“like what?" your voice trembles as you ask.

she didn’t say anything but you feel her eyes wandering around you while she smiles.

jackie gave you an excuse, apologizing for interrupting the conversation but emphasizing how she desperately needed to start the class. she was already late and you felt bad for taking so much of her time.

“it was nice to finally meet you.” is all she says and you made sure to say it back. before walking through the door, you quickly wave at your sister, not wanting to disrupt them anymore.

you immediately gave up on the idea of sleeping for the entire day. how could you when you had just met jackie taylor?

overthinking everything was like a piece of cake for you, as easy as blinking. but it wasn't hard to overthink things when jackie's first impression of you was probably a terrible one, knees on the floor and making a fool of yourself.

you were happy to welcome your sister back home from school, disregarding the fact that she told your parents that you were drooling over her art teacher on your damn knees. how can kids remember so much?

wanting to know more about her very interesting teacher, with ice cream for dinner, you succeeded in finding out that jackie taylor wasn't a married woman.

"why do you wanna know that?" you struggle to understand the few mumbles thanks to her stuffing her mouth with ice cream.

"okay, i think you had enough." you whisper, slowly moving the bowl away and ignoring her question.

[🎨]

for the next two days, between a bookstore visit or going out for ice cream, you would give jackie taylor a thought. not because you cared or was interested, of course, you were just curious. and you wanted to fix the impression you made on her.

"are you driving me today?" was the question you were asked every morning.

too tired, too sleepy, too early, bad headache, terrible cramps. were all the excuses you gave her so you could have a few more hours of sleep. until the third day.

"school is starting soon!"

"hmm, i don't know if i'm taking you... i'm feeling so-"

"ms. taylor's class is the first one today." you notice her playful tone. she knew you too well.

"good. i'm actually feeling so good today." fast as the wind, you shoot out of the bed.

"you don't have to walk me there anymore. i'm not a baby." the eight year old complains as she notices you following her inside.

"sure, i know. i just wanna make sure you're safe." that wasn't a full lie. yes, you were looking forward to talk to jackie again, but you still cared about your sister.

[🎨]

you were fifteen minutes earlier that the actual class time and by the time you walk into the room, jackie was already there. with your sister going straight to talk to her friends, that was your chance.

"good morning." you timidly knock on the halfway open door, not wanting to scare her.

"hello there!" jackie closes the book that was laying on her big desk in front of her, fixing her gaze on you. lips curving upward. "not tying any shoes this morning?" standing up, she adjusts her slightly crooked glasses as she watches you get closer.

"not today, no. too hard to find any customers." you join her tease, feeling like you have been blessed as she laughs.

"you should try the art exhibition next week. lots of shoes to tie in there." you caught yourself thinking that she may be flirting with you but maybe you were just going crazy for drinking so much coffee lately.

"i would love to tie some stranger's shoes on a school event." playing along, all you could think was that you urgently had to stay for more than just five days. time to beg your boss twice.

"nice! i'll see you there, then." about to end the conversation, jackie's smile widens and the simple act almost makes you fall on your knees again.

"actually..." you fight to not stumble over your words as you create the fastest excuse ever to see her again. "my sister and i are going out for roller skating tomorrow. you should join us."

jackie's gaze lifts back at you, eyebrows raising in curiosity.

"why should i?" she had the casual smirk adorning her face, probably enjoying this entire situation much more than you.

"because... we're going to a park nearby and there's a few tables in there. what's greater to an art teacher than a pretty view to paint?" you were quite proud of how quick your mind worked.

jackie seems to take a brief moment to think about your words, even though she had already made her mind minutes ago.

"it's a deal."

"what? you hate skating. remember when you had a purple eye? that was funny." you turn around to find your sister standing by the door, giggling at the memory of your swollen face. jesus, for how long she was in there?

[🎨]

you met jackie at the park after spending the entire day double-checking your helmet and all of your safety equipment. you couldn't afford to fall again. not this time.

with a huge bag and many art supplies, jackie carefully placed everything on the picnic table while being squeezed in a hug by your sister. the first thing you noticed was how jackie dressed the exact same way out of school. free of any boring clothes and with no glasses this once.

"you actually came." you shyly mirror her grin.

"of course i did. i need to paint something for the fair and i thought that the good old blue sky and pretty trees would do the job."

"so an empty canvas is what made you come?" nervously, your eyes dart back and forth at the brushes on the pine table and her eyes.

"not just that. i think the companny is pretty rad too."

after feeding the ducks with your sibling, you joined jackie by sitting in front of her. she appeared to be so relaxed even when being so gentle and cautious with the paint. you couldn't help but feeling at ease as well.

"found something worthy of being painted by you?"

jackie looks at you over the canvas with rosy cheeks and a contented smirk, affirming with her head. "i think i did."

"it's nice of you to stay longer." her narrowed focused eyes are back on her work, sometimes meeting yours.

you didn't remember telling jackie that it wasn't on your initial plan to stay that long and as if she was capable of reading minds, she snorts before explaining herself.

"she told me you wouldn't be here for the art exhibition." her head points at your sister, skating around the small lake.

"she really does talk a lot about me." you joke, referring to what jackie said when you first met her.

"why did you?" eyes locked on the piece of work, jackie tries to sound unbothered.

"stay longer?" she agrees silently.

"i figured that i really like art. and i couldn't miss such an important event for her."

"so your love for art was what made you stay?" jackie questioned and, once or twice, you would catch her more concerned glance at you.

"not just that. i think the art teacher is pretty rad too."

in the middle of longing stares and jackie blushing for the first time, you hear a childish voice calling you.

"aren't you coming? you're so boring!"

snapping out of the jackie taylor effect, you realized that you still haven't fulfilled your promise to skating with your sister.

jackie, not worried about the painting anymore, quickly put on her rollers with a huge beaming expression. without a single effort to stay still on those things, you became aware of how experienced she was.

"come on, i'll help you out." standing in front of you, she offers you a hand and you don't wait much to accept it.

[🎨]

you were a nervous wreck when the big day came and it wasn't even your works that were going to be exposed to people. in honor of jackie, you tried to wear something formal like a nice looking suit and elegant shoes. a bit too much for a simple school event but it was much more than that to you.

at school, you were surrounded by an impressive quantity of paintings already framed on walls. some of them were adorable, made by younger students.

being pulled by your sleeves, you spend a few minutes in the area where your sibling's works were hanging in and seeing her so happy made you pleased to your decision to stay.

with a single poppy in hands, you find jackie talking to someone, probably a parent. at the exact moment your eyes met, she quickly excuse herself from the conversation to walk towards you with energetic steps.

"all of this looks amazing. you look amazing." is all you can say, not caring about the ear to ear grin on your lips.

"hi! you look great too. i like the suit. so fancy." her hand tenderly brushes over your shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of your clothes.

"it's a special occasion, right? and, here, i got you something."

jackie's face radiates happiness at the second she sees her favorite flower being handled to her, eyes sparkling at you.

"thank you! how did you know i like them?" she tucks the flower into her hair, prettier than ever.

"you know, she talks a lot." you two share a laugh. "aren't you gonna show me your work?"

as her silky hands covered your eyes from behind you, she guides you to the wall with all of her artworks.

"you ready?" your nod in response and she let go of your eyes.

as soon as you open them, one specific framed canvas catches your attention. it was jackie's first view from when she was sitting at the picnic table the other day. you and your sister feeding the ducks on the lake, with the exact same clothes you were wearing. there was no doubt.

"jackie..." you gasp, stunned, jaw almost hitting the floor.

"you like it? i thought it would be something worthy to paint." she's nervous. you can hear her shaky voice as she speaks.

instead of saying something, you spin around to face jackie behind you. with trembling hands, you trace her jawline before pulling her in for a kiss.

you were a big fan of art now.

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a perfect night to spend with Jungkook and his mom, though you are nervous Jungkook helps you to calm down but after a few hours the things take a toll on you both .

PAIRINGS: FWB TO LOVERS (rockstar Jungkook x Reader)

WORD COUNT:2.1k

WARNINGS: AGNST, SMUT, FLUFF at the end kind of not really...? also Jungkook rides a bike, has a beef with his brother. Reader slaps Jungkook once .

SMUT WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, Fingering in elevator, oral m,f , missionary, cream pie as always, fingering, so many kisses, squirting, making a sex tape for like 2 minutes?

A/N: oh god 3D jungkook has an effect on me you guys I hope you enjoy this . As always please like, comment, follow and reblog sweet pies. <3

“I don’t know Jungkook are you sure about it?” You ask nervous about the fact he had invited you to his mother's birthday party. 

“I’m sure baby, please come. I'm sure she would love to have you there, also wanna have champagne confetti there?”He said and you just know he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fine kook I’ll get ready. Can you come and pick me up, also I’m always up for it��You answer him chuckling right away.

“Yeah, baby I’ll be there in a few get ready yeah baby, and great.” Saying goodbye, he hangs up. 

Present

You get ready soon after his call doing a slight makeup, hair styled in wavy curls and wearing a new dress you saved for a special occasion the dress ends right above your knees. 

There was a knock you heard while wearing your black heels. Opening the door, you meet with the site of Jungkook dressed in a suit his hair-sleeked blazer resting in his hands and a few buttons unbuttoned. 

“Hey pretty girl, you ready?” Jungkook whispered while extending his right hand, nodding at him you allow him to guide you to His bike. “Hop on pretty girl,”he says giving you a helmet. Make sure to not ruin your hair. 

“Hold on tight baby,” he says starting his bike, the speed of his bike fastened while you reach the venue safely “Kook I’m nervous what will she think about us,”you say nervously while jungkook walks you into the elevator“Relax she is gonna love you,”he says huffing out a chuckle “I’m just stressed,” you say entering the lift and staying by the railing. 

“Can I do something to make you relax baby?”Jungkook says pressing his body to yours “Jungkook you crazy” you answer not believing him “Come on y/n we’re going 28, you’ve got 25 floors to come” he heaved “fuck go for it, kook” you say his fingers coming up to circle your clit rubbing them in eight shapes and inserting his fingers “cum baby” he said while you whined “oh my god gonna cum” you say slightly griping his blazer not wanting to ruin it. 

“Gonna cum jungkook” you moaned yeah’s leaving your mouth soon cumming on his fingers and removing them he sucks on them “mm came so much” he teases you “Shut up let’s go”You kiss his cheeks. 

While the elevator Dings and opens to the Room directly, holding his hands he guides you to meet his Mom woah she looks amazing you say loudly in your mind “Hi, good evening Mrs. Jeon, Happy Birthday” you say a bit cheerful “Oh hello dear and Thank you so much” she says hugging you both “Son make her comfortable all right?” She stated “Yes Mom don’t worry”Jungkook exclaimed. 

Now both you and jungkook and his mother were sitting on the sofa chatting about the new song he was going to release “Hey Kook let her listen to the song you going to release”you say excitedly “ Yes here you go Mom”he smiled. 

In the middle of the song buzzing he gladly told his mother to dance with him “Oh Mom, I love you” The room was completely filled with laughs and giggles while saw them happily dancing while his mother called you too “Come here honey, join us” she says forwarding her right hand accepting it you both started dancing “oh twirl sweetie “she says while Jungkook stood there looking at both of you with a wide grin. 

“Oh, looks like someone is having a great time over here”Then there came someone whom Jungkook wished never to see. His older brother. While you squeaked a tiny “hi” to him. Jungkook stopped the music looking at his mother “Mom? You said it was going to be only us, didn’t you?” He hounded “I said it because I knew if I told you he was going to come you wouldn’t have come here” she said grabbing his arm “Leave Mom I don’t wanna stay” he said removing her hands, Jungkook eyes his brother “Oh she’s the new one kook? Good taste indeed” his brother laughs “You always bring someone new, you going to push her off too soon? Using her just for her body, right?”He says with a whiskey glass in his hand “Baby get your purse we are leaving” Jungkook warns “Did I get on your nerves, Kook, you had one girl, but it was too boring right? So two girls are cool for you?”  His brother laughed away. 

It happens really quickly Jungkook grabs the glass from which he was drinking and hits him luckily his brother misses it his mother yells “Jungkook are you crazy?” She says raising her voice, never batting an eye he grabs you by your hand while you stand still scared “y/n get it together let’s go” he growls. 

Getting back to your senses you “Jungkook are you fucking stupid? What would have happened if it would have fucking hit your brother?” You bombard him with questions only to receive a low groan “fuck”. 

Jungkook had it even with you asking him questions “Y/n can you shut the fuck up, please?” He says pinning you to the elevator railing and grabbing your cheeks making your lips pout out. “Be quiet, can you? I know what I did” Shutting you up you were scared to see Jungkook like this.

Exiting the elevator you follow Jungkook who is walking at a fast pace “Jungkook wait” you call out “Walk fast y/n we are going back to my place” he says handing you the helmet “Jungkook no, you need to tell me first what the fuck happened up there” you exclaimed, oh boy that was his last straw “fuck y/n can you not stay calm for a fucking second I know what I did and who are you to ask me this stuff you're not my girlfriend and that’s right I keep you for your body , and your acting as if you didn’t knew I have many girls , you anyways will get boring ” he exclaimed, hearing this made your blood boil you slap him across his face and leaving from there. 

Tears run from your eyes, and you call for a taxi you go home crying, you and Jungkook were fuck buddies but staying with him didn’t feel like you were just using your bodies, you went on dates, play dates with bam, showering together, hell you both have gotten so close to each other he has a fucking tattoo of your initials( “or maybe it was just an illusion, and it's just the initial letter of all his fucks”) on his Adonis belt and the aftercare made you more than just fuck buddies.

Reaching home, you unlock the door and collapse on your knees you cry loudly when you hear a continuous ring of the bell and a loud banging noise. “Open the door baby I know you in there, I’m sorry baby, and I know I messed up listen to me, will you?” Jungkook banged harder and pushed open the door finally, instantly getting on his knees hugging you.

“Baby I’m sorry I didn’t mean that at all baby” Jungkook said kissing your forehead you cried harder in his arms “That really hurt Jungkook, you saying you use me just for your pleasure hurt me like shit I know that’s the point of our deal but still” you speak in between the sobs. “I know baby I’m sorry I really didn’t mean it, you can yell at me, curse me, just don’t leave me” he says his face levelling yours while you slightly chuckle at him through tears.

You slightly peck his lips not intending on making it last longer, but Jungkook grabbed your chin and kissed you roughly the kiss soon turned into make out when he carefully takes you in his arms and kisses you.

He lays you down on your bed coming to kiss your neck leaving wet kisses and also sucking on few hickeys on his way down towards your pussy. Fuck you were already wet, his fingers soon finding your clit he groans “Fuck baby wet already?” He says rubbing them over your panties. Going face to face he removes your panties whining when he sees your slick connecting a string to your panties.

“Fuck Jungkook I’m so wet need your fingers now” you grab onto his hair already whining “yeah baby? Moan my name I like it when you say it” he smiles teasing is finger in your pink hole “mm put it in” demanding he inserts one “what a sight y/n” teasing you with his long fingers he fastens the speed hitting your g-spot making you moan loudly “kook right there” you say, “here baby?” He asks making sure just to hit the spot right after.

The feeling of his fingers inside you was overwhelming “too much” you whine when his tongue comes to press kisses on your clit “no kook sensitive” you cry “No y/n it’s never too much cum, pretty baby going to squirt?” He teases you knowing damn well Jungkook and his work with his fingers “cumming Jungkook” you say while squirting all over his fingers “that’s write made you a fucking mess” he growls.

Hovering over you his slick covered fingers make way in your mouth you suck like how suck his pretty cock removing his cloths his cock was now out of the boxers the tip swollen and red begging for attention when you slightly palm him.

Pushing him you were the one on top of him kissing him on the cheeks you make your way to his abs licking them and laying kisses all over them and pressing bunch of kisses on were your initials are tattooed “Fuck kook they look so hot every-time I see them” you moan now giving attention to his cock “take it in your mouth baby "you palm him giving kitten licks on the tip and fastening your pace “ oh shit” Jungkook groans his head moving backwards because of pleasure while your left hand comes near his to choke him  while hand hands make a ponytail for you hair  Such a head pusher “ fuck y/n, no baby going To cum inside you” he says swatting your hands in few seconds .

“Come on sit up on the bed yeah show me that pussy again yes baby?” He says while you’re slightly confused while he goes and grabs his phone asking for your consent “can I baby?” He asks while you verbally consent him “yeah go-ahead kook” his fingers coming back to your pussy he slightly rubs in between your lips while you grab in his palm telling him to touch you there, and he angles his phone perfectly “oh yeah kook” you murmur “moan baby moan” he praises you. Your pussy makes wet sloppy noises.

You grab on his hard on gently circling his tip. “Now want you inside kook” you say grabbing his phone and throwing at the end of the bed “hm lay on your back come on ready for some real champagne and confetti? “He asks giggling.  “Yeah, always ready for it” Missionary his favourite

Jungkook rubs his swollen tip sliding them in your pussy lips to wet himself enough to not hurt you. “Fuck such a tight fit” mumbling he starts delivering rough thrusts while your pretty manicured nails claw on his shoulder, his fucking sliver necklace swinging in front of your face makes him look ten times hotter than he already is.

“Fuck Jungkook, so big” you moan getting closer to your orgasm “kook cumming” you say while he backs away to look at the creamy mess between you both the white ring of your slick makes him thrust back even further roughly “fuck y/n, love fucking your pussy, love you baby “in the heat of moment you say it back not minding while you both soon chase your orgasm.

He cums right after you pulling out to make a mess with his spilling cum pushing it inside. He backs away collapsing next to you while you hug with your legs tucked on his

“Did you mean what you said Jungkook because I meant what I said” you asked hoping he would mean it too “Yes baby I’ve been in love with you like forever now but I was bit scared to admit it” he says hugging you tightly. 

“And about what happened in the door don’t think about we usually never cross paths but yeah he did get on my nerves” he explains so you would calm down about the matter “But kook it would be really dangerous if it would hit him on the head,” you said worrying “yeah baby I know I’ll talk to mother tomorrow morning let’s sleep? I know you are tired” he tucks you down and kissed your lips. 

Good night baby …. Jungkook whispers slightly humming a tune good night Jungkook hugging out a breath. Jungkook is left there thinking all night about the events.

Taglist : @babybella337 , @jungk97kwife , @kimmingyuswifee .

[tideswept]

I ship obikin with my whole heart, but love the idea of Anakin getting seduced by a different Jedi Master much older than him. Like, one who doesn't have as many qualms about getting with a freshly knighted Anakin. And Obi-Wan going so insanely jealous because he already pushed Anakin away because it's inappropriate, wtf is going on fellow Jedi Masters?!?! Anyway, all that to ask, who's a hot jedi master you think would be perfect for seducing Anakin and triggering Obi-Wan's possessive side?

ooh this is toooough. Hm.

Don't think Vos would do it, he can be snarky, sure, but there's no way that man doesn't know that Obi-Wan would be giving him bitchy side eye (and remarks) for life if he did that. Kit might because he genuinely would think it would be A Good Idea (maybe even a favor of sorts for Obi-Wan; he'd treat Anakin right!) but maybe that paints him as a bit of a himbo 😂 who somehow hasn't picked up on how weird Obi-Wan and Anakin are about each other.

I thought about Ti and Billaba but no way they're that dumb as to not realize what a mess they'd be getting into, and for baby freshly knighted Anakin? Not worth the drama.

