#WELL SWEET SISTER YOU SURE BRING OUT THE BEAST IN MEN (WHAT CAN I SAY ITS A GIFT)

[pparadiselost]

crying wolf.

werewolf michael kaiser x red riding hood fem reader clichés always hold a grain of truth to them. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, murder of an uninvolved character, breeding, knotting minors do not interact.

a big bad wolf lives in the woods near your village. 

that much you know. 

the wolf has been the talk of the town for years now, and no matter how many men set off to kill the wolf or how many traps had been set up to catch it once and for all, the sly beast always managed to escape the trickery of your town.

there came a point where you stopped caring about it. you had no reason to step into the woods, satisfied with your quiet life in town, and outside of the stray sheep being killed and eaten every few months, the wolf really didn’t do anything to disturb your quality of life. it must suck to be a sheep farmer while this was all going down, but you weren’t a sheep farmer, so you didn’t care.

“you ought to be more careful!” the old cheesemonger’s wife scolds you as she hands you a generous chunk of cheese. “you know, the huntsmen are saying that they’re going to form an escort group in about a week’s time. shouldn’t you wait until then to go visit your grandma?”

you shake your head. “mama said i should go as soon as possible. grandma hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and ever since the whole wolf scare, we haven’t been able to visit her frequently. i just want to make sure she has enough food, because she can’t really do much herself.”

the old wife clicks her tongue and waggles her finger. “i keep telling my husband here, they really ought to catch that wolf quickly. this is how these things always begin. a couple sheep here and there, and next thing you know, the wolf’s run off with a toddler. who’s to say it won’t develop an appetite for a pretty girl like you?”

“oh, please.” you snort slightly. “the only things with an appetite for women like me are the drunkard sleazebags that waste their money away in the taverns.”

“well, you can say that again,” she laughs. she winks as she tucks you an extra slice of sweet cheese into your basket, and she waves you off before you finish off your errands and head home.

the chilled autumn breeze nips at your skin, and you huddle under the red cape your mother’s lovingly sewn for you. it’s become your best friend when winter starts to draw close, and you’ve worn the garment for years. you’re sure you’ll wear it in due time when you’ll set out through the woods to your grandmother’s, where the bright crimson ought to serve as an identifying beacon of sorts for your ailing grandmother. 

the sun threatens to set in the distance by the time you gather up all your supplies and head to the outskirts of the village, where your home is. you double check the contents of your basket at your front door, not wanting your mother to scold you for having forgotten anything.

a bottle of hearty wine? check. loaves of bread that won’t go bad soon? check. cheese, meats, and fruits? check.

“i’m home!” you called out, swinging your front door open. your mother jumps and places a hand over her heart, exhaling deeply when she notices it’s just you.

“you scared the wits out of me, dear!” she scolds, stirring intensely at the pot in front of her. “a knock before you come in wouldn’t hurt, you know!”

“says the person who leaves the front door unlocked.” you toss your boots off and hang your cloak up, and you set down the heavy basket on the already set dining table. you swing in to a seat at the table, stomach growling at the scent of fresh stew. “i got everything for grandma tomorrow. is there anything else you need me to bring to her?”

“do you think i should pack some jam for her? i have a few jars that mr. ah… what’s his name again- well, he gave me some because his sister had made too much, and i reckon that your grandmother wouldn’t have too many sweet things to eat while she’s sick,” your mother suggests. you shrug, and she wipes her hands down on her apron before grabbing at the pot’s handle. “stay put where you are, dear. hot pot coming through!”

“i don't think it'll hurt. might as well bring it over if i’m headed there in the first place,” you offered. your mother smiles at you fondly as you practically lunge for the pot, spoon in hand to scarf down a well-deserved meal.

“slow down, or you’ll get a tummy ache,” she reminds you. you swipe at your mouth with your sleeve, earning a wince from her, but she doesn’t say anything. the night quickly melts away into the everyday hum of dinner followed by a quick berry pie dessert. 

you haven’t even thought of the wolf until your mother tells you to go fetch the rest of the laundry she forgot to get earlier in the day. you balance a laundry basket on your hip as you drag your feet outside, wishing you were snuggled up in your bed with a book instead. the cold wind bites at your exposed neck and face, and you scowl as you haphazardly yank at the clothes and socks hung up on the laundry line.

“stupid wind,” you grumble under your breath. you stuff some shirts into the laundry basket, but when you reach to grab at the last pair of socks on the line, the wind tussles it free from the clothing pin and the socks go flying off in the distance. you let out a yelp before running after it, watching the white socks flutter like a pair of doves before landing onto the dirt.

“stupid, stupid wind!” you doubly curse as you bend down, yanking your nightclothes up so that the hem won’t be stained by the dirt. you reach to grab the socks before something in the ground catches your eye, and you shift to take a closer look.

your eyes widen in horror.

pawprints. wolf pawprints.

you shudder and quickly stand up, racing back to the safety of your laundry line and basket. the cursed beast must have been wandering around the wilderness near your home. a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of some stinky mutt of a wolf sniffing at your laundry, and once you see that there are no more clothes left on the line, you march back home and shut the door firmly behind you.

you have nothing to fear. you’re no sheep and definitely not meal material for the big bad wolf. you don’t even bring up the pawprints to your mother once you’re inside, and you don’t even think of the wolf again when you go to bed, bracing yourself for the long journey to your grandmother’s cottage tomorrow.

…

…

…

“do you have everything?”

“yes, mama.”

“are your boots comfortable?”

“yes, mama.”

“will the cloak be enough to keep you warm?”

“yes, mama.”

you swear the entire day’s going to be over by the time your mother’s done fretting over you. she’s not only gone over the contents of your basket once, twice, thrice, four goddamn times, and she’s still convinced that somehow she magically forgot to add everything to it. she keeps fretting over you, pulling the cloak tighter around your throat and making sure the hood covers your head comfortably.

deep down, you know she means well, but she keeps fussing over you like you’re a newborn baby. you’re old enough to take care of yourself, old enough to know how the world runs, old enough to stand on your own two feet without having her circling you like some kind of anxious mama bear. which she is, you suppose.

she kisses your forehead gently, looking at you with the weathered affectionate eyes only a mother could ever muster up. “i know you’re sick of me worrying over you like this. i can’t help it—you’re my baby.”

“i’ll be back before you even know it, mama,” you joke back. “and if i’m not back by dinner, you can assume i’ll be at grandma’s for the night. either way, i’ll be back by tomorrow for sure.”

“i’ll be waiting for you,” your mother promises. she clasps your hands, rubbing her calloused palms over yours. she squeezes your fingers carefully, grinning at you despite her obvious nerves. “my baby’s all grown up! going through the woods by herself and everything… what am i going to do when you actually leave the nest?”

“oh, you’ll be fine.” you hoist the heavy basket up, flashing your mother a thumbs-up. “i’ll be on my way then. i shouldn’t dally around too much, or it’ll get late.”

“right, right. i guess i’ll bake something to pass the time while you’re gone. maybe making your favorite pie ought to incentivize you to come home faster!” she agrees with a hearty laugh. you’re just about to turn around and set off before your mother cries out a panicked “wait!”

you look over your shoulder. “huh? what is it, mama?”

“i know this is probably just me fretting,” she looks at you firmly, and she wrings her hands slightly, “but it’s better safe than sorry. make sure to never wander from the main road, okay? you’ve heard about the wolf that’s been terrorizing our village. i don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

you’d snark back at her a bit normally, but the pure fear in your mother’s eyes makes you bite your tongue for once. “i’ll stay strictly on the path, mama. besides, the wolf’s never taken a human before. and i’m sure there’ll be huntsmen and all sorts of other people out and about at this time of day, so i’ll be okay.”

“i know,” she sighs. “it’s a mother’s instinct. i can’t help but fret over you constantly.”

she waves you off, and you’re on the path to your grandmother’s before you even know it. the weather today is perfect: brisk refreshing air, a few cotton-white clouds in the bright blue sky, and the mischievous twinkles of sunlight streaming through forest trees’ branches. 

truth be told, you like these solo adventures more than anything else in the world. living a quiet life in your village has its perks, but when everyone knows everybody, you rarely get a chance to set out by yourself without the scrutiny of your entire town on your back. you hum a little song while you skip through the beaten path in the woods, savoring the solitude. it shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to make the round trip, save for a quick lunch break in the middle and maybe a snack for the road at your grandmother’s abode. 

you couldn’t be happier right now. the basket swings from the crook of your arm as you stroll through the woods, admiring the wilderness. a pair of butterflies flutter every now and then, and you can make out the melodic warbles of birdsong. you wonder if it’s mating season for the creatures; the closest you ever got to romance were the fairy tales in your book (your mother’s old hand-me-downs, from when she lived in the port city before moving her to marry your now-absent father) or the occasional wedding that took place in your village (the last one was 7 years ago, when the wheat grinder’s daughter married the postman. you pressed the flowers from your corsage between the pages of a heavy dictionary).

either way, you wish your village had more to show a young woman like yourself. everyone seems happy living their rustic life, and while you were satisfied with the peace that your mother strove so hard to provide you with, you knew that the world had more to show you.

and you crave it. just as the horizon of the woods seems to stretch on forever and ever, you wonder if there’s something beyond it just waiting for you. 

maybe there ought to be a great marble castle, blinding white in the distance, complete with a prince charming inside atop his great steed. or maybe big markets with all sorts of treasures from afar! sometimes when a stray merchant stumbles across your town, you’d eavesdrop on the stories they’d tell to the little kids (you always dreamed about tasting the delicious spices they bragged about. cinnamon, was it? oh, that sounded fabulous).

but instead, you’re stuck with this bumfuck, hillbilly country town. there aren’t even any good looking guys here, and you know it’ll take at least a decade to convince your mother to let you move out away from the safety of her arms. the height of gossip here is a stupid wolf running around the woods. your village is so boring that they can’t even find a human to gossip about.

sweat dots your brow once you’re a good way into your journey. parts of the woods clear out into patches of grass or the sporadic lake, and your stomach starts growling slightly. you debate pushing yourself a bit further before you decide otherwise—your mother had packed you a delicious lunch, and it wouldn’t hurt to give your feet a quick break while you wolfed it down.

you scan the nearby woods for a clearing you could sit at, and after a few more feet of walking, you’re greeted with what looks like a meadow of wildflowers in the distance. you keep your eye on the main path before plopping down on the side of the beaten track, leaning your back against a tall tree.

‘lunchtime, lunchtime,’ you excitedly think to yourself as you peel back the cover of your basket. in the corner, all wrapped up, is a pair of sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a whole apple that your mother has prepared for you. the bright noon sun above your head indicates to you that it's the perfect time for lunch, and you lick your lips as you unwrap the sandwiches.

you go to town on your food. you have to force yourself to slow down a bit so you won’t choke on your food, and you listen to the back-and-forth of bird calls as you savor the taste of tasty bread. the crisp tanginess of the apple is welcomed by your tongue after you finish your sandwiches, and you chew thoughtlessly.

crunch.

‘hm?’ you don’t even move when the sound of rustling comes from behind you. it’s probably a deer or something. the sound of rustling wasn’t uncommon this deep into the woods, and huntsmen often told stories about daring foxes or squirrels that would venture close to the tracks to fight over scraps that other travelers had dropped.

crunch. 

you swallow down the final bite of your apple, inwardly wishing you had more. you dangle the core in between your fingers, and you wonder if you should toss it into the woods. yeah, that wouldn’t be too bad, right? 

crunch. 

the birds could pick at it for a bit, and then maybe the bugs could enjoy the sweet treat. what use would you have for an apple core? you stand up, dusting yourself off the best you can, and without looking too far into the woods, you rev up your arm and throwing the apple core as far as you can into the trees with as much force as you can muster-

-only to hit something square on with the apple core.

you blanche. what did you just hit? you weren’t looking too closely, and you had expected the apple core to unceremoniously fall somewhere on the ground and be forgotten. but instead, something of considerable size lurks in the woods, and you hold your breath as you haphazardly grab your basket and your cloak, getting ready to run for it.

“ow…,” a boyish voice whimpers. 

huh??? you freeze in your place, confusion flickering through your brain as a shadowy figure rustles around the place you had tossed the apple. a voice? you hadn’t expected that. you were supposed to be the only person here.

did you accidentally hit a wandering huntsman on accident?

“w-who’s there?” you call out. “come out and show yourself!”

“i was trying to-,” the voice grumbles. you hear footsteps and the crunching of breaking branches and leaves, and you keep your distance from the voice. the figure shifts closer to you. “-before you hit me in the face with your leftovers.”

your breath stops just short in your throat when you see a young boy around your age step out into the light. you clearly look confused—you’ve never seen him before, and no one’s mentioned anything about a boy this deep into the woods.

“who are you?” you ask, your own voice hushed. “i’ve never seen you before.”

“i should be asking you that,” he huffs. he folds his hands over his chest, and he pouts. “i want to know about you first.”

“i live in the village.” you point the way you came, down the path. you make the wise decision to casually leave out your name and any other important information you can. “are you from there too?”

he shakes his head. “i live in the woods.”

the woods! you’d never heard of anyone living in the woods. it was pure wilderness, dangerous and scary, no less for someone who wasn’t even a veteran wilderness expert! for someone that lived in the woods, the boy looks surprisingly well groomed. his long blond hair pools over his shoulder and down his chest, and it looks clean and well maintained. his cheeks are rosy and pink, and his bright blue eyes stare you down with a kind of pride you’ve never seen before.

“that’s dangerous, you know,” you point out. “there’s a wolf that's been running around these parts lately. it’s not safe for you to be out here all alone.”

he raises an eyebrow. “a wolf, huh?”

“yeah! it’s been killing sheep in my village. everyone’s been talking about it,” you remark. “i’d take you back to my village if i could, but i can’t.”

“i’m not welcome there,” he coldly remarks. his eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s leering at you. “besides, i wouldn’t want to live in a stupid village anyway. i’m happier on my own. everyone else and their stupidity would make me mad.”

annoyance shoots through you, and you shrug. “suit yourself. i can’t force you to go if you don’t want to. but i’d rather not have blood on my hands.”

“blood on your hands, huh?” the blond boy steps closer to you. “where are you headed to?”

“why do you want to know?”

“because it’s not often that i see a girl wandering around this deep by herself. you said it yourself: it’s dangerous out here.” 

you hold your ground as he steps closer, circling around you. he’s tall when he stands at full height, almost enough to rival some of the tallest men in your village. his body is toned, most likely from living in pure wilderness for however long he has, and despite the lighthearted banter between the two of you, something in your gut swirls with anxiety when he prowls around like a wild animal.

“i’m headed somewhere,” you answer vaguely. “i have some stuff i gotta deliver.”

“and it’s that way, isn’t it? opposite your village?” he approaches closer, and you whimper when he sniffs at your ear. “lemme guess… that old lady’s house on the other side?”

your stomach drops. the boy grins, his sharp canines on full display when he sees the awestruck look on your face.

“bingo! you smell like her,” he laughs easily. “that’s a long journey for a pretty girl like you.”

you pull your cloak closer to yourself, instinctively wanting to shield yourself from the strange boy. “that’s enough! i’m going to get going.”

“sure, sure.” he sends you off, still grinning like he’s won some grand prize. “be careful out there though, darling.”

he cocks his head, watching you as you start running away from him. the blond smirks to himself, your sweet scent still clinging to his nose as your silhouette flickers from his view and then disappears into the distance.

“a wolf, huh?” he murmurs. he sounds amused, still thinking about the flabbergasted expressions on your face. something inside of him stirs sinisterly. 

he’s hungry, he decides. 

and suddenly, sheep meat doesn’t sound as appetizing anymore.

…

…

…

horror weighs on your heart like a brick thrown into a pond. it ripples and quivers violently, forming merciless waves that spread out, swallowing up anything in its path and leaving things warped in its wake.

your grandmother’s house is trashed. the windows are smashed in, and the front door is broken. your heart hammers in a panic, and your mouth goes dry. your pupils shake as you stand a distance away from the house.

your mind is blank. what happened? robbers? wild animals? a murderer?

you know deep down in your heart that the correct thing to do is turn on your heel and run, run until you find someone else, run until another person could take care of the issue for you. but your feet stay glued to the ground, and your thoughts swirl over with terrifying ideas.

your grandmother is inside! she’s a weak, defenseless lady, practically confined to her bed because of her old age and her illness… there was virtually nothing she could do to defend herself if anyone attacked her. 

what if you were already too late?

“g-grandma…!” you cry out. your basket bounces next to you as you run into the house, tears clouding over your vision. the house seems too big, like it’s swallowing you up without the safety of your grandmother. the inside of the cottage looks just like the outside. furniture overturned, big claw marks etched into the walls, and absolutely no sign of your beloved grandmother.

your blood turns cold at the claw marks.

was it the wolf? 

“grandma, if you can hear me, say something…!” you whisper, too scared to raise your voice properly. “o-or move something! grandma, you’re in here, right?”

your body trembles uncontrollably. the only room remaining that isn’t within clear sight is your grandmother’s bedroom. your gut tells you to leave immediately. you don’t want to go in there, but you have to. who’s going to help your grandmother if not for you? what if by the time you ran away and brought other people, it was too late for her?

your steps echo throughout the ruined house like the toll of church bells, and you press your lips into a thin line. you reach out for the door, which, despite its dilapidated state, somehow managed to stay partially attached to the hinges. you push, forcing your head to quit spinning from your fear.

“we meet again, darling!”

your heart drops to the ground. blood paints what seems like every inch of the room, and you immediately stumble backwards, tripping over your own feet and landing like a sack of potatoes onto the ground. 

‘move…!’ your brain screams at your body. ‘get up and move!’

but you can’t. the scene unfurling in front of your eyes makes your limbs feel like they were made of lead. you can’t bring yourself to do anything. you can’t crawl, can’t scream, can’t do anything except stare back up at the blood-drenched young man that looms above you with a wolfish smile.

he licks his lips. he looks exactly as he did in the woods. tall, with long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. except this time, there’s a pair of pointed wolf ears that sprout from the top of his head and a bushy tail in between his legs. he’s splashed with crimson, and his mouth is smeared the deepest red.

“see, i knew this was where you were headed to,” he laughs. “are you looking for the old lady that was in here? sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but i think i was a step ahead of you.”

you can’t bring yourself to breathe.

“you- you’re the wolf…,” you choke out. the smug smirk never leaves the boy’s face as he leers down at you, and another wave of pure dread drops like a deadweight into your stomach when he nods.

“about time you pieced it together, stupid girl.” the boy clicks his tongue mockingly. “i always watched that stupid village of yours get their panties all in a twist trying to catch me. i mean, human or not, did you guys really think you’d catch anything with stupid traps like that?”

you raise your arms instinctively when he leans down. “please don’t kill me…! i won’t say anything- please don’t eat me!”

he pauses, and he takes a long inhale. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself from the crunch of your bones under his sharp teeth, and for the smell of your blood to fill the room. this is it. this is how you die. another victim to the weird werewolf that had terrorized your town for god-knows-how-long, gobbled up mercilessly in the same way the boy had devoured your poor, helpless grandmother.

he laughs again, and you shudder. you tentatively peel your eyes open, only to scream when you see yourself at eye-level with him. 

“did you think i was going to eat you too? nah, i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ve had my fill with that bony old grandma of yours.” he grabs your wrist, and you yelp when pain shoots up your arm. he yanks you up to your feet, and you shakily lean against him when he drags you into the heart of the scene of the crime. you don’t want to look at all the blood splattered against your now-dead grandmother’s bedroom, and the boy flings you like a ragdoll onto her bed.

he looks so monstrous, towering over your cowering form. in every other way, he looks like a normal human, like any other boy you’d see frolicking in your hometown, but his animalistic features betray him. the gleam in his eyes mark him as unmistakably a ruthless predator, and your heart feels like it's going to give out.

“what are you going to do to me?” you eke out. “are you going to take me hostage?”

“hostage? for what? do i look like the kind of person to bargain with stupid humans?” he snorts, and when he shakes his head at your foolishness, his long hair tumbles over his broad shoulders. you look like a deer caught in headlights as he clambers onto the bed, and he presses a hand on either side of your face as he cages you in between his body and the mattress.

he’s smiling, but you can’t detect any trace of goodwill or kindness on his face. “do you really want to know what i’m going to do with you, my darling?”

you didn’t know how to respond. he leans down to your level, and you whimper when you can smell the stench of blood and death on his mouth. despite this, he presses his lips against the outline of your jaw, and you quiver underneath the boy as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“i’m going to make you my mate.”

your head feels like it’s caving in. 

“what-?” you flinch. “no- no, no- nonono- you can’t do that… i can’t- no, i can’t do that! i can’t be your mate…!”

he narrows his eyes, yet his lips never leave your face. he keeps kissing you greedily, and you push at him to no avail, unable to wrench his heavier, stronger body off of you. you start sobbing and crying out, yet the boy pays no attention to you as his mouth tastes your skin like a starved man.

“be good, or i’ll force you. you wouldn’t want that, would you? i don’t want to hurt a pretty thing like you,” he hisses. you sniffle and swallow back your oncoming sobs and you avert your eyes. 

“i promise i’ll be gentle. besides, i’m way better looking than any of the men in your village,” he attempts to cheer you up. “c’mon. look at me. isn’t something like this more exciting than a drab country wedding? i’ll treat you like a princess. just love me, darling. does it matter if i’m a wolf or not?”

“you’re a wolf that kills! i don’t want to be with someone like you!”

he frowns, and his hands move to your cloak. your heart pounds painfully against your chest as his fingers twist at the material. your mother’s painstaking handiwork dissolves like sugar in water under his grip, and you know moving to defend yourself is futile. he quickly shreds your clothes as you cry quietly.

“you would do this too, if you were me.” his fingers trace over the bare skin of your collarbones and dip towards your breasts. his hands are sticky and warm against the chill of your body, and he cups your chest. it’s insane, how well your body fits into his big palms. he watches you with lust-stricken eyes, and his cock strains against his pants when he sees your tears wetting your pretty face and you laying there underneath him, not bothering to fight him off.

he knows. he knows you’re being obedient out of fear rather than true submission, but it’s good enough for him.

“i’m lonely,” he whispers. “you don’t know how it feels. having to kill to live. having to stay in the shadows. having to always yearn from afar because all of those stupid humans can’t see that i’m more similar to them than i am different.”

“t-that’s no reason to ruin my life…!” you protest. it’s a last ditch effort, but you shakily inhale anyway. “please… let me go. we can pretend like none of this happened. i promise i won’t tell anyone anything. i’ll give you my word. just… i can’t be a wolf’s wife- i can’t- i can’t do that-”

he shakes his head. “i want you. you talked to me in the forest. offered me help. treated me like a normal boy my age. i was too scared, so i hid my ears and tail, and you were none the wiser. that- that’s enough proof, isn’t it? that with enough time, you’d come to love me for who i am…”

you let out a strangled cry as a hand starts groping your tits, rough fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. it feels foreign, having your boobs touched like this, but a dull heat thrums deep inside your stomach. the boy looks entranced as he stares down at your form. the way your plush chest molds and bends to his hands makes him desire you even more, even if he’s aware that you’re terrified to death of him.