What I realized after a bit of thinking is that no one who was consistently in Coruscant while the Temple was treated to the Obi-Wan/Anakin shenanigans would be that oblivious/cruel/reckless. So I'm afraid it would have to be someone who probably spent the last ten years in the bumfuck middle of nowhere, probably up to their eyeballs researching some borderline extinct species of Force-sensitive sea slugs, has effectively been incommunicado except for the occasion reports they send back, and then ends up returning to Coruscant, sees Anakin and decides, yes, studying the borderline extinct Force-sensitive sea slugs was a great use of their time, but they deserve a lil' treat now. 😏

(Obi-Wan had kept up with the reports on the Borderline Extinct Force-Sensitive Sea Slugs and was looking forward to meeting up with this Master to discuss nerd things.)

(Emphasis on was.)

[marymary-diva17]

Hello there! How about something mixed of angst and wholesome?

Ronal births her third child [Y/N] , was a momentum occasion. But after the lose of neteyam, neytiri can't help but be a bit close to reader . Too close for ronal's comfort.

Thank you!! 💞💞💞

mother ronal x daughter reader + neytiri

avatar masterlist

A gift of a child could change anyone life upside down, but mostly when it came to a parent a new one or old one. As their lives will never be the same ever again. Mother was always the ones that seem to be great changed when it came to a child of their own or another child. The life of a child was something that was so precious and taken serious, but when it come sot a lost of a child there was grief that was will overcome a parent. This grief will sometimes change a parent and nothing will ever be the same again, now what does someone do when a grief as overtake a mother and brith of other child has overtaken another mother as well.

Ronal " thank you neytiri for watching over my daughter as I take some time off and work" ronal had given brith to her third child and she had become overwhelmed, and was seeking some help so went to neytiri. A women with many children and seem to have a good experience with dealing with so many children at once.

neytiri " sure it good to be helpful towards you ronal I will make sure the child is safe and well take care of"

ronal " thank you again so much" ronal had nodded her head she soon kissed her daughter goodbye before leaving, it seems like both mother had been affect by the major events of this week.

neytiri " it going to be okay young one" neytiri held you in her arms she was starting to remember the days when all her kids were, this small and so cute. It had been some time since she had laid her oldest son to rest, and she had become very affected by the whole matter.

neytiri " lets hope you don't have to face the hardships of war and the effects of the evil humans that come" since neteyam death neytiri had become more overprotective of her family, she didn't wish to lost anyone else to the demons.

neytiri " you remind me so much of my boy neteyam .... so fill with joy and wonder" you had looked at her giving neytiri and gummy smiling making her smile as well, she remembered when her kids use to smile at her like that.

neytiri " oh did y/n you are a child of the great mother who has blessed you into many people lives" neytiri was sitting down and play with you, watching you splash your hands in a puddle of water. The laughter of a child was something that could bring a smile to anyone at the moment.

neytiri " wait not put that down" neytiri saw you grab a bug as you were trying to eat it but, she had taken it out from your hands. This had made you look sad and soon tears starting coming down from your face.

neytiri " hush little one don't cry it okay it all okay little one" neytiri soon picked you up and started rocking you, trying to make you stop crying and making you happy again.

neytiri " it will be okay it will all be okay" neytiri soon stated signing a lullaby she knew from the forest, and it seems to making you clam down.

????? " neytiri" neytiri soon turned around and saw ronal standing there, it seems like ronal might of been there for a while now. So she saw and heard everything that had happen at the moment.

nwytiri " oh ronal"

ronal " I came to check on my daughter to see how everything was going, but it seems like it going well"

neytiri " ........"

ronal " ......." both mother were looking at each other not saying anything.

ronal " neytiri would you like to go for a walk"

neytiri " yes" the two women soon went for a walk ronal was now holding you in her arms, the two women walking with each other.

ronal " I want to say seeing you so close to my daughter make me uncomfortable"

neytiri " I'm sorry"

ronal " no I'm not mad I feel jealous since my daughter brith I feel like I can't connect with her, and the fear of losing her as well"

neytiri " a parent shouldn't have to lose a child"

ronal " I'm sorry for the death of your son he was a great boy and warrior as well"

neytiri " he was the best your daughter will be great one day, but I fear for her and all the children ... that this war will keep going on and ruin their lives that they wouldn't have normal lives anymore"

ronal " yes many lives had bene lost and destroyed"

neytiri " I wish the children will not have to live during a time of war, but I feel like that going to happen anyways"

ronal " as mother we have to protect our children but there are times, when we can't always keep them safe from harm" ronal ahd kissed your forehead and you were babbling about something.

ronal " my daughter will have to face war when she older and I don't, know how to explain everything that happing to her"

neytiri " you are not alone ronal I have faced that as well when the times comes you will tell her, and but when she older enough this all will be over and she will start the times of peace and harmony"

ronal " I hope so" Both women were sitting on the dock together walking and watching over you as you, were playing with some wooden toys.

neytiri " we are mother we will always love our children and do anything for them, I feel like I failed as mother my son dead"

ronal " you haven't failed neytiri you are good mother and maybe one day you will see him again, just because he no longer here he will never be forgotten" neytiri node her head towards ronal it seems like the two had bonded over something else, as they watched you play and smile. They were hoping that this war will end so all of their children will be safe form harm and that they can live normal lives, and bring back the peace and harmony to pandora.

sorry this request us late I have been busy with my life that I was held up on request, and I was working on other stuff as well.

[devildom-moss]

“I wanted to tell you first” (good) (the demon brothers)

What do the demon brothers go to MC first for? What is it that they desire to share with MC before anyone else?

(the demon brothers x gn!MC)

(suggestive for some of the brothers: Lucifer, Asmo, Beel)

Lucifer

You are the first to know when Lucifer obtains a new cursed record. Diavolo used to be the first to know and was occasionally the one who obtained the record for Lucifer, but now (much to Diavolo’s disappointment), Lucifer goes to you first. Unless the record is dangerous for humans, he’s excited for you to listen to it with him before he shows anyone else. Sometimes this can mean calling you into his study late at night so he can cherish a few moments alone with you. Until Lucifer can have you all to himself, he keeps the information about his new record a secret. The anticipation is subtly visible in him when he has to wait to listen to it with you. Sometimes, that means just being more lenient with his brothers, and other days, it elicits more laughter from him and sweet grins when he thinks no one else is looking.

“You seem to be in a good mood today, Lucifer. Did something happen?”

“You’re quite observant. Meet me in my room tonight after dinner.”

Lucifer will pull out a bottle of Demonus for the occasion. If you want it, he’ll have a short lecture about the origins of that particular cursed record – including the potential side-effects in case you decide you don’t want to risk it. He feels it is a necessity that you are prepared to enjoy the listening experience with him, especially for records that have aphrodisiac-like curse symptoms. Lucifer is always a bit horny for you, but if there is a chance he might want to pounce on you later and not be able to control his urges well, he’d rather you opt out early on and not have to see him like that. If you agree to stay, he asks you to spend the night every time.

Even if Lucifer has the opportunity to listen before he shares the record with you, if it’s a song or album he has never heard before (unless he needs to determine what the potential effects on you would be), he’ll wait to listen to it with you. If you ask him, he may tell you that he waited to listen with you, but he’s too embarrassed to admit how much he cherishes being able to share those firsts with you – especially considering how old he is. He never imagined he could still have so many firsts until he met you.

Mammon

Mammon comes to you first with almost any good news, but especially with news about getting good grades and other personal successes. Did he just win big at a casino? You’re the first one he tells. Who else would he want to spend his winnings on, anyway? Did he pass his last Devildom history exam with a B+? He rushes to find you and show you his exam paper with the biggest grin on his face. Did he score a modeling gig with one of his favorite brands (or better yet, one of your favorite brands)? He tells you as soon as he’s notified.

Mammon tends to preface his good personal news with “you’ll never guess what the Great Mammon did.” If he wasn’t smiling like a carefree fool, you might worry that he had gotten in trouble again. Although a quiet part of him believes that you really wouldn’t be able to guess what he accomplished because he isn’t exactly known for his vast array of successes, he craves your faith in him with his entire being. Mammon wants to surprise you with how good he’s doing for himself, but he also wants to impress you so much that you’ll never be shocked by his success. When it boils down, Mammon wants to make you proud of him. As such, he takes all his accomplishments directly to you. Lucifer is a close second, but the praise from his beloved brother could never compete with how he feels when you smile at him and tell him what a good job he has done.

Although he doesn’t mean to, sometimes after Mammon gives you the good news, he lowers his head slightly, eyes fixed on the floor, as if he’s waiting for you to pet him. If all you do is congratulate him, he will perk up and brag a bit (“Well, you are talking to the Great Mammon, after all.”). If you take the hint, his face will heat up and he may protest, but he’ll melt under your touch so quickly that his actions will betray his words.

“Stop pettin’ me already!”

“Mammon, you’ve literally been sitting in my lap and nuzzling my hand on your own for the past minute. I haven’t even moved.”

“Shuddup and go back to saying nice stuff about me.”

Leviathan

Not only does Levi come to you when he has an otaku fail, he also comes to you first when he has an otaku win. Sometimes that means calling you to scream in your ear about obtaining Sucre Frenzy tickets or unboxing his new Ruri-chan merch with you, but more often than not, he comes to you first about his game wins – especially when he gets a good gacha pull or defeats a tough boss. He has a few reasons for coming to you first. For one, Levi is used to his brothers and friends ignoring him when he goes on about his games and anime. Sometimes, especially in the cases of Lucifer, Simeon, and Barbatos, they have no clue what Leviathan is even talking about. Being dismissed or even ridiculed will hurt his feelings and ruin his joy and excitement. However, Levi trusts you with his heart, and he’s willing to put his joy on the line every time with you.

Another reason why Levi comes to you first with his otaku wins is because you are precious to him, and he can’t imagine wanting to share his happiness with anyone more than you (except maybe Henry 2.0). He’s usually pretty moody or at least prone to negativity, so when he’s hit with bouts of joy, Levi is eager to showcase this positive side of himself for you. Maybe if you see that he can be more than a depressed, self-conscious, jealous otaku, you might love him even more.

Furthermore, Levi is self-conscious about how he expresses his joy. Levi strikes me as someone who happy stims, often by bouncing his heels, shaking one or both of his hands back and forth as if fanning himself, or shaking his head. He’s so afraid that someone will tell him he looks stupid and crush his joy completely, but he can’t help it. The more he holds himself back, the more restrained and diminished his happiness feels. But again, Levi trusts you so much. He knows (or at least wants to believe) that he can be free to express himself around you – if no one else.

Letting him be himself, loving him enough to listen, and sharing in his happiness are precious gestures that he appreciates more than he can say, which is why he comes to you first with these things. That earned trust has adorable rewards, such as Levi getting so excited that he hugs or kisses you of his own volition before getting flustered but asking to continue anyway.

Satan

You are the first to know when Satan has inside information about new events and shops that he receives from acquaintances. Even if the event is being scheduled on the low, he trusts you not to tell anyone before it’s appropriate (and he’ll tell you not to say a word when he needs to keep the information secret). He wants to show off his connections a bit, but moreover, he just wants to let you know because you might find something new to be interesting and may want to start making plans in advance. Furthermore, Satan likes being able to take advantage of his inside knowledge to ask you out before anyone else gets a chance. The less competition he has to contend with, the better.

“Ah, MC. I heard that there’s going to be a pop-up night market downtown the weekend after next,” Satan brought up casually.

“Oh? I didn’t hear anything about it yet, but that seems fun – if it won’t be too busy.”

“I know someone on the planning committee. She told me that they just finalized the date with Diavolo yesterday. They’re just preparing the marketing and advertising plan. Are you interested in going – with me, that is?”

Satan wants to ask you out first, but he’s also extremely excited to share interesting Devildom events and places with you. He’d hate for you to get bored with the Devildom (or with him), and new things are a great opportunity to ensure you enjoy your life there.

Typically, Satan tells you calmly and informally in-person once he can get you alone for a few minutes. However, when it’s an event or shop that he’s excited for (especially things like new cat cafés and pop-up book sales), he might call you instead of waiting. If he does wait, he’ll be visibly excited when he sees you, eagerly getting you alone so he can tell you. When he’s excited about the information, Satan will practically beg you to go out with him. If it’s something he cares about, he’s desperate to share that experience with you (in part because he knows he’ll enjoy it even more if you’re by his side, and partly because he knows he won’t enjoy it fully if he has to think about you being there with someone else).

Asmodeus

Asmo wants you to be the first to know when he designs new products or gets on magazine covers. It’s so important to him that you know when he’s accomplished something, and as much as loves sharing his sense of beauty with his adoring followers, that could never compare to his need to share that with you. You’re one of the most beautiful things to ever exist in Asmo's eyes; it only makes sense that he would have to share his gorgeous creations or even more lovely image with you – he just also happens to want to share them with you before he can share it with anyone else. Asmo is so serious about you needing to know first that he will reschedule announcements if he doesn’t have the chance to tell you before the announcement would go up. If you hear about if from anyone else, he will sulk all day – even if you praise him for a job well-done.

“Ugh, but I was supposed to tell you!”

“I’m still really proud of you, Asmo. This jewelry line is gorgeous. It really captures your essence, too. The pink star ruby encircled by the scorpion’s tail is lovely, and you were the perfect model.”

“Of course I was, but I worked so hard on that line and that photoshoot took hours. I wanted you to know before anyone else found out. It was supposed to be a big surprise.”

“It was still a surprise.”

“But I didn’t get to see the look on your face when you found out.”

Asmo will pout no matter what you say. The best course of action would be to offer him some sort of physical affection (a hug, cuddling, kisses, head, sex) until he feels better. He may be overdramatic, but that’s how much he values sharing parts of himself with you and you alone. It isn’t until after Asmo fails to inform you first that he realizes how much he cherishes the few hours or days when only you two know. For that short window of time, Asmo feels the spotlight over him shut off, and he finds your body in the dim Devildom starlight where the only visible thing is your sweet, adorable face. If he’s lucky, you won’t be able to turn your gaze away from him.   

Beelzebub

When you aren’t able to show up and watch Beel at his sports games and competitions, the second thought in his head after he wins a game (after how hungry he is feeling) is how you’ll react when you find out that he won. Beel will get giddy over the idea of you hugging him or caressing his cheek and telling him that he did a good job. He won’t rush home – especially if he’s hungry and needs to get something to eat – but his mind will wander and imagine all the ways you might praise him or reward him for winning until he sees you again. Beel will start to smile for seemingly no reason after a game, but that’s just because he’s excited to tell you how well he (and his teammates) did. If Beel is feeling impatient, he will let you know via message. It isn’t the same as getting to see your face when he tells you, but he still holds out hope that you’ll praise him in-person.

Before, Lucifer and Belphie were the first to find out that Beel had won. It doesn’t register to Beel that he goes to you first, and he can’t remember when or exactly why he started to do that. All he knows is that he has never enjoyed being praised by anyone more than you, and that’s justification enough for him to keep doing it.

On the rare occasions that Belphegor is the only one who can attend Beel’s match, if Belphie falls asleep before the game ends, Beel will let his brother stay asleep afterward – even opting to carefully carry him home to avoid waking him up. Beelzebub does that because he’s nice and wants to let Belphie rest, but he also does it so he can tell you he won before Belphie wakes up.

Whenever Beel is in a slightly frisky mood or has been feeling lonely, he will ask you to kiss him as a reward for doing so well. When Beel is feeling pent up, he may be blunt and sexual: “MC, as a reward for winning, can I suck your dick/eat you out?” Even if you try to explain to him that it sounds more like a reward for you, he’ll tell you that he just asked for what he wanted.

Belphegor

Belphegor tells you immediately when he finds out about upcoming meteorological events and new plants in the botanical gardens. He didn’t used to care about telling anyone about anything like that before you came along. If he found out about a meteor shower or saw an impressive new plant the last time he ventured to the botanical gardens, he might have brought it up to his brothers casually in passing – often days or weeks after finding out. However, after you, he can’t seem resist the urge to let you know right away, typically through a message. Belphie might call if the event is occurring at that moment or will be happening shortly/soon enough that he can’t wait for you to read the text. He might also call if he wants you to meet him in the gardens as soon as possible for a date.

Belphie uses these updates as an excuse to ask you out. When he tells you, he typically follows that by asking you to check it out with him. He doesn’t feel that he needs to specify that he intends it as a date unless you bring up inviting anyone else. In that case, he will clarify his intentions, but he’ll pout and be upset that you didn’t seem content to go with him alone. The reason why Belphie gets upset that you invited someone else is because both updates are about things Belphegor cares about. The stars and the gardens are two of Belphie’s favorite things about the Devildom. By telling you about meteorological events and new plant specimens, he is inviting you to share in some of his interests. He craves a deeper connection with you and figures that bonding over something you both enjoy might help, so he tries to expose you to cool (by his standards) plants and meteorological events as often as possible to get you interested.

Even accidentally rejecting his plan for a date to enjoy his interests alone hurts his feelings – as if you were rejecting a part of him. Still, the occasional rejection isn’t bad enough to make Belphegor give up on dozens of date opportunities every year. He’ll stop pouting if you give him enough attention or if you just give him a day or two.

(the demon brothers, bad version)

[espionn]

SeaWing tribe sheet!

seawings my beloved. i didnt do anything too crazy with them but they deserve to be a bit over-the-top. (also, lmk if anyone is interested in a size comparison chart and/or an evolutionary tree for the tribes because i might do those if people would like it)

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-SeaWings are almost entirely aquatic dragons. They can live and breathe out of water, but vastly prefer their ocean habitat, and too much time out of water can dry and dull their scales. 

-They have short legs with wide, webbed talons which they use to propel through the water. They also have long, thick and powerful tails. SeaWings cannot be called comparatively large or small due to these unique proportions.

-Not unlike MudWings, SeaWings can fly, but aren’t skilled at it. Their wings have adapted to be used essentially as large fins to steer accurately through the water, and are not as effective for flight. They sometimes can leap from the water and catch air like flying fish, but they struggle to get fully off the ground; their wings are better suited for passive gliding.

-The pale marks that cover their bodies can be used to create bioluminescent light, so efficiently that SeaWings can turn individual lights on and off at will, and even control the dimness. They use these marks in flashing patterns to communicate underwater, in a language called Aquatic. Phrases in Aquatic are often less about individual words assigned to specific combinations - though that can be applied to some - but more about the overall visual expression. (For example, in the right context, random and scattered twinkling refers to stars, or the night sky.) Aquatic, like much of SeaWing culture, is loose, expressive and artistic.

-Large and airy frills run along their bodies, connecting at the tail. These bolden their appearance and make some swimming patterns almost mesmerizing.

-Colors, like many SeaWing traits, vary greatly, but blues and greens are most common. Grays, purples and even pinks also appear on occasion. 

-Due to the vastness of the oceans, there are multiple variants of the typical SeaWing. Living outside the sea kingdom, near the coral reefs bordering the mud kingdom and rainforest on the east side of Pyrrhia, are the fittingly-named Coral SeaWings, which are brightly-colored with rougher and rockier scales (and even minor color-changing abilities). Another group, with sightings so rare as to be unconfirmed beyond urban legend, is the Deep SeaWings; almost nothing is known about these besides a dark and spiny appearance with vivid bioluminescent markings. 

-Gills allow underwater breathing; small lungs allow above-water breathing, but not as strongly or reliably. SeaWings also have a few adaptations that allow them to withstand pressure changes.

Life Cycle:

-SeaWings are laid in clutches of anywhere between 6 and 12. It’s these large groups that will make up their friends and peers for the first few years of their lives. SeaWing parents are present for the incubation and hatching of the eggs, and they are fiercely protective parents when the dragonets are very young, but most dragonets begin to be more independent after that. 

-While the sibling clutches aren’t as close as MudWing troops, they do tend to be quite interdependent and prefer each other’s company. Once they get a bit older, though, they often branch off and find friends and romantic partners outside this group. 

-SeaWings are monogamous and mate for life. It isn’t uncommon for the first dragon they show interest in to be the one they stay with. Both parents are considered equally responsible for dragonets if they have them.

-Because they’re hatched underwater, dragonets don’t learn to speak aloud, walk on land or fly until they’re several years old; some never do in detail, instead living underwater without contact with other tribes for their entire lives.

Culture and Society:

-SeaWing society is structured and organized around the royal family, who have great cultural influence and wealth. The Deep Palace alone holds about 40% of the SeaWing population, and it is by no means a small tribe.

-Arts are a huge cultural mark of the Sea Kingdom - no other tribe, aside from the NightWings, has such expansive literature, and SeaWing sculpting and jewelry-making is famous across Pyrrhia. Before the war, in fact, one of the main exports of the Sea Kingdom came from art exhibits - festivals held on near-shore islands, where dragons from all different tribes would come, to enjoy the scenery as well as look at and/or buy various displays of SeaWing art. 

-This is one of the most social and closely-bonded tribes; with talons mainly made for mobility, dull horns, and no breath weapon, SeaWings depend on each other for safety, and their society is close-knit. Social norm intricacies, politeness in language, and subtly complex ranks and boundaries are all cultural things that dragons simply adapt to by being around it.

-The SeaWing education system is one of the most successful and robust, with every dragonet attending a school for at least two years. If they choose, there are also more specific career paths they can take if there’s an area they’d like to specialize in. They are taught extensively in literature and history, basic hunting and self-defense, and basic land language and skills, such as how to walk and fly. 

-Even more than other dragons, they take great care to keep their scales and frills shiny and healthy. In-depth cleaning methods are abundant, to keep barnacles and parasites off of them, and SeaWings in general are seen as much more attractive when they’re polished and unscratched. As they get older and move less, it may become harder to keep barnacles and algae off, but some SeaWings accept this and allow themselves to take on a “stones in a tide pool” look as a clear indication of age. SeaWings also enjoy jewelry, particularly made up of pearls and precious stones on strings; gold and silver don’t work as well underwater.

-They are resourceful and use a wide variety of tools; the fact that they have few natural defenses has led to a greater use of weapons than most other tribes, for example.

Diet: Facultative carnivorous (mostly meat). Fish, shellfish and crustaceans make up the vast majority of their diet, but their meals can also include a few types of seaweed, seagrass and other aquatic plants. In the palace, large hunting groups provide food for the entire population, but SeaWings who live outside of it usually provide food for themselves.

[ninjakk]

Hey!!

I recently saw someone claim that Wei Wuxian was starved of conversation on his journey to Yiling with Lan Wangji and Wen Ning and so board he needed to chat to people before they ascend the mountain. I hadn't really noticed this until it was mentioned. What do you think of that scene?

I love your meta and fics btw. You use your understanding of the novel in your writing and it's just *chef's kiss*

Hi anon 👋🏻

Personally, I've not seen any comments regarding the above - but we can certainly look at the text in question 😊

Let's take a look at the scene in question:

Several days later, they arrived in Yiling.

The Burial Mounds were less than five kilometers ahead of this small town. Although they didn’t know exactly what awaited them there, Wei Wuxian had a feeling it wasn’t anything good. But Lan Wangji was right by his side, his gait steady, his gaze cool. Wei Wuxian had never been one with any sense of crisis to begin with, and with the way Lan Wangji looked, he was even less likely to get nervous at all.

Passing through the small town of Yiling, he was awash in the sounds of the local accent. It was invigorating and incomparably endearing. While he wasn’t planning on buying anything, he couldn’t help but strike up conversations in the local dialect with the street vendors. Only after he’d had his fill of socializing did he get down to business.

“Hanguang-jun, you remember this town, right?”

7S translation

So the scene opens with WWX gushing over how safe and happy he feels around LWJ. He's just so thankful to have someone by his side, someone he can fully depend on and is there for him, should he need it. This very much echoes his thoughts from when they began their descent from the Cloud Recesses, at the start of their journey here. For someone nearing the place he met such a gruesome end at previously, he seems incredibly content and calm - all thanks to LWJ. So straight away, we are reminded of how WWX feels around the other man. It's there for a reason, to set the scene. WWX is relaxed and enjoying himself because he's with LWJ.

They have just arrived in a city he is very familiar with. It's the place he both lived as an orphan and frequented as a man while residing at the burial mounds. He is surrounded by the accent of his "home" for the first time in over 13 years and it's making him feel sentimental. I also think it's a great parallel between when WWX finally visits Lotus Pier in the coming chapters and how desolate and subdued the place has become since JC became sect leader.

I think the above reaction is very normal considering the emotional impact it obviously had on him. WWX has already stated on numerous occasions that LWJ makes him happy and he enjoys his company, but he's also very sociable and likes to look around markets and chat with vendors - there's even a scene in the novel which states as such and many other examples. Although WWX is running around chatting and exploring the stalls, LWJ is still by his side. Doing so does not subtract from his obvious enjoyment of having LWJ's unwavering presence.

We see more than enough evidence that WWX happily chats to LWJ and that he, in turn, even responds and asks questions also. There seems to be this mind-boggling misconception that LWJ literally doesn't speak, and if he does he's like some caveman that can't communicate effectively, when it's the exact opposite. LWJ talks when necessary and is very succinct with his words - he's a true gentleman of their time. Of course, in comparison to WWX, he's much less chatty - but when he does talk it's sincere and relevant. WWX loves this about him! He's also an incredible listener and doesn't miss a single thing WWX says, which WWX also appreciates! Hardly anyone listens to all his ramblings and holds them all so dearly!

It's funny, because although WWX chats to anyone and everyone, it's obvious he enjoys conversing with LWJ the most. He treasures the fact they are on the same wavelength and understand each other implicitly 🥰

Aww! Thank you so much anon! I'm glad you are enjoying my meta and fics ❤️

I hope I managed to answer your question! Have a lovely day 😘

[thecreaturecodex]

Demon Lord, Orcus

Image © TSR Inc, by Todd Lockwood.

[Sponsored by @tar-baphon. Orcus is one of the iconic D&D villains, and through the SRD and plausible deniability (he's a Roman god!), he's in Pathfinder as well. In Pathfinder, he is deliberately not a power player, and my flavor text takes that already metatextual decision and runs hog wild with it.

A note on the art: I feel like Orcus is emblematic of when D&D was seen as dangerous, and this piece absolutely feels like it should be the cover of a Black Sabbath album. It's no surprise that I was fascinated with the anti-D&D strain of the Satanic Panic when I was a kid. Also, although there has been some course correction in the 5e era, there's a trend with Orcus in a lot of art, including his official Pathfinder depiction, of making Orcus buff. Let Orcus be fat!]

Demon Lord, Orcus CR 28 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This humanoid is a corpulent giant with skin mottled like a decaying corpse. He has great black bat-wings growing from his shoulders, hooves for feet, and the head of a goat. He clutches a short staff, tipped with an oversized human skull.

Orcus, Prince of Undeath CE male demon lord of death, necromancy and wrath Domains  Chaos, Death, Evil, Magic Subdomains Demon, Divine, Murder, Undead Favored Weapon heavy mace Unholy Symbol a goat’s head with curving horns Worshipers liches, necromancers, sapient undead Minions boneclaws, deathdrinkers, demons, other undead For information on his Obedience and boons for his worshipers, see Book of the Damned

Orcus is one of the most powerful demon lords in the Universe. But not on Golarion. On that world, his is one of a number of undead cults, and not nearly the most popular. Orcus has a clear hierarchy to what undead he considers truly worthy, with those created from contagion seen as inferior to accident, and those inferior to those who intentionally seek out undeath. His most dedicated worshippers on Golarion are liches, some of whom have learned the secret of crafting a phylactery by teasing apart the Prince of Undeath’s wisdom from his threats. The followers of many other undead-focused religions, particularly vampires and ghouls, see Orcus as pretentious and unworthy of dedication, although few are foolish enough to directly oppose him.

Orcus himself knows that his star has fallen. In his extensive research into planar lore, Orcus has learned that he was once the most feared being in another universe, who went on a killing spree that left several gods dead and an entire race of lawful outsiders duped into being his pawns. That Orcus cannot accomplish this level of power in this version of reality vexes and frustrates him, and he takes his rage out on his minions as much as he does his foes.

Orcus is a genius tactician, although his temper sometimes gets the better of him. He enjoys combat as a distraction from his cosmic-level sulk, and as a way of expressing his power over others. He typically opens combat with a time stop to summon allies and cast defensive spells on himself, and then unleashes a potent death effect as soon as the duration expires. Against creatures that can resist his negative energy and poison, he uses dispelling magic. On more than one occasion, Orcus has beaten a cocky archmage to a pulp by centering an antimagic field on himself and wading into combat.

Orcus in the Great Game Orcus’ response to the brewing theomachy between Mormo and Lamashtu is cautious optimism. He desires more power in the Abyss, and Lamashtu could open the door for him to seize it. Kabriri and Zura are at the top of Orcus’ hit list, but views a direct assault on them as currently too risky to be worth the effort. If one of them were to make a move against Lamashtu and be punished for it, or if they were struck down in the scramble for power following Lamashtu’s (theoretical) demotion or demise, Orcus would happily swoop in to finish them off.  And if Mormo is capable of legitimately slaying a god, Orcus will be very keen to study her techniques.

Wand of Orcus (major artifact) The Wand of Orcus is the Prince of Undeath’s scepter of office, and it never leaves his side. Lesser versions have appeared in the Material Plane, often created by Orcus or one of his high-level clerics. The real Wand of Orcus is a Huge +5 anarchic, unholy heavy mace. In the hands of a demon, it grants a +4 profane bonus to Armor Class. The first time the Wand of Orcus strikes a living creature in a round, that creature is subject to a slay living spell (DC 30). Weight 24 lbs.; CL 25th

Demon Lord, Orcus        CR 28 XP 4,915,200 CE Huge outsider (chaos, demon, evil, extraplanar) Init +11; Senses arcane sight, darkvision 120 ft., detect good, detect law, Perception +48, true seeing Aura frightful presence (120 ft., DC 36), undead obedience (120 ft., Will DC 36), unholy (DC 28)

Defense AC 47, touch 23, flat-footed 40(-2 size, +7 Dex, +4 deflection, +4 profane, +24 natural) hp 709(33d10+528); regeneration 30 (deific or mythic) Fort +31, Ref +29, Will +34 DR 20/cold iron, epic and good; Immune ability damage, ability drain, charm, compulsion, death effects, electricity, energy drain, petrification and poison; Resist acid 30, cold 30, fire 30; SR 39 Defensive Abilities Abyssal resurrection, freedom of movement, negative energy affinity

Offense Speed 40 ft., fly 60 ft. (average) Melee Wand of Orcus +51/+46/+41/+36 (3d6+20 plus 2d6 chaos and 2d6 evil/19-20), claw +44 (1d8+7), sting (2d4+7 plus poison), gore (2d6+7) or 2 claws +46 (1d8+15), sting +46 (2d4+15 plus poison), gore +46 (2d6+15) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks epic spellcasting, powerful charge (gore, 4d6+22) Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +38 (+42 casting defensively) Constant—arcane sight, detect good, detect law, freedom of movement, true seeing, unholy aura (DC 28, self only) At will—animate dead*, astral projection, blasphemy* (DC 27), circle of death* (DC 28), create undead, enervation*, greater dispel magic, greater teleport, plane shift* (DC 25), telekinesis* (DC 25), unholy blight* (DC 24) 3/day—control undead (DC 29), create greater undead, energy drain (DC 31), finger of death* (DC 29), quickened greater dispel magic, quickened harm*, summon demons or undead, symbol of death (DC 30) 1/day—power word kill*, time stop*, true resurrection, wail of the banshee (DC 31) * Orcus can use the mythic version of this spell-like ability in his domain Spells Prepared CL 20th, concentration +32 (+36 casting defensively) 9th—energy drain (DC 33), etherealness, mage’s disjunction* (D, DC 31), overwhelming presence (DC 31), soul bind (DC 33), wail of the banshee (DC 33) 8th —cloak of chaos (DC 30), fire storm* (DC 30), greater spell immunity, horrid wilting (DC 32), orb of the void* (DC 32), protection from spells (D), unholy aura (DC 30) 7th —control weather, destruction (DC 31), greater scrying (DC 29, x2), repulsion, spell turning (D), waves of exhaustion 6th —antilife shell, antimagic field (D), banshee blast (DC 30), blade barrier* (DC 28), geas/quest, harm* (DC 30), mass bull’s strength 5th —dispel good (DC 27), flame strike (DC 27), greater command (DC 27), mass ghostbane dirge (DC 27), righteous might, suffocation (D, DC 29), vampiric shadow shield 4th —contagion (DC 28), death ward (D), divine power (x2), rest eternal, sending (x2)*, tongues 3rd —bestow curse (x2, DC 27), prayer*, protection from energy, rage (D, DC 25), ray of exhaustion, vampiric touch*, water breathing 2nd —bear’s endurance (x2), death knell (D, DC 26), desecrate, owl’s wisdom (x2), resist energy, spiritual weapon* 1st —bane (DC 25), divine favor (x2), entropic shield, identify (D), ray of enfeeblement* (DC 25), sanctuary (DC 23), shield of faith* 0th—bleed (DC 24), detect magic, light, read magic *—Orcus may use the mythic version of this spell in his Abyssal domain

Statistics Str 40, Dex 25, Con 42, Int 30, Wis 35, Cha 31 Base Atk +33; CMB +50; CMD 71 Feats Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes, Craft Magic Arms and Armor, Craft Rod, Craft Wondrous Item, Flyby Attack, Greater Spell Focus (necromancy), Greater Spell Penetration, Improved Critical (heavy mace), Improved Initiative, Hover, Multiattack, Mythic Spell Lore (B), Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic, harm), Spell Focus (necromancy), Spell Penetration Skills Bluff +46, Craft (alchemy, weaponsmithing) +46, Fly +36, Intimidate +43, Knowledge (arcana, planes, religion) +46, Knowledge (dungeoneering, history) +43, Perception +48, Sense Motive +48, Spellcraft +46, Stealth +35, Survival +45, Use Magic Device +46 Languages Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Infernal, Necril, telepathy 300 ft. SQ demon lord traits, master of death

Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization unique Treasure triple standard (Wand of Orcus, other treasure)

Special Abilities Aura of Undead Obedience (Su) Any undead creature within 120 feet that attempts to make a hostile action against Orcus must succeed a DC 36 Will save or be unable to take that action, wasting it. The save DC is Charisma based. Epic Spellcasting (Ex) Orcus gains Mythic Spell Lore as a bonus feat. Once per day, he can use one of his spell-like abilities or spells as if it was a mythic spell without spending a use of mythic power. This allows him to use a mythic spell or spell-like ability outside of his Abyssal domain, but he cannot augment that spell or spell-like ability by spending additional uses of mythic power. Master of Death (Ex) Orcus applies his Spell Focus and Greater Spell Focus (necromancy) feats to his spell-like abilities. Death effects created by Orcus, including the Wand of Orcus in his hands, ignore immunity to death effects except for those granted by creature type, or from deific or mythic sources. Poison (Ex) Sting—injury; save Fort DC 42; duration 1/round for 4 rounds; damage 1d6 Str and 1d6 Con; cure 2 consecutive saves. A creature reduced to 0 Str by Orcus’ poison cannot breathe and begins to suffocate. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells Orcus can cast spells as a 20th level cleric, and can prepare necromancy spells from the sorcerer/wizard list as if they were cleric spells. He gets access to domain slots, and can fill them with spells from any of his domains or subdomains. He can also spontaneously cast inflict spells as an evil cleric can. Summon Demons and Undead (Sp) When Orcus summons demons, he can also summon undead creatures.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

DELICIOUS!

with a certain biscuit-themed day settling upon him, kaiser wants to use it as an excuse to win a kiss from you. will pocky day end with your very own happy ending, or does kaiser need to prove himself further?

gender neutral reader

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

Kaiser found life in Japan fascinating. This was one of the many perks of being a globally recognized soccer star like him: he got to travel the world and take in the different cultures it had to offer all while doing the very thing that got him onto this stage in the first place.

And boy, was he enjoying the time in Blue Lock. On the rare occasion that he got to go outside of the facility and spend some free time doing whatever he pleased, Kaiser made sure he got the full quintessential tourist experience. He ate a great deal of Japanese cuisine, tried out some hobbyist things, even somehow wound up in a maid cafe with the Bastard Munchen team, and reminisced on the everyday lives of the locals.

But one thing he found himself especially entranced by was all the different things he could exploit in order to get closer to you. If there was one thing Kaiser was, it was persistent in making sure he got what he wanted, and if that meant using every little weapon in his arsenal, then he was sure to play all of his cards out onto the figurative table.

You could only imagine his delight when he learned that a very special day in November was quickly approaching and soon to be upon him.

“Darling!” An all-too-familiar sickly sweet voice rang out against your eardrums, and a sharp wave of thorny annoyance shot down your spine. You had half a mind to bolt for the nearest exit, but the next few words stopped you dead in your tracks. “Don’t run away from me! I have something fun for us!”

Fun? That definitely couldn’t mean anything good. 

You mentally steeled yourself for another very irritating interaction with the smitten striker, equal parts exasperated by his over-the-top courtship and flattered that someone like him would try so hard to endear himself to you. Was his interest in you one of genuine romantic intent? Or did he want you as a plaything to toy with and then cast aside when he was done?

You had discern carefully whether or not Kaiser was a frog in the well or a true fairytale prince.

“What is it now, Kaiser?” You grumble unimpressed. His eager footsteps halted right next to you, and the blond took a quick second to catch his breath before shoving a box into your face.

“Ta-daaa!!” He announced, shaking it in front of you. “I learned about something interesting the other day, and I just had to do it with you. Surely you wouldn’t mind! Noa was always so insistent that I learn about Japanese culture while in Blue Lock, and boy, am I glad that I did my research!”

You practically swatted his hand his hand away, and you squinted your eyes to take a better look at the small box in front of you. The bright colors, vibrantly decorated biscuits on the box, the large decorative letters spelling out the words ‘POCKY’ in white old-fashioned text…

The realization hit you like a truck.

“Let’s play the pocky game together, darling,” Kaiser cooed, and he batted his eyelashes at you charmingly. “Isn’t that what you guys do for Pocky Day? The nice clerk at the convenience store told me all about it, and for the full immersion effect, I just have to try it with you!”

You’re less than impressed. You can see right through Kaiser’s little game as if it were made of glass. He wants a kiss from you, and playing the pocky game is the perfect opportunity to do so. 

You straighten your lips, making sure to give the boy the most stone-faced expression you could muster up. “What makes you think that I’d want to play the game with you? Ask someone else in the program. It’s not like I’m the only person around.”