“i can’t let you go. i can’t,” he doubles down. any of the remorse you had managed to wrench out of him disappears bit by bit, and he groans as he paws at your body greedily. “god, you’re just so pretty… i have to have you.”

you clench your thighs together. his lips meet yours, and you nearly vomit at the taste of iron on your mouth. he’s clumsy, but he kisses you so hungrily, eager to lap up any semblance of affection. you grip at the sheets as his hot tongue swipes at your closed lips, and you’re determined to deny him. he frowns into the kiss, and you feel a twinge of pride well up.

the wolf exhales angrily. the hand that’s been roaming your chest twists at your nipple harshly. you yelp at the pain, and the boy shoves his tongue into your mouth, moaning into the kiss. you start thrashing slightly. he doesn’t heed any mind to your discomfort, and if anything, he begins grinding his clothed hips against your thighs.

he can’t get enough of how you feel. your kisses are like honey to his mouth, and his body melts at the feeling of you against him. you know he’s going to leave bruises all over your tits from how hard he’s grabbing at them, but despite everything that’s overwhelming you, the heat that pounds against your core only builds. 

you can’t breathe. you clench your eyes shut and try to bear it, try to work through the sparks of pleasure that cloud your mind from having your breasts molested, as the wolf kisses you how he wants you. your mouth tastes foul when he finally pulls away, and a string of saliva connects the two of you momentarily.

you glare up at him. 

“i want to fuck you…,” his voice trails off. “i want to fuck you so bad. but i have to be gentle. i promised to treat you well…”

your pussy curls at the thought of taking the wolf’s dick. he bucks his clothed erection higher and higher up your legs, and he moans shamelessly into your mouth as he kisses you again. he slobbers all over your mouth like a feral dog, his tongue slithering into your throat like he’s fucking your mouth. 

you don’t enjoy this. you don’t want this at all. yet you can’t ignore the throb that pulses at your core, the way your walls squeeze every now and then painfully against nothing. you’re not turned on by this—you’re not. you want to convince yourself of that so badly, but every time you realize the situation you’re put in, pinned down to a bed with a werewolf that wants to stuff every inch of his dirty cock into your cunt, arousal swirls inside your body. 

his hands trickle down to your pants, and fear pricks sharply at your heart.

“i’ll be a good mate.” he peels the rest of your clothes off, mimicking the gentleness of a human lover the best he can. “i can be like a real human husband. no, i can be better. i know i can be better than any of those stupid boys in your village.”

you shudder when cold air rushes at your bare cunt. the slick that coats your slit is undeniable, and the boy’s pupils widen at the sight. he swallows, and you watch as his neck bobs. even by human standards, he’s handsome, and your body betrays your mind as he coaxes your thighs open.

“you want me too, don’t you?” he asks. he offers a weak smile. it’s almost sickening, how someone who mercilessly took everything from you can pretend to be a human in hopes that you’d grant him any pity. “i’ll make you feel good. i’ll be everything you want me to be.”

he lets go of your legs, and he grabs at his own clothes, shredding them apart. he groans when his cock springs free of his pants.

your heart drops into your stomach.

“i-i can’t take that-,” you choke out. “that’s too big! you’ll kill me- i’m not kidding…!”

he tilts his head to the side, and he shrugs. his cock is inhumanly huge, and if he were to put that inside your cunt, you swear that you’d be able to feel it in your throat. it’s long and thick and swollen up to an angry red. a few prominent veins run along his length, eager to stuff itself into your soft and vulnerable cunt. his balls hang heavy and big, undoubtedly filled with all the cum that he wants to fuck into you.

he grabs at your thighs again, and you squeal loudly in protest as he keeps you pinned in place.

“stay still-,” he grunts, “it’ll hurt less if you stop squirming like that! you’ll get used to it with time. it might hurt a little, but it’ll feel good with time… now shut up, and let me fuck you already-”

you grit your teeth and brace yourself as he starts rubbing his length against your lower lips. he moans softly, savoring the way your warm body feels against him. you can feel his cock twitch dangerously against your folds, and you whimper in a mix of pleasure, disgust, and fear whenever his cockhead catches at your sensitive clit.

he lines his cock up at your fluttering hole, and you stop breathing. your chest feels tight, and your head feels blown out. you prep yourself for the oncoming pain, but he pauses for a moment.

“give me your name.”

you blink. “huh?”

“if- if i’m going to take you to be my mate, i should know your name at least. before i do this,” he whispers sheepishly. your stomach twists with hatred. why should he care? he’s going to do all of these horrible things to you, so why is he even bothering to pretend to play the act of a caring lover?

“yours first,” you hiss. “if a wolf like you even has a name.”

“i do.” his response surprises you. “michael. it’s michael. i have a human name like you do. i heard that it means ‘he who is like god.’ now tell me yours.”

you lay there for a moment, dumbfounded. you didn’t expect a monster like him to have a label like that. and less so a name as blessed as “michael.”

you hang your head. “...(y/n).”

he hums, and you flinch when his cockhead threatens to break into your hole. “it’s a pretty name. a perfect name for a perfect mate.”

you bite the inside of your mouth and properly brace yourself. he pushes his hips in slowly, his gaze fixed on where his cock connects with your pussy. you weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but the pain comes faster than you thought. it burns and stretches, and you cry out, stiffening and lashing out, trying to get him off of you.

“hurts…! ‘t hurts-!!” you screech. you pound and claw at his shoulders, yelling and immediately bursting into another onslaught of tears. the tears are hot and heavy as they trickle down your face, and your legs shake uncontrollably. it genuinely feels like he’s splitting you into two, and the torturous pain makes your head flash white.

michael nearly falls on top of you. your cunt is disgustingly warm and inviting, and it stretches out and envelops him. it’s hot and wet and tight, and despite your constant protests, your pussy is heavenly around his cock. you’re so small, and he knows his wolf cock is about to break you. but god—he wants to break you. if breaking you feels this good, he’ll eagerly shatter you into a million pieces so that he has the depraved honor of being the one to destroy you and strip you of your humanity. 

he clenches his jaw. he couldn’t lose his mind. not like this, not when his endgame was right there. “take it. i’m going to be your mate, so you better get used to taking my dick and get used to it fast.”

you hold back a strangled sob. your tears are freeflowing, and it’s hard to breathe. his cock feels like it’s pressing straight up against your womb, and he’s not even giving you the mercy of adjusting to his size slowly. his length invades every inch of your cunt, and his ridiculous girth has you stretched out thin. you know you can’t take this. he’s actively molding your tight hole into the shape of his cock, and if he keeps himself in here any longer, you might actually go insane.

your words slur sloppily. “you’ll kill me- you’ll fuck me to death-”

his breathing is strained just from the pleasure of putting it in, but he still manages to snort at you mockingly. “you won’t die. no one’s ever died from sex.”

you wish you had the spirit to shout back at him, to put up more of a fight. but that instinct has been long extinguished at this point, and you’re nothing more than a sniveling mess as you struggle to breathe through the tightness in your chest. 

“c’mon, don’t be boring now.” he truly can’t get enough of the sight. the pretty girl from the village, face stained with tears, legs spread out all for him to fuck into her pretty cunt. to put it as frankly as he can, the boy doesn’t know what he wants to do first with you.

the sweeter part of him wants to kiss away your tears, to comfort you the best he can with a low voice and whisper his undying love to you, to convince you that a life as a wolf’s wife won’t be all that bad. you’ve caught his eye for a reason, and he wouldn’t want to have you snatch away whatever dregs of humanity the hybrid wolfboy was clinging desperately too. even if everyone else regarded him to be some kind of barbaric monster, deep down, even he has a soul that yearns painfully for love. for a romantic partner that could accept him as an equal and open their heart up to him.

but maybe this other part of him is what makes him a monster.

he loves seeing you reduced to this broken mess. he enjoys it, the primal fear that’s evident on every inch of your face. the way you’re nothing more than prey in his arms, with no other choice but to let him fuck your tight pussy out on his monstruous cock, to be the direct cause of all the pain and anguish you’re going through and to enjoy it like it’s the thrill of a fresh kill… it makes the wolfish streak inside of him go wild with delight, and he wants to keep you pinned down and helpless underneath him so he can soak up that bliss a little longer.

your stomach coils up on itself when you feel him slide his hips back slowly. the strangled noise that leaves your mouth is a mix between a pained shriek and a pleasured moan. he’s really too much for you to fit inside, and your strained walls cling to his cock. you’re barely hanging on for dear life just from him penetrating you. you can’t even imagine what it would be like once he would start actually thrusting and having sex with you.

“ahhh, you’re just too cute,” he teases you. “i never knew love could feel like this… it’s so good, isn’t it? no regular human dick could even come close to what i’ll make you feel, my little wife.”

you sob as he slowly bullies his cock back into you, once more making sure that you can properly feel the torturous stretch. the pain wobbles dangerously on edging you towards pleasure, and your vision blurs over slightly as the mounting heat in your gut tightens up. it’s gross, it’s inhuman that you’re getting off on having sex with a wolf, but your own self-restraint is being tested with the small cries you’re letting out.

“ah-,” you pathetically squeak out, “ahh…! michael- michael, please- i can’t do this!”

“yes, you can,” he promptly corrects you. his thrusts are shallow, granting you the rare mercy of sparing you from being speared in half on his entire length. “look at you… you’re starting to feel good, aren’t you? i can feel everything… that little cunt of yours won’t stop tightening up around me. you’re squeezing so much! it’s like your pussy knows better than you who you’re meant to be with.”

your mind shakes. it’s all you can do to keep yourself conscious. all the stimuli are too much: the anxiety, the pleasure, the adrenaline. your thoughts are being smoothed over, all logic coming to a screeching halt as the tightness welling up in your womb is all that your body can focus on. you hate how easily his name falls out of your mouth, how easily you find it to moan, and the wolfboy eagerly devours the attention you give him.

how angelic you must look to him right now! his mate, his precious mate, moaning out his name in pleasure, no matter how terrified they are of him! he moans softly too, and he can’t help but buck his hips deeper and harder into you. your voice and all your little noises are too adorable to him, and he just wants it all.

“you like it, don’t you? yeah, i know it’s starting to feel good. give in to me. you don’t have to do anything but let me have my way.” his breath is hot and heavy and tinged with the sharp tang of blood. you cringe when he kisses at your neck and cheeks again, but with how rapidly his hips are picking up at the rhythm, your thighs tremble dangerously. “i’ll make you cum again and again… oh, you’re just so lovely…”

your cunt sucks him in greedily. feeling his cock rub against your walls and prod dangerously at your cervix makes you grow blank, and your body keeps reacting more and more to what the wolfboy is doing to you. you wonder if this is what people mean when they say they’re being fucked stupid, and if it isn’t, whatever he’s doing to you is coming horribly close.

“fuck…! fuck- no- michael- michael, please-,” you whimper out. you two both know perfectly well that your cries are from how good it feels, but you still refuse to verbalize it properly. michael smiles into the curve of your throat, and he kisses your jugular with what you can only describe as a sickly kind of affection.

“what are you asking for, my love?” he chuckles endearingly. you sob, and your toes curl into the disheveled bed when his cock slides into you just right. your vision skews its axis slightly, and you let out a sharp exhale, mouth lolling open a little. he nips at your skin with his sharp teeth to snap you back to life. “tell me properly with those human words you’re so proud of. ‘please fuck me harder, michael! make love to your wife! give me more of your cock!’”

your cheeks burn with humiliation when he ridicules you, but deep down, you don’t know if you can wholeheartedly refute him. you do want more of him. you do want him to fuck you harder. your cunt purrs in delight every time he slides in and out of your slick hole, and his cock manages to ruthlessly hit all the right places. 

it’s unfair. it’s unfair how everything’s stacked against you.

you must have ignored him for too long. michael frowns disapprovingly, and a low growl vibrates in his throat. he ducks his head and bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth digging themselves into the curves of your soft flesh. you scream out in pain, your walls clamping down on him and another flurry of torturous pleasure shreds your stomach.

“p-please fuck me harder, michael…!” you’re fully crying. your words don’t sound like your own, and you certainly don’t feel like yourself. the tears and snot smeared all over your face makes you feel like some lowlife, and you hate the way he forces you to beg for him. “make love to me… give me- give me more of your cock!”

“see?” he licks his lips, and he grins devilishly as you as he pulls away from your now-marked shoulder. “that wasn’t so bad, was it? nothing wrong with you for wanting more from your husband. i’ll gladly indulge my darling.”

a shaky scream pounds at your chest, and blinding hot pleasure overwhelms your head as he picks up his pace. your moans reach a high-pitched squeal as he fucks himself into you, his cock rapidly pulling in and out of your pulsing hole. it’s not like you make it particularly easy for him either; your disgustingly tight pussy walls cling to him and almost refuse to let him go. 

does your body love his dick that much? does your cunt want to savor the feeling of him stretching it out that badly? those thoughts make kaiser swell with pride as he reaches a fast rhythm. despite how sloppily and quickly he’s ramming his whole length into you to make sure you feel every single bit of his dick, he still makes sure that each thrust has his heavy cockhead drilling right at your womb. 

he prods at your deepest parts, shamelessly making sure that your womb knows it’s time to be bred. it’s time for him to fill you up with his cum, to fuck a baby into you, to force every part of your body to be tainted with him. from inside and out, from outside to in, kaiser wants to selfishly claim every part of you. that’s what good husbands do to their wives, don’t they? that’s what your folk—the human folk—did, right?

the tightness that gnaws at your core refuses to relent. your arousal runs rampant through your veins, and it feels like your guts are tying themselves into a knot. you don’t know how else to describe the heat that mounts in your core and inside your head. your body and conscience are at odds with each other. your brain rejects michael, your mouth begs for him to hold you and fuck you harder, and your hole sucks him in like it doesn’t want to let go.

“that’s my pretty wife. you have such a fucking slutty body- begging for your husband feels good, yeah? i know, i know, darling,” he drinks up your tears, his hot tongue lapping languidly at your face. you choke back another sob, and he moves to steal a kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, and your eyes gloss over. you’re overwhelmed with his presence. it smells like him, tastes like him, feels like him. you’re crying out and mewling in pleasure into his mouth, and he literally eats up every single one of your lewd noises.

his balls slap against your ass, desperate to empty themselves into you. his cock twitches and throbs inside you, making you shudder in delight. it’s a sick kind of lovemaking, if you could even call it that. your own slick dribbles down between your legs, and the lubrication only makes it easier for michael to greedily shove his cock into your fluttering cunt. 

“can’t take anymore- michael, ‘m gonna lose my mind-!” you breathe out. you hate to admit it. you don’t want to tell him how stupidly close you are. you blame how monstrously huge his cock is; how else would he be destroying your body in such an inhuman way? your vision is unstable, blurring even more around your teary edges, and the heat that licks inside of you is unbearable. 

michael knows it. he can feel it. the way the velvety lining of your cunt coaxes his cock right up to your cervix, the way it keeps squeezing him and writhing around his sensitive inches, the way your own voice seems to hike higher and higher. your legs tremble underneath him, and michael is thrilled to know just how far he’s successfully broken you. the shame and embarrassment that’s scribbled all over your face makes him almost uncontrollably giddy. 

“are you gonna cum, darling? did my cock make you feel that good?” he laughs mockingly. his words are like thorns against your ears, yet with how roughly he’s pounding into your pussy, having mounted you like the uncivilized animal he was, you couldn’t deny it. he’s a predator through and through, and with you trapped in his reach like prey, you know all too well that he’ll be moving in for the kill soon.

the insatiable tightness inside you teeters on the brink. you’re barely holding on, each breath growing more strained than the last. michael doesn’t let up his pace, continuing to rut into you. each snap of his hips has you close, so close, so fucking close—you don’t want him to stop. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself to hurtle headfirst into the crash, to topple finally past the point of no return where you would irrevocably become the wolf’s.

“i’m cumming…! ah- michael- cumming- cumming…!”

heat rips through your body in half. you throw your head back, the foreign feeling consuming you whole as if you had been thrown directly into fire. your cunt clamps down on the boy’s cock, and it feels like he’s about to split you into two. your vision completely blurs, and the world rushes around your senses. it’s too much yet not enough at the same time, and you rake your nails down the wolf’s bare back with such a fervor that you must have shredded up his skin and drawn blood.

you shake and squirm and thrash underneath him, but no matter how much you writhe against his body, michael won’t let his grip on you go. he relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a sobbing mess as your juices squirt out of your abused hole and drip down onto the shaky bed. his cock pounds harder and harder, and he groans out as he feels your slick and pulsing walls flutter and clench around him.

“hah- that’s what i thought-,” he chuckles. you can’t breathe. you can’t think. the incessant throbbing in your stomach is still there, but it’s morphed from arousal into something a little more painful. he’s overstimulating your already overrun cunt. “your husband’s dick is that good, isn’t it? don’t worry; i’ll fuck you like this as much as you want… i’ll get you to cum over and over again.”

you dumbly shake your head. your head is foggy, and the throes of your climax don’t want to let you go. “n-o… can’t take any more- no more- don’t want any more…!”

“you’re going to take it, like the good wife you are. you don’t get a choice in this. i’m your husband,” he snarls. you shudder, whimpering in weak protest as he continues using you. it hurts, and it burns, and the coil that refuses to let up in your stomach makes you feel sick. how much longer could this monster last? it feels like he’s been having sex and using your body forever, but even after ripping an earth-shattering orgasm from you, he still hasn’t cum yet.

“it hurts- i can’t do it…!” you smack at his chest again, but you know he won’t let you go. your tears sparkle cruelly on your cheeks, and michael sighs lovingly as he laps at your face. he swings back and forth constantly between treating you like you were a mere bug to cherishing you. was this some kind of karmic revenge from the universe for thinking so lowly of your own village? the home that seemed so far away now?

“take it- take it- fuck- let me make you my proper wife…” fear floods your body when you can feel his cock twitch dangerously deep inside you, your bruised cervix contracting and sucking him in. his balls tighten and continue to slap against your ass, but with how quickly and frantic his movements are, he’s going to cum. “fill you up with my pups… we’ll be such a happy family together-”

your eyes shoot open. cold reality splashes over you as if slapping you back to your senses, even in the midst of being manhandled. “no! no, no…! don’t! please, please, michael- that’s the one thing you can’t do! don’t cum inside- i don’t want to get pregnant with your babies!”

he grits his teeth, and he presses his entire body weight on top of you, determined to keep you physically where you are. he’s determined to make sure you can’t escape from his grasp, as if you’d be able to go anywhere with how disheveled and haunted you are. it’s a good look for you, second only to the loving glances he knows you’d never spare him.

“shut up, shut up…! this is your job, this is what you’re supposed to do! this is what lovers do!” he thrusts once, twice, and when he brings his hips down one final time, your fate is sealed. his own cry dies out, buried deep inside his throat as he cums deep and hard into you. your breath lodges into your neck, leaving you with nothing but bitter defeat and the taste of uncertainty all over your mouth.

his cum spurts everywhere, and it floods your womb. it burns and goes everywhere, painting your insides a pretty shade of ivory white, and you can feel every drop of it flowing into you. it’s poison, it’s heavy, and it’s awful, yet your cunt has no choice but to take every little bit of it. you bite down on the inside of your cheek as it starts to eke out, and you force yourself to endure it. you have no choice but to; this is what survival is for you now. this is the only answer you have now.

you don’t know how you’re going to live with this. you try to console yourself by telling yourself that you had gotten over the worst, but you know that you haven’t. you never will.

“nnghg…!” a stray cry slips from your mouth when something tight and way too big for you to take invades your strained hole. a sharp pain invades and spearheads through you, and your entire body stiffens as his large knot shoves its way into your plush and stretched out pussy. his cum overwhelms your body, stretching out every inch of your battered womb. your stomach bulges just slightly, feeling stuffed to the very brim.

michael nearly collapses on top of you, keeping you folded in half and in a perfect, vulnerable breeding position. his eyes are blown open wide and glossed over in a kind of drunken stupor, yet he refuses to let you go in any capacity. it’s not like you have the physical means to anyway; you’re already so weak from having him force himself onto you, and the pain of being bred and knotted is taking everything in you to not pass out right there and then.

he reaches towards your face, cupping your tear-stained and broken expression with his large palm. you don’t know if the feeling that stirs in your gut is simply the aftershocks of sex or pity towards yourself, but seeing michael look down at you with such a triumphant yet lovestricken gaze isn’t doing your any favors. you know you have no choice but to get pregnant with his children, to watch in horror as your body turns into nothing but a host for these parasites he’s determined to fuck into you over and over, not a single squeeze of semen going to waste with the knot he’s plugged you up with.

“we’ll be perfect together,” he whispers. his words are almost like a mantra he’s brainwashing you with. you wonder who needs it more, the manipulator or the one being manipulated. everything feels like a punishment to you. just where did you go wrong? were you too ambitious for your own good? too hopeful? too willing to jump at the first opportunity for escape that came your way, not caring to see if any part of the rosy details were traps?

or maybe the worst part was that you might have done nothing wrong at all. maybe this was all a twisted machination of the universe. maybe just like what michael believed, you were destined to fall into the wolf’s grasp one way or another, to disappear from the face of society and the world as you knew it, to have him drag you off into the darkness and to become the broken but beautiful wolf’s bride that he must have dreamt of forever.

“i love you.” he kisses you, and you don’t have the strength nor the courage to say those blasted words back to him. it’s not like you could say them back sincerely either. instead you avert his gaze, turning your face towards the red scraps of your cloak that lay on the ground as if they were miniature corpses of their own, left over from a long lost war.

you hope your mother can forgive you when she realizes you won't ever come back home.

KINKTOBER 2023—le cinquième jour, le dernier jour.

[simplynotcapable]

I know it's probably never gonna happen but hpw do you think Aemond would react to seeing Baelon reunite with his twin?

There is a witch, and there is a fire, and there is a diamond in Visenya’s hand.

He does not want to be here, this little shack in the woods, with its thatch roof and its painted blue door and the chimney belching smoke with no scent. He does not want to stand here with the twisted tapestries on the walls (women entangled, women turning into beasts, women with bloody hands and bared teeth, women as women would be if men did not tell them they were soft and sweet and good and small so often that they started to believe it) and the herbs dangling from rafters and the jars of odd liquids filling up rickety shelves. He does not want to be under the gaze of this woman who is looking at them like they are meat. Like she wishes to suck their flesh from their bones.

But Visenya wants, and so Aemond does.