Kaiser made a downtrodden face. “It’s not the same! The point of the game is to play it with someone you want to kiss! Do you really think I’d want to get a kiss from someone like Yoichi? Eugh, just thinking about it makes me want to brush my teeth-”

You bit back the temptation to tell him that the thought of kissing him makes you want to vomit too. It would be easy to turn him down and leave him standing in the dust, but you know all too well how persistent Kaiser could be. Knowing him, he’d probably tail after you like a magnet 24/7, begging and begging you with the biggest puppy eyes he can conjure up for you to just give in and kiss him let him have the proper cultural immersion he deserves! 

Or worse, he complains to Noa, who then tells Ego, and you end up in trouble for not catering to every whim the players might have.

“...Fine. Just once though. And if you mess up and break the pocky, I’m not letting you try again,” you resolved. In all honesty, it could be a lot worse. Despite Kaiser’s shithole of a personality, it wasn’t like he was outwardly mean to you nor would worming your way to his massive paycheck hurt your prospects in any way.

Kaiser lit up as if it were his birthday, and he grabbed your wrist. “To my room then! Oh, I promise I won’t let you down!”

You barely had time to regain your bearings before Kaiser basically throws you on top of his bed. His eyes sparkled with so much life that you would have thought that he had won the World Cup instead of playing the pocky game. You pushed yourself to the edge of his bed, swinging your feet over the mattress and sitting down placidly as the blond ripped the box open and procured a single piece of pocky.

“Ah, I’m so nervous…,” Kaiser admitted as he sat himself down right next to you. “I always daydreamed about what it would be like to kiss you, and to think that the answer would be right here all along! You have no clue the effect you have on me.”

“Uh- In technicality, you haven’t earned the kiss yet-,” you corrected him. 

“Whatever. We both know how this is going to end.” The blond expertly placed the biscuit end of the pocky in his mouth, carefully balancing it in between his pretty lips. He glanced up at you expectantly, and you let out a deep breath before moving your head so that your teeth caught on the chocolate end of the pocky.

‘Here goes nothing,’ you resigned internally.

Making sure not to break the delicate stick, you inched your mouth forward. Your teeth broke cleanly into a bit more of the pocky, and the sugary-sweet taste of pocky coated the inside of your cheeks. You’d forgotten how good little treats like this were; in between your responsibilities and being chased around by Kaiser, it wasn’t like you had much down time for yourself.

The German, on the other hand, was fully engrossed in the task at hand. You had fully expected him to get impatient and break the pocky prematurely, but just like how you were inching bit-by-bit forward on the pocky, he was making good progress as well. His handsome face was scrunched up slightly in concentration, focusing everything he had on the game so that he wouldn’t squander his precious chance to kiss his crush.

You had to give credit where credit was due. Kaiser was, in fact, a hard worker and a skilled athlete. When he put his mind on something, he was going to get it. As much of a pain in the butt as it was for you, you did have to respect that tough tenacity. 

Your lips closed around the next little bit of the biscuit. It tasted really good, enough to almost distract you from your situation. Kaiser’s face was so close to yours, and for the first time, you couldn’t help but notice all of the finer details on his face. He was always so horrendously vain, taking great pride in his hand-drawn red eyeliner, his two-toned hair, even his signature blue rose tattoo. But apart from all of his vanity, he was straight up a handsome man.

The tension between the two of you was at an all-time high, with both of you concentrating fully on the task at hand. You swore that he was stealing your breath away with every bite he took, and your heart fluttered. He was too good—was he actually going to win a kiss from you? It wasn’t like you had any complaints about giving him one silly kiss, but when he was this close, enough to make your cheeks heat up and your breath shake, it felt like your own mind was betraying you.

Another crunch only furthered the flustered thoughts in your brain. He was just a bite or two away, and when he glanced his azure eyes towards you, your head nearly went blank. He was a piece of shit, sure, but he was still pretty, and the intrusive thoughts practically yelling at you to simply take another bite and give in were almost deafening.

Kaiser took another bite, and that closed the distance between the two of you. You only had enough time to gasp and flicker your eyes up to his face, and before you knew it, the feeling of his plush lips on yours and his hands cupping your face was all you could register.

He kissed you.

A surprised, strangled cry bubbled up from the back of your throat before it died out. His cool fingers held your face in place, and you couldn’t help but melt into the touch a little. How could it be that his touches were so sweet when he was so prickly? The sugary taste of chocolate and biscuits lingered on the tip of your tongue, and when Kaiser sighed happily against your lips, all you wanted was for him to keep kissing you. 

His thumbs brushed across the apples of your cheeks. Mouths moving together, your heart hammered inside your chest. You knew that this wasn’t the first time that Kaiser somehow managed to stubbornly wiggle his way into your heart, and if the soft way he was kissing you was telling anything, it was that this wouldn’t be the last time either. He was kissing you like lovers would, so could you fault yourself for swooning and falling for him a little?

He pulled away before you could lean anymore forward, leaving you dazed and staring breathlessly into his eyes. The corners of his lips curled upwards into a snooty smirk. “...Looks like I did manage to win a kiss from you, darling. What do you think?”

“You’re insufferable, Kaiser,” you manage to eke out, wanting to turn away to hide your embarrassed face. Damn him and his charismatic ways! You wished he would disintegrate into nothingness right then and there. That would definitely solve so many of your problems.

He laughed heartily at your mousy comment. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. It was way too easy for him to play games with your heart, and it didn’t help knowing that he was so sincere about winning you over too. You were determined to make him prove that he was worth your time, but with every little interaction like this, you had to admit that your determination was crumbling bit by bit.

You cursed both your internal weakness and him for being the smooth talker he was. He was simply waiting for the right moment to pounce, to make you his and put an end to this back-and-forth, to make you his beloved partner, someone for him to dote on endlessly and to be doted on in return. 

“Well, if you aren’t sure…,,” Kaiser grinned at you like a smug cat, his deft fingers diving into the box to bring out another piece of unbroken pocky, “...How about another round of the pocky game then?”

Surely, that was an offer you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.

x

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[ghouldtime]

Fun fact, I’m terrified of mimics, like terrified. I watched a show called haunted on Netflix and the first episode of season two was about a mimic and I’ve been scared of them ever since. Ok now that that’s out of the way, please I need more of mimic!Gaz if that’s ok? I feel like he’d be the only one that doesn’t make me wanna run far far away

I can't blame you. Mimics can be anywhere, anything, at anytime. They can take the place of someone you know in the blink of an eye, they can take the spot of your favorite pillow you swore you lost two days ago - that's what makes them so scary. THAT is what's scary, you never know what you're truly going up against

Also please note that my idea of a mimic may vary from others! Usually, I see them as something that can mimic their surroundings. Whether that be voices, people, or things to blend in

Some more about mimic! Gaz

Just because he's a monster doesn't mean he's a monster

Though he may be a mimic and may, by definition, be a monster - he's still retaining his humanity. He still has a set of morals, he still has his own aspirations, hopes, and dreams

He is, however, still very much a monster. A monster who can and does eat people. But that's not indiscriminately

Truth be told, though his kind is known for the whole 'eating people' deal, he's not a huge fan of it. He'd rather not do it because then he'll be questioning himself and where he stands

Doesn't mean he can't or won't. Being a mimic means he's effective at it, it's a great way to get rid of evidence and to take out anyone against him. He'd just rather reserve it to those occasions

He's still very much the Gaz we love! Even if his default form doesn't look close, the appearance we know him as is what he prefers. It's how he sees himself in his mind's eye after observing humanity for so many years, so it's how he presents

He feels the traits he chose represent him best after seeing them displayed on many people throughout the years and it really is how he feels. He combined them into an appearance he liked. He usually maintains and keeps himself in that form, he'll only shift back to the default state if truly injured or extremely sick. Otherwise, he's mainly looking like his normal, handsome self

(Technically, he's an 'original' being in his human form since everything about him was taken and melded into who he is from those who already existed before him who he interacted with)

The main thing you'll notice on him that may set off some alarm bells would be his canines. Those things are SHARP. But other than that and a few weird slightly not-normal habits (like seemingly not needing nearly as much rest as a healthy human should and being able to easily eat bones), he seems to be a stand up guy

He mainly takes the form of a human because humanity has interested him ever since he came into this world. Though he doesn't understand the full range of emotions, comprehending them and the world as a whole from their point of view was so incredibly fascinating

Not to mention, the human world itself is incredible too! He wanted to be apart of that, and not just in the background or hiding in the shadows

He understands why his kind aren't exactly liked and are feared, but in this day and age, it's significantly less of an issue for him since humans have mostly moved on past their fear of monsters and are so easily distracted with technology

He can mainly use his form to his advantage now, allowing him to easily blend in and out of the background as he pleases. It allows him to get into many private places (such as lecture halls) and into areas he otherwise never would consider or be able to access

He's a curious guy, he likes to learn. He still has a lot to know, even after all these years, but he isn't there to just eat people or betray your trust. He's not simple minded

He's just another being with his own thoughts, emotions, feelings, and past! He tries not to let his nature define him, even if it can distinguish him from being a human alone

You'd probably never know he's a mimic but if you're one of the few who expressed you really didn't care, you just like him for him, he'll be happy to change around you

At least it can make for great photo ops and is incredibly convenient for nearly any scenario you can think of

Seriously, be his pal, he's still just a guy! Just in a different body with a little bit of a different mindset :D

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

45 - Dark Blood of Blinding Light

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

Length: 21.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character deaths, mild disturbing imagery, references to past rape, insecurity, possessive behavior and language, breeding kink, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: I know, I know, okay? I know about the length already, I was the moron who wrote it. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You were too much alike, both of you were being pragmatic and yet it around in circles you both continued to do. He had a point but so did you, and thus as you both stood there the debate once more spin around and around coming to the same conclusions once, twice, too many times. It was almost far too much how it used to be, instead this time you both were walking the cold grounds within the Nightfort instead of along the sunny and warm docks at the edge of Kings Landing. And this time it wasn't numbers which were the discussion of debate, it was what such numbers meant in actuality.

Gold and trade the usual debates between you two back when the highest place you had any influence on was the small council. A Kingdom rapidly finding itself in dire straights as the treasury was empty and the Lannisters were as well. The only gold remaining to them was for their own spends and livelihoods but no longer could they pay for anything of other uses. The Iron Bank was new in dealings with Robert's reign and it meant that you were too aware that payments were going to be needed far more prompt then before. Your allocated budget grew smaller every quarter year and thus you and Stannis spent many days debating on what trade deals to prioritize.

Those however, were low stakes in comparison to now. You understood his position, truly you did. He was the one true King and no one had ever respected him for it. By every law in Westeros, the Iron Throne was his. You had almost died beside Eddard Stark to defend that stance, but once more like the days on the docks, those were more simple times. More simple stakes. These were not, and it would be all too easy to be blinded by presuming those stakes were just as important. But they weren't.

Jon had only been able to send a raven to Aegon, because it was now known that he had taken Storm's End, and the battle to claim the rest of the Stormlands had begun. But it also meant, asking your father to give up the castle where he grew up, and the lands of his family to the one House which meant the most insulting to claim what was yours.

The urge to keep what men he had here, stay in his place and leave to his vastly more superior numbers, and chase the Dragon from the Stag's home was too tempting, and you knew it.

“It's asking me to hand over the lands this House has ruled for centuries, to give up the home I grew up in, the home my father grew up in and his father before him.” Once more you knew that argument was fair, and in many other occasions you'd have agreed.

On the other hand, your eyes narrowed ever the slightest not from the sting of the cold winds. “You are aware father, that you cannot appeal to emotions in me which don't exist.” You both knew what that was referring to, but the man as stubborn as the daughter he passed such a trait down to, waited for you to elaborate. “Asking me to care about the things my grandfather did is a far stretch of what I am willing to do. Which for him, is none.”

Collected as ever it did not yet show in your father's face that your point had effected him as such in a harmful manner. Neither his tone was well. “Some days it's difficult to tell if your insolence would only make him like you more.” If any could see you trying to not roll your eyes, it was Stannis. Who even from just a side view, saw the slight twitch in your face trying to hold it back. “You are not alone in that manner, my father tried very hard to have me see the world his way. Moreso then he ever did with Robert or Renly. The last I ever heard from him was a raven telling me they didn't find what they were looking for in their journey but they found something hopefully which would teach me how to laugh.”

Your eyebrow raised only for your entire expression to grimace, a tilt to the side asking, “Please do not tell me it was-” Glancing to him, your father only gave you a single knowing look that had you shake your head in further exasperation. “Are you certain your father didn't hate you, because that fool never made a single soul laugh in the twenty two years I knew him.”

“Save for Shireen.”

Quick in amusement as you were dismissal, “Shireen was a child, she didn't know what was funny.” In a moment passing others by, you had waited until it was once more only the two of you in any earshot. “I'm not sure you've ever told me what they were doing. My grandfather and grandmother, you told me they had sailed to Essos but never why.”

Blunt as he was honest, your father was. “You already had a strong contempt for the Targaryeans at a young age, I did not think it productive to give you more reasons to hate them as strongly as Robert did.” Playing the same game, you turned to him in a questioning gaze but asked none. Tone quiet, there was a shred of sympathy towards you as he spoke. “They were travelling to Volantis under the order of King Aerys to find a suitable Valyrian bride for Prince Rhaegar.”

He was right, telling you that would've made you lean much more towards Roberts side, even now, it still did. More then ever it did. Nothing was spoken as you both looked at one anther, waiting for the building flooding of anger to simmer back down before getting out of hand. A long exhale left your lips before your arms crossed over your front, turning to the grounds below where you had been walking.

It was far away on you as it was spoken, but not with anger or vitriol, just an honesty. “The last thing I've wanted to do was to downplay what happened that day, they were your parents and I heard enough from Robert to know it must have been horrifying to watch. But maybe that was the price he paid.”

Stannis matched your stance, neither of you giving away in posture or even faces as you spoke in low tones. You both appeared as neutral as the other, when in truth the weight here was growing to be insurmountable. “Robert and I discussed it. Not often, but we discussed what we would have done differently had our father been alive once war was declared. We both knew our father would have remained loyal to the Targaryeans, and we both agreed that we still wouldn't have done anything different. He made his choice long ago, we only wished that he had not taken our mother's life with him when he passed.”

For everything said about Steffon Baratheon, there was not even a match of tone towards the grandmother you never knew. Cassana Estermont. Even when the remainder of her House had done nothing but insult your father. Declared for Renly, then went running to Stannis when he had passed, then to Joffery at the defeat at Blackwater Bay, and now have come crawling back to Stannis once more as the Lannisters lost nearly all true hold on the realm. Yet through all of it, your grandmother was never spoken in any ill.

Glancing to him you asked with something genuine. “Those lands have been ours for centuries, and perhaps once long ago they would be worth dying to defend, but it won't matter. None of it matters, and we're running out of time too quickly to keep pretending as if it does. Everything you have seen here, do you truly think you're needed more there then you are here?”

Looking up to your father, something heavy flowed in the air. Something unspoken that was not tense, nor agitated. Something rather, which pleaded what little vulnerability you two ever shared. He was not judging either in his response after a good while of thought. “Robert held the peace for nearly twenty four years, not because he was a good ruler, but because he relied on better men to do the ruling for him behind the curtain. Everytime he ignored his council, we had to clean up the mess it left behind before it got out of hand. He never listened, not when it mattered. Not to Jon Arryn, not to me, not even to Ned Stark. And after he died his Kingdom has done nothing but bleed for it.”

There was a point somewhere in there, but you were quiet to let it breathe before crowding it with any clarifying questions.

“But now by every law there is, now it is my Kingdom. And I will not forget how much these people have made my Kingdom bleed, and I will not forgive it either. If I pull every of my men out of the Stormlands and bring them North, my enemies will think I am weak.”

It weighed heavy in your heart, you two did not often speak in any praise, not to each other about each other. But it came out as honest as any could be, “If you were weak, father, I wouldn't stand here asking you to not leave. Westeros will survive without you fighting in it, but it will not survive if we do not fight for it. Jon cannot do this alone. The North doesn't have the numbers, and even if we did it would take months, years to train everyone to even resemble an army large enough. If you were weak, then we wouldn't need you. But we do.”

Finding his gaze, neither of you said anything. Much in your eyes held back as did his, not to let it creep too close to the surface. When he did, you admittedly could have let out a chuckle were your heart not still fast and too heavy. “You're starting to sound like Jon.”

Biting your tongue, you turned back to the cold sight of the forts activities bustling about. Arms moving to rest along the wooden railing, Stannis too matched you. Only he had the retort on his tongue, knowing that furrow in your brows far too well. “It wasn't an insult.”

Eyes trained forward, it came off as dry as your stare was tense. “I'd hope so. He's your son in law now, I can't imagine insulting him is a good starting off point.” Curious it was, that your father had asked the very question you asked her what felt like a fortnight passed, asking how your mother was fairing with such a detail. You resisted the urge to shrug. “They're..” Pausing to find the more diplomatic of approaches, “Taking it at their own pace shall we say.”

It surprised you, but your father almost chuckled. Almost. “Selyse was never fond of the boy even before we had arrived at Castle Black.” Your brows narrowed turning to look at him, before the realization formed lightly on your face as it did his. A fondness amplified by the feeling of her necklace under everything. “Used to say you were too distracted, and shouldn't spend that much time around boys when you weren't even a woman yet.”

“It wasn't like that.”

Quick as you were, so was Stannis. “I know. Despite everything I raised you better then that.” The sights of the Nightfort passed by still, neither party noticing that should any glance up, an amusingly identical image was sat between the two of you as you both stood there, leaned against the railing. “If Aegon cooperates, I'll order my troops to sail on Eastwatch by the Sea as soon as possible. Organize with Jon and this Lord Commander-”

“Edd.”

You could see your father turn slightly to give you a glance, but continued without noting your interruption. “Edd. Decide what forts need to be prioritized and how many. I'll remain in the long term for now. I presume you will return to Winterfell shortly, I will keep my command here. The North needs an army to man the wall, so we'll man it.”

Nodding, you said nothing for a moment. This was neither the time nor place, but you still struggled to even find the words for what could be said. You discussed strategy, plans, and numbers with your father, no details of your life. He never knew your last until it was too late, but telling him of this one felt foreign and strange. Of course he would care, but part of you was still a girl with a father you didn't like to step out of line towards.

You weren't quite yet ready to have that conversation. And yet, what came out of your mouth was not at all the same as the thoughts at the front of your mind. Instead without permission, your mouth reached deep within and pulled up something you hadn't even considered saying previously. “I didn't go to Robb to spite you. At the beginning of the war, I didn't side against you with ill intent.”

Stannis barley turned to look at you. Something distant in his tone with a question long forgotten until now. “I never asked how it was you came to leave. You were said to have been in King's Landing at the same time Ned Stark was arrested, how did you leave before they could get to you?”

“I was there that day too. In the throne room, Lord Stark and I both went to confront Cersei, we had Roberts will, we thought we had the gold cloaks. But we didn't. They arrested us both that day. Separated us and tossed us both into the black cells.” Shaking your head, gloved hands wrung slightly together as your face twisted in long passed conflict. “I didn't go into this war wanting to stand on the opposite side as you. But I had a choice, and I made it, and I will never apologize for choosing Robb over you. But it was never meant to betray you.”

“Who aided in your escape?”

Right to the point, you considered not wanting to know if he had even considered your words thus far beyond that. Honesty however, was all he wanted on some. “Ser Barristan Selmy. We went though the tunnels under the city and I got on a small fishing ship headed to White Harbour.”

Neither of you spoke for the moment, until once more he shifted the tone. “The man did always have a soft spot for you.” Only a nod, something in your head tried to ask a question but there was too much fog from the days since. Too much had occurred in such a short period of time to allow such a wondering thought to bloom.

For once however, the quiet between father and daughter which followed, wasn't awkward nor tense as the day continued to pass by around you.

“So what are we looking for exactly?”

Somehow it seemed there were still rooms which had not yet been explored nor even walked in. Only now had you found what appeared to look much like what the Lord Commanders quarters in Castle Black looked like. Dust sat around and it felt as barren as any, like it had been gutted long ago. Eyes squinting as you looked up to the shelves near the ceiling you muttered, “Anything that appears to have writing on it, especially anything not written in Common.”

Theon and Olly both looked at one another, the question once more coming from the younger ones mouth. “Has she always been vague about things?”

You answered at the exact same time as Theon in a dry word. “Yes.”

Fifteen years knowing one another, Theon knew your most annoying of quirks likely better then anyone else. Some still needed time to get used to it, but if the two of them were going to be in your proximity in the first place, then you were going to make them useful to your purpose in here.

It felt a shame this fort had been abandoned so long. It was large and vast and too much to upkeep for the dwindling numbers of the Nights Watch, but it was well constructed and rather impressive. You could almost stand in the training yard and imagine the vast amount of black furs and leathers all bustling within these walls. You meant no offence to Castle Black but it was minuscule in comparison to the luxuries which could be afforded here.

Now it was no longer as such, a dreary place which needed as much work as it likely ever had since it's first build. No fancy noble woman would come here and find it suitable to live in or even be in. The first they ever build though, you wondered how long the men had attempted to hold onto this place before finally being ordered to leave.

Jon had said the other abandoned forts tunnels had been flooded, but the did not this one, and you wondered just how many men understood the strangeness below. The gate, the face, the symbols all there but did they know somewhere in there was a mystery tied to bodies and symbols of blood in the snow? Did they have any idea when they left this place what was to come in hundreds of years?

The Wall was said to be built to protect the realm, but why now did all of those secrets lay in the dark little hope to ever find answers to their depths?

Books scattered about, looking in one and nothing but numbers and inventory. Another schedules and routines, discipline and what not. All standard and left behind with no care anymore for what would not remain. But still, no hint of other forts containing answers to a thing seemed likely when the black gate below was something not like any other.

Something, someone, somewhere and sometime in this very place there had to be something written in one form or another as to what was going on. What happened here and why was the remainder of the Nights Watch left in such disarray and unprepared?

Near a desk, you could see the remains of a large book, more of a tomb then anything. As you picked it up however, it became very obvious that it would likely not be hiding any secret, a book this absurdly heavy. A wince on your face, you walked it to the nearest surface and let it drop with a thud. Only as it did, more then just the wood of the natural desk shifted.

Brows narrowing, you looked to see nothing. So you repeated the process, and something surely seemed to be moving separate of the rest of the wood. Theon and Olly both glanced over, the former with a question in the air. “What is it?”

Frowning, you knelt down to look more at the wood, but saw nothing. “I thought I saw something, must be imagining things.”

Walking to your side as Olly stood on the opposite of the desk, Theon looked at the book. Opening it, there was more of nothing useful, and yet you bit your tongue trying to look at what didn't move. But startling you back, Theon with far more strength did the same and that time, you were at the right angle to see just the slightest of jolts underneath. Right where the legs of a man would sit.

Mouth parting slightly, Theon explained. “Some wood can get stuck against any metal keeping it together in the cold. Just needs a good shift to do so.”

Both coming to your side, Olly pulled the chair from the way and all knelt on each side of you, looking to where your gloved hand traced along what might be an opening. Only for a second did you reach for a blade, only to find your hand empty and turning with a frown to see nothing. Right.

A certain someone didn't seem to want you casually carrying weapons so frivolously anymore.

Almost rolling your eyes with a sigh, Theon caught enough of the context with a smirk. “Allow me.” Pulling a dagger out of his own, you and Olly both leaned back to let him pry at it. A wince on his own face until a thud of his arm slamming against the side of the desk and did a piece of wood fall.

Wood, and what appeared to be scraps of paper all wrapped together with a string to keep them from separating. Slowly picking up up, you turned some of it in place but wrapped up as such not a lot could be determined. “If you were to abandon this castle for good, why go to such lengths to hide papers instead of taking it with you?”

Theon presented one answer, “Maybe to hide it and come back to it when no one was around.”

But it was Olly with the one you suspected might ring more true. “Or they didn't know this was there in the first place. Hide it where no one would ever find it.”

Until now you thought. Standing up, you carefully undid the strings and let them fall in place. One by one you gently looked through the ink, and found something far more interesting then inventory and routines. You found something written in a language long not used, something which looked much like carvings on a rune stone.

The Nightfort was the oldest along the Wall, and such papers truly reminded you as such. That it was not just ancestors and Northerners manning this place. Once thousands of years ago, the First Men occupied this place all on their own.

By the time the afternoon fell over the sky, you were still there. Only enough light filtering in from the windows alone, but sat at the desk still flipping through it all. A small journal of your own to the side where your left hand was preoccupied writing, and your right sifting through each page.

Not anywhere near what you likely could know if the vast extend of work Sam had conducted, but you felt strange looking at these. Something hidden away for so long not even the hundreds of Lord Commanders after these were made, had found them. They would be at least four thousand years old, as the traditional phonetics of written word as it was used now, was only brought over by the Andals.

It likely, sat somewhere closer to six thousand, the fade some of the ink had become and the darkening on the paper naturally from accumulated age. What you could recognize seemed strange this far, speakings of curtains of light, heart and winter, and something you could only translate as a woman of white. Over and over such symbols came back and back and back again but never more did you grasp the meanings of it all.

Whatever this man had seen, something unusual had happened to him, he had seen something almost as if it drove him mad. The writings not even neat, uniform or clear. It was as if they were scrambled down in a haste, manic ramblings which were all they had time for or the sanity to put forth. Every symbol was cracked and faded and had you running your gloved hand over again and again as if to scrub away the grime from years.

But it wasn't that itself which caught your attention, it wasn't strange writings alone which had you sitting here on your own. It was the final page. Nothing as if a name, nothing which spoke of a person, but a symbol which was one not out of the ordinary to your knowledge. At the bottom, sat the symbol you knew all too well now. Faded and nearly wiped gone, but it was there. No name of who left such a story, but that of a direwolf. A sigil no mistakening from that of House Stark.

Old Nan had told many stories of the Nights Watch, the Wall and the Nightfort but none ever contained mystique of such far north whispers. Monsters and strange creatures and corpses and death, but nothing close to matching what this spoke of. Whatever this was, it was old. So old it seemed not have to been passed down.

You needed more information somewhere else.

Why he kept glancing at you in a knowing manner you weren't sure, but you at that point in your life had found expert talent in pretending as if you did not notice a bit of it. Focusing instead on the words in front of you and not either the eyes or the weight of papers you had not brought out from where you hid it on your person. As if a bird pecking at the inside of your mind, something had told you to keep it to yourself. To not throw it down to others so quickly, and it just might have been that Stark sigil doing so. But you spoke none of it, only walking into the room and stating you wanted to simply look over things yourself, to make yourself useful.

Sam had accepted that explanation, but you felt that rising paranoia that it was what you had hidden from his knowledge he was looking at you for. Regardless, you ignored it and spoke as collected as you could. “And this is every record available?”

Almost as if shaking his head out of it's thoughts, Sam jolted to look over at you with more calm. “Names, dates, greatest accomplishments, everything they recorded as they went. Though, not so much where you're still at.” A narrowing of eyes as you asked the question in quiet. “Well, once the Andals came in, they had to transcribe the records all before them into our writing and so the further back the records go, the less information they have.”

The book was one Sam said should exist somewhere in every fort along the Wall. The Maesters records of every Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, from the start until the last day of each forts use. This one sat still in the somewhat empty library of the Nightfort and thus had no information passed a few short centuries ago. But you didn't look to there, not yet.

Right now, you had begun from the start. Each entry as Sam said was barren at first. But there were names and dates of voting in until their death. You could look one to the next and the math added up entirely correct. Only, no, you couldn't. From the first through to the twelfth Lord Commander it was Stark after Stark recorded. It made sense in your mind, one Stark ruled the North as King, the other commanded the Wall following the end of the Long Night.

But there was no entry for the thirteenth, and after as such it was never a Stark so consistently until it devolved into rarity and then it ended far before your lifetime. The thirteenth, you thought. Brows narrowed as your nails tapped along the edge of the page. Something was in your mind, but you weren't anywhere near a Northerner to have it so readily in your memory.

No, your lifetime was filled with tedious knowledge of every dragon named Targaryean there ever had been in their dynasty. You only knew the North in stories, you had not the lifetime of learning in such an age. But Sam was not a Northerner either, and you were far too aware, that was only an excuse as to why you did not ask.

There was only one other entry which intrigued your mind, but it was not here. They were voted in far later then the last of the Nightfort's days. Two Lord Commanders of the Nights Watch, and something once more like a bird pecked at your mind with increasing frustration. You were too tired, you had been awake too long and far too much of the last night when sleep should have been had, was spent on something else entirely.

Maybe you didn't have the capacity to understand any of this right now. And the longer the day went on the less you found yourself wanting any to intrude on it with a single word. You required a very specific air of quiet and it would not be found as the day was busy. And if by the weary expression on Jons face, he felt all too the same.

Walking in with a frown and unfocused eyes, you could sense the irritation all the same as it sat in your blood, but judging by the unphased reaction of Sam, you'd suspect he was used to it as you were. A lightness in his tone as he jested with ease, “You know sometimes I forget I should be referring you to by your title, but then you walk in like that and you make it difficult to remember there's a King under that look.”

Jon's eyes narrowed in a half baked glare towards Sam, which was taken as good as Jon sending him but a smirk. Passing him by to circle more around to where you were, he mumbled under his breath enough for him to still hear. “You're the last person I'd ask to call me that, Sam.”

To your surprise, as your eyes had been casted downward, you hadn't noticed until warmth enveloped your side. Jon resting a hand gentle along the back of your head as the other braced against the desk, leaning down he spared no hesitation pressing a tender kiss to the hair at the top of your head. Out of everything, it was such a simple act in front of another that had you feel a flush building in your chest, not daring to look at Sam, no doubt having seen the display of affection.

Murmuring a he pulled a seat close to where you were at the edge of one side of the desk, Jon sat at the other. Eyes narrowing at the book in front of you, “What is that?”

“Oh, that's called a book, your grace.”

Jon's face fell flat instantly, peeling his eyes up to glare at Sam who was no doubt rather amused with how much a grouchy Jon would let him get away with saying. Knowing the man was too tired to say a word back with the same quickness. You were also rather certain he knew you were smothering your own smirk, but passing by it as you cleared the strain in your throat. “It's every Lord Commander since the Wall was constructed. I had wondered if any name ends up standing out, or something they've done could match anything Sam's already uncovered.”

Nodding, Jon's eyes had not seen as you did, and none would yet. “Have you found anything?”

Yes. “No.”

The hand at the back of your head had slid to the top edge of your chair, not noticeable enough for you, but on every non consistent occasion, Jon would reach what of his fingers he could to toy with the loose strands of hair free down your back. Eyes hardly leaving you to the page then back. Whatever he normally held back in respect in front of others, Sam was not one Jon felt the need to hide in front of.

The papers hiding under your clothes weighed a crushing amount.

Voices moved between the two men, the rasp from one side so gentle in your ear you for once had not felt the burn in your scar. But something only a little girl would describe as a fluttering in your stomach in it's place. For so long you couldn't ever think of it in terms of something which couldn't haunt, but it wasn't life alone now. It was life gifted by Jon himself.

You came here to focus and search for answers, but your heart skipped light in your heart being so close to him. All the talk of children, and it was only real now. It was only real not even in the past twenty four hours. And instead of having time to consider it together, you both were once more jumping within the depths of duty.

A sigh holding back inside you, you were a mess. Tugged in many directions in the storms of winter coming but the one which came back again and again you could feel Jon's eyes flickering down to your stomach. You were avoiding the grey and he knew it, as if begging you to ignore your focus and look back up at him.

Did he want to make you feel out of your mind? You thought to yourself, Jon was just sadistic enough enjoy dangling your silence in front of those closest to him. “Either we used symbols of their language in our writing afterwards, or they are using ours thinking we could read it.”

You could hear Sam somewhat near you still, the sounds of the endless amount of paper trailing along his workspace as he spoke. “What if it's both?” Jon's brows narrowed in question just as you much firmer felt his hands trail along strands of your hair along your back, Sam continuing. “I tried to combine the symbols you both had seen, and found it seemed to form a new phrase entirely. Something along the lines of winters heart.”

Head turned just to the slightest, your tone breathless as you tried to make it nonchalant. “What does that mean?”

Sam earnest as he responded without hesitating. “I don't know. Nothing I've seen even in the old manuscripts mention anything like that.” Jaw clenching, you turned back to re reading the same words over and over. The papers would crush you had you hid them against your lungs. Begging to be looked at but you weren't sure why you continued to withhold it.

It was a bizarre sensation, something you cannot control telling you against the logic in your mind and you knew too well it wasn't something you have never felt before. But never with something so close to the storms of the North coming. It was never so close to something you understood as such.

Per chance you spared a glance to Jon, already leaned down somewhat to catch your eyes in tandem as you sought his out. A brightness of asking in them, but you bit your tongue. Doubt only you could look to him back with, and the smallest of single head shakes you were graced to know he understood as later. If it was his family on these papers, he should know about them first.

Looking away, the thought sat deep on his face trying to put more together. Low and strained as Jon spoke through the clues already in front of him. “They know our vows, they think we can understand their symbols..” Trailing off the right question was left to him. “I only see two options. Either they're trying to communicate with us, or it's meant to be a threat.” Sam asking a threat to what, and it seemed Jon had thought that through as well. “That they know us more then we know them.”

Such a fact was true, but it did not sit comfortably anywhere between the three of you.

“Edd said his rangers report it would take months to reach where the green in the sky is. As far as the Frost Fangs.” Jon stood abruptly, his hand pressing more firm along your back and down to your hip as if when moving by towards Sam, he was beckoning you to follow. For now it seemed, you had seen enough from the book in front of you. There was little else a missing entry could say without anything further to go of off.

Smoothing the skirt of your dress down as you stood, Jon and Sam had begun looking over a map of sorts. Coming closer to Jons side, one arm without looking away, spared no expense in wrapping around your waist to pull you into your side. Sliding the same hand to press along the small of your back. Eyes of yours trained downward in a fluster to smother the urge see the continuous gaze of Sam watching Jons physical ease with you.

Hand trailing along a path from Castle Black out to lands you knew none of. North of the Wall was large and vast, and no doubt however you thought the North you live in now was, likely was minuscule in comparison to the cold endless snowy lands the further you went. Up past the eeiry named Haunted Forest, Jon landed on what looked like a set of mountains before a very empty space along the rest of the map above it.

Rasping deep as Jon looked over it to give him the answers here and now. “If the light's we saw aren't passing by the Frost Fangs, we shouldn't be able to see them at all.” You asking why, Jons face twisted once more in thought. “It would take months to reach there. It's the furthest North the Nights Watch has ever made it, but that's too far to see anything in the horizon from there.”

“Unless they want us to see it.” Both your and Jons head rose to find the more hopeful knowing in Sam. “Think about it, they leave things for us to read, they want us to see these green waves in the sky, but not bring it any closer.”

Your eyes found the map once more, looking to where Jons hand sat at the Frost Fangs you leaned down closer to the table. “What's beyond it?” Both men turned to look at you in question. “The Frost Fangs, it's the furthest the Nights Watch has ever made it, but what's beyond that?”

It was small print in the middle of a space of nothing at the top of the map. Stretching to sights unseen as if unable to confirm it. The location nothing which spoke of actual civilization, unlike the rest of the northern map which detailed where many people had once lived all over. Sam filled you in on such details, all three of you now looking to the same place. “The Maesters at the citadel have about as much knowledge as we do, but according to them, it's where giants and the children of the forest lived during the dawn age. A land frozen forever, inhospitable to man.”

Jon turning to meet your gaze with a more gentle of tones, “Some of the brothers used to say it's where the Others came from thousands of years ago.”

Shaking your head a tad, your eyes trailed off to nothing in particular. “We already know they're coming, why tell us now? Why warn us they're coming now when they've spent years hunting us all down?”

But Jon had a possible answer to that, one that he came to conclusion of at Hardhome as he and one of them found the others eyes across the waters. Meeting one another before letting the free folk all rise dead and blue eyed beside for the remaining living to see. It wasn't a threat to warn, it was a message to scare. “First kill our people, and only then make sure we know they're coming.” Face twisting in thought, you could see the strain as always existed in him now as he looked with sudden sharp eyes to Sam. “You've killed one of them, and now they know I have too. They might be trying to scare us into thinking we can't fight back the way they can. They want people like Sam and me to believe we aren't enough. We know they're still out there and now we have to watch it every night until they decide to come for us.”

The room was warm as it could be with the fires around, and yet a chill shivered between all three of you. It was too dangerous, this path finding itself uncovering. If they wanted you all to believe you were without hope, then the lack of it couldn't leave this room. The Long Night ended once, it would end again but perhaps preventing it in the first place was the losing battle. Perhaps it was finding the answer of how to end it before a generation was born and died all in that darkness.

An order coming firmly from Jon in the creeping silence that shocked both Sam and yourself back into your heads without crushing dread taking over again. “Every translation you have, I need a copy of it. If the only way we can understand them is in a dead language,”

Only you would dare with such a finish for his words, the only one in the room who understood. “No one better to learn how to understand it then a dead King.” Greys met Green, and you knew too well that it was not one dead man who should understand it. But three.

It seemed fitting, the first of you to die and return now one of the first to learn a language of symbols and people long dead. Jon when conveying his plans before coming here had been firm. If Thoros and Beric wished to fight this fight, they wouldn't do so anywhere near Jons true home. Trusting them to commit to such a battle, but not enough to let them have eyes on you more then they already were.

Telling the group of you who had all accompanied Jon here, that should Stannis agree, the two outlaws would remain at the Nightfort under his watch and command. “The Night's Watch is beyond reach of the law. Edd knows what we're up against as well as I do, and he and I are working together, but sending men there can't be a punishment anymore.”

You could recall standing beside him, the flare of pride in you watching Jon speak with such conviction and confidence without a shred of ego to back his voice up. Smalljon Umber had spoken up in a respectful manner, “I'm not sure I follow, your grace.”

Jon, as he was better at then he'd give credit for, was convincing to the point you'd almost mistaken it for another act of strange magic natural in his blood. “I had brothers in the Nights Watch sent there instead of being physically punished for their crimes. But the Wall needs more then men forced to find purpose there because that's the only life they have left. Thoros and Lord Beric will serve at the Nightfort, no chains, no sentencing. We have to fight this fight beacuse we want to. Not because we have no other choice. I'm bringing them with us when we leave, and hate them or not, they won't be my prisoners anymore. I'm trusting them with the same chances I trusted my brothers with at Castle Black. You are free to voice your complains my lords, but I can't have us arguing about it. Now now. We have to all trust each other regardless of what we may have once done.”