"What have you brought me?" asks the woman, gnarled hands appearing from her cloak. Her eyes are blue, though he can swear they were brown just a few moments ago. She smiles with teeth that he thinks are just on this side of too sharp, and he wraps nervous fingers around Visenya's wrist in a silent plea to leave.

"Payment," Visenya said, raising the jewel. She waggles it lightly, drops it into the woman's hand when she reaches out towards it.

"To speak to the dead is an expensive ask, girl," clucks the witch, though she brings the diamond close to her chest. He suspects, if they tried to take it back, she would bite. "More expensive still to speak to the dead as they should be instead of how they are."

"A babe cannot speak," Visenya says. He thinks her foot might be on the verge of stomping. "He must be as he would be if he'd lived, not--not as he was as he died."

"Then, it will cost you more than a jewel."

"Visenya," he murmurs. "Visenya, we brought nothing else, we cannot--"

But Visenya shakes him off, and Visenya takes something from her bag.

"No," Aemond snarls.

"Yes," hisses the witch, reaching greedy hands for the remains of Vyper's egg. Black eggshells tinged with green, jagged shards worn smooth from how often Visenya has stroked her fingers over them, something precious, something magic. "Oh, yes, yes, that will do."

"Are you mad?" he snarls, but the answer is yes, and he watches in horror when his sister spills the remnants of a dragon egg into a witch's crooked hands.

"If you do not do what you say you can do," Visenya warns, "I will burn this place and take the payment back from your corpse."

"Testy, you dragons," says the witch, eyes rolling. They are green when she blinks, and he is less and less sure that they were ever anything else. "I will do as I said I would do. I will give you back your pretty king."

Visenya tenses, makes a low sound, and he does not understand the way her face flickers.

The witch does. She smiles. "Oh, yes, he whispers. Your pretty king, your pretty fool, your beloved. He hovers, he watches. Sweet dragon, he says, little love, pretty wife, wicked little sister--"

"Stop," Visenya hisses, recoiling, and her hand comes up to clasp at the hand he still has around her wrist. She squeezes hard enough to ache, but her eyes are so wild that he does not try to pull away. "Stop--stop. Just...just let me see him."

The witch sighs, purses her mouth, and then looks at him. Too intensely, studying him coldly, and then she clucks her tongue. "The boy must wait outside."

"Like hell he will," Aemond says, though Visenya looks at him like she wants to kill him a little. He glares back. "I am not leaving you here alone with a crone you found in the woods. She could kill you."

"The old woman?" Visenya asks, flatly.

The old woman's eyes are violet when she laughs, and he knows damn well they weren't before.

"I am not going anywhere," he insists, planting his feet, and the witch hums.

"It is a kindness, prince," she says. "Should you stay, you will bear witness."

He goes rigid, feels Visenya's eyes on his face, and clenches his jaw hard enough to send a flush of pain up through his skull. Bear witness, she says. Bear witness to Baelon, if she tells the truth about what she can do; bear witness to Baelon and Visenya both, his sister seeing him awake as she has never seen him, some ghostly image of the brother she longed for, and he does not think this witch sells anything to mend the hurts of the heart.

Baelon is dead, he thinks, and Visenya is not, and I will stay.

"I will be fine," he says.

"Pretty fool," mocks the golden-eyed witch, and Visenya trembles.

He stands with Visenya, clinging to him still, as the witch begins. She plucks jars from the shelves and herbs from the rafters, mumbling nastily under her breath all the while in a language he does not know. The herbs are ground or torn or chewed, sprinkled or thrown or spit into the pot over her fire; the liquid in the jars is swirled or stirred or swilled in her mouth, poured or dripped or drooled into the pot atop the leaves. She comes to them, still muttering nastily, and a knife comes from nowhere in her robes.

He jerks forward, shoves Visenya behind him, but the witch and his sister both cluck at him in disapproval and move towards each other again. The witch cuts open Visenya's palm, watches with keen eyes as the blood pools, and then pricks her own finger and allows a single drop of her blood to fall into it.

It sizzles.

He does not think that is normal.

She takes a lock of Visenya's hair next, cuts it close to the root--stuffs it into her mouth and then drags it out, dips it into the blood until silver turns red, and then casts it into the pot with the rest.

She gestured, and Visenya moves--holds her hand above the pot, lets the blood fall into it.

The witch's eyes are black.

Aemond realizes, quite suddenly, that he is praying.

There is an energy building in the room that feels not unlike the moment before a dragon spits their fire, something deep and heavy. It lays over his skin, slick and unnatural, and he works his way through the Seven with all the care of someone pretending they are not terrified.

"Call his name," says the witch. "You've only a few minutes."

"Baelon," Visenya says, once and then twice and then as a spilling chant, begging the air, and the fire goes out.

The room smells of blood suddenly. Not the smell of Visenya's blood in her hand, not the smell of the witch's pricked finger, but blood. Too much blood, lifeblood spilled, and he cannot say for sure how he knows it is Aemma Arryn's blood except that it is.

Visenya staggers, so he knows she smells it, too. Her eyes squeeze shut when she cries out, and so she does not see when the witch lashes a foot out and sends the pot spilling over on its side. Does not see when the liquid and herbs and hair and blood come rushing out over her floor, and she does not see the smoke that becomes a man.

Aemond does.

The smoke sees him, too.

Baelon Targaryen looks at him with his brow furrowed for a moment, but then it clears. He grins, only halfway, a curl to his mouth and a twitch of his nose, and says, "Rytsas, valonqar."

He always...he thought all his life that she must be exaggerating. They are only half-brothers, he and Baelon, and they are not twins. It is wishful thinking on her part, latching onto small similarities and making them bigger than they are. Surely. Surely.

But no.

He is covered in blood, granted. Dried in his hair, dripping down his face. He is naked and so clearly unembarassed about it that it is a little horrifying, and he is almost translucent. Made of smoke, made of magic and herbs and Visenya's bloody desire.

But he has Aemond's face beneath it.

Oh, not--his brows are thicker, he thinks, and his eyes perhaps a little wider. His short hair curls a little, more wave than anything, the way Aemond's only does when soaked straight through. He is broader in the shoulders, more muscular in his legs, shorter if only by an inch. He has scars Aemond does not have, stubble Aemond never allows to grow, and his voice is a shade deeper than Aemond's is.

But it is his face. His voice. Him, a near perfect mirror image.

"Rytsas, lēkia," he manages past his too thick tongue, and the brother who died before he ever lived grins again.

"Baelon?"

In front of Aemond's eye, Baelon forgets he exists.

He snaps around as if yanked by a hook, gaze gone so blisteringly intense that Aemond blanches. He does not walk, he only...becomes. One moment there and the next moment gone, and Aemond turns his head to find him stood in front of Visenya with both hands raised to try to cup her face.

She is shaking so hard Aemond thinks her knees will go out. Her eyes are wide as saucers, her lips parted, and there are tears spilling so thick down her cheeks that he doesn't know how she can see. She reaches for Baelon, tries to touch his cheek, but the twins find at the same moment that their hands only pass straight through.

"I cannot touch you," Baelon says, agonized. "I cannot--I cannot touch you, dōna zaldrīzes, dōna mirre, byka jorrāelagon--"

"I see you, though," she says, laughing through her tears, "I see you, I see you, you have no idea how I've missed you--"

"I know," he says, this ghost of a ghost, "I know, I know--"

They are still trying to touch each other. Pressing their hands as close as they can get, hovering them over each other's skin, mimicking it as best they can, and the witch begins to chant again but neither of them even turn their heads.

He thinks he should have left when she told him to leave.

They are whispering now, too low to hear, Visenya's eyes soaking him in and her mouth moving too quickly for him to even attempt to read it. He has never seen her look at anything like this before, not even Vyper--like Baelon is something holy, something sacred, like he is all that matters now and then and always. Baelon is just the same, reverent and worshipful and crying; his tears are blood, which goes almost unnoticed on the mess of his cheeks.

He should not be watching this.

It is not...for him. This is not for him to see.

He does not want to see it.

He does not want to see Visenya looking like this, loving like this, because she has never looked at him this way. She will not ever look at him this way. And it is not fair, it isn't, having to play second to a man who died before he was born, who died before Visenya was any more than a babe, a man who had his life and his chance already. Baelon has had his turn. He's had his life. It is not fair that he gets this one, too.

Something bitter is in the back of his throat, a heat in his limbs that does not dissipate, and he looks to the witch.

She smiles.

"No," Baelon says, sudden, stricken, loud, "wait, wait, no--"

But then he's gone. The smoke of him, the ghost of him, and Visenya's hands are stretched out to grasp nothing, and Aemond only barely moves fast enough to catch her when she falls.

She's warm against him, all of her weight draped over him when his arm curls around her waist, and she's screaming so loud that he winces, that he thinks it must hurt. Her nails are scrabbling at his arms, and she's sobbing so hard she shakes, sputtering out "no, no, wait, a little longer, give him back--"

The witch blinks pale gray eyes, almost sympathetic. "I cannot give you any more than I have already given."

Visenya's eyes squeeze shut, and she keens like she's dying, like she's lost something she would have rathered die than give up. She said this would make it hurt less, but he does not think it worked. He does not think this took any pain away, only widened a wound that had already refused to close over.

Aemond croons nonsensically, holds her up, presses his mouth to the top of her head.

I am glad that he's dead, he thinks. It is not the first time he's thought it, not the first time the dark thought whipped through him, but it is the first time he doesn't shy away from it. The first time he doesn't feel guilty, the first time he doesn't chide himself for wishing her hurt like this. He has had his life already, he has done it all already, and she is alive, and I am here, and I am glad that he's dead.

(That night, when he dreams, it is of a prince with both eyes and a bloody face, a dragon who presses his thumbs to Aemond's cheeks and calls him little brother.)

[elysiadjarin]

Day 6: Hand Kink

Day 6 of Kinktober! Already almost a week in, huh… I figured I’d dip into the rich Japanese side of mythology this time. I hope this is an acceptable tribute… Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content ONLY. Trigger warnings for violence mentioned including physical assault, some family abuse dynamics, implied sexual assault (does not actually happen), and mild descriptions of death. Also sexual content including soft dom themes, PinV unprotected sex, entirely consensual.

Tags: Beast Youkai x reader, fox spirit x reader, exophilia, terato

Small Sun Showers

“It’s such a small thing, really.”

You slid the bag you’d brought into the hollow of the old tree. Avoiding the ropes strung around, you carefully sat on the rock next to the tree.

“I brought you some sweet buns, this time, with poppy seeds,” you said, ignoring the comment that had come from the dark hollow. “Since you said you missed some of the herbs.”

The sound of crinkling came from the hole, followed by the sounds of munching. “Attentive to me, as always, sweet one,” the disembodied voice cooed, though a moment later burning orange eyes stared at you from the darkness.

You studiously avoided the gaze, looking down at the grass under your feet. A sliver of shadow from the abandoned warehouse nearby fell over you, giving you some shade from the warm sun. As always, you didn’t respond to the epithets. You never did.

“How is the temple doing?” The voice asked.

“It’s fine,” you answered, almost automatically. “The festival is coming up soon, so everyone is excited.”

“And yet you do not, hmm?” The eyes tilted, as though the head had cocked at her curiously.

Your eyes slid away, more towards the forest beyond the tree. Unconsciously, your fingers tugged at the long sleeves you wore, despite the warm weather.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admitted. “As a Shrine Maiden, I’m supposed to be doing the Miko Kagura. I’ve been practicing, but…”

“You wear long sleeves again.” A hint of suspicion crept into the voice.

Despite yourself, you flinched. “I— I’m just-“

A low growl issued from the tree. “A spirit has been harassing you again, hasn’t it. Why haven’t you called an exorcist? Or told your Father, the Priest?”

You turned your head away. “It’s been contracted by someone else,” you admitted, voice thin. “I… can’t tell Papa.”

A pause. “Because it was bought at a high price.” A sneer laced the voice. “Then how do you plan to get rid of it? You can’t hold it off forever yourself. And it’s already injured you, hasn’t it.”

You shook your head. “I’ll find out a way. I can’t bother anyone else with it.” Your eyes slid closed, the bruises mottled up your arm throbbing.

“Or you could create a contract with something far more powerful,” came the slick purr. “If you’d only break the talisman, I would make a contract with you, sweet one.” The sealed beast offered, for not the first time.

“You are a beast youkai,” you answered, voice steady. “It is against your nature to bind yourself to anyone, much less become the guardian spirit of a small temple.” You reminded both him and yourself.

“Unless we have reason. Even the mightiest of beasts might be swayed by beauty such as yours.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips as you turned your face away. You? As if. The beast youkai only even spoke to you because you gave it food and paid attention to it out of your own loneliness, not because it somehow cared about you. You couldn’t bring yourself to really believe that.

With a soft sigh, you plucked at your sleeves. “What do you want me to bring you next time?”

But the voice stayed quiet for a moment. When it spoke again, something in its voice had changed. “Do you truly not believe me? I do not lie when I say that I would bind myself to you. I would never let you be injured. I would protect you, like your family cannot. I would hold you close,” the voice said, a dreamy tone in its voice, “and I would shower you with everything you deserve.”

You fought the tears that welled in your eyes as you abruptly stood, grabbing your bag. “If you don’t have any requests, I’ll just bring anything,” you interrupted, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver.

A sigh, so soft that you wondered if it were only the wind. “A meat bun.”

You nodded, then headed back down the hillside towards home. Reaching up, you angrily smeared your tears from your cheeks, breath hitching on your sobs.

You could never allow yourself to believe the words of a youkai, much less a powerful and dangerous one like him. No matter how sweet his words, how genuine they sounded… Everyone always lied to you. He would be no exception.

You tried to ignore the little part of you that wondered if maybe, just maybe, dying at the hands of the youkai would be better than continuing the misery of your life.

~

“Fouuuund youuuu.” A yawning mouth sprang from the darkness, black eyes fixed with crazed bloodlust on your body.

You dropped to the floor, scrambling across the hardwood to slide towards the doorway. Leaping back up, you ran for your life. Your breaths came fast and shallow as you blindly ran, tripping through the dark halls of the temple. Behind you, you could hear cackling laughter as its talons scrabbled after you.

You reached out your hand, then burst though the main doors, stumbling across the stones out front. Looking up, you froze.

An entire group of men stood in front of you, all staring at you with leering, jeering faces. The one in the front, the one your brain automatically assumed was the leader, stepped forwards.

“Well, well. Would you look at that.” He grinned, his eyes sliding over your shoulder.

Something grabbed your arm, wrenching you back. You stifled a cry, sinking your teeth into your lip as claws brutally dug into the bruises already all up your arm. The spirit held you, its tight grip almost unbearable.

“I guess the boy must really hate his family, huh?” the man sneered, hands in his pockets as he stared at you down his nose. Reaching out with his foot, he kicked at you like some sort of trash. “To think that he’d offer his own younger sister in exchange for his debts.”

Your heart sank. Of course. Your brother who had gotten into debt with the yakuza. Of course he’d offer you: the only girl, the precious little shrine maiden.

Sadly enough, it didn’t even surprise you. But at least now you figured out why the spirit had haunted you in particular so insistently, and how much trouble you were in. Which, you snorted bitterly to yourself, was a lot. Probably at risk of your life, at best.

A wild thought flashed through your head, desperate but somehow… insistent. Your eyes briefly scanned the crowd of men. You were smaller than most of them, and probably in better shape at this point. If you managed to get a brief head start, you weren’t too far away— enough to maybe be able to get there just fast enough. But you’d have to immobilize the spirit first, at least temporarily.

Thickly, you swallowed, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply. You had enough. Just enough for one— Your other hand landed on the spirit’s as your eyes flew open. The spirit let out a piercing shriek, letting go of you as the searing spiritual energy burst through your palm. You didn’t hesitate.

Breaking into a dead sprint, you headed straight for the hill behind the temple. Behind you, you could hear the angry shouts of the men as they started after you. You pushed yourself, ignoring it, taking as many shortcuts as you could, heart pounding in your ears as you gasped for air. Your legs were starting to ache, and you could hear them gaining on you; but the warehouse was in sight.

Skidding around the corner, you ran straight for the tree. Your hand reached for the talisman.

When the yakuza men caught up to you, they found you kneeling at the base of the tree, a shattered seal at your feet.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you whispered into the hollow. “Please… if you help me, just this once… I’ll give you myself in exchange,” you promised weakly.

“It’s too late now, little girl,” the boss sneered, starting to step towards you. “You’re coming with us.”

But before he could say anything more or another move was made, a dark mist began to swirl around the area. Shouts of confusion arose as the mist covered everything, too dark to see through, almost too dark to even move in safely. A low, grating laugh spilled from the darkness, just as you felt yourself being lifted up.

Startled, you gasped softly and clung to the solidity you could feel under your fingers. Lips parted, you stared at the familiar orange eyes that slowly materialized in front of you. A wide, fanged grin split the darkness underneath the eyes; and slowly, a body started to emerge from the swirling dark mist.

“Well hello there, my sweet one,” the familiar voice cooed. Long, pitch black hair tied in a low ponytail framed a pale face. The beast youkai, one that you now recognized as a Fox, held you effortlessly in one arm, pulling you close to his chest. He towered above the ground, dwarfing you in every way possible. His entire hand curled around almost your entire thigh.

You swallowed. “H-hello,” you whispered tremulously, not even sure what to think at this point.

“You released me,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on you. He leaned forward, and his nose brushed against your cheek as a soft purr rumbled through his chest, reverberating down into you.

Your fingers clenched in his robe, surprise flittering through you that he wasn’t… leaving. Or killing you.

“My brave darling,” the youkai fairly gushed, nosing against you. “Now I can finally fulfill my promise to you.”

“Promise?” you repeated dumbly, mind whirling. What-?

He chuckled. “I told you, didn’t I? That I would contract with you, if you set me free. Protect you, cherish you as you should be.”

He’d actually meant it? What?

“I…” You stared up at his orange eyes, fixed on you intensely. Your breath stuck in your throat as the familiar ache of longing overcame you. Reminded you of your stupidity, falling in love with the beast youkai that you thought would never even glance at you if he were free.

“Of course I’ll do anything for you,” he purred, his tongue flicking out to briefly lick away the tear-streak on your cheek. “As if I would deny you when you offer me the one thing I truly desire more than anything else.” He grinned, eyes sparking. “You.”

And then his fingers tilted your chin up, and your eyes squeezed shut as his lips landed on yours. The kiss was warm and soft, surprisingly so. You could feel your spiritual energy gravitating towards him, could feel it wrapping around him, infusing him, as he made a contract binding him to you and your spiritual energy. He reluctantly let go of your lips, the dizzying kiss making your head spin as you gasped for breath.

“My name is Kaz, sweet one,” he murmured, orange eyes half-lidded in simmering contentment.

Unthinkingly, you repeated the name. “Kaz…”

His eyes glowed. “Now then. Why don’t we start with these filth?”

In the next moment, the mist cleared to reveal that everyone now stood in the empty warehouse. Kaz still held you in his arm, keeping you close against his chest as he stared at the yakuza men starting to reorient themselves.

The boss cursed, glaring at you and Kaz. “Hand her over,” he spat, bristling. “She’s ours.”

But Kaz only laughed, his teeth baring as feral glee glittered in his eyes. “Give you my precious shrine maiden?” he cackled. “Didn’t you ever consider the fact that she is in fact a shrine maiden at a temple, with her own powerful spiritual energy? Enough to make a contract with a powerful beast like me?” He licked his lips. “And your blood… smells wonderful.”

Some of the men started to look wary, clearly leery about the sheer size of Kaz, especially in comparison with you.

Kaz tilted his head toward you, just as he flicked his fingers. A soft sort of puffy cloud materialized beside him, and he gently set you on it. “Stay here while I get rid of these nuisances,” he said gently, his fingers brushing across your cheek. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” With one last sickeningly sweet smile, he turned towards the men. A sword materialized in his hand, practically the size of your entire body.

You looked away, bile rising in your throat. The blood drained from your face as you heard the men screaming, the sound of the carnage making you reach up to clap your hands over your ears. Though you were sure the men were far from innocent or deserving of mercy, the brutality of their deaths was undeniable. A high-pitched, inhuman shriek indicated that the spirit they’d contracted had also been shredded by Kaz.

It made you wonder. How powerful was Kaz, exactly-?

After another moment, you felt Kaz lift you up again in his arm. Eyes flying open, you grasped at his shoulders as he pulled you close against himself again. His other blood-spattered hand still held his sword, but his eyes were adoringly fixed on you.

Reaching up, you absently wiped away a tiny drop of blood off of his jaw. “Thank you,” you whispered. Despite yourself… you felt safe.

His eyes visibly lit up, and his grin widened as he gazed up at you. “Ah, my darling praises me!” You could swear his eyes had hearts in them. “Do I get a kiss?” His grin turned teasing.

You swallowed thickly. “I… I promised you myself if you helped me,” you said weakly. “It’s all I can really give you… besides my spiritual energy—“

Kaz leaned forwards, his face so close that you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “Be my bride,” he whispered, his voice a heady murmur.

You breath hitched. “K-Kaz?” Had you… heard him right-?

“You offered me yourself, darling,” he purred. “So, be my bride. I am contracted to you, aren’t I? So I will be an impertinent beast and ask the shrine maiden to be my bride without shame.”

You closed your eyes. “Okay,” you whispered.

He paused, as though he himself didn’t believe you’d agreed.

Because you both knew that as a youkai contracted to someone with spiritual energy, you had the power to entirely command him to do anything… and deny him anything. Yet here you were, agreeing to be his bride.

“Okay, Kaz,” you repeated, not meeting his eyes. You could feel the color splash across your face.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t as though you really had many other options. Kaz could promise you some sort of safety even against your own family, and his power was certainly enough to protect you against other youkai. It had taken one of the highest-complexity talismans to even seal him away in the first place, and you could already feel through the contract how powerful he was.

The idea of being his bride… wasn’t really disagreeable.

“Darling,” Kaz breathed. His lips gently slid against yours, the touch soothing and almost… grounding. “I’ll be a most devoted husband, I promise,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes and decided that you would try to believe.

The talisman had been such a small thing, really.

~

You smiled as you walked down the street, stretching your hand out to gather the raindrops that pattered down and pooled in your palm. The weather had been beautiful, but despite the warm sunshine and hardly a cloud being in the sky, it had still decided to rain.

Pausing in the middle of the empty sidewalk, you lifted your face and let the raindrops splash against your face in a cooling shower. You loved the rain, the way it seemed to wash away all your heavy worries and soothe the ragged edge in your soul.

A shadow fell over you, and you opened your eyes to see Kaz standing above you, smiling down at you. He leaned down and swept you up into his arm, one hand holding your thigh while the other wrapped around your waist. A startled laugh fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders.

“Is my darling enjoying the fox wedding?” he cooed.

You flushed, just then realizing the common name for the burst of cloudless rain. You gave him a shy smile, then nodded.