The thought that he once thought he wasn't worth anything and yet in that moment all you could do, was hope Robb and Ned could hear you. Hear you tell them that they should be proud of who they helped Jon become.

Robb would always be Jons brother, the closest companion he had from before he could even form memories, Robb was there right beside him. Nothing could take that away from then, nothing and no one could remove that Jon and Robb both were brothers who missed each other in those wars with everything they had. Robb tried not to talk about Jon in front of you as much as you did him, his presence a missing void especially once Theon had turned traitor.

Once it was only Robb and yourself left, Jon was such a missing space in your hearts beyond even the love you felt for him. He was in different ways, best friends to both of you. All Robb wanted to do once the war was over, was take you home and find a way to bring his brother home where he belonged.

You both knew something was coming one day, the moment the raven arrived in Riverrun with news of Sansa being wed to Tyrion Lannister, you both could sense Lord Tywin was plotting something to replace you both with. Not the idea of how inhumane it would be or how sudden, but you both had the growing sense that there was a chance you both wouldn't make it.

Robb had said it himself. “Tywin finally knows your pregnant.”

You had no doubt that even had Robb known the truth of Jons birth, that would not have changed his mind in naming Jon as his true heir. Unspoken, but so enraged by his mothers insulation that Jon would have any intentions of harming what remained of Robbs family, it had Grey Wind step forward and growl deeply at her. It gave away how far she overstepped, and Robb did not hide that he had let his direwolf express such rage for him.

Everyday you always wished Robb could see his trust in Jon was right. That he could rest with his family in the crypts beneath Winterfell and watch over his brother not rule like him, but be a great leader all of his own.

You knew too well, Ned Stark was proud of Jon. Never more had you been confident he'd be proud of him. He knew the truth Jons entire life, and never raised him as anything but his own true son he loved with all his heart. Father by blood or not, there was no influence on the man Jon stood as now which was greater then Neds.

Without failure, every time the night settled into drawing you into sleep did you feel the nerves inside you flare up. Everytime you wondered not what you might see, but if he would be there. What he would say, what he would do. He wanted you to fall for his tricks, but did not hide his willingness to act as the attacker if you wouldn't give in.

The scariest thought of it all however, was that this was someone in the world you lived in. Somewhere out there, this stranger was real, and he knew far more about you then you knew about him.

If there was only one factor to redeem it thus far, is that for reasons you still did not know, both dreams he has come to you, was where you were protected by that of a great wolf. A white direwolf larger on four legs then he'd ever been seen, and feirce as any could possibly dream of when in need of aid. But, there was a difference between that one, and the very large ball of white fur laying about by the fire in the room and the one only now just taking a seat at the edge of the bed with a rough, low groan and a wince in his face.

The image of Ghost was what stood with you in those dreams, but it was the white wolf currently rubbing harshly at the back of his neck to no avail of easing his tension. You already perched on the bed, knees somewhat bent as they lay outward, you had been to write something. Paper flat out on the cover of a book, it was taking you far longer then what you suspect Jon would think.

That was always a complaint directed towards your father and yourself. Your ravens were always very deliberately worded, but it meant it took longer to write out then what many scribbled out in haste. A pause between half sentences trying to consider the wording once more. Had you been the one writing to Aegon, Jon had jested you'd needed to have started two hours before he did just to get it done at the same time.

You hadn't looked up from your writing to that, but likely he had caught the smirk trying to smother itself forming on your lips. Now though, he sat down as it stretched far too late into the night and not much sleep had been found for a while.

The night before you and he had stayed up on the Wall with one another until the watch duty moved onto the morning switch. Little was said, little needed to be then. You had to accept it, Jon had to actually deal with the ramifications of what was once his biggest fear being with you. Neither of you rushed each other. It was different this time.

You had not the burden of failure weighing you down, and Robb had spent his entire life knowing one day he would so easily start a family. Once it was out there, it was only joy. Even out at war, even when everyone was finding ways to stab him in the back, when you both were losing everything, the happiness of sharing that news was the easiest part.

But you no longer were that person, and Jon spent most of his life as far from Robb's dream of a family as what he thought possible. It wasn't upsetting, it wasn't angering, but it wasn't easy. You finally knew though only time could ease that for you both. Though, one thing was the same it seemed, no matter how much more frustrating it felt this time.

As if knowing, begun a path in your mind that could be set off at any moment. It had been this way once Robb and you knew, but now with Jon that might be a bit more dangerous. Jon would never admit it, but in a shocking turn of events, somehow he was the brother with the insatiable appetite. You feeling needy for Robb was easy, you both knew when was not the right time for it. Jon though, would push anything aside should the need become too much.

You were daring not think about what he might say, should he realize the more this carried on, the more of such a need you were going to feel swirling on the inside.

Very carefully as to not quite let him know, you gently moved the paper and ink off to the side completely before slowly making your way down the rest of the beds length. Moving up onto your knees, you let your front drape lightly against Jons back as your hands took place of his. Digging down more into the base of his neck and spine and putting just the right pressure into the muscles you felt him tense before relaxing. Moving along further down until you reached the far worse strain he carried in his shoulders.

Something akin to a grunt left Jon as his head dropped, hands braced against the sheets below him only to relax moreso as you pressed a kiss to just below his ear. Murmuring lowly, “You should've asked me to do this far sooner. It's not good for you, walking around this tense.”

You think maybe Jon nodded, and you could only smile at how easily he crumbled under such a touch in all the same ways you knew finding the right place for your nails to scratch at Ghost would make the direwolf as weak. Truly one in the same your two wolves were. His words slurred out a bit more as he leaned a bit back int your touch, clearly lost in the feeling as he sounded as if his accent had thickened in no time. “I didn't ask you the first time.”

A chuckle left lightly in his ear from you, yourself missing the smile it drew from Jon at the sound so close to him. “No, but I like making you feel good.” Were Jon not still hidden somewhat by you having only a view of his back, you would've noticed his jaw clenching. Too often you would phrase things that pricked at a wild part of his mind, and he would sit there telling himself not to ruin the peace of the moment by turning around and forcing your back against the bed laying under him. You were just being sweet and Jon wanted to ravage you for it.

Now more then ever he wanted to ravage you for it.

By the time your hands eased up, you let them dance slightly back to his neck and up before working on what as to be Jons next weakness. Letting loose his curls, you begun running your fingers through them and scratching against his scalp to have it sit comfortably and neatly. “You need to stop doing that.”

A light questioning on your lips asking, “Doing what?” Whatever mumble Jon gave you was not an answer you could decipher. Leaning more over his shoulder, you tried to seek his face out more, “Jon? Stop doing what?”

Inhaling, he sat up, grabbing a hand of your which had slid down to his shoulder, forcing it in front of his chest to leave a kiss against the back. Holding it in place it forced you to lean more against his back as he turned to somewhat find your gaze back. “Doing things for me like this, trying to take care of me.” Not changing your expression you only looked at him curiously asking why. Letting the hand go, you didn't take it back, but kept it draped over to press somewhat against his chest as he used his now free hand to run along what of your jaw he could reach. “I'm supposed to take care of you.”

A lightness sat in your eyes, but yet even as the tone matched it's softness, your words knew better then to challenge him as such. “If you need proof you take care of me perfectly fine, it's currently growing between us.” Truly, you meant it innocently, and you really should have known far better then that.

His eyes narrowed for a moment before Jons far superior strength managed to turn on you. Before the understanding of the moment hit, in an instance your back was flat against the bed as Jon how hovered over you. Both of his hands pressed somewhere on the sheets beside your frame. A laugh left you with ease, “Jon-”

Smiling brightly in return he said your name in the same mocking tone. But as soon as the laugh on you faded into a quiet, tender smile, it quickly thus melted along with your heart as you felt that growing in your heart of adoration. Jon made it too easy, and part of you in the back of your head despised that he once thought he would never have or deserve anything close to this.

Running a hand over the facial hair on his jaw, you let your thumb trace against the scratching feeling as your other sat just above where your scar was, even covered up. Hardly but a whisper on you, as if now the room became only what was here and now on the bed. “I hate to be the bearer of difficult news, my King. But if only a mention of it garners such a reaction, I'm not sure how I'm going to ever get anything accomplished once it starts showing.”

The tease was on the tip of his tongue you could tell, but he held it back. Swallowing the jest right back down as he inhaled deeply. Bright eyes shining down at you even despite the darkness falling upon the room in the night. Low and still thick as if such rawness in him brought out the most Northern of an accent deep in his capability. “When do you?” Your head tilting best it could against the sheets in question, he repeated himself just a softly. “When do you start showing?”

He had been there to see Lady Catelyn go through four pregnancies but it wasn't quite as if she was eager to have her husbands bastard around her in her more sensitive states. Jon usually avoided her in the early months to not accidentally instigate things. Almost eleven years after her last one, it wasn't as if Jon was spending hoards of time around pregnant women at the Wall. Part of him almost felt disappointed in himself for how much he realized he didn't yet know about this process.

Yet not for a moment did it even occur in your mind the same thought. Your eyes distant in trying to search back to a life long passed. “Two moons passed when I started to notice, but it wasn't until around three when I couldn't hide it anymore.”

Grey eyes trailing downward, Jon pulled back, now more kneeling between your legs upright, a hand running down your waist and hip until his thumb could reach where he knew your scar was. Perhaps it was the familiarity that calmed you, and yet Jon felt a skip in his heart. Something rough caught in his throat that refused to come out, were he with anyone else he'd worry they'd mistaken the frowning in his expression as a negative. But you knew him.

Wanting to sit up to go to him, you knew though it would take away what he needed right now. And even in the quiet of the room, you could hear Jons head spinning. Robb had it easy, he had always wanted it, and knew one day it was coming his way. Jon didn't. He had thought of it, obsessed over it, rambled about it when deep inside of you but it wasn't until he could sit there and know the life in your womb was his did it feel real.

His eyes flickering up to meet yours, slowly when he didn't break gaze you sat up. A breathless chuckle almost leaving you, it had started already. Jon moving in an instant to gently help you sit up, moving so you both sat more side by side on the bed facing the other. Your hand finding his cheek once more, Jons both at your waist. Dragging back from your stomach up to you again.

Shaking his head you knew he was struggling to even comprehend whatever words were forming in his mind. Instead, you leaned forward. A light capture of his lips to yours, Jon moved to cup both of your cheeks in return. Deepening it in a manner of seconds, your hands drifted to rest along the back of his neck and shoulders. His kiss wasn't greedy or demanding, but there was a pouring of nerves he was trying to get rid of in your lips. Refusing to let you go until the anxieties filtered out, but it wasn't that easy you knew.

Still, you let Jon guide your kiss, soft lips begging yours not to leave his for too long or he'd pull you right back before you could catch one proper inhale of air. Moving to wrap an arm around your waist, Jon suddenly shifted both of you. Pulling just barley from your lips, his eyes heavy as they looked dark at you and back down to your lips as he pulled you up. His legs swinging over the edge of the bed before he hauled you to perch straddling his lap. Your hands clutched at his shoulders and both of his tight at your hip.

Jon kept you a decent amount from his chest though, despite the begging in his lips to kiss yours again he trailed his eyes down your neck, to your chest and resting finally at your stomach. Rasping out, he almost seemed like he could not choose between the dark need brewing in him, and something far more wide eyed and boyish in honesty. “The first day you arrived in Winterfell,” A huff of a laugh left him as his voice dreamed of past. “I thought you were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Standing all alone in the training yard, but the moment Robb and I went up to you, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to you.”

Hands running up and down your hips, material bunching and smoothing out with each instance. Your hands wrapped gently around the back of his neck to toy with the curls loose around his head.

Barley finding your eyes he just looked to where you suspected he wished he could see without the dress in his way. “I knew I'd have to tell you I was a Snow, and I knew after that you wouldn't want to talk to me.” Your brows narrowed, something jolting at your heart as you looked at him in a despair but he continued onward. “Girls never wanted to talk to me after they learned my name. And I knew the pretty daughter of the Kings brother wouldn't ever want to talk to a bastard. But then I told you, and you didn't do anything. You asked if I was Ned Starks other son, and you never said anything about it after.”

You both knew you wouldn't remember that, you recalled very little about the day you arrived given how fever ridden you were pretending not to feel. But you did remember meeting him properly the second time, but you didn't care then either. Fingers running through his hair, stopping at the pause of any tangle and gently running through them carefully to not disturb it. Your voice soft and as quiet as his. “Being a bastard didn't mean much to me, even then. I grew up around different members of House Seaworth, and they all came from Gin Alley. If I wasn't supposed to judge them, I didn't think I should judge you.”

Jon had only ever known Ser Davos as he was now, but he knew Karl Tanner, another from just there. A man as dangerous as he was morally reprehensible and he boasted all he could about how he was the top paid cutthroat in Flea Bottom, and if he could judge by shaking and disturbed look in the girls bruised eye in Crasters Keep, he died as sickening as he lived.

And yet on the other side was Ser Davos, a man that many, including Jon had come to greatly respect and value the opinion of. Or Sam, a highborn disowned by an abusive father because he didn't fit the rigid standards of what he saw as manhood. Grenn and Pyp, just two lowborns not given a chance in the world to succeed. Tormund, a large, outspoken wild man from beyond the wall who in another life would have every reason to consider Jon an enemy.

Outside of his family, almost everyone it felt like he was close to was something of an outcast. The ones who didn't have a place like the rest of the highborns they were surrounded by and found people in one another. Carving a place for themselves when most of them should've been cast out and forgotten.

Except you. You never made sense when Jon considered his life. A beautiful highborn Baratheon girl, the Kings niece with a fancy education and lived in the Red Keep, sitting on the small council. You had no place in Jons life, he thought. Most girls with less prestige then you looked down on Jon as it was, but you were as highborn as a girl could get without being a princess and you found yourself a life where nothing but a Northern Bastard was such a big part of it.

Even now, learning the truth of his mother didn't make Jon any less a bastard. It didn't change that he spent his entire life being raised as one. Jon used to know he was lucky to even live in Winterfell. Most highborn bastards of the North didn't get to live with whoever fathered them. But he lived with his father and grew up with five siblings alongside him as if be belonged but you shouldn't have cared about that.

No one in the Kings company gave him a second glance until Tyrion Lannister came creeping around the corner with advice Jon was then too angry to listen too. It was only you.

Sitting there, his grey eyes trained so heavily on your stomach, he knew there was nothing to see but a scar, but it still felt so odd to know it was real. Him being a father? And not just that, but a father to a legitimate child? Snow or Stark in name his child still wouldn't be a bastard and Jon struggled with it. He didn't want to get you pregnant knowing putting a child in you, a bastard child, would be ruining that child's life before they even had a chance.

The only children he dreamed of were yours, but he wasn't stupid. He knew it was a dream. It was part of why he knew he was taking the black. What was left? He couldn't have a life with you so why stay and mourn what was still right in front of him? But yet? Now?

Jon wasn't sure how quiet he had been for how long. He had told you he wanted to keep this to yourselves for right now, until he could get you safe and sound back in Winterfell and that was true, but there was one more thing Jon wanted to do before his people knew.

If this was real, if this was happening, Jon wanted to go see her. To tell her that Jon would do everything to make sure what happened to her, wouldn't happen to you. Jon wanted to get you home, so before he could even see the burial place of the only father he cared about to tell, he first wanted to visit the resting place of Lyanna Stark.

Jon wanted to promise his mother he'd protect you the way someone should've protected her.

Only a rasping whisper came out, hands still running up and down your sides. “Let me see.” A hum of question came from you, but Jon ignored it. Suddenly moving you around himself to undress you, tossing each offending article in his way mindlessly to the ground.

“Jon, there's nothing to see yet.”

But he didn't listen, not until there was only one thing left on you, but otherwise bare in the cold air of the room, yet warm in Jons touch. He skipped past everything else to seek out the scar. Nothing else mattered, but he stared intently at it until the greys turned black in colour in his eyes. You prompted his name once more, a hand running along the hair at the side of his head when Jon more hissed out with his jaw clenching.

“It started with you, didn't it?” When his eyes soared up to meet yours, there was anger in them. Which grew in the second of silence as you contemplated his question. “The night you died, it started with you. With this.” Keeping one hand at the small of your back to support you, his other moved to trace more purposely over the scar. All you could do was nod, you weren't sure you knew what to say if anything at all. “He killed your son before he even killed you. How far along were you?”

A skip in your heart felt heavy and dizzying, you weren't sure why his demeanour changed so suddenly, but you stammered trying to seek the right answer. “Around five months.”

Something in Jon was blazing with rage, you couldn't identify where it came from but you knew this wasn't going to be the last this was brought up. A distinct feeling in your veins that the longer you were with child this time, the longer you survived the worse this feeling in him would continue to grow. Almost growling, “Five months. You wouldn't have been able to hide it.”

You didn't want to think of it, the disgust in words as you had to stand there in the Twins and let Walder Frey leer over your pregnant form with an utter perversion for doing so in front of Robb. Knowing Robb needed his support more then he wanted to put a stop to his comments, knowing that in hours time, he'd have his men close the doors and end it all.

Shaking your head, you weren't angry as him, but not quite as present as you hoped. “No. Lord Tywin had learned I was pregnant by then. That's why it all happened so fast. Word had reached him and I couldn't hide it anymore, so he moved quickly. Organized everything the moment we left Roose Bolton at Harrenhal.” A rough rasp in his voice almost to himself that he wouldn't let it happen again. Your attempt to lighten his mood didn't work. “Tywin Lannister and Roose Bolton are both dead, it would be far harder for it to happen again now.”

Finding yours, Jons hands on you were fighting not to hold you tight enough to bruise but you knew he wanted to do more. Something inside him had switched, and something far closer to an animal was raging inside of him now. “This isn't a joke.” Your gaze softened at his, trying to implore him to ease up but at the same time, you suspected he was too worked up.

The tighter his hands on you were, the more Jon seemed to without notice, drag your covered hips down onto his. Even under all his own clothes, you could feel his cock twitching with how hard something protective was working up inside of him. “You understand why I need you to listen to me from now on?” You nodded almost a bit shyly, unsure how to approach his agitation yet. Inhaling deep enough his chest rose and fell quite visibly, Jon leaned in. The hand on your scar moving to your hip as the one around your back rose to pull your forehead to press against his. Breath hot as it trailed along your skin. “I have to protect you, both of you from now on. So please, darling. I need you to trust me when I want you to listen to what I say. I couldn't protect you then, so let me do it now.”

Part of you wished you had an argument against it, you really did. Your hands braced against his shoulders, you nodded. Jon encouraging you with the hand keeping your head to his, ran down the length of your hair. Prompting you to vocalize it to him. “I promise, Jon.”

Sighing deeply, he pulled back to look at you, only to let his eyes that time trail downward in a much greedier manner. Hard underneath you, he knew you could feel it and both his hands this time ran up from your hips to your sides so close to your breasts but just an inch or two away from touching them.

Only as his eyes found themselves trapped once they trailed back up and reached your breasts did a bit of a light in your heart force a far too adoring smirk out for how little you had on. For everything this conversation had been, and everything which led up to how worked up Jon got himself both in something protectively angry and in a raw lust, still deep down, all men had something that turned them back into teenage boys. Now his dark eyes were more of the man who already knows what he has, but there was still almost a bit of wonder like a boy seeing them for the first time. A tease leaving your lips far before you could think better of it, “Is this your first time seeing a girls chest, your grace?”