He chuckled. “Should we celebrate, sweet one? I can give you a gift, if you like.” Between one breath and another, he’d shifted you both somewhere else.

You gasped, eyes widening as you saw that you were floating on a soft, wispy cloud, now deep in the forest on the outskirts of town. A place no other people were, where the rain pattered softly against the leaves of the trees and dripped to the undisturbed grasses below. Flowers bloomed beneath your cloudy carpet ride, and you leaned over to brush your fingers through the colorful blooms.

The cloud rose a little, coming to a stop and floating peacefully. Kaz pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapping around your entire waist. He smiled, watching your expressions as you looked around in delight.

“And what do you think of your wedding veil, my darling bride?” Kaz murmured, leaning down to brush his nose against your hair.

You looked down at the long, wispy cloud under you, and smiled. “It’s pretty. Thank you, Kaz.” You tilted your head back to smile at him.

His orange eyes flared, and he caught your lips in a burning kiss that seared through you like foxfire. Letting out a surprised squeak, you grasped his robe, fingers tangling in it for support as he pulled you closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Your head spun as your eyes fluttered closed.

When he finally parted, you gasped a little for air, blinking dazedly. His hand gently slid up your waist and side, sliding to your back, pulling you flush against him. He pressed another kiss to your lips. You realized, with a burst of embarrassment, that the rain had entirely soaked your shirt, plastering it to your body and leaving rather little to the imagination.

“Darling, my darling,” Kaz murmured against your lips, “won’t you let me touch you?” His hands slid down your body, fingers caressing you sensually.

You bit your lip, heat staining your face. It wasn’t fair. He knew your weakness for his hands. His large, strong hands that held you close, admired your body with touch. His calloused, capable hands that protected you, defended you, worked for you.

You nodded shyly, peeking up at him. Your lips parted in a gasp as his hands slid under your shirt, starting to map out your skin. His tongue slid against yours in a soft kiss, almost distracting you from how his hands deftly explored your body.

It almost startled you when your back landed against the cloud, Kaz hovering above you with his hands wrapped around your waist. His robe slipped open, sliding down his shoulders as he observed you with burning eyes.

“So beautiful, darling,” he purred, his hands trailing down to your pants. “Can I touch? Please?”

Shyly, you nodded, one hand over your mouth as you let out a quiet whimper, chest heaving with breath. Kaz’s hands were so broad, so warm… handled you with such a reverent sort of gentility and softness that you couldn’t help but bask in it, melt into it.

A steady purr rumbled through his chest as he kissed his way down your jaw and neck, fingers sliding into your pants and underwear to pull them off. Sliding his hands under you, he pulled your body up against him, lips sliding across yours.

Your hands braced you against his chest as you gasped, feeling his cock land heavily against your stomach. It throbbed against you, but he quickly distracted you as one hand slid into your hair, pulling your head back. He pressed a kiss to your lips, his mouth hot against your skin.

“So tiny and sweet,” Kaz mumbled against your neck, his voice half-drunk. His fingers slid across your thigh wrapped around his waist, and he lowered his hips, pushing you into the plush softness of the cloud. Your mind started to fuzz, entirely focused on the way his hands grasped at you, somehow greedy and gentle all at once, and the way he handled you with that deft confidence yet tender infatuation.

“Kaz,” the moan left your lips before you could quite help it, your entire body humming at every brush of his fingers.

His answering hum was low and amused as he started to gently slide into you, making you gasp and arch. His cock slid into you without resistance. You’d gotten so wet just thanks to his soft touches and gentle attention. He murmured your name against your lips as he slid wholly into you, seating himself inside with a heavy breath.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to somehow ground yourself. Everything had started to go fuzzy, especially as his hands wrapped entirely around your hips and pulled you down onto his cock, his grasp iron as he ground up into you.

His pace, once he started thrusting, stayed steady and almost agonizingly slow. But when you whined, he chuckled and slid his fingers between your lips instead. You let his lithe fingers gently play with your tongue, while his other hand kept you anchored to him.

You could feel the coil inside you steadily growing, getting tighter, closer to the edge. Everything felt so hazy and light, like the solidity of his body was the only real thing, the only think that mattered. Like his hands were the only things that kept you grounded, held you down, safe from drifting away.

“K-Kaz.” Your teary eyelids opened to gaze up at his face.

“Does this please you, my darling?” Kaz murmured, sliding his fingers out of your mouth and down to press against your clit.

“I— I love you.” Your fingers curled against his chest.

His orange eyes widened, then flooded with that pure, infatuated adoration. “I love you, my sweet darling,” he purred, kissing you. “And I am so entirely yours.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you with a force that left you lightheaded and dizzy. The pleasure suffused your entire body until you were gasping, tears streaking down your cheeks as you whimpered.

You finally floated down from your high to the feeling of Kaz’s hands sweeping over you. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin. He pulsed inside you, but still kept his pace slow and steady as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. His hands clenched around your hips, and he let out a groan as he rested his head beside yours. You could tell that he was so close, his hips starting to stutter.

“You feel so lovely, so warm and tight and soft, darling,” Kaz groaned. “Please, can I—“

“It’s okay, Kaz,” you reassured sweetly, voice shy. “You can.”

He jerked one more time, sinking into you with a low groan. His entire body shuddered as he came, pouring into you as he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints. For once, you didn’t mind the bruises.

Pulling back, he caught your lips in a deep kiss, mouth slanting over yours. He poured the love, the gratitude, the adoration between your lips until you felt as though you could drown in it.

“I will always protect you,” he promised against your lips.

And for once, you believed the promise.

It was such a small thing, really.

[murderousginger]

Gentle Giant

Arthur Shelby x reader

Word count: 1,708

Warnings: Adultery. Sex. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Requested by @caelys for this song.

You tried not to stare, but you failed every service. You resolved yourself to sitting opposite them in the circle of foldable chairs instead. Easier not to be seen breaking your neck over a married man, rising suspicions and idle gossip among the chickens.

The meetings were held in secret in the pastor's business. Quaker service was simple and pure. You all read the Bible together and discussed passages as the pastor mediated the flock if discussions got heated. Those of you with the urge could sing whatever the lord influenced you to. Or, you all sat in silence if no one felt compelled to talk.

You sang quite often. 

It soothed you and seemed to soothe others, so you were regularly called to sing at the beginning of the meeting.

You liked making others feel at ease and were often called on to welcome new members or talk to those that felt the need to talk to someone. 

As a widow, you often helped after service to put the chairs up or see to the children while their parents did the rounds of greeting others. You weren't there for the gossip or the social hierarchy that so many used these meetings for. You just liked being around similar minded people. 

And then Linda brought her husband around. 

They were dating at first. Arthur, following Linda around like a lost puppy with his hat wrung in his hands, was hard to ignore. His face was haggard in that same way most men that returned from the war was, but his eyes were soft. He kept his voice soft around everyone and often looked to the floor, but there was a sense of power hidden in his rough hands, his brow, his tense back. It was as if he was a lion hiding as a lamb in fear of being cast out.

Linda never particularly liked you; she never particularly liked anyone that she couldn't control or otherwise bend to her whims. She was a strong woman with a strong voice and the opinion it needed to be heard. You both stayed cordial but otherwise away from each other, but you couldn't help but be interested in him.

There were whispers. A Shelby, they said. Dangerous. 

But he didn't seem dangerous. He seemed lost. All too eager to follow Linda to whatever she dragged him into if it meant she continued smiling at him. 

He became a regular member, following Linda on her constant reach for more. You found yourself talking to him more than once as she made her rounds, and that's when you realized you cared about the quiet, strong man that was being overshadowed by his ambitious wife. 

Today, the smell of gunpowder and whiskey was stained on his clothes from the night before. His eyes still floated along as if he was half drunk. Linda held his arm in a vice grip as she dragged him along to make the rounds of greetings after service. Her smile was tight and never met her eyes. The honeymoon phase was well over.

"Y/N, so nice to see you!" Linda's voice raised in fake cheer. 

"And you, sister of the lord!" you answered back with equally fake cheer. "How are you both this morning? Late start?"

"Good!" Linda sung. "We are good. Nothing slips past you! Our resident songbird also has eagle eyes."

Your mouth fought to grimace at the dig, but you kept your smile plastered on.

"And you, Arthur?" you asked softly, ignoring Linda. "How did you find the service?"

"Your voice always brings out other's inner light to service, Y/N," he said with a smile. "It's a right beautiful way to start a Sunday."

You smiled, tucking your chin to your chest to hide your embarrassment at his comment. 

"Thank you."

"Really?" Linda said as she looked up to her husband. "Her voice always had a grit that I thought belonged in a nightclub rather than singing to angels. Oh look, let's go say hello to Mr. Peyton."

Linda dragged Arthur off by the arm as he shot you an apologetic look and you bit your cheek at her comment. His compliment bounced through your brain even as Linda's comment stung.

You started to gather the chairs, folding them and carrying a few at a time into the pastor's  office to pack away into a storage room. With almost 30 members, it would take almost a dozen trips to collect all of the chairs.

You turned around to make your way for another trip when the door swung open and Arthur came in with 4 or 5 chairs tucked under his arms.

"Thought you could use a hand," he said with a small smile. "Save you a few trips, songbird."

"That's very kind of you, Arthur," you smiled back. "Thank you."

You opened the storage door and let him set the chairs down with the rest. He patted himself, turning to you as you both stayed in the doorway.

"Sorta selfish, too," Arthur said hushed. "Helping you gets me out of the rounds today. I'm in no shape for pleasantries with Linda's friends."

You both chuckled.

"Well I won't tattle on you, Arthur," you chuckled. "It's not my cup of tea, either. That's why I offer to do these types of things. I like being helpful."

"It'll be our secret."

Your heart fluttered as he stood in the doorway with you, looking down on you with those soft, sad eyes. The whiskey made his breath hot and your mind race. You didn't want to think anymore.

You reached up on your toes and you kissed him, feeling him freeze under your touch. You pulled back to see a look of shock on his face but also a spark in his eye. 

"We shouldn't do this, love," he stammered, his hands finding your hips as you raised to your toes to meet his lips again. "I'm married to Linda. It's Sunday after a service. You're a good Christian woman."

"And you're a good Christian man," you replied as your hand found his chest. "You try to be, and that's all that God asks of us. It's Linda that demands more of you."

Arthur licked his lips and your eyes followed the movement for a moment as you bit your own. When you looked back into Arthur's eyes you noticed the spark grew brighter. 

"She's just trying to keep me from sin, love," he said hoarsely. "She's a good woman who took pity on a sinner and is trying to keep my soul saved."

"Or she's trying to control you, Arthur," you replied. "Just like your brothers do. I don't want to control you. I want to be beside you."

"What do you know of my brothers?"

You shrugged. 

"Church holds the spirit as well as a lot of gossip," you say. "Whatever they say about your business is not mine to judge you for. I only think that Linda is using the phrase 'love the sinner, hate the sin,' in the wrong way intended. Your inner light is valid."

"How old are you, songbird?" Arthur asks suddenly, his warm rough hand lightly caressing your cheek. "What do you want with an old man?"

"I'm two years older than Linda," you laugh as you press his hand into your cheek.

"You church girls always look so young," he murmured as you pressed closer to him. "Like sin ages a body."

"Kiss me, Arthur," you sighed. "You're stalling."

And he did. Hesitantly. Softly. His mustache tickled your nose but his lips were soft against yours. Your heart slowed, just like time did.

When a light sigh escaped your mouth -- the faintest moan of happiness -- Arthur's tongue grazed your lip and you happily allowed him access to explore.

His hands held onto you like you were an anchor. He pressed you backward out of the doorway until you were lifted clumsily onto the pastor's desk, knocking over a chair on the way. The noise made you both jump and freeze for a moment. Arthur's hands played at the hem of your skirt.

"We shouldn't," you said breathlessly. "Not here. Too many people could walk in."

Arthur kissed you again, trailing kisses to your ear and down your neck as his hands pushed your skirt higher. 

"We can be quick, songbird," Arthur growled into your neck. "An old man can make quick work of a beautiful lady."

"Arthur," you gasped as his fingers found their destination and he pushed your underwear to the side. 

Your head fell back as he pressed into you and growled into your chest. His hands gripped your hips roughly, surely causing bruises as he found a rhythm. 

"Say it again, love," he mumbled, pulling you back to the moment rather than being lost in the sensation. "Say m'name again, sweet like."

"Arthur," you said softly as you bit your lip. His thrust sharpened and you held onto him as your pleasure rose.

"Sounds like fuckin' music," he murmured.

"Arthur," you moaned louder before his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle the yell of passion you wanted to make as he got rougher. 

There it was, the beast that hid behind the softness. And he was glorious.

He buried his own head into the crook of your neck as you bit his hand and came, him following moments after. 

He stayed inside you, catching his breath over you before reluctantly stepping back and tucking himself away. 

"Can you find a reason to get away, Arthur?" You asked as you smoothed your shirt and stood up from the desk to straighten your skirt. "Can you visit me tonight?"

"Ayuh," Arthur nodded. His eyes looked clearer than before. "I'll tell Linda there's business and come round after dinner."

You nodded, guilt stinging you as he said her name. Your lip began to tremble as the realization set in.

"Hey," Arthur said, his finger tracing your lip. "None of that, love."

He kissed you softly, once again a lamb. 

"Tonight," he said as he kissed you. "We'll have time to be slow. Until you're hoarse from singing my name."

You smiled, feeling the bruises forming on your hips now that the thrill was over. 

"Tonight, then."

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon

Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.

Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff 

Masterlist

Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.

He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.

He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.

"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.

"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.

"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.

Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?

The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.

The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.

As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.

"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.

Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.

As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.

"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.

"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.

"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.

"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.

"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.

"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.

"Save it?" You ask.

Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.

"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.

"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.

"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."

"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."

"Worth a try."

Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.

"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.

Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."

"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.

"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.

You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.

"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.

"Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.

"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"

——

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.

"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.

"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.

"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.

"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.

"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.

"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.

"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?

"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.

"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.

"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.

"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.

"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.

"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.

Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.

You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.

"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.

"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.

Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.

"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.

"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.

"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?

Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.

"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.

He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.

——

Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.

Well that was easy enough.

Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.

The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.

Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.

Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.

"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.

——

Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.

"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.

Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."

Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.

Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"

He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."

"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.

Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."

"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.

"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"

Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Well, kings have done more for less."

Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.

You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."

Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"

Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."

He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.

"I smelt what you were doing."

You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.

Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."

"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.

"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.

"Tell us how to lift the curse."

Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.

Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.

"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.

"What? You were all thinking it."

——

Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.

Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.

"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.

"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.

Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.

Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.

"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.

In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.

He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.

"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.

"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.

"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.

"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.

Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.

"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.

"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.

"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.

"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.

The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.

The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.

Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.

As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.

In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.

For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.

Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.

But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.

Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.

You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.

"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.

"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.

You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.

You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.

Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.

"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.

You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.

"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.

She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.

You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.

You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.

Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.

Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.

——

Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.

Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.

She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.

You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."

"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.

"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.

Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."

His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.

Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."

"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.

Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.

"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."

Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."

He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.

-

Tagged: @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[sepedarodatiga]

The Snow Queen fairytale as a motif used in GoT/ASOIAF

First of all, how many fairytales and myths can GRRM fit into this story, seriously?? I know many have written well thought and well informed meta of various fairytale motives fit with ASOIAF/GoT, and I am just here adding into an already huge pile, but it bothers me, okay. I have to get it out there into the tumblr void. And this is not really a well thought and well informed meta (I’m not a folklore/literature expert, not to mention European folklore/literature), I’m just pointing my fingers into the patterns I saw fit. Also, I can’t count myself as ASOIAF book reader, I just watch the show. What I know about the books, I read it here in tumblr. 

But anyway, you might be surprised as to which character I saw fit as The Snow Queen in GoT

It’s Daenerys Targaryen.

I know I know... whaat? The Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire as The Snow Queen? Get out of here, right...

But it’s a pun. It’s not The Snow Queen, it’s Jon Snow’s Queen, get it? Remember how Jon repeatedly saying “you’re my queen” to Dany during season 8? Yeah. Oh and Jon is Kay, while Sansa is Gerda. 

What made me realize that Dany is The Snow Queen is when I was reading my son the fairytale. In the version retold by Kate Friend, it describes The Snow Queen as beautiful and terrible. And I was like, huh, just like Dany, especially with the white hair and the all white costume in season 8. 

Daenerys Targaryen, beautiful and terrible.

And then of course the story went on describing how Kay becomes her prisoner and then I was like, well that’s like Jon Snow during season 8 too.... And then in Disney’s adaptation Frozen, Elsa has white hair with purple eyeshadow, while Anna (Gerda) has....red hair....which is like... Sansa Stark. Then I also remember the illustration on my son’s book which is by John Patience, that reminded me of the Iron Throne.

The Snow Queen illustration by John Patience. See how much alike this setting is with the Red Keep? Especially in Dany’s vision in HoTU when snow was falling.

So I went investigating, and shit... I mean obviously the sequencing was moved around, GRRM likes to subvert things, but my God!

Before we get into Jon Snow and his queen, I have to start with the other characters first. And I will be taking excerpt of the story from The Hans Christian Andersen Center website which I assume would be the most original one.

Gerda = Sansa Stark

Here is a description of Gerda’s power:  “No power that I could give could be as great as that which she already has. Don't you see how men and beasts are compelled to serve her, and how far she has come in the wide world since she started out in her naked feet? We mustn't tell her about this power. Strength lies in her heart, because she is such a sweet, innocent child.”

Furthermore, her connection with Kay are through roses (they have a window box full of roses) and a song that goes like this:  "Where roses bloom so sweetly in the vale, There shall you find the Christ Child, without fail." Another variation of the song is: “The rose in the valley has flowers so sweet, and angels come down there the children to greet.” She saved Kay with her prayers, hugs, kisses, tears and her song and their reunion literally ended winter and brings spring. If that’s not Sansa Stark (and the jonsa reunion), then I don’t know what is.

Gerda made a journey to the North to find Kay and bring him back together with her to their home. Sansa did not meant to make a journey North to find Jon and bring him back home, but this is what happened anyway. The story even stressed on the fact that when they came back to their homes, they were no longer children but grown ups. On her quest Gerda offered her red shoes to the river to get information about Kay’s whereabouts but the red shoes were given back to her the first time. But she did it once again and the river set her on the path to find Kay. I’m not really sure but for Sansa it could be her betrothal to Joffrey that was then canceled but then she got married to Tyrion Lannister. Her red shoes is her name and her claim to the North.

Gerda then met an old woman who wanted to keep her and made her forget about Kay by keeping all the roses underground. The old woman’s place was beautiful. Here is an excerpt:  “Then Gerda was led into the flower garden. How fragrant and lovely it was! Every known flower of every season was there in full bloom. No picture book was ever so pretty and gay. Gerda jumped for joy, and played in the garden until the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees. Then she was tucked into a beautiful bed, under a red silk coverlet quilted with blue violets. There she slept, and there she dreamed as gloriously as any queen on her wedding day.” But then she saw a rose on the old woman’s hat and finally remembers her purpose of finding Kay. I would say that the old woman is Cersei Lannister who tried to make Sansa forget about her home and her innocence. Sansa was also saved from her clutch by roses (The Tyrells).

Then Gerda with information from a crow, met a Princess and Prince. She thought that the Prince might be Kay, but it turns out he was not. This might be Sansa’s vale arc and the Prince is either Petyr Baelish or Harry Hardyng. The Prince and Princess also gave provisions for Gerda’s journey to the North, so this may be that the KoTV helps Sansa getting Winterfell back. The crow, has a ladylove, another crow and they finally get married and live in the Princess’s castle though unfortunately the crow then died. The crow was a wild forest crow while his ladylove is a tame crow. These two crows could be genderbent into Sam Tarly and Gilly. Remember that Sam is mock as Jon’s ladylove by Alliser Thorne?

Next Gerda met a robber girl who sleeps with a knife and have plenty of pigeons. Yep, of course that is very much like Arya Stark (who sometimes is being referred to as “a girl”)

The pigeons told Gerda about Kay and The Snow Queen. The robber girl finally gave Gerda her reindeer called Bae for her journey to the North. The girl likes to tickle the reindeer’s neck with her knife. At the end of the story it is told that the robber girl then decided to leave her place and find adventure in the world. Very much like Arya’s ending.

Now about that reindeer Bae who helped Gerda to reach to Kay in The Snow Queen’s palace in the far North. In ASOIAF/GoT, we can connect Bae to Baelish. Make sense. Petyr Baelish helps Sansa get to North and Arya’s knife did end up in his neck. But also we can connect it to two foreshadowing of Sansa bearing Jon’s child. The first is more well-known: Bael the Bard. The second one I think is more hidden and I made a post about it quite long ago: Baelor. Is this far fetched? Maybe, but I’ll take it.

Kay = Jon (+ The Night King)

Kay and Gerda are neighbours and they share a garden (particularly a flower box full of roses). Their relationship, in the words of Hans Christian Andersen himself are: “These children were not brother and sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they had been.” So they are NOT brother and sister but love each other as such. While Jon and Sansa are also NOT brother and sister but was raised as such.

Then Kay got splinters of magic mirror stuck to his eyes and his heart. The mirror “made everything great and good that was reflected in it appear small and ugly, but which magnified all evil things until each blemish loomed large”. It made Kay hated all the roses, they look ugly now to his eyes and also made Kay loved the snow and the cold. Jon Snow at the beginning of the story was a cynical little boy because he was raised as a bastard. He wanted to leave Winterfell and sneered at the idea of having a family of his own because he felt that he can’t have them. So he went to the coldest place there is.

In the story, Kay plays with his sled, and then The Snow Queen came with her sled and Kay hooked his sled to hers. The Snow Queen first, covers Kay in a bearskin rug and gave Kay kisses. The first kiss “was colder than ice. He felt it right down to his heart, half of which was already an icy lump. He felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment. Then he felt quite comfortable, and no longer noticed the cold”. The second kiss makes Kay forgets about Gerda and their homes. The third kiss, The Snow Queen does not give him because it would be the kiss of death.

I argue that GRRM subvert this story. I think Jon Snow was already saved by Sansa before he met Dany. The splinters in his eyes and heart was already gone when he faced The Snow Queen. The reunion happened before he met Dany. The first two kisses also already happened: Jon Snow had died and came alive again, and he also forced to forget about his home and family while he was at the Night’s Watch. The bearskin rug which The Snow Queen used to cover Kay can allude to Jeor Mormont and/or Longclaw. 

Then Jon Snow met his queen finally, but instead of a hooking sleds.... it’s dragons. Jon Snow’s sled was his dragon Rhaegal which are hooked to Dany’s sled Drogon. But his eyes wasn’t blinded by the splinter and his heart were already warm. He knowingly and willingly follow the dragon to save his family.

And the third kiss of death that wasn’t given by The Snow Queen? Jon Snow will give it to his queen instead.