Peeling his eyes up, a shimmer of playfulness sparked in his eyes but he was not quite that teenage boy anymore. A sturdy confidence in how he hadn't blinked the same time he reached up, both hands grabbing your breasts with a greedy hold. Thumbs both moving to run across the small buds already quick to react under his touch and the cold air around you. Raising an eyebrow, Jon spoke calm and collected despite the twitch of his cock you could feel under you once more. “You remember which one of us was the nervous one that day?”

You knew the answer and just as the wrong one was to intentionally come out of your mouth, his fingers twisted both. A gasp leaving you as your head dropped, fingertips digging harsher into his shoulders. He could play them as a minstrel plays their instrument, Jon had long since fine tuned your sound and mastered his craft.

Breathless a bit, you didn't quite raise your head back up as the sparking of something twisting and beautiful was found right in his touch. Fogging your mind and point until you had nothing left but the meek truth to spit out. “Me it- it was always..” Eyes slipping shut you tried not to gasp the more roughly he twisted, begging to yank them but not quite committing. “Gods, you always made me nervous..”

The husk in his voice gave away that he wasn't as unaffected as he wanted to pretend. “Do I still?” But when you nodded, Jon breathed out such a lovely laugh that his hands switched back to almost a caressing sort of grope, but it didn't really bring you back down any. “Everything you are, and I make you nervous. Why?”

He was being cruel, you thought. Jon was asking for a true answer while refusing to let his hands sit innocently on you instead of this. But you kept that feeling growing in your core, radiating down between your legs and begging something terribly and needy in you that wanted Jons clothes off compared to almost all of yours already gone.

“Darling?” Your face almost winced trying to push passed the building inside you, telling yourself not to move against his cock as if you were too impatient to wait. He asked you a question, and your breathing was heavy as you calmed down your heart long enough to form an answer. Forcing your head up, meeting his eyes once more, they were soft and yet so sadistically knowing.

Swallowing, ironically, in a nervous fashion you tried to ignore the greed of his rough hands large against your breasts. “You're overwhelming, being with you is a lot.” Asking why, one hand found the small bud on your chest to twist and the other continued far gentler. “You're intimidating..the way you can stand over me, knowing exactly what you want, it- gods, it makes me want to do anything you ask..anything you want..”

A shiver ran through you, and just as your head dropped again, one left your chest to tilt your chin back to meet his eye. “Anything?” Nodding eagerly, Jon exhaled as shakily as the shiver had moved down your own spine. Eyes a bit more soft as he eased up on their intensity. “There is one thing I want.”

There was the intimidation, no matter how much time had passed you were never the one holding the cards with a man. You were weak in his touch, and you nodded once more, far too eager then Jon was expecting. “I'll do it, I promise.”

His eyes closed for a moment, a small whisper for you to stop almost too quiet to be heard. “It'll be easier to show you then explain. But first, take these off for me, alright?” Nodding down to his clothes you felt so relieved. Feeling his bare skin against yours wasn't even sensual, it was an intimacy that you craved in every needy to innocent form.

Jon moved you back, getting you to brace on his shoulders to stand you up on two feet, he paused any further movement. Both hands dragging down the edges of the last material hiding you from him, at an eye level sight Jon shut his eyes as he groaned deep in his chest. Head resting on your lower stomach by your scar, he pushed himself up and standing before you as well.

Nothing on you and almost everything still adorning his person, you felt small against him, and you felt that need begging once more between your legs, but you had a task to do. A hand of his trailing along your hip, but Jon otherwise stayed silent as you worked. The cold of the room around you had your fingers working slower, but you had a growing sense Jon wanted it that way. Grey eyes watching you intently the entire time, and you knew Jon hadn't the clue this was exactly what you were talking about.

He said not a word, but stood there with a silent, stoic confidence as his eyes took in your bare form over and over as you dutifully took the layers off of him. There was an authority to the way Jon could stand there in silence, one he must think you were exaggerating but it only caused you to work to keep your breathing even in front of him.

Maybe it was what you had learned keeping your mind tethered to both men, but the comparison was striking in your mind as let the last layer covering his torso sit neatly to the side before kneeling in front of him to continue.

Robb would talk, he always did. It never bothered him that you didn't say a lot sometimes, he was happy to fill the air for you and he would do so in a manner he knew would work you up. He'd stand there as you knelt in front of him and say all the right things to make you want him to fill your mouth the second you got everything off of him.

Jon though? He was silent, stoic, and didn't say things to work you up. He said them in a husking voice because he was rambling them out as he was the one already worked up. But he would stand there as you undressed him, knowing you would do the work and he didn't have to say a word. It wasn't as teasing and seducing as Robb, but it was far more intimidating.

You'd take everything off of Jon, and stay knelt there waiting for him to decide what to do next and sometimes he'd stare at you with his dark, greedy eyes for a while before directing you to what he wanted. You always knew what Robb wanted, but you never knew what Jon wanted.

And as you were undoing the laces to take his boots off, you started to suspect he liked it that way. That Jon liked keeping you on edge, relying on him for direction, for what to do next, to be guided by him into the next thing. Something inside him didn't want you to just rely on him for support, he wanted you to rely on him completely.

He knew you were capable all on your own, but something inside him almost didn't want you to be. As if he had spent his whole life at the bottom being pushed around, and now as a man he wanted to take advantage that he was at the top, and keep you right under him safe and protected the way he and many others weren't. Jon relied on himself for most of his life, and now that he didn't have to, instead wished for you to let him prove you could rely on him for all the same.

But in truth, you had relied on yourself much of your life in separate ways. It was why you were the way you were, but Jon had known that for twenty years, hadn't he? He knew you always wanted to prove yourself, do everything yourself without help. You were silent and careful as you undressed him, but in your mind just perhaps it had started to click. That maybe, he was happier taking care of you, then you were trying to still take care of yourself.

He always had. It was the first thing he ever did for you, three days you were sick and unconscious and it was Jon who spent three days taking care of you. He had just never quite let go of that, and never had an opportunity to show you he could do more then just that until now.

Finally, getting Jon as bare as you were. You looked up to him, something shining bright in your eyes that spoke far more then you had said out loud. Almost biting your lip trying to keep it and your heart steady as you waited for him to do or say something first.

Jon wanted you to behave for him.

Helping you stand, Jon grabbed your hips to pull you a bit closer before letting one tilt your gaze up to his by your chin. “You can say no, but I want you to trust me. Because you're going to say no right away to this, but I promise if you trust me, you're going to like it.” The nerves hit you again, and your lack of creativity left you in the dark.

You truly knew so little what a man and woman could do with one another, and both Starks who had your heart got to have their turns guiding you into how depraved it could truly be.

“I trust you.” The manner in which Jon could ignore how achingly hard he was seemed to be a skill few men had you suspected. Guiding you to the bed, at first, you thought you understood what he thought you would be apprehensive about.

Jon laid out on the bed, gently guiding to straddle him. It made sense, you didn't feel confident in this position. You already didn't look flattering but this did not help, and you knew it showed off how utterly untalented you were in pleasing a man. It was embarrassing, you should have full control this way but all it did was expose how unappealing of a bed warmer you were.

Hands gently resting on his chest, you inhale a bit with a nervous look in your eye. “Jon,”

But his hands at your hips prompted you to move away from his cock, and your brows furrowed in an instant. Voice turning a bit stern, Jon beckoned you. “Come here.” You did not get what he was doing, or how this could possibly end up being a position he could make love to you in. Gentle promptings he moved you higher against his torso, “There we go. Come on, darling.”

But only the last minute did you realize, and you tried moving away from him in an instant. He called your name, but you moved away enough he could sit up better as you shook your head. Curling a bit in on yourself, now you felt such an immense embarrassment it grew up your chest and into your cheeks. “No, Jon- why would you-”

He thought of simply moving you back, but knew using his strength against you and forcing your hips up was a bad idea. Instead, his voice was a bit rough as if a lecture. “Because this will feel good for you, and me.”

Shaking your head, you frowned a bit. “Jon, no, that will not be good for you. That's horrible.”

But he only smiled, that bright charming smile that could melt you in an instant. “And who told you that? Your Septa?” Your eyes rolled to the side, grumbling at him to not make fun of you, but he let his back flop back onto the sheets. His hands still on your hips but now running up and down them in a bit more of a soothing manner. “I promise you, it'll be more then good for me.”

Turning away from his gaze, you felt utterly humiliated.

Jons tone was comforting, not with judgment. “What is it you think you won't like about it?”

The silence was deafening, he wouldn't budge or say another word until you answered this one you knew. Your finger tips twitching against his chest, but Jon lay back comfortably looking up at you with ease. The discomfort sat heavy in your stomach. “I already don't understand what you like about..”

Rambling off, Jon filled in the blanks for you without hesitating. “What I like about tasting you?” Still not looking at him you gave a small nod, and thus you missed the smile. “That's easy, I love doing it because I love the way you taste.” Oh the wide eyed fluster you had before going back to not at all looking near his way. Hands smoothing up and down your hips, he was patient. “So, you can take away worrying I don't enjoy your taste, what else is there? Is it the way you think you look on top of me?”

If you could get even more flustered you would pass out. “If I looked-”

Cutting you off, Jon was far too nonchalant in such a raw honesty. “You look beautiful, especially like this. What else?” Once more you said nothing, this time the insecurity sunk a lot deeper. It sunk right down to an innocent day in his chambers in Winterfell as you told him you were worried he might not enjoy being with you because you didn't know what to do. “Oh darling,”

You'd pull away if you wouldn't instantly miss the comforting feeling of his bare skin against yours. He reached up, leaning on one elbow to allow his hand to tilt your gaze back to him by your cheek. A small shrug on your shoulders, trying to play yourself off as uncaring and failing. “It's fine, I'm upset over nothing. Let's just do it, I can get over it-”

“I'm not doing this unless you tell me you want to.” Looking back at him, you hesitated to say it now that you felt the fluster drain a little. His calmness easing your heart down, and now you felt foolish to say it as if he had ever expressed dissatisfaction before.

Saying it felt childish, but you said it. “I don't know what to do.”

The charming smile on Jons face and the way he let his thumb trail over your cheek and bottom lip, he was as blunt as you had spoken it. “Good thing about this, all you need to do is enjoy yourself. But it's up to you, we won't do this if you really don't like the idea.”

Watching him in quiet for a moment before a much more genuine ask, “It won't be uncomfortable for you?” Telling you not at all, you sighed. Palms flat against his chest before inhaling. Nodding, you found the bravery passed the hesitation in your heart. “If It does-”

“If it becomes uncomfortable for either of us, we'll stop. And I'll lay you down and taste you the way I always do. Alright?” Nodding again, you sighed out a deep breathe.

Not confident enough to watch, your eyes slipped closed, as you let him guide your hips up. Both knees moving to beside his head, hands firm on your hips as he leaned up. Your hands initially tense and useless by your sides, a spark hit you, causing one to reach up to steady your almost jump, gripping the headboard.

The quick feeling of Jon nudging at your clit with his nose took you off guard until he then pressed a lingering kiss to the small bundle of nerves. A gasp high pitched leaving you, as his hands tightened to prevent you from moving away. Small, gentle brushes of his tongue stole your breath and had you seizing up from the desire it so easily drew out.

Licks one after another just to work you up and your chest tightened at how easy it was for you to want to cry out already, but Jon was only beginning. In his mind, you had offered yourself up as a feast and he now could keep you glued to his mouth as long as he wanted. You were so much easier to hold down against his mouth from this position.

He was desperately hoping you would like this, because Jon was fairly certain outside of gently hovering over you with your back against the sheets as Jon would slip inside of you, this was by far, the best way he's ever had anything of you and it wasn't even close.

Soaking your core, Jons tongue ran more flat against your clit, kiss turning almost into gently sucking at the sparking nerves and he only increased the intensity the more you writhed in his hold. You wanted to say something, anything, but there was something so unsure and unknown in you about how he went about this that kept you on an edge. How casual he was able to coax you into it and how tightly he was holding your hips. Bruises shaped just like his hands would no doubt be contrasting notably in colour against your skin tomorrow.

In another life you were the experienced one, but despite all what could have been seen as proof, it was in the contrast between you both which made you feel so new at this everytime. You and Robb both knew he was the experienced one, and neither of you shied away from that fact, he would use his greater experience to guide you with confidence. Now it was so much more complicated, for you and Jon both and yet he took the reigns as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was as if no time had passed between that day he tried to guide you in his chambers. You still the unsure girl with far too many preconceived notions about sex.

But what was once guidance from older women who implored you to view such enjoyment as the sort of behaviour men only find in a brothel, it was the creeping words of a man many months dead still spitting vitriol in your ear about how little choice you had and how the only reason you should enjoy it, was that maybe it would be less painful.

Jon though, he almost got angry when you would try and deny yourself the enjoyment. He hated when you tried to make it all about him, even though in your mess of a mind it would be so much easier to please him and move on. But instead, Jon's hands kept tight on you, but as if you were not engaging in your own pleasure enough, he seemed to get impatient.

Leaning up as much as he could from where he lay, you could feel his facial hair, thick and coarse as it was rubbing up against the sensitive, raw skin between your thighs. His mouth was warm and only adding to the growing wetness between your legs, but the dry and rough scratching of his facial hair made such a contrast that you swallowed heavily. Attempting to contain what felt like a growing whimper.

Not letting up, Jon licked more small, tight patterns against your clit. Keeping on one as it burned through you, and only when the coil begun to tighten some what inside, did he ease up and find a new manner to run his tongue over. Not even letting you go close to the edge before he drew you away from it, your hand trying to hold the wooden railing of the headboard tightening meekly, your other gripping the sheet beside his head unsure what to do.

Teeth giving the slightest of grazes along your clit, a cry jumped from your mouth just as your hips tried to jump from the sudden sharpness. Jon though, ran his tongue almost gently along you, soaking the offence with a soft brushing lick before going back to the more rough treatment. Back and forth his mouth dragged you from a soaking caress to a bladed edge and your tingling clit the wet stone keeping his sword sharp. Just like one too, Jon controlled exactly how he ran it along, and how sharp he wanted to keep.

Your insides were twisting like the moulting of lava, burning as hot and yet it stuttered your breathe to something high pitched, hand in the sheets beside him twisting to where the strain in your knuckles could be seen. Small begs of his name were all you afforded yet, only adding to the noise of ravenous desire in Jon knowing he could do more. He knew he could drag much more sounds from you, but he was playing a game of patience.

Pressing a kiss to the bundle of nerves, you closed your eyes with a shaking inhale. Trying and failing to move from his touch, the pit in your core growing and growing and your eyes slipped closed again as the desire twisted through your blood stream. Trying to infect your nerves and flowing all over like an illness, only the cause and concern was the same, how close you were. Muscles tensing and straining in his touch, your thighs shook trying to keep mostly upright as off of him as possible.

Smaller presses of his lips were given with a soothing softness, but it had you cry out unable to choose between leaning away or giving in. Teetering on an edge that had you mutter softly without giving thought to the soft nothings you were saying so gently. Muttering pleases and his name so gently that Jon couldn't tell if it was making him want to show you mercy, or drag you down further into the depraved depths which his darker mind fantasized about.

You could be so innocent the closer you were to an orgasm, relying on him to either let you or obeying without a fight if he took it away. And some days he couldn't tell what he liked more. Giving you too much and exhausting your senses from pleasure, or taking everything from you at the last minute and making you that much more needy for him but trusting to only let him give it to you when he thought you deserved it.

The things Jons already convinced you to do? Deplorable, your better more restrained instincts looked at you in dismay over what you'd wind up begging for Jon to do. You knew there was so much you didn't know about, but the more his warm tongue dragged up and down your clit with a needing hunger, the more you knew the list of what you wouldn't let him do to you, was provocatively short.

Pulling you closer and closer to that orgasm, your head dropped as you felt that strain burning between your legs from its origins in your core. “Please, Jon. Please, gods, I'll do anything. Anything you want, I'll do it please don't..”

Humming against you, Jon once more moved his mouth to you more, and once more teetered you at that precipice of pain only he could make you beg for. Teeth against your clit before sucking at it as he would the sensitive buds of your breasts. Gasping with no air, you seized a bit in his touch, but just as you felt that twisting coil begging to snap, did Jon change up again.

Though, this time, whatever desire of a meal you thought he was giving such warm soaking attention to your clit of, was nothing. In a grunt, Jon removed his mouth and turned to the side. Just somewhat, sinking his teeth into your upper thigh, but instead of the jolt of fear in memory, only a buzzing in your head making your muscles weak.

Moving his teeth upward along your thighs, Jon pulled away just enough you felt his breath exhaling against your soaked core, and yet, just as you felt your muscles loosen from how stinging being taken from your finish felt, did Jon once more find new paths.

Jon while running his tongue flat along your clit, grabbed both hips tighter and in one go? Jon humiliated you, dragging your core down to fuse his mouth. Forcing you to practically find seat on his mouth and tongue, one hand only leaving you long enough to take the hand beside him, and drag it into the loose curls around him.

Grasping your hip again, he wrapped the other around your back and perked your back up running his hand up and down your spine. Begging his name, you knew you were soaking his mouth but Jons tongue, hot and flat ran thick along your folds. Clit down to your cunt and a growl left his chest at the slightest hint of a taste.

So much of you was already coating his tongue the moment he dragged you down onto it with no room to hover away from it. Your hand in his hair trying to hold without keeping too tight, but Jons growling need himself vibrated against what already was a dizzying pleasure inside you. Head dropping down, but only lasting but a single peek.

Barley anything of his enjoyment was visible from such an angle, but it was too much. It was far too intimate having to look down and see his black curls between your legs knowing he was giving you no room to let him breathe. Running his tongue flat from your clit and back along your folds, Jon finally had enough.

He wanted to be selfish.

The hand on your spine slunk down, grasping one cheek of your ass tightly as you gasped. The other holding your hip down against his mouth, Jon sunk his tongue deep inside your cunt and once more the rawness against your thighs, how hot his mouth was and how much you soaked him still. Dragging what he could of his tongue along a wall to make you beg his name with a shaking cry.

“Please- oh fuck,” Your head all but falling back with begs high into the cold night sky, your voice was breathless as your muscles all tensed around a burning feeling hot like a white star twisting to oblivion inside of you. “Your so good, feels so good, Jon please.” Jons hands tightened as he kept you now much more by force against his mouth with a growl if you even tried to move away from his mouth desperately drinking from you. “Please let me cum, just once, please, I'll be good..I'll be so good for you, Jon...please- I'll never ask you again, I promise.”

Even through the raging noise in Jons head at how on a bordering feeling of feral he felt, he knew you likely weren't really even aware how much you began to ramble. But you did, you rambled and begged and promised in such a breathless high pitched whine, that Jon was going to hold you to it.

You promised to be good, and he was going to expect it, but his greed was as strong as your needy cries.

Vibrating deep in your core did something inaudible growl from Jons mouth, but his tongue gathered every soaking taste of what your cunt gave to him that you couldn't stop to think of anything you were saying. His name only what you recognized, but you could've asked him or promised anything and as long as he didn't take this one away from you, you'd do whatever you promised him.

Burning bright, your thighs strained in a shake, Jons fingertips digging roughly into your ass that had you almost weak enough to ask for one thing. But you didn't, and his hot mouth dragged you right up to that edge and kept you forced against his mouth to drink as soon as that coil snapped.