Now let’s go back a little bit. Kay was also given a puzzle from ice by The Snow Queen, and if he can solve it then he is free. He was supposed to spell the word “eternity” but he couldn’t figure it out with the shard in his eyes and heart. In GoT we know exactly who has got an shard in his heart.

The Night King. And so that is why he plays with puzzle in ice. He is struggling to form the one symbol that would set him free.

Bonuses

Other than those patterns, there are several interesting tidbits from the story that fits with ASOIAF. There is this one blog said that The Snow Queen story was inspired by another story called “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” which if you read it, it is essentially “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” (the bear is a white bear, by the way)

More bonuses here. When Gerda finally remembers to find Kay during her time in the old woman’s home because of the rose, different flowers gave her different stories even though none tells her about Kay.

This is the story from tiger lily:

"Do you hear the drum? Boom, boom! It was only two notes, always boom, boom! Hear the women wail. Hear the priests chant. The Hindoo woman in her long red robe stands on the funeral pyre. The flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman is thinking of that living man in the crowd around them. She is thinking of him whose eyes are burning hotter than the flames-of him whose fiery glances have pierced her heart more deeply than these flames that soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of the funeral pyre?"

So GRRM didn’t take the sati ritual for Dany’s rites of passage as mother of dragons from just anywhere, but it is from this story.

Also, hear this story from hyacinth

"There were three sisters, quite transparent and very fair. One wore a red dress, the second wore a blue one, and the third went all in white. Hand in hand they danced in the clear moonlight, beside a calm lake. They were not elfin folk. They were human beings. The air was sweet, and the sisters disappeared into the forest. The fragrance of the air grew sweeter. Three coffins, in which lie the three sisters, glide out of the forest and across the lake. The fireflies hover about them like little flickering lights. Are the dancing sisters sleeping or are they dead? The fragrance of the flowers says they are dead, and the evening bell tolls for their funeral."

Of course this immediately bring to memory the quote of Jon Snow with Val: “The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”” Well then, according to Hans Christian Andersen, that means death. There are three sisters here which could allude to the three queens at the almost end of GoT: Cersei Lannister (red), Sansa Stark (blue) and Daenerys Targaryen (white).

So those are my stab at it. I would be interested to hear if anyone’s take on it.

[cruciology]

A Good Punishment

summary: a handmaid is given to the King’s dog

“Up or down, milady?” Sansa asked, using her very best impression of what you could only assume was supposed to be yourself as she ran the brush through your hair. She was in a good mood today, which had been rare from her. She really was a sweet girl, much nicer once she trusted you. Now she felt more like a little sister to you, even if you were just her handmaid. She braided your hair back with an expert hand. “When Arya was still little enough to put up with me, she would always let me do her hair,” Sansa explained. “Sometimes, she would still ask me if she was going out to play, if only to get it out of her face.”

Looking at her face in the mirror, you could see the sadness in her eyes. You reached up to pat her hand. “You can do my hair whenever you’d like, my love,” You said with a small smile.

The nice moment was shattered when the door to Sansa’s chambers slammed open. You jumped up from the seat. Whether or not Sansa had given you permission, it probably wasn’t proper to have your Lady tending to you rather than you to her.

“Your Grace,” You curtsied to King Joffrey as he stood in the doorway with a wicked grin. You tried to avoid the gaze of his gargantuan bodyguard, the aptly named Hound. He towered so far over you, you doubted the top of your head would even reach his armpit.

“Still in your chambers this late in the day?” King Joffrey tisked. It wasn’t a crime for Sansa to stay in her room, but that didn’t matter to the King. He just wanted a reason to torture the poor girl.

“My apologies, your Grace,” Sansa said, looking down at the floor. King Joffrey approached her and you tensed, the way you always did when he got too close to Sansa. Nothing good ever came from it. You had comforted her many times after the emotional abuse, tended to her wounds after the physical.

“Don’t let it happen again,” He said. He put his finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his eyes. She still looked away.

Your eyes darted towards the Hound. You were never quite sure how to feel about him. He had done nothing but follow his King’s commands, but you were more open to him after you had seen him cover a beaten Sansa with his cloak, after she had told you of how he had rescued her. But he was still loyal to the King. You couldn’t blame him for being so, you knew what would likely happen to him if he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop you from being frightened. You didn’t think he would help Sansa if it meant going against the King. And yet, you could swear you saw something behind his normally stoic eyes as he watched the scene before him.

“I’m sorry, your Grace, please forgive me.”

King Joffrey stared at her for a long moment, his hand still on her face. Finally, he patted her cheek, his grin becoming wider. “It’s quite alright. You know, I have just the thing to cheer you up.”

“Your Grace?” Sansa wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing that pleased the King would ever be good for her.

“How about we go for a walk?” King Joffrey said as he bounced on the balls of his feet, a child gearing up to play an awful trick. “Let’s go visit your father.”

Sansa choked back a sob. You clenched your fists tightly. “Please, your Grace,” Sansa begged.

“Oh come now, you don’t want to see your dear old dead traitor father? You don’t think that’d be fun?” King Joffrey asked with sheer glee as he watched the tears stream down Sansa’s face.

“That’s cruel,” You said before you could stop yourself. Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Too late now to take it back you said, “Please don’t make her go out there again, your Grace.”

“You dare order me? And insult me?” King Joffrey said, looking you up and down. “This bastard handmaid thinks she can tell me what to do, can you believe that, Hound?”

The Hound said nothing, just keeping his stance at the door and his eyes on you. You know he had felt bad for Sansa the last time she had had to look upon her father’s decapitated head; Sansa still had his handkerchief.

“I will take my future wife wherever I please,” King Joffrey said. He reached his hand out, grabbing Sansa’s hair tightly in his fist, making her cry out.

Without thinking, you lashed out, striking the King. He struck you back so hard, everything went black.

      Stupid. You were stupid. You made everything so much worse, for you and for Sansa. How could you do that to her? In the moment, hitting that evil, nasty little boy felt good, but as you sat in the cell, the other prisoners leering at you, you know it had been foolish. You had no idea how long you had been in here, having awoken just an hour before, but it couldn’t have been long.

You looked up as the cell door opened, the Hound holding the keys and letting King Joffrey enter before him. You could still see a bit of a redness to his cheek where you stung him with your palm. That did make you feel a little better.

“I’ve thought a lot about your punishment,” The King said, his hands behind his back as he stood rigid, staring down at you sitting on the floor. “Assaulting your King. I should have you put to death.” You said nothing. You had nothing to say. “Stand up, bitch.” You did as you were told, your head spinning from the sudden movement. “Take off your dress.”

The Hound’s eyes flashed quickly from the King, to you, and back to where he had been staring off at the wall. You noticed his hand gripped tighter on the cell door.

“You heard me, bitch,” King Joffrey spat.

You untied the cloth around your neck, letting your dress fall to the ground around you, hearing the howls and whistles from the other cells. The King smirked at your naked body. He slowly walked around you, taking you all in. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, Dog?” Joffrey asked.

“Yes,” The Hound said, but he hadn’t actually looked at you, his eyes locked on the wall. The King didn’t seem to notice, still examining you.

“Very good,” The King said, punctuating his statement with a sharp smack to your ass. It shocked you into letting out a little yip. The King stood in front of you again. “Body is very nice, you must have gotten a good feel, bringing her down here.” You were feeling very like a cow waiting for a price. You would rather him just hit you again. “We could give you to Littlefinger. Let you earn your penance.”

You swallowed hard. There weren’t many options for bastard children, especially not bastard children of whores. You didn’t even know who your father was. He could be a nobleman or he could have just been a farmer who happened to have extra coin, your mother hadn’t been able to tell you before she died. You had just narrowly escaped becoming a whore yourself by being sold to the castle as a young girl. It would be almost cosmic to end up at the brothel anyways. Cosmic, but still not an option you wanted.

“What do you think, Hound? She would earn a good sum. You could even have a go at her, if you pay the right price,” King Joffrey said, turning back to his bodyguard. As if he had just been blessed, the King’s grin nearly split his face. “Oh no, I have the perfect idea, the perfect punishment for this bitch. A bitch for the Hound.”

“Your Grace?” The Hound asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the wall to look at King Joffrey.

“You’ll be my dog’s wife,” the King said with venom, his face inches from yours. “I’m going to let the beast tear you up.”

      You hadn’t much pictured your wedding, not as a little girl and certainly not in your time as a handmaid. Marriage wasn’t much on your mind. But you certainly never thought it would be like this. The most you had said to your husband had been your wedding vows. The whole thing seemed less like a wedding and more like an elaborate play by a court jester. The King sat watching in delight the whole night as you sat next to your new husband in near silence.

Lady Sansa had finally broken away long enough to sneak to you and give you a hug. “I’m so sorry,” She said, tears choking her voice. You shushed her, patting her cheek.

“No, no, my love,” You said. “I’m alright. Believe me, it could be so much worse.”

The Hound chuckled darkly. You hadn’t heard a word from him since the ceremony, where he had given you a surprisingly soft and chaste kiss in front of the audience after reciting his vows, after promising to protect you. “Could it, though?” He asked behind his wine goblet. “Am I a better option than death?”

Sansa looked only more frightened, but you nodded at her again, showing her you were okay. She scurried back before the King could notice she was gone. “You’re very cryptic.”

“Sorry, love,” The Hound said, draining his goblet. He had quite a bit to drink, but he was a large man. You doubted he was actually drunk. He was just a bit abrasive, from what you had heard. Well, actually, you heard that he was more than abrasive, but you tried to be optimistic.

The crowd around you suddenly broke into chaos. The Hound cursed under his breath and it took you a moment to realize what was happening as you were pulled from your chair and hefted up onto the shoulders of the chanting men. The Bedding Ceremony. You felt your stomach churn. You had nearly forgotten this part.

They carried you through the castle, all the way to the Hound’s chambers, a place just as foreign to you as the man you married. They dropped you onto the bed, still cheering as the left, taking turns clapping the groom on the back as they passed him. He shut the door behind the last drunken party goer, but you could still hear the feast going on behind it. He glanced at you as he locked the door and without thinking, you scooted back on the bed, your back hitting the wall. He barked out a laugh.

“You think you could fight me off?” The Hound asked as he turned around, his eyes not moving from your face. “Love to hear your plan, seeing as I outweigh you by threefold.” You would have backed up further if you weren’t already pressed flush against the wall as he stepped forward. You released a breath when he sat down at the small table. He reached behind him, grabbing a bottle of wine from the shelf on the wall and pulled a gulp straight from the bottle.  

You watched him for a long while. He did nothing but drink his wine quietly. You shivered in the brisk chill of the room. You almost asked why the fire place was unlit but you quickly pieced together why he probably didn’t want a fire in his room. He was halfway done with his bottle when you finally spoke, the uncertainty eating at your insides.

“Are you going to-,”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He cut you off, clearly already knowing what you were going to ask. You were thrown off by his question and you didn’t answer. He shook his head. “Thought not. I’m not in the business of fucking girls who don’t want to be fucked.”

“I’m not a little girl,” You defended, annoyed. Sure, he had to be at least fifteen years your senior, but you weren’t a child.

“I don’t fuck women who don’t want to be fucked either, wife or not,” He said. “Just go to bed, why don’t you?”

Knowing you were safe from him, you stood up from the bed. He glanced up at you, barely taller than him even seated, but didn’t say anything. You sat down in the other chair across from him and you had a feeling no one else had sat there before. The chambers had a very solitary feeling. They smelled very strongly of him, of wood and leather. You realized you had never been in any danger. You should have known that from the moment he refused to look at your naked body in the cell.

“May I?” You asked, pointing towards the bottle. He handed it to you, careful to not even  graze your skin. You took a long sip, the strong wine burning your throat as it went down.

“Careful, love,” He said. “It’s strong.”

“You can touch me, you know,” You said. You felt your cheeks burn pink when you realized how that may have sounded. “I just mean, you don’t have to be afraid to touch me,” You pointed to his hand. “We have to share a bed now, after all. It’s okay.”

“Not afraid,” He said, grabbing the bottle back to take another swig.

“Okay,” You said. He offered the bottle back to you and you took another drink. You hadn’t eaten much at the ceremony and you could already feel a warmth spread to your fingers. It was welcome in the cold of the room. You handed it back, but this time, you made sure your hand brushed his. He pulled back as if you had burnt him, not even taking the bottle. You smirked. “Afraid,” You said.

“I’m not afraid of you,” He said.

“Then why pull away?” You asked. He didn’t answer. You scooted your chair closer to his and placed your hand over his. You had noticed earlier, when the septon wrapped the ribbon around your clasped hands, how much bigger his was. You could put both hands over his one and still not cover all of it. He didn’t pull away this time. “See, not so bad,” You said with a smile. You felt like you were approaching a feral dog, using a calming voice and kind face to get it to trust you. He really was appropriately named.

“Not so bad,” He repeated, looking at your hand on his. He finished the whole bottle, setting it empty on the table. After a long moment he said, “Never had a woman touch me that wasn’t being paid.”

“Really?” You asked. He laughed with no humor behind it.

“The King made you marry me because I’m such a horrible beast that he knows being my wife would be a worse punishment than being beheaded or sold to a brothel and you ask ‘really’? You think a woman would come anywhere near my cock if she wasn’t a whore getting ample compensation?”

You looked him over. He was frightening, sure, but that was mostly due to sheer size of him, and the reputation. The half of his face that wasn’t burnt was good looking. “I don’t think it’s that unbelievable. You’re a handsome man.”

He laughed, this time with a bit of mirth. “Oh, at least my wife’s funny.”

“I’m not joking,” You said.

“You could get a much more handsome man than me, love, looking like you do.” Your cheeks burned pink. You liked that he thought you were pretty. You liked that you were still touching his hand. You liked that he let you.

“So you paid for it?” You asked.

“Like I said, a woman needs ample compensation,” He said. He nodded to you. “Or the threat of death.”

“Your first time was with a whore?”

“All my times were with whores.”

“What was that like?”

The Hound laughed. “I was eighteen, she had to have been nearly fifty. She was the only one brave enough to come near me.”

You stood up, finally taking your hand away from his. The wine may have given you a little push but you knew exactly what you were doing as you sat yourself on his lap. He tensed up, but he held his arm around your back, his hand touching your outer thigh. You liked it there. “Am I brave?” You asked.

“You’re stupid,” He said. “Anyone brave is just as stupid. You shouldn’t have hit the King.”

“You’re his bodyguard, you didn’t stop me,” You said.

“I wanted to hit him too,” He admitted.

“My first time was with some boy from Flea Bottom. It was...very quick,” You said. He had told you his story, you thought you should give yours. “Sorry, your wife’s virtue has already been taken.”

“Sorry your husband is a monster.”

You reached your hand up, reaching for the scarred half of his face. He grabbed your wrist, but gently. You touched your fingertips to the burned flesh. It felt rough, like his hands, but some spots were smooth, stretched tight. You slid your hand down to his beard, turning his face towards yours. Your lips were just a breath away from his. “Ask me again.”

“What?”

“Ask me again.”

After a long moment he said, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I do.” You pressed your lips to his. This kiss felt very different from the one at the ceremony. You felt his grip on you tighten. He held one arm around your waist while the other pressed along your spine, his hand holding the back of your head. You twisted your fingers in his hair. You pulled back slightly, taking a sharp breath. “Come on, Hound.”

He growled, standing up and lifting you like you weighed nothing at all. He laid you on the bed, careful not to put any of his weight onto you as he held himself above you, but you still felt like he surrounded you. You liked it. You felt safe. You wanted more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your wedding gown falling around your thighs. You tried to pull him closer.

“Not trying to crush you, love,” He said as he kissed your neck.

“Please, I want to feel you,” You begged. He groaned, finally pressing into you, but still holding himself up on his elbows. You could feel his hardness pressed against you through the cloth between you. You rolled your hips into him, trying to feel more of his length. He hissed out a breath, one of his hands going to your hips to hold them down.

“Take this fucking thing off,” He said, taking a fist full of your dress.

You slid out from under him, standing before him as he sat up on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots as he watched you. You undid some of the buttons but others were out of your reach. You turned your back to him and let him help you with the rest. He stood behind you, looming over you as he pushed the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. This was much more pleasant than being exposed in the dungeon. You could feel the heat between your thighs burn almost painfully and your nipples tightened from both cold and arousal.

You turned back around, grabbing the edge of his shirt. He took the hint and pulled it off. His chest was so broad and covered in thick, dark hair. You pressed your hand against him, pushing him back to the bed. Unlike before, his eyes were trained on your body, as if he were a blind man who could see nothing but you.

“Fuck,” He said quietly, his hands on your hips. He kissed your stomach first, then your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth, making you arch your back towards him.

“Hound,” You moaned, your hands finding his hair again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, forcing you to sit on his lap again. You could feel the rigid edge of his cock under his pants and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against it, making him hiss out your name.

He gathered you in one arm, flipping you around to lay you on the bed again. He kissed your neck roughly, his teeth scraping your skin. He wedged himself between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. His large hand found its way to your center, placing his palm against you. He groaned into your neck as he felt how wet you were for him. “You’re fucking dripping, love.” He dipped a finger inside of you slowly. “I want to hear you say my name. My real name.”

He pulled his finger out, only to push it back in with a second, making you gasp. “Sandor,” You said as he thrust his hand against you. “Sandor, please, don’t stop.”

“Are you going to come for me, love?” He whispered into your ear as his thumb found your clit. You nodded, unable to say anything else. His rough fingers felt so good rubbing you from the inside out.

Without warning, he pulled his hand away, you felt suddenly empty. You watched as he brought the hand to his mouth, sucking you off of his fingers. You felt another surge of arousal course through you when he groaned as he tasted you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.” He grabbed you by the waist, flipping you over again so that he was underneath you, laying on the bed, and you hovered over his chest on your knees. “I need to taste more of your sweet cunt, love.”

You gasped as he planted his hands on your ass, his fingers digging in as he guided you over his mouth. His beard scratched at your thighs deliciously as he devoured you. His tongue lapped at your pussy, letting you ride his face. Your thighs clenched as you got closer to your end. He squeezed your ass tighter until finally, “Fuck, Sandor,” You cried out as you came, thighs quaking.

You sat back on his chest, catching your breath. He laid his hands against your thighs, watching you from below.

“No one’s ever done that to me before,” You said.

“They missed out,” He said. “Never tasted anything so good.”

You moved to lay on top of him, letting him wrap his arms around you. You kissed him again, tasting yourself on his lips. “You going to get your pants off or do I have to do that myself?” You asked.

“You still want me to fuck you?” He asked, seeming surprised. You laughed slightly.

“Is your cock still hard?”

He groaned, shifting under you. “Don’t talk like that, it makes me want to throw you down and take you rough.” He slapped your bare ass, making you yelp in surprise. You wanted him to do it again.

“Maybe I want to be taken rough,” You said. You dragged your teeth against his ear lobe, making him squeeze tighter to you. “I want to feel your hard cock fill me up.”

You let out a surprised giggle as he flipped you suddenly onto your back. He kissed you roughly as he fumbled with his pants. He didn’t even take them all the way off, instead pushing them halfway down his thighs. You caught a glimpse of his whole length and you tried not to gasp but failed. You’d heard girls talk about men with above average equipment but you had trouble believing any could be as big as his.

“We don’t have to,” He said, mistaking your gasp as something else. You kissed him again, spreading your legs beneath him and letting him press against you. You could feel his tip at your entrance. You rolled your hips, pushing it in a little farther and making him groan. He held your hip down, his forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck, love, it’s not going to be gentle,” He warned.

“Don’t be gentle.”

With one long thrust he was fully inside you and you let out an involuntary scream of pleasure. He clapped his hand over your mouth, snapping his hips again. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt every inch of him. It bordered on pain, how much he stretched you, but it felt so good your eyes watered. He grunted as he pounded into you, finally replacing his hand with his mouth over yours, kissing you sloppily. Your hands clawed at his back, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You feel so fucking good,” He groaned out as he thrust into you. “I’m not going to last.”

He moved his hand between your bodies. You cried out again as his thumb found your clit again. “Sandor, please.”

“Are you going to come, love?” The Hound said, his thrusts slowing slightly as he kept his rhythm on your clit. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please,” You begged. “I’m going to come.”

He picked up his pace, your thighs shaking as you felt yourself go over the edge, his name coming out like a chant. He moved his hand away, steadying himself on the bed as his thrusts got wilder, until finally a quick shudder went through him as he emptied himself deep inside you. You only felt his weight for a moment before he pulled himself out as he rolled off of you onto his back, breathing hard. You turned on your side, curling close to his warm, hairy body. He wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer. He pulled the blanket over you both, his eyes already closed.

“Pretty good,” You said, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your arm absently. “As far as punishments go, I suppose.”

He gave you another sharp spank, making you laugh. “Go to sleep, or I’ll punish you again.”

[strigital]

Do tell about Nim, I couldn’t find much info about her through your blog and I am dying to know more about this werewolf lady

well grab a pint and sit yo booty down, cause our bard of the evening tonight is Nim and she's drunk as all hell and ready to weave some outrageous stories!! 🍻

in all seriousness, thank you for asking! 😭💗 she came about back in ye oldie days of hype over the 11th of november 2011, and since then refuses to give up the title of my fav oc!!

now, a Paarthurnax would say: lets-a go!

a quick recap of the events in Skyrim:

Naali Saryn was born sometime in 4E 130 on mainland Morrowind as a result of a quick fling between an unknown Dunmer girl and Lucien Lachance and Kassandra Saryn's (The Hero of Kvatch's) son.

Sometime in that year, the baby was found aboard a ship bound for Raven Rock and when no one came forth to claim her a couple of elderly and childless ash yam farmers decided to take her in until her family was found.

The family, of course, was never found, and so they raised her as their own for the next sixteen years. They called the girl Nim - short, sweet, meaningless, and easy to shout out into the fields where the little brat is out adventuring when the house chores are yet to be done.

Nim grew up alongside her best friend Teldryn (don't believe his tales about his past, there's a reason why he wears a helmet in his hometown). For years the kids dreamt of leaving Raven Rock behind and making it big in the big city. And idea which really annoyed Nim's ol' Nana, who believed that everything needed for a simple happy life was right here on Solstheim.

After one particularly nasty fight with Nana about the ordeal, Nim gathered a bag of things and slipped out in the dead of night to catch an early morning ship with Teldryn.

They stuck together for a while then went on their separate merry ways. He - to Blacklight, she - to Leyawiin. Once in the wild, Nim had to quickly figure out her place in the pecking order. The romantic life of crime seemed to be the most attractive for her, but getting on top could never be easy. Especially for a young, inexperienced, and naive girlie. So she ended up running with the wrong kind of crew. Ended up in some truly dark places. Barely got out alive. Learned from her mistakes. Wore the scars of abuse like armor and made sure that since that day no one in this world or any other would play her for a fool, use her or put a finger on her without her permission.

By the time she turned fifty, Nim was well known amongst certain circles as the kind of scoundrel, thief, bard, and wench one should not trifle with. But her luck had to eventually run out, and so it did on the night of the fabled Umbacano Mansion heist, which failed so badly Nim had to either leave Cyrodiil or end up in a Thalmor owned torture chamber.

Skyrim seemed like a perfect place. After all, in a kingdom torn apart by the civil war, no one would even notice yet another greyskin refugee, right? Well, the Thalmor did. And so she ended up on a cart bound for Helgen to have a date with an executioner. But then Alduin showed up to crash the party before he himself got rudely interrupted by another dragon, who swooped in to save the Last Dragonborn.

After the narrow escape, Nim concluded her duty to warn Balgruuf of the dragon threat and went on to start a new career as a merc with the Companions. She and Aela became fast friends and when the prospect of joining the Circle came up she gladly accepted a sip of her new sister's blood. To never again be helpless and weak? To rip apart any fool who'd take her for just another elf wench who can't put up a fight? Well of course it was worth giving up the ability to sleep and having to get used to all smells suddenly becoming ten times worse!

After that Mirmulnir showed up and ended up as another ornament above the throne in the Dragonsreach. And Nim got stuck with a title which she would wear with great discontent for years to come.

Eventually, she ceased trying to run away and hide from her destiny, accepted her role as the Last Dragonborn, and begrudgingly began her quest to save the world. On her journey, she met and became tight friends with Yollokmir and Alasil who taught her how to speak, fight and fly like a dragon. With their help she inherited Konahrik's legacy: his mask embued with his soul, his citadel far up in the mountains - the NebenLok Zeikangaar - and the right to revive and lead the order of dragon riders sworn to defeat Alduin - DovahDein.

As she gained power and the word of her great many deeds spread across Skyrim, she managed to get quite the following of fellow men, mer, and Dov, willing to follow her into Sovngarde and beat the hell out of Alduin. Alas, she failed. Twice.

At that point, Alasil informed her of a special someone who might be of help in their quest against Alduin and who might prove difficult to convince to join her cause. That was the first time in fifty years that Nim got to visit her home. Unfortunately, Solstheim had changed. And upon arrival, she learned that her Pa passed onto the realm of Azura soon after her departure, and her Nana... well, she wasn't young anymore and suffered greatly due to all the ash ruining her lungs... and when the islanders got called to the All-Maker stones night after night by a mysterious spell, she just worked herself to death. That was the only thing Nim wouldn't forgive Miraak for, not until he swallowed his pride and sincerely apologized for being responsible for his potential mother-in-law's death.

And with Miraak's help, they finally sent Alduin back to his Maker, enjoyed a few peaceful years until High King Ulfric became a bit drunk on his power and needed a good ass whooping as well. Then Miraak suddenly found himself as the new king and Nim... she just did her own thing. As always. The end?

Oh and all the while running about, gathering forces, growing her Dragonborn powers, hunting Dragon Priests and Alduin's henchmen, she also meddled with the Thieves Guild, put Karliah in charge and became her right hand, managed to become an advisor on all things dragon at the Mage's College, ended up teaching lute and songwriting at the Bard's College (she's taking a break since Viarmo can't seem to handle her teaching tactics), earned the title of Thane in every hold and became a good friend to the Dawnguard fellas (Isran is more than happy to teach her kids the ropes of monster hunting) after kicking Harkon's ass into Oblivion. In what little free time she has Nim also manages the Lakeview Manor and leases the ash yam farm back in Raven Rock for some extra cash. All in all, a busy woman!

and some tidbits about the dovahmom:

Although Nim is perfectly aware of her real name, she chooses to use the one given to her by Nana. Both as a sign of respect and because, frankly, she dislikes both the Sarynes and the Lachances, who are, in her humble opinion, just a bunch of pricks. Somehow, the ghost of her murdered grandad finds this opinion of hers kinda funny.

Her friends sometimes describe her as "cyrodiilic brandy in a cup of tea": she's this small elf girl with pretty blue eyes and a smile on her face and you think that she'll be very pleasant and cute and shy and then... then you realize she drinks like a sailor, swears like one too, can beat anyone into the dirt (thanks, Hircine) and doesn't take shit from nobody. She openly speaks her mind and doesn't give a shit about what someone might think of her. She does what she considers the right thing to do, never plays nice with those she dislikes, never pretends to be someone she isn't. She's feisty, sassy, brassy, and, quite honestly, just doesn't give a fuck.

Nim is in almost complete control over her inner beast, partly thanks to her draconic blood, partly - to the ring she got when she and Sinding had that little party on a moonlit night in that grotto. She only loses control over herself when both moons are full and thusly will travel deep into the wilds a few days before the magical night. This way the only people that might get hurt are bandits, necromancers, hags, and the like. She and Aela also managed to get a small werewolf pack going, named the Whitemane Pack after the old man himself and dedicated to those who wish to take control over their inner beast, hunt with honor, and cause the Silver Hand as much grief as possible.

Nim is raising Blaise and Sofie as her own since they both were just wee lil' war orphans (the babes are in their teens now). She never quite really knew why... Nim was never a wifey nor a baby momma kind of woman. In fact, she can't even have children in the first place and, honestly, always thought of this as a blessing - never having to worry about contraception like all those other girls and just having fun without a care in the world! Her friends sometimes joke around, saying that she might've finally "ripened" for the motherhood, but she doesn't care. She loves Blaise, Sofie, and Sissel (thanks, Miraak, you're so good at kidnapping children!) and is content with being their famous Dragonborn mom. Post-Alduin Miraak, however, is secretly annoyed for not being able to get her pregnant. Oh well, the man can dream...

Oh yeah! Nim plays the lute and sings too! It's a skill she picked up across taverns all over the continent when she realized that bards get free drinks and a bed, as well as ample opportunity to sniff out and seduce prey. And even though her days of hunting for good-looking rich fools are long behind her, she still performs in inns and taverns across Skyrim. Firstly, it brings in a fair amount of money, and secondly, it's good for her Voice! And also just plain and simple fun.

Also, people get terribly surprised when she, a Dunmer, doesn't act like one at all! Nim might've grown up in Raven Rock, a Dunmer settlement, but she spent the rest of her life traveling the continent and then living in Skyrim. She's more Nord-ish than some Nords! And the Nords actually really love it! It's so so easy to just get plastered with the homegirl, punch some faces and pass out on a heap of hay behind the inn, just happy to be alive on this fine snowy day. The only truly Dunmer thing about her is the occasional "n'wah!" which escapes her potty mouth. I mean, she doesn't even like sujamma all that much and would rather have a pint of mead! Whatever Ancestors she has must be spinning in their graves fast enough to generate electricity.

uuuhhh I think that's all the important stuff? i might've forgotten, in which case, I'll add it later... meanwhile, have some more Nim content:

^^^ the fanfic is slow, but it's moving... at a snail's pace. my advice: don't expect updates, so that when they do come, you'll be pleasantly surprised!

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Bloody is the path for revenge. An Oberyn Martell x GN!reader. Game of thrones Space AU.

#Writer Wednesday 05/05/2021

Thanks again to @autumnleaves1991-blog for this, I’ve never being this prolific in writing in my life and actually have been more consistent in it thanks to this

Summary: King’s Landing is a ruthless place, a big mass of a planet city where the less fortunate tries to survive in the lower levels and the rich thrives on the top playing their dangerous games. Many years ago, the Lannisters claimed the power from the Targaryens killing everyone in their way men, woman and children even if they were innocent of their family’s crimes; Ellia Martell and her children were amongst them, and since then his brother has tried to bring to justice those who ordered her killing. But you know there’s no justice in this world and if Oberyn tries to do anything to the Lannisters they will respond in violence and threatening his life. The life of the one you love the most

Word count: 4,4 k (One day I’ll write something short for Writer Wednesday but today it’s not that day)

Warning: Cannon divergence from the show and the books, violence, mentions of blood, shots, and explosions. +18 SMUT light descriptive sex (mention of penetration, orgasms and kissing but nothing too explicit)

A/N: What the fuck is this? You may ask, well I don’t know what to tell you, my friend. I swear I didn’t smoke anything writing this just thought how to twist a little the image we got for this week. I decided to change Ellia’s murder by the way, she’s shot dead, plain and simple, I’ve always been left with a terrible sensation every time I read/watched the show or books and they mentioned how she died. If you feel the same just know there’s no mention of rape in this or any kind of sexual violence. This is my first time writing for a gender neutral reader PLEASE PLEASE, let me know if there’s some mentions of the readers gender or something I have not seen. The only detail is that Oberyn is bigger and taller than you, the rest is pretty vague.

“Don’t leave me alone in this world”

“Never”

He says that but he kisses you as if it is his last day on earth. His plump lips force yours open until he’s caressing your mouth with his tongue. A moan resounds in his chest over yours and you feel you heart beating fast, he always ignites a fire inside of you as the blazing core of the earth burns and moves creating earthquakes and changing the shape of the earth. And he has change you, shape you into a different person, you’re wilder, more sure of yourself, passionate and freer, embracing all of you without shame. His love has burn you new as a phoenix. So because of it all, you cannot possible let him leave your bed, you cannot let him die or even come close to it. There’s no way.

You open your eyes when he separates himself from you and you see a sweet smile shining on his face, his eyes still close lingering in the pleasure of having kissed you, of being held in your arms, locking your hands on his strong and broad shoulders with the remaining heat between your bodies. You woke up crying, dreaming of blood and violence and before you opened your eyes, he was hugging you so tightly that all you could think and feel was him and his warm skin.

“My love” he whispered in your ear and then you turned desperate to kiss him to feel that he was still there with you

“I had a nightmare that you left me before I woke up” you cried and brought his weight over your body

“Shh, shh” he hushed and kissed your forehead “I’m still here and...” your lips cut whatever he was about to say and you held his handsome face in your arms and then you let your hands wander over his body: his tense muscles, his scars on his tanned skin, he tried to stop you feeling how your tears still rolled over your cheeks but you begged and plead “Love me please, please I need you in me” and he can’t refuse. You made love slowly, deep and precise thrusts, mouth over mouth murmuring sweet nothings and praises. You fell asleep as soon as he finished, feeling so full of him, so relaxed and warm, relishing in the heat he has left in you.

Hours later, you felt how he moved and that he was about to get up, but you reached for his arm and now here you both are, your nails pressing deep on his arms.

“Let it go, please. You can stay with me, find another way. I don’t want you to die”

“Today it’s not the day I die” he smiles at you fondly brushing his knuckles over your face

“You don’t know that” you shake your head, your voice sound squeaky “Those bastards don’t know what honor is, Oberyn, you keep thinking you will find justice. There’s no justice in this dreadful place”

“I will make my own and please, my love, don’t underestimate me. I know my enemy, I’ve known them since they decided to kill my sister and his children, observed them patiently and now it’s time for them to pay for their crimes” when he mentions his family his jaw clenches and his deep eyes somehow become darker glowing with sorrow and anger.

“We could think of other way...”

“There’s no other way”

King’s landing is a massive chunk of metal, of buildings that top one another until the city raises kilometers away from the ground, leaving a clear distinction between the lower levels where the poor people survive and the highest part where the elite look upwards always climbing to the sky above and the stars crushing and stomping on the less fortunate. You’re somehow in the middle of it. You live in a beautiful needle like tower, a golden palace called Sunspear, in the south part of the town from your apartment balcony the impressive domes of the Red Keep shine from afar and your stomach turns.

The gigantic castle is the center of all, a bleeding heart in the middle of the immense planet city and it harbors the Government, the Power, the Judge and Punisher of this terrible place: the Lannisters. A criminal family wrapped up in golden clothes, golden hair and melted gold in their jewels. But criminals nonetheless, just rose in the right moment and killed the right people; one of them your lover’s dear sister, Ellia and her children.

The late rulers of the city, the ones that conquered and settle on this earth on the first place, the Targaryens, ruled with an iron fist with their Dragons technology, metallic robotic beasts that surveyed, killed and control the city without the need of any man and soon only their shadow over the sky made people tremble and any thought of protest, criminal plans or illegal activities remained on the lower slums where they could not reach as freely.

But crime grows like an infection and soon enough there was a Targaryen king that thought that the end justifies the means and that there’s only one way to get rid of a putrid member; amputating it. So the Dragons did control the slums, burning them down to the ground. Those drastic measures had consequences and of course soon the protests against their cruelty grew stronger, and the protests leaded to insurrection and the Lannisters presented themselves as the golden saviors only to be even crueler than those they had usurped.

And those who were related in any way to the Targaryens were killed without a trial, like Ellia, trapped in the Red Keep by an unsatisfactory marriage to one member of the family. And Oberyn tried, ran to the castle to beg mercy for her innocent sister when the Coup succeeded but ended just collecting her corpse. “She was caught in cross fire” they said but her wounds were clearly a mark of an execution, and seeing himself alone in a chaotic world without allies and without enough power, Oberyn waited, observed and mourned, let his rage grow stronger and deep, a pain like thorns in his chest that even though it hurt, it didn’t compromised his kindness.

He found you in that state, a broken man with a warm smile like the sun, and you were a street rat, a slum orphan kid that lost everything even before you were aware of what family, love or possessions meant. You survived however you could, you were not proud of your beginnings, you were not proud of how you met him: trying to rob him.

“I don’t have much, love” he had said, not threaten at all of your weapon pointed at his chest

“You’re one of those top bastards, of course you have. Give me your rings” you blurted. He complied with a smile and tossed the golden rings to you; but the one on his thumb. “All of them” you spat

“This one, if you please, I’d like to keep. It was a gift from somebody that it’s not longer with me” he said and something in your chest moved after years and years of creating a hard armor over your feelings.

“Alright, now empty your pockets” you said bending down to gather his rings and in that he moved faster than you had seen anybody react and in a swift movement he got you cornered on the wall and disarmed.

“You have to always choose your opponents wisely, my sweet” he said really close to your face. You moaned, tried to think that the sound coming from your mouth was out of fear and his bigger and heavy body over yours, but deep down you knew that his amber perfume, his deep voice and those eyes had awaken something else in you. “You look positively famish and neglected of many things, my sweet. Come with me” And you did and you will always follow him since that day. But today he has chosen a path that you cannot keep. Today your fears had come true, you have always think that your love could cure him, that it could be stronger and enough to calm his need for vengeance. But it is not.

History tends to repeat itself and now the Lannisters are suffering the same fate they created for their predecessors. They’re in their lowest point and they’re destroying themselves from within, betraying their own family members, and when Oberyn saw this as his perfect chance to finally plot his vengeance, you saw that dark pain eating the light, the love, the passion and the kindness, dominating everything else that was in his heart. Now he only sees vengeance and the cold blade of justice cutting their throats.

The sun pierces the pollution and the clouds in an orange and pink palette announcing the beginning of a new day and the trial starts at midday. They’re accusing Tyrion, the youngest of the Lannisters’ siblings, and demanding the death penalty for killing the heir to the throne. And Oberyn in a surprising turns of events has accorded to represent him on the trial or that’s what everybody thinks. The oldest law in the planet, one settled since Aegon Targaryen, the conqueror, is that a defendant can have a final statement before his sentence and everything he says in that moment must be taken in to account if he, by any chance, confesses other crimes or accomplices in the crime being judged.

Oberyn could never bring Ellia’s murder to justice but if Tyrion confesses that he heard his father give the order to kill Ellia and her children then he cannot be killed until that crime is investigated and judged thus saving, for the time being, his life and giving Oberyn the chance of presenting his case against those who killed his family. In a fair world, that could work. But you know his honor and idealism clouds his judgment, they will never let Tyrion confess in public how they ordered to kill innocent children in cold blood, they will never let Oberyn win. They’re desperate now, less concern about their public image and much more drastic in their measures; another thing they have now in common with the past rulers. They’ll do anything to remain in power, and those little legal tricks won’t be enough to stop them. They will take any means necessary to remain in power. Anything.

“We should be going, sir” the security guard announces from the digital pad on the door

“My love” Oberyn adjusts his tunic, an old gold fabric that resembles the million sun panels that covers Sunspear and he looks as the sun, he warms your life, gives you the energy to wake up and you wish this sun, your sun, never sets and leaves you in the dark “If you don’t want to come, I’ll understand”

You run to him and grab his forearms “I will never leave you. I’ll be there as long as you need me”

Weeks before the trial

Even though you’ve climbed on the social ladder and also in a literal way, you are and you will always be a street rat, a lower scum and in that you know many like you. And they’re useful, you know people that could do anything, that know how to find anything or anyone. The lower levels are a wild jungle of metallic junk, holograms screens selling whatever you wish for and dangerous people. But you know your way there and navigated the streets until you found what you wanted.

“So it’s pretty damaged, I had to reprogram everything and search for parts anywhere and those I didn’t find I had to customize” Chips explained uncovering the thing inside his garage. Chips is your friend, shared the same dirty full of lice bed in the orphanage, he didn’t have a name and was given one by the caretakers but preferred the nickname you gave them. He was always since he was a little kid playing with some wires, chips and computers parts and now he had created a place in the slums, mainly because of what he did it’s not really legal. He hacks technology, can get himself inside any web, any software and devastate any system he wants. He does it all in this dirty garage, lighted in neon lights that you don’t know you he stands it, every wall is covered in screens, old technology and devices you don’t understand.

“You know anything you need I will pay double, Chips. I need this working properly, it’s extremely important” you said

“Thank you, Chips” you nodded

“And it will, you will have complete control over it on your holo bracelet” he assured and gave you the small black device that you tied around your wrist “When it is time, you just have to activate it” and he showed you the control app on the floating screen over your hand

“Do you really want to do this? You can’t control the consequences once you active it” he asked eyeing the thing with a worried look

“The consequences if I don’t use it will be far worse”

The trial

“Father, I wish to confess” the short blond man says on the stand, he’s secured inside a protection field that is otherwise invisible except when the neon lights from the ceiling hit it and it shines with a bluish light.

The hundred something audience member gasp in unison and you know the whole city has had the same reaction whilst watching in it live stream in the millions of holoscreens around King’s Landing.

“I didn’t kill Joffrey, but I wish that I had” he spats and the people present scream and insult him. Oberyn stands by his side and you cannot see his face from your seat in the grandstand but his fists are clenched and his posture is tense. “He was a vicious demon, a murderer and sadist as every member of this family”

“Tyrion if you do not wish to confess this is useless” Tywin Lannister, the patriarch, moves in his seat uncomfortable.

“As I was saying, father, he was a murderer like his family, like you” people rise from their seats now, you stay in your little corner while the crowd waits for the rest of the confession with their mouths wide open “You ordered, years ago, to kill in cold blood innocent people, you ordered your beast” he points to the corner of the big throne room where the tallest man you’ve ever seen stands among other guards “to kill every woman, children or baby that was related to the Targaryens, servants or noble; like Ellia Martell and her children”

“Silence!” Tywin raises from his seat, his pale skin is red, a sharp contrast to his all black tunic “Take the prisoner back to his chamber until a sentence has been declared”

“Wait!” Oberyn walks towards the center of the scene with his hand raised “The defendant has confessed being witness to a crime, by the old law of Aegon, the conqueror; he cannot be put to sentence until that crime has been judged. And you, Lord Tywin, will have to address those accusation in a proper trial” You see from the corner he has a smirk on his face while the older man glares at him with his eyes full of hate.

“Isn’t it that convenient for you?” Cersei Lannister cries from her seat, the mourning mother has been quite the whole trial but her eyes red and weeping had been fixed on her brother and now Oberyn with the same anger. “You’ve spreading those lies and accusations for years and now you conspire with my murderer brother to hurt my family” her voice break and the audience gasps again clearly entertain with this turning of events

“Accusations that now have to be clarified in a trial as it was always dismissed by your authority” Oberyn responds pointing with his finger to the whole Lannister court

“It was a time of war, an unfortunate accident” Tywin hisses

“Well now you could prove it and end those accusations, don’t you?” Oberyn smiles wildly but it feels like more like a viper openning its mouth to show you its weapons before biting.”I demand that the defendant is released from your custody and it will remain with me until trial”

“That’s surprising, are you accusing us of plotting to hurt him in anyway?” Tywin tilts his head to Oberyn, challenging him, and you know he has something in mind. You’re so tense that you don’t realize you were not breathing until your chest hurts. You activate your holobracelet looking at the small bottom waiting for the perfect moment.

“I’m saying he’s accused of a heinous crime and clearly has gained the hatred of the people, being here could make it really easy for anybody to hurt him while on custody. So I suggest a secured and secret location for the moment”

“Tyrion has the means to escape and leave the planet; we could not possibly let him go” says an old man from the Council

“He will remain in the Red Keep” Tywin states

“I think I still have my right to testify, father” Cersei raises from her seat with a coy smirk

“You can give a final statement, yes” he agrees

“Oberyn Martell has agreed to defend my brother from this terrible murder, has been seeing with him before in very dubious places and now he accuses us of murder and plot to kill a prisoner in custody in order to keep Tyrion on his care. I think it’s fair to think that he could have some interest in this, maybe even be part of a larger plot against us, he has always hate our family for a crime we didn’t commit”

The uproar in the room is way stronger this time, some assistants can’t even be kept on their seats, and the guards form a line between the grandstand and the platform were the trail is taken place. You move, your heart beats are loud in your ear, as you go down the stand closer to where Oberyn stands.

“I firmly believe we should have a line of investigation on this, so you, Oberyn and your client should stay on the Red Keep until everything is clarified” Tywin doesn’t hide his pride. You knew that this will happen; they have neither honor nor a care for justice. And you knew they will find a way to hurt him if he ever became bolder in his way to get justice for his sister.

Oberyn is screaming something but you cannot hear him with all the crossed accusations and the audience, but the guards had walked towards him, they’re moving Tyrion from his stand and cornering your lover.

“Raise your hands, sir” they scream at him “Calm down”

You know their tactics, you know that any movement he will do can justify that they shot him down or hurt him. If he raises his hands they can say he was about to punch them, if he doesn’t he didn’t comply. Anyway Oberyn’s life is threatened. So you know it’s time.

You open the hologram screen on your bracelet and tap on the small logo with trembling fingers, until the screen shows an ACTIVITED sign in green.

You were a small child, probably a baby when you were met with one of those things, so you don’t remember how silent they are. It was made like that so they could strike any possible threats without given them the chance to escape. So the dust hits you first, before you or anyone could hear it. The right wall of the throne room collapses and you see the screens and the wires and the metal breaking and the ancient brick walls inside of them. A blazing sun hits second, a red and orange light until you feel the heat. That’s not the sun. It’s fire.

The beast enters and now you can hear it, its motors propel it inside the room and in doing so completely destroy the west side of the Keep. It actually looks like a dragon; a fearsome large metallic face spitting fire but the rest of its body is a triangular black shape more like the commercial flight transports but way bigger.

The clouds of dust makes it impossible for you to find Oberyn, you just hope he hasn’t been hit by the debris in the explosion.