A loud beg of his name cried into the air like a melody, your vision dark and head falling back so lightheaded that you couldn't even stop begging of such pleasure to realize Jons own growling and grunts had turned to greedy moans as he drank every bit of what your wetness gave to him.

His other hand at your waist slid back. Jon sitting up only enough so that as both hands grasped your ass, he brought you further into his mouth as groans escaped shamelessly at your taste. Just as you felt nothing but his soaked, fat tongue lick along your cunt and inside you to taste every chance you gifted him, just as you did begs of his name so sweetly.

Were Jon a tad more cruel, he may have kept you there for so much longer but there was something he was struggling to ignore. Behind you, Jons cock was leaking seed of his own as it turned red with need and twitched and throbbed free in the air. The cold not enough to be able to grant you mercy of his size but noticeable enough for Jon that he had only one place to fix such a feeling. Dragging your orgasm with his tongue ensuring none of you went anywhere but his taste, Jon did not stop until your muscles around him relaxed as did the begging of his name.

Your breathing was so heavy, and your cunt was such a mess of your own wetness and Jons saliva drinking with a purposeful sloppiness. He pulled away only enough he could raise you off him to inhale any for air. Once more holding you in place over him as you seemed to let out a surprised noise as if he wanted you to move, but Jon shook his head.

His hot breath dancing along the soaked wetness you both let him drink of from such a feast.

Murmuring against you, the sensation making you writhe as the aftershocks glistened against you, head so heavy you almost couldn't hear Jon. But the gentle tone did not match the depravity of what he had just done. “Switch places with me. Lay down, alright?”

Grey eyes watching with a flicker up to you, you nodded with a bite to your lip but followed his lead to guide you. Your legs shaking as he ran a hand up and down your thigh, “Easy now, slowly,”

Spreading your legs almost indecently wide the moment Jon had you on your back, he followed the action you gave him by moving in between them. Hands now shoving your legs a little more apart against the bed as he hovered over you. Lips shining with what you embarrassingly knew was you, but Jon took a moment to gently watch you still shake in the aftershocks. “Thank you..”

His eyes fluttered closed, brow furrowing under it as he exhaled shakily. His hands pressed beside your head on either side, tight as he fisted the sheets under you, muttering your name in a dark warning you did not quite fully grasp the need of. Grasping your jaw, Jon leaned down to capture your lips without any further thought.

Angling you to lean up to his mercy, your hands ran along his chest reaching his shoulders and back of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls as you felt him deepen the kiss with more of an urgent greed. Only for a moment did he barley pull back, saliva trailing between your lips as the grey was barley visible in his eyes as he looked down what he could of you pressed to close. Rasping low, words almost slurred together in a heavy need. “Don't ever be nervous about letting me taste you, you're perfect.”

Before you could protest, Jon clearly read your mind, pushing you back into the bed with another kiss, rough and biting down to your bottom lip. Bare hips rutting into yours, his cock was so hard against you, begging to be paid attention to. One leg moved to rise up his hip, Jon shifting with you to wrap an arm around your thigh and hitched it up more.

Your other loose but lost, slunk a bit up to somewhat try and wrap your ankle around what you could reach of his calf as if to steady your overwhelmed mind. Letting your lips part, Jon slipped his tongue into your mouth, brushing along your tongue just as eager. The hand on your jaw sliding to cup the back of your head, keeping your mouths together without parting.

Jon forced your taste heavy on his tongue, to make you capture a bit of it. Your hands in his hair tightened as did a needy sound leave deep in your chest. Heart racing each time you felt Jons cock brush against your core but never caring enough to commit. He yanked your thigh up higher, almost trying to move it with him. Pulling back from your lips suddenly, a dark glaze over his eyes at the swiftness you tried chasing his kiss to no avail. His arm moving to all but shove the leg in his hold as much against your chest as he could, letting the other stay wide in contrast around his calf.

Looking down between your bodies with a rough sigh, Jon trailed them to your scar, up to your breasts and hardly managed to get to your lips before something inside him snapped. The hand behind your head flying down, you barley had a moment to register as he stared down at you with dark eyes. The feeling of Jon moving so the leaking tip of his cock just barley prodded your entrance. Looking down to what your bodies were too close to see, he flew back up to watch you with dark eyes, and a complete silence.

Jon tilted his head with the slightest of frowns and only in the last second did a command register in your mind. Not daring to disobey, you kept your eyes on his, hands in his hair falling to hold more firmly at his shoulders, his eyes barley narrowed and darkened as he pushed inside you.

A single, beautifully smooth thrust, he was as deep as you could take him and pushed inside as slow as it could torment you. Eyes dark and his face almost unchanged the whole time, staring you down as your own tried to keep calm but eyes fluttered in a gasp at the stretch. Cock so thick that taking all of it burned in a way that had your back arching up into him.

Jon only managed to slide out perhaps half way, before he slammed back inside you. The jostle having your head fly back to cry out, only for him to mutter angrily under his breath. Head dropping to your chest, that time Jon didn't look back. Cock so smooth and soaked, sliding back out of you before sliding back in. Shoulders and arms almost shaking as was the breathing coming from him heavy.

Slowly his cock slid in and out of you so perfectly, you felt all air leave your lungs, but it seemed to take much effort for him to go so slow. No other thrusts as rough as his first, but he dragged his cock along your walls as your nails dug into his shoulder and upper back. Trying to wrap them around, your eyes were closed with whispers of his name in nothing but desire.

Jon didn't look that way. Every slide of his cock inside of you, his muscles tensed, his eyes closed as his head was dropped. Curls dancing along your breasts, nothing guided Jon but the harmony you moved together with as he was inside of you. As if he was trying to hold back with more intensity then it was taking to make love to you.

Burning inside you, it flooded your veins and swam along every inch of your body, you tried coaxing him back to you. “Jon, please, come here,” You were fighting the pain he gave you just being inside of you, but you soaked him every single time he cock slid deep inside. Something in your heart fought against the racing desire making your mind a fogging mess wanting him to come back to you but he wouldn't.

In and out, you tried gently moving with him hoping to lull him into the same floating feeling twisting inside of you, but he instead shoved your leg as far up as he could stretch it. Sitting up better, Jon now more kneeling between your legs but having refused to leave your warmth for a single second. His other hand grabbed your free leg. Yanking it away from him and where it fell, both hands shoved you as wide as he could. Staring down at you with something angry brewing behind each thrust. Accent so thick, words so unintelligible, you knew he had hardly registered he said anything as his eyes closes shut after. Thrusts pulling such an obscene wet sound each time it was followed by a rough pound of his hips against yours. “I should've fucked you until it took that first night. I hate that I didn't.”

No words came as your heart jumped along with the screaming if pleasure begging with the pain and sting to stop, knowing stopping was the last thing you actually wanted. Your hands barley able to even touch him, he was so pulled away from you, and each pound grew rougher and rougher. His eyes slinking down to watch himself sink in and out of your cunt, Jon looked almost angry.

Before you could say a word in your hazy mind, Jon kept rambling, kept sounding like he spoke without registering he had said anything substantial. “I wanted it to take so badly, fuck- more badly then I wanted to be alive, I wanted to put a child in you that night. I wanted to force you to let me.”

Raising his eyes up, he found yours wide and innocent. Shaking his head, Jon's teeth grit as he thrusted harder, not giving you more chances to speak, he kept letting his deep husk fight over top of the slapping of his skin against yours. Fighting to not look down and watch with a dark, obsessive feeling as your cunt took his cock so perfectly. Still his voice didn't stop. “This is all I've ever wanted, wanted you to be the mother of my children, make you my wife..” A growl mixing with a groan left as his body shivered through the need. “I can't do this without you, I won't..” Another shuddering groan left him, his head dropping as he fucked into you harder. “Promise me you'll stay, promise me I won't lose you again.”

Crying his name, he barley looked up at you from his eyes trained on where his cock was pounding in and out of you. Eyes barley keeping open, your heart full and senses all overloaded you hardly could recall anything around you but him. “I'll stay, I promise, Jon. I'll stay, I'm yours. For good.”

Something in him swallowed heavily. An emotion so close to the surface on him, Jon shook his head before grabbing your hands. Pushing them back against the bed, Jons hips still pounding so roughly into yours. Fingers interlocking tightly, he held you as tight as his cock was rough inside of you, eyes wide as he looked down at you, something so strangely innocent contrasted to how he fucked you. “None of this belonged to her, it never should've been hers, I'd have rather died without having this then letting her ever have a piece of it.”

Voice stammering, your hearty was heavy as it was racing with each pound of his cock. Shaking your head but he barley met your eyes. “You have me now, as I have you, that's all that matters.” Dropping down, Jon pressed his lips to yours, hands still intertwined with his, hips still fucking into you smooth as he was roughly but he kissed you like a man still about to fall apart.

But he was, wasn't he? Hardly able to think over the twisting inside you as it was painful, but enough sense came to you as every desperation poured into you from his kiss. He was falling apart.

He was a bastard, nothing was his, no future was ever supposed to be this. He walked away from the only life he's ever known to one where the first time any told him any of this could be his, was a pretty hair of red forcing it all on a man against his will. Only to come back and find out everything he never had, all died without him anyways.

Being here, a King with a home and a kingdom and a wife and a family, and now growing between you two was life of his very own making. None of it was supposed to be his, and Jon spent his whole life knowing it was out of any reach. But it was real, it was between you both and only months would prove him it continues to be real.

Yet, as he kissed you, as his hips rutted rough and desperate into yours with a pounding slap, it was as if the moment this was over he'd go back to none of it being real. Kissing him back with as much gentle love as you could against his roughness, you moved against him. Together, locked in embrace you gave Jon the loving gentle he was struggling to see as allowed.

Pulling from your lips, Jon tried to go slow enough to press his forehead against yours, but your scratching voice beat his to the chase. “You deserve this Jon, all of this.” He tried shaking his head, but you tried to lean up as much as you could, judging his nose with yours lovingly. “You do, I promise. You've always deserved this, and now we can have it, together.”

Hands tightening holding yours, his jaw clenched as he tried to slow his cocks thrusts down to something suddenly incredible in it's slow speed. Pulling back to look at you, but instead of the angry desperation, was just Jon. The Jon you've always loved as bright and genuine as he always had been, and nudged your nose with his back. “And I promise, we'll be here to love our son. We'll both be here. I'll protect you, him, all three of us.”

Barley managing out against the floating in your chest of rough to gentle and slow, “Son?”

Were any to see, none would have guessed such a bright smile came from a man with his cock deep inside of a woman. “It's a boy, I know it is.” Shaking your head best you could, you wanted to hold back the sting but right away it boiled over and tears fell down with your own shaking head smiling.

Pressing a kiss to his lips, you pressed another, then one more trying to seek out his cheek finally for a fourth. “Been thinking about this a lot?”

“My whole life.”

Jon didn't give you any more thought, just leaned down, no longer angry and pounding as he fucked you. But slow and gentle, making sure you felt every inch of him and he felt every tight soak around his cock without missing a thing. Kissing you once more, only a gentle loving one shared as if innocent lovers but yet you were soaking his cock as he was burning your walls on the inside.

The second he felt you clench, you whined something meek into his lips, but he didn't pick up, or even let go of your hands or kiss. Just a gentle thrust as deep as he could before almost pulling out entirely as you finally seized up. A flood of water bursting through and splashing across your body with a fire that screamed only of Jons existence and nothing more. Begging his name in meaningless cries, Jon barley thrusted into you so slowly and gently twice more before he shook above you.

Sinking his cock deep, Jon felt you clench tightly around him so warm and soaking around him and he groaned your name into your kiss the moment he felt it become too much. His seed spilling deep inside of you, thrusting slowly as if he could still find a way to give you a daughter too.

Yet nothing perverse or debauched sat between you both as his seed, close to hot, spilled so thick as deep as he could inside of you. Jons lips didn't leave yours and didn't push you any further. Your hips moving together as long as he filled and filled you.

Maybe it took a lot longer for your peaks to settle, maybe your orgasms only lasted seconds and something within you wrapped that time to feel like hours. But that time, Jon didn't pull out of you, but before anything else was said, or before you could think he'd leave you, Jon turned both of you onto your side. Pulling you thigh up and open more to fit his hips, and his hand then wrapping around your front to cover your stomach and scar best he could.

Jon knew the scar would never go away, but he'd watch it move along with your growing stomach, and such an image was one he knew now, would kill more then ever, to ensure he could see and protect.

Neither of you really even came down from your ends by the time Jon gently laid you on your side, but you both fell asleep at the same time for once. Connected in body, connected in the minds of bringing him back, and in the son Jon knew was growing inside of you.

He knew, now begun the true test. More then ever, he needed to keep you safe. As terrified of anything happening to you he was, Jon knew the closer you would draw to five months with child, Jon knew he was going to have to be the strong one. You brought him down to earth tonight, but it wouldn't be many moons from now, that Jon would know, you'd feel the terror unlike any understood.

But Jon was yours as you were his, he was going to have to understand. This was not the ease of your love and life with Robb. This time, you were carrying Jons child, and more fear of losing that child then any mother could possibly comprehend.

Falling asleep along with you, Jon's heart begun to settle for the first time in weeks.

Creeping down the corridor, once more the illuminated light at the end of the tunnel was not one spoken of from death but rather a strangeness calling to the human eyes behind the wolves. The power had called to many, its source ran roots deep within the world and no one spot was its origin. It tied together in unison but was never stronger then in the snow and ice.

It had not been cut down, but fashioned into something else which did not operate as the rest of the castles holding similar fortresses. This held a face, and writing. Something which had no answer of why, just as some asked whether or not the Children of the Forest had carved faces into the great Weirwoods, or if they had always had faces, so they would always have eyes.

It was when a young boy, hair growing long and shaggy, was brought towards a tree just like it, when it started truly this time. Crippled and crawling towards it as he was gently placed down into the snow. As soon as his bare hand reached out and touched the bark, did his eyes go white and connect with a power calling to him. Few had such a reach, not the children, not man, only a select few were so intertwined with such paths of eyes that they could connect to another so directly.

Most were gifted it by those three eyes. Eyes which all could connect, seek each other out if need be, and yet it was still not known by the boy when he was called, what he was going to find when he got to where he was destined to go.

None ever knew, but all who had been shown something with such power had always come. To the crow with three eyes watching over all with the sight tied through the world, but also to the powers which came before it. Afterall, the world existed long before an old man with red eyes and a mark along his face in the shape of a raven.

For thousands of years did they sleep. Until it grew and grew, and suddenly that power drew forth such strength from the frozen lands that it rattled powers opposite of it across the world. Eternally at war, the darkness could exist without the light, but light could not exist without first coming from the darkness. The dark was where it came from, and yet the dark had fought the light all the same.

The world had changed as they slept beneath the ice. The light grew brighter and hotter until it threatened to overtake every inch of the lands with fire and blood. But a war was not battles and swords alone, war here was not the way in which man considered it. Warnings were given, and those who chose the unnatural path the light promised, paid the price of not heading that warning.

Yet it was not enough. The darkness had shown man what would happen should they force the balance into fire and blood, and now they begged more. So they watched. Their eyes were tied into the Weirwoods, and they could see without asking. The crow with three eyes did not take sides but this creature and his kind, did.

As the human eyes behind a direwolf walked one path, it had been a very long time since another path was taken by the creature. Its own destination not dissimilar.

It stood tall and old but strong and bright against the darkness and shimmering green illuminating behind it. But they had seen enough of the light refusing to give up its stronghold within the world. They had known what would happen as war once more would ravage the realms of men. The price to pay for what they did. The rest saw no other path, they saw what they needed to do for the darkness, but they were not with eyes tied to the world, as the one walking towards the sacred sight had. This one had knowledge they did not, could not.

The old man, the young crippled boy, the crow with three eyes would not be enough anymore. The dark and light would tear the world apart before the crow became ready. But, the darkness within the blood of the boy, was the same in this man that the creature was watching all on their own.

They had come and they had fought and taken. There was no match for such a brutal fight. But it was necessary. Man had many warnings before, and this would be their final one before they begun their true work. The place men had called Hardhome was where this creature met him for the first time. And from the instance they saw him, they knew this one was different.

He took the battle as a threat, and he should have. It was a display that one of him was no match against them. The sword in his hand during the midst of fighting, collided with one in the hands of the creatures own kind. Which should not have been possible. The weapons of men were nothing to then, but this man had swung and his sword did not break or shatter. Before the creature had a chance to comprehend what was about to happen, the man had knocked the blade away and cut through their body, shattering them to the wind.

But there was no glory nor triumph in his aftermath, falling to his knees in the same spot he stood realizing the weight of what he had done.

The light in the man’s blood was dim, hardly overtaking the darkness, but the creature had descended from the cliffs above and walked onto the docks which the man and all the rest had sailed away from. But the creature? The darkness was their existence, and it connected them, binded them. As if using their own person as a conduit for all their power, all had drawn the darkness out and up beside the creature rose the thousands of dead only they just cut down.

He did nothing and said nothing. He watched, and the creature knew then, they would continue to watch him in return. But the realms of men were chaos, and they watched death befall him.

Yet? A woman whose blood radiating so brightly it blinded them, she brought him back. The light in her, reignited the dim light within his blood and yet the darkness in his blood dimmed down her blinding brightness. As if fire encased their persons, and the ice thus covered over it. Protecting them both, his power now shared with her.

But, the crow with three eyes was not yet finished his own work. The crippled boy granting her power just as the old man had others before. But her and the mans powers were already connected through the blood needed to bring him back. And so the power granted in her, too strengthened his. The world was putting those into place whom would be needed most in the war to come.

But the creature was not one without any reason. They knew that the darkness and the light both needed those to serve them, and those who served, could not be ignorant any longer.

So they walked and finally did the sacred sight come into view. The Weirwood was strong and tall, and as blueish skin of milk white touched the bark, so did their eyes turn white just like it.

But it was when not a hand, but the gentle scrape of a wolfs paw against the tall gate with its carved face met the surface so did the minds attached.

Visions shown which both could see. The blood of war, the mans own death through his now beating heart, a dense land of men and castles as a large shadow flew over top of it, an iron seat drenched in white as the snows around them covered every surface in the great sized room.

Bloods, birds, crypts, her, and yet finally came the ice. The snow and the darkness which they were born from. Nothing spoken, only a destination shown. It was a calling further then any had asked of men before.

They needed to know if the light shared between he and his mate had overtook the natural darkness in his blood. In this vision between the two, did the Great Wolf stand before them. Kneeling down their crystal blue eyes met ones of red, and it was sealed.

They would come, they knew it.

As Ghosts paw fell back again to the ground, did the direwolf return to his own mind alone and, run from the carved face of the gate under the Nightfort into the room Jon was in.

Now gasping for air as silently as he could without startling you awake, he and Ghosts eyes met. Jons breathing evened out, beckoning the direwolf silently to more by his side. There was no use Jon trying to dissuade him from climbing up onto the bed, regardless how much space he took up.

Turning more to his side, Jon let a hand tenderly come down to run along your arm and down your side as the grey in his eyes were wide and bright with something he had no words for to explain. What they promised waiting for him at the end, Jon did not know, but something heavy ate away at his heart as he watched you sleep in peace.

Tormund was right. The answers lay out there, but one more person beyond Jon and Ghost alone, were being told to go out there and find them.

And it was that realization that had Jon lay awake, consumed by it for days.