“Oberyn” you scream and cough

You find some guards on the ground some of them evidently dead others are just knockout, and in the middle of it you find him, he had protected his head with his arms, his golden attire is dusty but you don’t see signs of bleeding. You bend down and try to get him up, but he’s heavy

“Come on, my love, we have to go!” he doesn’t respond and your heart skips a beat what if you killed him trying to save him?

But he coughs softly at first and then louder and raises his face confused and wander his eyes until he finds you “We have to go Oberyn, come on” he moves slowly but you gather strength and get his arm over yours and push him towards the abyss on the west wall. And you jump.

Being a slum rat you had always fear being on the top of the buildings, never actually looking from the border of the balcony when you moved with Oberyn, but now you jumped with your eyes closed, holding his body, the body of your lover, your whole life tightly against yours. For a moment you feel the emptiness of space and air until your body hits something hard.

“We have to fly faster; I think the whole building is going to collapse” Chips helps you take a seat on the flying car and you secure Oberyn on the seat beside you. He’s still dazed so he doesn’t say a thing; clearly he doesn’t understand what’s going on. You hope that you hadn’t inflicted some brain damaged. Chips speeds up the vehicle going in a sharp line downwards making the rest of the traffic move to let you pass and avoid a crash.

“We will have to hide on the slums for a moment” he screams over the speed breaking the air

No brain damage, his eardrums are broken but they will heal fast with the drugs Chips has bought in the dark market. He has a great concussion on his back and some scratches on his face, legs and arms. But he’s alive and well. You wait on a very uncomfortable chair looking at him, his tall and broad body doesn’t fit in that small cheap bed but for the moment it will have to do. He has been sleeping for a few hours now and when you’re about to doze off, he coughs trying to call your name.

“Sh, sh, calm down my love” you say when he tries to get up “Drink some water” you serve him in a plastic cup and approach the bed

“What?” he screams and contorts his face once he feels the pain

“Your ears” you pronounce every syllable so he can read your lips “Rest now, it will heal in a few hours”

He drinks looking at you confused over the cup and lies down again but he looks at you intently “what have you done?” he murmurs

You sleep a few hours, Chips keeps doing his thing drinking too much of those energy drinks. At least twenty screens shows different news reports, the images of the trial and the “terrorist attack” as they’re calling it thereafter.

“What have you done with it?” you ask

“I programmed it to self destroy after you deactivated it. Too dangerous on the wrong hands” he explains

“And who are you referring to with “wrong hands?” a deep and husky voice says behind you.

You see the horror in his eyes when he watches the images of the Dragon entering the throne room and burning and destroying everything on its way.

“Oberyn” you whisper

“What have you done?” he asks again, his brown eyes glow in tears

“I did what I have to do” you simply shrug “I couldn’t let you get yourself killed, those people were about to lock you on the Red Keep and next thing I know they will give me your dead body back as they did with your sister” your voice cracks once you try to approach him and he recoils in fear

“You’ve killed innocent people” Oberyn lets his body hit the wall and you see his legs shake still too weak to stand

“They were enjoying that mockery of a trial seeing a poor man being sentence to death” you defend

“And now they’re all dead”

“We’re still waiting for the reports but...”Chips adds but shuts it once you both look angrily at him

“Oberyn” you come close your hands open to him, begging to touch him but he shakes his head

“Oberyn please” you say again

“No” he refuses and now you see he’s crying, his shoulders shake and he covers his face on his hands

“Then listen to me” you face him still letting him have his space “I couldn’t live in a world where you’re not with me. I knew they will try to kill you and I felt powerless, I had to do something, I have to save you as you saved me years ago. I love you, Oberyn, more than my own life, more than my heart, my eyes and my soul and if I have to burn empires to the ground for you, I will and I did”

[nothing-but-dreamy]

QUARANTINE

Pairing: FFXV!NYX ULRIC x MALE!READER

Words: 2.140

Warnings: fluff

A/N: @slowkib - here you go :) I hope you like it. Thanks for this request

A/N II: This is a loosely sequel to MESSAGES. So, if you wanna know how these two have met, you can catch up on it but it's not necessary :)

Synopsis: Yn got hit by a virus what means he and Nyx have to be quarantined. But Nyx finds a way to 'sweeten' the time for YN to recover quickly.

Nyx and YN were dating for a few months and so, YN’s sister was determined to meet the man who had stolen her brother’s heart like a thief with the promise to never give it back. She stayed over the weekend. Two whole days, all three had a lot of fun together. YN was happy to see how good Nyx and his sister got along and all too fast, the time was over again and YN’s sister had to go back home.

While Nyx cleaned up a few plates and glasses, he looked at YN who had a content smile on his lips even if he seemed to be a bit pale, “Your sister is nice. I like her.”

“I'm happy to hear that because she already loves you. She threatened me to treat you right or else she would ... Well… trust me, I wouldn't have a good life anymore.”, YN said and coughed softly.

Nyx blinked several times, staring at YN, disbelieving that his boyfriend, a skilled fighter and great soldier of the royal Kingsglaive, would be intimidated by his sister who was two heads shorter than he was, "You... She can threaten you? I mean, for real?", Nyx asked amused.

"Always had, always will. She might be younger and smaller than me but she can be a beast if she wants.", YN answered with a grin, remembering what kind of troublemaker she had been in their childhood.

"Good to know.", Nyx said grinning.

"Don't you dare to-", but YN stopped as a coughing attack prevented him from speaking further.

Concerned, Nyx laid his hand on YN’s shoulder, checking on him as he became even paler, "Are you alright?"

YN just waved with his hand, "Yeah, yeah", he said hoarsely, slapping against his chest, "I just choked on something.", he whispered.

But the next day, YN laid in bed, coughing violently and fighting with the full aftermath of the virus that held Insomnia in its iron grip for a few months. Obviously, without knowing it, YN's sister had been infected and now, he was the one with all the symptoms: fever, fatigue, muscle aches, headache, sore throat and nausea saying, the whole package.

While caring as best as he could for a suffering YN, Nyx did what the citizens were encouraged to do: he called a doctor, YN got tested and the result was clear: positive.

Nyx was tested negative but still, because they lived together, they had to be both quarantined for two weeks. As the next step, Nyx had to inform their Captain. Drautos wasn't pleased about the information that two of his men were out of service because of some ‘common cold’. As the Captain asked why they had to be both in quarantine, Nyx saw himself forced to tell the truth and revealed the relationship he had with YN. But, somehow, Nyx got the impression that the relationship itself wasn't the biggest problem rather the fact that the Captain had been completely unaware about it during the last months.

But because the Captain still wanted to have the upper hand like always, he sent Nyx and YN a big pile of documents and paperwork that got postponed because of the last battles. Nyx wasn't pleased about the boring 'office' work but as long as he and YN were quarantined, there was no way Nyx could say anything against it … or run away from it to fight a small, cozy fight against some demons which he would prefer more in this moment.

Luckily, YN recovered quickly and so, after one week, he was almost the old one. Almost. He was still a bit tired, was coughing and needed to rest but at least, he was fit enough to help Nyx a little bit with the paperwork. Especially, YN did it to prevent a raging war inside their apartment. While YN had been forced to stay in bed, he already had heard Nyx cursing while working.

First YN thought Nyx was just annoyed about the work itself but then, one afternoon as they sat together to work through the piles of documents, YN realized that Nyx wasn't just 'annoyed' rather, he was frustrated and even kinda aggressive.

"This stupid thing!", Nyx called out while pressing keys randomly on his PC.

YN raised his glance questioningly from his own PC and papers to look at the hero, who obviously got defeated by a bunch of wires and circuit pressed into a plastic case, "Everything's good over there?" he asked, grinning as Nyx slammed his whole hand on all keys he could find at the same time.

"Sure! Fuc- it works pretty wonderful!", he hissed through gritted teeth. Once again, Nyx pressed a bunch of keys he had no idea of their functions. As the PC finally just gave up and shutted down, Nyx leant back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes while sighing deeply, completely defeated.

YN tried his hardest to keep the grin out of his face but it wasn't working. Nyx heard the muffled sound of suppressed laughter and the moment he looked slowly up, his beloved boyfriend burst out with laughter. Even tears of joy were running down his cheeks.

Nyx gritted his teeth, "Good to see that you’re feeling better again. At least one of us has fun here.", he said annoyedly, standing up from the chair to look out of the window to become calmer again. It was cold, raining and all in all not the worst weather to be forced to stay inside.

YN felt guilty for laughing. He hurried over to Nyx and from behind, he snaked his arms around Nyx' waist, pressing a soft kiss on the outer rim of Nyx' ear, one of his weak spots, "Come on. Don't be like that. I didn't mean to laugh at you. It was just ... you fight against demons and whatsoever and then, you get defeated by a PC? Seriously?", YN chuckled.

Nyx scoffed, "I tell you, this thing has a will on its own. And it's mocking me. Besides, we're Glaives. We fight. We don't do 'paperwork'.", he said, quoting the Captain's words in a silly voice.

"So, what? You wanna disobey and ignore the Captain's order? Again?", YN asked amused, knowing how rebellious Nyx could be from time to time.

Nyx grinned, turning around in YN's arms and lying his own around his neck, glad that YN already had some color back in his face, "What shall he do? We're in quarantine. We're not allowed to leave this place or to invite someone in ... at all.", he said with a low voice.

YN raised an eyebrow, knowing this kind of mischievous glance already from the hero, "You have something in mind then?"

"Oh, yes. Indeed, I have.", Nyx nodded with a grin.

Ten minutes later, Nyx had collected everything he needed while YN just had watched him, sitting in an armchair. Nyx had prohibited him to do anything else than just waiting because even if YN felt better he was still stricken. On the other hand, Nyx wanted to have his idea as a small surprise. So, he collected all the pillows and blankets he could find and threw them into the living room which was quickly turned upside down. Nyx took some chairs, arranged them with the couch and had built something that represented a cozy fort. The couch was the fort's backrest. Chairs left and right were holding up the blankets while the carpet was covered with pillows and bed covers to make it even more comfy. As Nyx was done, he stepped next to YN, lying an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say?"

"That looks pretty perfect. You have done that before, don't you?", YN asked and looked up. There was already a melancholic smile on Nyx' lips.

"Yeah, I did this often with Selena. Mostly, when she was feeling sad or when she was sick. Then, I built one of these, stole some ice cream and cookies from the kitchen and then, we hid there the whole day. We were talking or watching TV until we fell asleep.", Nyx remembered, pulling YN closer to his side before he pressed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's crown while inhaling his scent to feed the painful memories with sweet new fuel to make them comfortable again.

YN enjoyed the affection with closed eyes, "So, you stole ice cream, huh?", he asked softly to light Nyx' mood up again. He was happy that it worked as he heard him chuckling.

"Well, stealing would mean no one knew about it. I'm sure our mother knew it. I mean, back then, as a kid, I felt pretty smart but now, I know that someone had to buy the things, so I'm sure she knew when we would build our little cave and prepared the sweets for us."

YN frowned. Everything was perfect except the fact that they had no sweets in the kitchen, "Shall we order-", but he got stopped as someone knocked at the door.

"Not necessary. I already took care of that, too.", Nyx said with a grin and went to the front door, opened it and came back with a paper bag full of stuff Crowe had brought after Nyx had texted her.

"What's that?", YN asked curiously, closing up on Nyx.

"Everything we need to get you back on track.", Nyx said grinning.

"But I'm already feeling better.", YN argued half-heartedly as he saw the colorful labels of the bag's contents.

"Yes, but 'better' is still not completely recovered. So, here, the ice cream will help you with your sore throat. Cookies are great in warm milk with honey to fight against the temperature of your fever. And the chocolate will just make you happy.", Nyx listed while pointing at the different items.

"And the gummi bears? Are they for my running nose?", YN asked chuckling, pulling out the bag of sweets.

Nyx snatched it out of YN's hand, "Oh, these are for me. At last, I need something to throw at you when you say stupid things again. Gummi bears for a running nose... never heard such a silly thing.", Nyx mumbled while rolling with his eyes and bringing the bag in the kitchen.

YN laughed, took his laptop and crawled into the pillow fort to get comfortable already while waiting for Nyx to come back.

Ten minutes later, Nyx appeared with a tablet which was laden with bowls full of ice cream, sweets and two mugs with warm milk. YN received the tablet, placing it in the middle. Nyx crawled next to YN's side before he closed the door made out of a blanket to enclose them with coziness. Pressing on a switch, a chain of light went on which was installed around the chair and illuminated the fort in a soft warm, romantically light. Nyx leant against the couch with his back, raised his arm to give YN the space to cuddle against him, using Nyx' upper body as a pillow.

YN was just about to start the movie he had picked out on Netflix as Nyx got a call on the headset he had still in his ear out of habit. Cursing under his breath, he answered the call, "Yeah? Hey, Captain. Yes, we're still in quarantine. One more week, that’s correct, Sir. Yes, he's feeling better but he's still not recovered completely. He still has to rest.", Nyx answered the Captain's questions. To underline Nyx' statement, YN coughed slightly.

Nyx had difficulties to keep the amusement out of his voice and nudged YN's side in revenge because the coughing was so badly acted, "What did you say, Sir? Oh, yeah, the paperwork. We're working on it. Yes, at this very moment, we're sitting in the living room and looking at the screen. Yes, Sir. Alright. Good da- huh, he hung up already.", Nyx said with a smirk, taking the headset out of his ear to lay it aside where he wouldn't notice it at all for the rest of the day.

"You lied to the Captain.", YN stated with a smirk.

Nyx looked him in the eyes while shaking his head, "No, I said the truth. We're in the living room, looking at some screen. The paperwork can wait. First, I want to make sure that you're fit again.", he breathed before he kissed YN softly, "And now, we should hurry with the ice cream or we will have just soup left."

"You could put some gummi bears into it to keep the consistency- hey!", YN called out as a gummi bear hit his hand.

"I warned you.", Nyx said grinning before YN cuddled back against Nyx' side, the best place in the world to recover from whatever virus there might ever be.

[queenofthefullmoon]

An exhaustive list of Dark Souls 3 bosses I would or would not date

Iudex/Champion Gundyr

We’re starting off this list with a strong yes. Our boy Gundyr has had a hard, difficult life, and he deserves some good company. He’s tall, strong, and I trust him to protect us as we set a lovely camp site outside of the fire link shrine.

Vordt of the Boreal Valley

Vordt is big and he is feral which are truly the only two qualities I look for in a man. Together we’d be unstoppable. I mean, think about how easy it would be to go around with him: just climb on his back and let the rodeo begin, baby. This argument alone should be enough to convince you that Vordt is a suitable boyfriend, but here’s another one: if you get too hot in the summer, worry fucking not for your gigantic man can hold his equally gigantic hammer over you and cover you with snow like an italian man covering his pasta with parmesan.

Cursed Rotted Greatwood

Now while I’m certain it would be a perfect partner for some people, the Cursed Rotted Greatwood isn’t for me. For one, I am not fan of curses, or rot, or weird sticky balls, or strange orange acid, or pale white and slightly viscous hands bursting through a living tree. Secondly, I feel like the crowd of Hollows who group up around the tree would be a big impediment to our intimacy, and I’m not ready to be the mother of 20 Hollows.

Crystal Sage

No offense but you’d be an idiot for not wanting to date the Crystal Sage. All wrapped up in one package, you get a super competent sorcerer bf, who wears the coolest hat in the galaxy and an equally cool cape, and who overall looks like the upgraded version of a plague doctor. In addition to that he also has a pretty rapier so you can both engage in some sparring (which we all know is the most romantic couple activity).

Deacons of the Deep

Probably one of the worst options on the list, they’re all crusty, rotting men moaning around a biggass coffin. There are many technical questions. If I dated a deacon, would I have to date all of them? Can we go out on dates or are they obligated to stay next to the coffin at all times? Can I even date them at all?? Not that I would, because I have standards. The only pro to entering this relationship(s?) would be that I’d probably get one of their robes for free, but the cons are so numerous that I’d rather buy it myself.

Abyss Watchers

Let’s be real and honest even if it hurts. Would I date an Abyss Watcher? Yes. Maybe I’d even date two. However, would an Abyss Watcher date me? No, because they’re all in love with Artorias, and I can’t blame them for that.

Old Demon King

At first I considered dating the Old Demon King like a Russian Instagram model dates an old, rich American man: with a great deal of fake love but above all great patience in order to be the only person on the will. But then I thought about it more, and what does the Old Demon King have to offer, really? A big firework show that will leave him exhausted like the old creature he is, and maybe some pyromancies. Truly, it is not worth it, especially since I’d have to take residence where he lives, in a big old room filled with the corpses of his kin.

High Lord Wolnir

I’ve got nothing against Wolnir personally, but I have no interest in skeletons, nor in his army of skeleton children. As stated above I’m not ready to be a mother. I feel like if we got in an argument and he sighed, he would poison me with his awful breath and I would die a horrible death. Also, living on the brink of the Abyss doesn’t appeal to me that much. However I would like Wolnir to be a good friend I can talk jewelry with because let’s be honest, the man (skeleton?) is blinged the fuck out even in death and I respect that.

Yhorm the Giant

Yes, I would date Yhorm. He was nothing but a sweet, misunderstood giant who always tried to get people to trust him and he convinced me. I would put my life in his big hands. Think of the possibilities. Just like with Vordt he could carry you everywhere but in a less reckless way if you prefer proper manners. You’d never have to worry about not seeing anything at a concert. Also, may I add that waiting for you to show up while sitting on his biggass throne is an absolute power move? Yhorm is a Lord of Cinder, but above all, a Lord of this heart.

Pontiff Sulyvahn

Would I date him because of his appealing aesthetic? Yes. Would I date him for anything else? No. Sulyvahn is absolutely terrifying, completely unhinged in the most frightening way, which is that he doesn’t look bat shit crazy. I could be thinking that everything is going well in our relationship then suddenly he’d lock me in a dungeon then would feed me to his weird friend because I put a fork in the knife drawer. He could pretend to propose and give me a weird fucked up ring with his eye in it and the next thing I know I’d be running in a field on all fours. I don’t trust like that.

Aldritch, Devourer of Gods

I’m so sad about Aldritch because literally everything about him is completely unappealing, unacceptable, unnatural, unholy, abhorrent, but he has the delicate and beautiful face of Gwyndolin. While our lovely Gwyndolin looks gorgeous as ever it doesn’t make up for the fact that Aldritch devoured people and probably wouldn’t find love to be a good reason to not eat his partner. The only reason I can find to have a friendship (not even a romantic relationship) with him is if you really like experimenting with cooking and you really, really need someone to taste your inventions.

Dancer of the Boreal Valley

I feel attraction, which means that just like any other being who feels attraction, I would date the Dancer. She is beautiful, graceful, a bit feral, and would not hesitate to put a flaming knife to my throat, which is the description of my dream woman. Imagine walking the streets with her, trying to hold her hand while it dangles 3 feet above you and she insists on holding her sword, actually, so she might slay anyone who tries to approach you, which she communicates through icy breaths and murmurs. The date of a lifetime.

Oceiros, the Consumed King

Another awful choice on this list, Oceiros is RABID and also, as far as we know, still a married man. You really want to date a man that hasn’t even gone through his divorce but already looks like this? Me neither. I’m already not big on dragon fucking but the fact that he’s all viscous and has weird growths all over him is not helping. Also, he has children, and we know how I feel about that — although, given how he treats them, he probably won’t have kids very soon (too far?).

Ancient Wyvern

So I’ve stated that I’m not very big on dragon fucking. With that said, do I think the wyvern is sexy and beautiful? Absolutely so. You’re probably like « Blue you’re sending mixed signals, are you gonna date the lizard or not? » and to that I say, date? Perhaps not. I would however like to form a lifelong bond with this wonderful force of nature and fight by its side, live a long and fulfilling life travelling along with it, only to die at the same time atop the tallest mountain in the world, where our skeletons will be discovers hundreds of years in the future by brave explorers, who will confirm that the legendary songs that were written about us were in fact not just a myth.

Nameless King

You’ve just read what I said about the wyvern. I feel like the Nameless King really understands me and would respect me for that. We could bond over our love of dragons and other flying scaly beasts and perhaps share some chaste kisses while soaring the sky on our companions. It’s nice to date someone who loves pets as much as you. I feel like he would be a fun guy to hang around in general, maybe he’d let you braid his hair or try on his crown. He can arrange personalized fireworks shows for you with his lightning powers. I don’t think you’d ever be bored around him.  

Dragonslayer Armor

Dating an empty suit of armor has never bothered me (see: ds2 Ruin Sentinels), however I have beef with the dragonslayer armor. Is it a beautiful armor? Perhaps a bit worn off, but the reply remains affirmative. However, it is controlled by Pilgrim Butterflies, which basically means I’m dating one to multiple of these things in the shape of an armor, and I’ve gotta confess that I’m not down for that.

Lorian Older Prince and Lothric Younger Prince

Here comes the delicate moment where we have to make a choice without offending anyone. I personally, speaking for myself, in my own opinion, would rather date Lorian. Reason: he is big, strong, and a bit rabid, which I’ve made very clear is my type. I don’t dislike Lothric, but I feel like we’d be better off as best friends who have a really snarky group chat where we shit talk the entire kingdom. That’s pretty good because if I even just slightly disliked Lothric I’m pretty sure Lorian would sense it and would not hesitate to murder me on sight.

Champion’s Gravetender and Champion Greatwolf

Well the full name is just a formality here, I’m not completely insane so I don’t want to date this rabid wolf. I feel like the Champion’s Gravetender is just a normal dude who’s a bit in over his head and it’s not his fault but he just seems a bit boring compared to all my other options. Instead of a date I think he’d be more of an awkward flirt I had when I was bored and then I came to my senses but didn’t know how to disengage, but in the end it worked out because he was more interested in his work anyway.

Sister Friede and Father Ariandel

Again a choice has to be made and I will have to be predictable and say I’d date Elfriede. Just like Dancer she’s what the woman of my dreams is made of. She’s graceful and could easily take my life and I think it’s awfully sexy of her to be like that. I think I’d be accepted into the family pretty easily, which is important since Father Ariandel cares about Friede so much. I’d go visit him sometimes, play chess with him, bring him his flail, normal interactions with your girlfriend’s dad.

Soul of Cinder

I’m gonna be a tiny bit freaky here and say I’d date the Soul of Cinder. Dating it is just like opening a Kinder Surprise egg, you never know what you’re gonna get (sorry Americans for excluding you here). That makes life exciting and doesn’t let routine stall your relationship. Every day you can wake up with the question « What weapon will my darling walk around with today? The flaming sword, or the sorcery staff? » and be surprised by the answer. Truly ideal, but I understand it’s not for the faint of heart.

Demon Prince

I’m gonna go with a maaaaaaybeeeee? leaning towards no. I mean yes, the Demon Prince is a weird fleshy flaming demon, and that may be a bit gross, but I’ve gotta admit I admire his style, the drama of it all. The care he puts into his entrance, the attitude in his moves. If we don’t date I’d at least want to be friends so he can teach me his ways.

Darkeater Midir

I have very intense and contradictory feelings towards Midir. In one hand, holy shit, absolutely epic dragon, the spirit of companionship is growing in me. On the other hand, this beast is RABID and pretending I could tame him is foolish, and pretentious. I guess in the end the answer remains that I don’t date dragons, I just want to adopt them as my extremely exotic pets.

Halflight, Spear of the Church

Yeah I’d date Halflight, I know it’s the easy answer but look at him. I mean shit he’s walking around like a little thotty with his shirt open and you mean to tell me I’m not supposed to wanna date him because he looks pretty much like a regular dude? My boy Halflight WANTS me to date him or else he would not show up with his tiddies out to a sword fight, which as an activity already has enough erotic implications on its own.

Slave Knight Gael

I’m gonna say it unashamedly and I’ll say it again: I would date Gael. He’s been nothing but helpful and when he tries to attack you it’s to help his little lady that he’s adopted as his niece. We love a chaotic parental figure. Maybe he’s a tad bit old and dirty but there’s nothing a good bath can’t fix and I’m sure he’d appreciate having someone taking care of him for once. Again, he’s got that slightly unhinged quality to him that makes him delightful. When I walk around with my partner I want us to instill both fear and fascination in people which we would be able to accomplish perfectly well.

Dark Souls 1: Remastered date list // Dark Souls 2: Scholar of the First Sin date list

[butterflies-dragons]

Do you have any theories/predictions/headcanons about post resurrection! Jon? Especially how he'll treat Sansa?

Hello Anon,

I have read some theories and predictions about post-resurrection!Jon but I’m not a fan of any of them.  I don’t think that “Jon will come back a bad boy to fit in Dany’s taste of men” for example.  And some other speculations sadden me because they say Jon will come back sterile or having lost his memory.

About Jon and Sansa reunion tho... I've thought about it a good deal.  Especially about these passages:

Robb took them all the way down to the end, past Grandfather and Brandon and Lyanna, to show them their own tombs. Sansa kept looking at the stubby little candle, anxious that it might go out. Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs. Robb smiled when she said that. “There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.” That was when they heard the sound, low and deep and shivery. Baby Bran had clutched at Arya’s hand.

When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb’s leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. “You stupid,” she told him,“you scared the baby,” but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.

The memory made Arya smile, and after that the darkness held no more terrors for her. The stableboy was dead, she’d killed him, and if he jumped out at her she’d kill him again. She was going home. Everything would be better once she was home again, safe behind Winterfell’s grey granite walls.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya IV

***

The noise receded as she moved deeper into the castle, never daring to look back for fear that Joffrey might be watching … or worse, following. The serpentine steps twisted ahead, striped by bars of flickering light from the narrow windows above. Sansa was panting by the time she reached the top. She ran down a shadowy colonnade and pressed herself against a wall to catch her breath. When something brushed against her leg, she almost jumped out of her skin, but it was only a cat, a ragged black tom with a chewed-off ear. The creature spit at her and leapt away.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

***

Myranda gave her a shrewd little smile. "Yes, she was the very soul of wisdom, that good lady." She shifted her seat. "Why must mules be so bony and ill-tempered? Mya does not feed them enough. A nice fat mule would be more comfortable to ride. There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

"Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose."

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

"Our cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone," Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, "a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did."

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

The first passage could be a foreshadowing of Sansa being the first Stark to meet post-resurrection!Jon:

“There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.” 

When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs (...)  It was only Jon, covered with flour.

It happened the same with the second passage:

When something brushed against her leg, she almost jumped out of her skin, but it was only a cat, a ragged black tom with a chewed-off ear. The creature spit at her and leapt away.

In some sense the black tomcat of the Red Keep could be a representation of Jon, the cat is even called “black bastard”, and when the cat brushed Sansa’s leg, it scared Sansa in a similar fashion than Jon playing to be a Ghost back in the Winterfell Crypts.  We can even say that the black tomcat acts like a ghost wandering around the castle reminding some people of Rhaeny’s kitten Balerion.  

And in the third passage we see how the true Sansa Stark slipped out from the Alayne Stone persona at the mere mention of “some bastard son of Eddard Stark's.”  And at the mention of a member of her family safe and sound, Sansa thinks how sweet it would be to meet him again:    

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

This is another hint that a first Stark reunion between Sansa and Jon is rather probable.

Another hint is that with Lady’s death and Jon’s death, Sansa and Jon could be each other missing part, since Sansa lost her direwolf and Ghost lost its master.  In summary:

Jon’s direwolf name is Ghost;

Jon literally died so he also is a ghost himself; and, 

Sansa’s direwolf was killed and is mentioned as a “shade”, which is a synonym of ghost:

Summer’s howls were long and sad, full of grief and longing. Shaggydog’s were more savage. Their voices echoed through the yards and halls until the castle rang and it seemed as though some great pack of direwolves haunted Winterfell, instead of only two … two where there had once been six. Do they miss their brothers and sisters too? Bran wondered. Are they calling to Grey Wind and Ghost, to Nymeria and Lady’s Shade? Do they want them to come home and be a pack together?

—A Clash of Kings - Bran I

This passage about “direwolves haunting Winterfell” is very telling, specially because haunting is what spirits do, and Ghost & Lady’s Shade stand out among the wolf pack.

So all of this could be also a hint of Jon and Sansa retaking Winterfell and start howling calling the rest of their siblings to come back home, to be a pack again.      

This imagery of “Ghost and Shade haunting” is repeated in a Victarion’s chapter, as it was pointed out in this post.  

Two sleek galleys sail from Meereen and Yunkai south toward New Ghis for supplies and legionary reinforcements, but encounter the Iron Fleet in Slaver's Bay. The galleys evade Woe and Forlorn Hope, but are captured by Iron Wing, Sparrowhawk, and Kraken's Kiss. Victarion Greyjoy beheads their captains because they said that Daenerys Targaryen is dead. Victarion kills their crew aside from the enslaved rowers, who are forced to join the Iron Fleet. Victarion renames the ships Ghost and Shade, believing they will return to haunt Yunkai.

[Source 1] [Source 2]

***

The galleys he renamed Ghost and Shade. "For I mean them to return and haunt these Yunkishmen," he told the dusky woman that night after he had taken his pleasure of her. They were close now, and growing closer every day. "We will fall upon them like a thunderbolt," he said, as he squeezed the woman's breast. He wondered if this was how his brother Aeron felt when the Drowned God spoke to him. He could almost hear the god's voice welling up from the depths of the sea. You shall serve me well, my captain, the waves seemed to say. It was for this I made you.

—A Dance with Dragons - Victarion I

And curiously enough, it is vastly speculated that Victarion may have died and came back to life thanks to the Red Priest Moqorro.  The same way it is vastly speculated that the Red Priestess Melisandre will perform some fire ritual to make Jon come back to life.  So we can say that Victarion is also a ghost.  And both Jon and Victarion have a hand burned.

So, I’m sure that Jon and Sansa will meet again and we have textual evidence that they will team up to retake Winterfell.  How will Jon come back to life?  It is not certain.  Some theories say that he will be more beast than man for a while, since his soul will inhabit inside Ghost until he resurrects.  And since Sansa has a long training in taming beasts, she will do well with post-resurrection!Jon.  There are also some theories about Sansa taming Beast!Jon with her singing and helping him heal and bringing back his humanity.  I agree with those theories. 

Good night.

Thanks for your message.

[itsmypeach13]

[Please welcome my first ever fanfic series chapter 1🤭The story contains of f/f relationships, centres around Asassins Creed Valhalla women female Eivor, Soma Jarlskona(the Bear Heart is my own nickname I gave her will be often used 😁), Randvi, Valka and other fictional characters. It is for +18 readership as it may contain explicit language, drinking, sexual intercourses, fighting in battles. Please bare these in mind before reading.]

TALES OF THE BEAR-HEART:SOMA

CHAPTER I.

A Letter from the Wolf-Kissed

Soma's POV:

I opened my eyes swiftly , my head was heavy with the thoughts swirling inside after a sleepless night. A warming beam of light brightened my room as the sun was rising slowly outside. I turned to my side and looked at the empty side of the bed. I ran my fingers slowly on the cold pillow and let out a sigh. It doesn't matter how many girls of Gratenbridgeshire offered themselves to me , this place belongs to Eivor. Well, only in my dreams..she haunts me like a she-wolf hunrgry to taste meat and blood. And I would always face this wolf, giving in and letting my walls down for her, but this world was apart from reality.

I had a jarldom to rule and protect my people, today was no different either. Just when I finished dressing up I heard knocking on the door like a bear would rant at me from outside.

'Splendid morning Soma, I know you had fun with that blonde amazon last night, I came to make sure we arrive on time , so get your ass out here.'- Revna greeted me with her raspy voice. She was my right hand in ruling the town , my finest warrior and my best friend in one tall, brunette woman. She was even taller then Eivor and always carried two hammers on her sides. Her weapons put many fine men in the grave , Revna was a beast on the battlefield, but a big hearted puppy to her loved ones. She and I grew closer after Birna left us, I needed somebody to trust.

'You think yourself a seeress of all.I haven't slept a bit, even without any ladies invited in my bed-I stepped out of the door grinning, and placed my hand on her shoulder.' Don't worry my friend, Cheolbert must be still sleeping like a baby.

We both headed to the longhouse as Cheolbert arrived late at night and asked an assemby in the morning. I didn't know what was it about, so I felt curious to know. I peaked towards the main entrance seeing jarls arriving on horseback from the neighbouring jarldoms. It must be either a wedding or war ahead of us, I thought to myself.

'What is on your mind Soma? You seem a bit worn-out this morning.-Revna questioned me by gently pushing my right arm. I didn't want to tell her the truth , that Eivor was the cause of my insomnia.

'Everything is fine Revna , it was full moon yesterday and you know well I can't sleep when it comes'-I assured my shield maiden. 'We have a long day ahead of us, I count on you if we have to fight side by side again.'

Revna silently nodded and hurried to the front of the assembly. The longhouse was filled with people, curious eyes were glued to Cheolbert who stepped in , wearing a glorious red and white cloak and black learher tunic. Our eyes met and he signalled me he wanted to speak in private at the side first.

We both went to the map room, his blue eyes were narrow and mysterious. I gave him a welcoming hug.

'Cheolbert my dear friend, I swear you've grown a feet since we last met.'-I teased.

' Soma, good to meet again, I wish the circumstances were different.'

'What happened? '-I grew impatient and started walking up and down.

'Eivor told me to hand over this letter to you first'.-he held out a letter with a raven seal. I turned my back so that he can't see my face, and I felt the world around me spin. Is she in trouble? Is she alright?

Dear Soma,

I write you in haste now, as your rotten friend Brina , whom you kept so close to your heart as a pet has betrayed all of us. She is a serpent who slyly earned your trust. She got married to Ivarr the Boneless and they sworn revenge on both Ravensthorpe and Gratenbridgeshire. Ivarr wants to be king of this continent...son is like farher. Their fleet is now close to us, we must unite our men and act swiftly. Please come as fast as you can to Ravensthorpe. I already informed your neighbours, I sent Cheolbert to gather all the men at Gratenbridgeshire.

When we win there will be a cause of celebration I sware to you dear. With all my thanks.

Eivor the Wolf-Kissed

My heart grew heavy with disappointment and sadness over hearing what Birna brought for our people. After all I had two friends betray me, I will cut the throat of this traitor too I swore to myself.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as the word 'dear' was ringing like a bell in my head. The wolf could play mind games with me even if she wasn't here.

The assemby was quick, I told my people to gather every man to fight for the woman who made this place a safe home for us. I climbed up to my black mare after putting on my silver and blue gear and dictated a rushed tempo for our horses on the way to Ravensthorpe, so our army arrived the same afternoon. I held my back tightly and confident in my straddle to show people a firm leader. As we rode closer to the gates a flood of excitement gripped my stomach. It was funny because I feared not the bloodshed of war or heavy strikes of axes, but seeing the deep blue eyes of Eivor again. Too afraid what I would see in the reflection of her endless iris. Just when I was confident enough to let the idea of the two of us together go , I knew it well the depth of her eyes will eat me alive again. Somehow Freya threads our paths in the same direction? Why does she condemned me to suffering?

***

As I got off my mare at the entrance of the longhouse Valka humbly walked up to me and greeted with a tusk of her best mead. It was a secret recipe I was obsessed with so Eivor sometimes sent a few barrells to me. Valka made the sweet liquid with a hint of star anise and petals of orange jasmine.

'Now that you are finally here the universe is balanced'- she winked handing over the mead. I had no idea what she mean by that, but I gratefully accepted and took a long shot.

'Thanks Valka, I am happy to see my favourite seeress. -I winked at her and slightly raised my tusk.' May this give me strength and fortune on the battlefield.

'Freya will have her hand on your shoulder , she has plans with you.'

This conversation made me suspicious Valka had a vision of the future and it seems I am the part of it. Anyhow, I was sure of one thing, my duty is to be here and help.

'I can't wait to fulfill my destiny, my friend. Whatever the future holds I am ready to take it in.'

In that moment Eivor rushed out of the longhouse seeming quite annoyed with something her rough hands forming into fists. She looked astonishing, deadly in her black and gold armor, the axe of her father as a token swagged on her side. Even if it was a brief moment, I saw her eyes widened at the sight of me, her look pierced into my soul when she smirked at me. She was saying without words that she was grateful that I came and trusted me, this filled my heart with warmth and my chest swelled.

'Dear Soma' -she spoke with her deep, raspy voice that was stealing my sanity every time I heard her close.'I knew you would come and aid us in the moment of need.'-she took my right hand for a moment then let it fall back.

'You know I'll always be there like a true friend. It's my pleasure.-Eivor's smile ended at the word friend, but people around us were staring and we weren't more than that behind their backs either.

To cut off our slightly awkward meeting, Randvi stormed out of the wooden bulding her cheeks burning, and arms folded. She looked like a child who didn't get the piece of cake. I wondered what happened between those two in there. In the second she caught a glipse of me and Eivor standing quite close , Randvi joined between us and politely thanked me to bring a huge force here. She was a perfect diplomat and an impeccable service around me after that.She arranged a dinner for only the leaders and jarls to lay out the plan for tomorrow's battle. We decided to surprise Birna and Ivarr and hide our best archers in the woods until they ride towards the gates. I must admit I can see now why Eivor loves Randvi. The copper-haired woman was not only beautiful with soft features, but intelligent in a way that humiliated the man leaders here.

It felt extremely hard to look at Randvi and listen to the details as I felt my helpless jealousy hit me like a wave. It angered me how Eivor drunk every word she uttered her eyes sometimes wandered lover than Randvi's lips.

After dinner I wanted to retreat to my tent as soon as possible , the sight of Eivor and Randvi in the same room sickened me. Before I could do that Randvi came to me with a letter.

'Soma, wait. Let me give this letter to you.' she instructed quickly.

'Who is it from?'-I enquired furrowing my brows with second guessing.

'It's uh..from me actually...-she hesitated then blurted out' there are certain things you better read than hear me say it out loud.'

This fucking woman had guts to speak to me like that..I knew it was intently personal. She must have heard rumors of Eivor's visits to me sometimes, but hardly knew the wolf was only hers not mine for a single bit.

'How thoughtful of you. The rumors are true , you really have balls in spite of being a shieldmaid. I will read your bedtime story later, now if you excuse me.' Randvi 0-Soma 1. Every inch of me wanted to tear off she seal and read it right away but I waited until I was left alone in the provacy of my tent.

Jarl Soma,

Please let me be honest and plain with you. Eivor's invite here was merely political. I know more than anyone how she behaves around women to get what she wants. I have firsthand experience in that. But you have to know Eivor doesn't look at you like a woman, she told me she sees a long lost older sister in you. If I were you, I would think twice what I let people gossip about and make a fool of myself.

Randvi

In the second I finished reading I crumpled the piece of paper and thowed behind my back. Her words were agressive and protective just like a female wolf and I could feel Randvi's bite marks on my neck.

I decided not to believe anything until I asked Eivor.. oh but how could I do that? The wolf would realise I cared about her in a different way, and I couldn't let that happen until she gives me something. A flickering sign in the hollowing darkness I am living in.

I decided to visit Valka and have drinks together, I desperately needed somebody to keep my mind of this mess I became part of.

***

The little hut stood with watchful eyes on the slight hill close to the village. There were died flowers hanged outside and a sweet smoky and flowery scent filled my nostrils. As I get close I recognized Valka now wearing a red gown with hood on her head. She looked like Freya preparing a love potion as she was pouring something in a tusk and put some petals on the top.

'Good Evening Valka.. I hope you don't mind my late night visit. I just needed some of your special mead I guess and my feet brought me here' I stared to her fiery reddish brow eyes. She had neat tattos on her face forming dots and gentle marks on her smooth skin.

'I knew you would come tonight, so I prepared this mead with some herbs that will rock you in a pleasant slumber.'she handed over the tusk , the liquid looked like shiny rubies.

'How is that you always know better what I need than myself?-I smirked at her and found comforting in her eyes.

'A gift from the gods my lady-her eyes had a mysterious spark in them, a little dimple formed on her face from smiling.

'Come sit with me inside, it is getting cold out here.'

I nodded and followed the seeress into the firm hut, theought the entrance ornamented with animal bones and more dried flowers.

There was a freshly lit fire inside warming up my limbs and cheeks. It also colored the space with wrath orange that played on our faces like the sunset.

'Now tell me, what makes your heart heavy?'-she asked with care.

'I think I feel a bond to Eivor that is irrational and grows between us every time we meet. It is like an invisible string pulls me towards her maybe it's the wish of the Gods.-I sipped bitterly in the mead , a slight soothing feeling ran through my body.

'We both know our fate is inevitable, so you have to show what's inside your heart first.' -Valka looked deeply in my eyes. -You are Soma, our fearless Bear warrior sent by Freya to our aid and to fight on Eivor's side.

'Randvi told me Eivor loves me with a sisterly care.. I image she is right., look at her, she could have anybody.

'Don't listen to Randvi , she is hurt and trapped in her own feeling of helplessness. If she can't have Eivor accepted by the public, then nobody can'-Valka nodded and squuezed my hand.

'I just can't trust people anymore Valka. My love towards people turned into a bitter storm inside me.-Except for Revna, I couldn't trust a soul, not even Eivor. She didn't reveal her hidden side to me.

'Just talk to her in the morning, it will ease your turmoil Soma.-she winked and headed to bed. To my utter surprise she started to undress in front of my sleepy eyes, they popped in surprise no matter the mead.

Valka's toned back was shining under the wrath orange fireligt, she revealed her impeccably and naked body.

'Good night Valka, I have to get some sleep now. Thank...you...for uh.. everything!' I mumbled to her and hurried to my hut until I was able to stand still. Before sleep my head was filled with Eivor's piercing eyes and... I was a bit surprised but Valka's slender back flashed through as well. Damn, this woman was also fine. Like all women!

My eyelids felt to heavy , soon enough I was fast asleep like a newborn baby.

[saintandsinnerwrites]

A/N: Saint and I decided to try to write this prompt collaboratively. (Also somehow I managed to delete the ask so here’s a screenshot lmao) I primarily wrote Jan and she did Rosé. It was a fun way to fill this prompt. Let us know if you enjoyed our little collab 😘 -Sinner

CW: monsterfucking, inhuman anatomy, and blasphemy probably

Blacklist tag cwmonsterfucking if you’d rather sit this one out 💖

-

Jan couldn’t deny there was something strange about the sorority house, but she liked the girls so much that she’d accepted her bid and pledged. Education was now over and it was time for initiation.

Jan did think it was odd that the ritual was one at a time instead of all together as a pledge class, but each night at midnight one of the pledges would go down to the basement alone for their initiation ritual and tonight it was Jan’s turn. She had to admit she was a little nervous.

Denali had been in her pledge class and had been initiated the night before and she’d told Jan not to be scared and just ‘let it happen’, whatever that meant.

Jan was dressed all in white as an angel, complete with wings and a halo, her soon to be full sisters all in black as they prepared Jan for her initiation. She held her big Jackie’s hand, waiting for them to tell her it was time.

When it was, she descended quietly to the basement, not sure what to expect. The whole sorority was upstairs. Surely it was nothing too bad? All the girls were nice and sweet. She couldn’t imagine them doing anything bad to her.

Jan looked around the fairly plain basement. Oddly, the only thing down there was a plush bed. Jan looked under it. Nothing. She sat on the side and waited for something to happen...

Rosé looked on from the shadows when the girl was led downstairs for her initiation. An angel costume, huh? Well that was certainly interesting, and she smirked to herself knowing damn well the other girls did that on purpose. Jan was her name as she had overheard Jan's sorority sisters talking about this very day. She knew Jan had no idea what was about to happen, none of them did. They were just led to the bed to await their fate, but all the girls loved every moment of their little ritual. After a couple minutes Rosé decided to speak to her, but still stayed cloaked in the darkness. “Are you excited about your initiation? Anxious? Curious?"

Jan jumped at little at the unexpected voice and then gasped at the owner of the voice. The... creature? Beast? Devil? was completely red, furry in parts with hair horns, large inhuman ears, and long nails or claws, but a still rather humanoid appearance.

Jan was surprised, but the creature was smiling at her. She was pretty, with a curvy figure and a handsome face. “Very curious. Are you the one initiating me?” She had wondered who would do the actual ritual with the whole sorority upstairs. “Who are you?”

"I am." Rosé chuckled, mainly to herself. Bless this girl. She was so fucking cute. “I'm the Devil, baby. But you can call me Rosé"

Maybe it was the years of Catholic schooling but Jan just stared at her. She was so humanoid it occurred to Jan, a theater kid herself, that this was probably an actress in a costume. “The Devil huh? You don’t look like The Devil. The one and only?”

"Tell me, what exactly do you expect the Devil to look like?"

“The most beautiful of God’s angels, Lucifer Morningstar, who became Satan himself, The Devil. You are not he?” Jan looked at her skeptically. “I would have paid a lot more attention in religious studies if the devil had looked like you.”

"I am going to stop you right there at 'he'. God, nor I, the Devil, are men or male presenting at all. But we all know the human men writing everything down hated women, so here we are. With yet another inaccurate portrayal of the divine and the damned. Though, I don't consider myself damned in any way, just a hedonist, babe."

Jan frowned. “Is this part of the initiation ritual?” This actress was really into this role...

"I like to correct those who still believe the falsehoods those so-called churches taught them. But no, it's not. The initiation ritual is much more physical."

“Physical?” Jan stood up. She was a cheerleader and a soccer player. She could do physical. “What do I do?”

Rosé walked over to her and pulled her close, "I can tell you're curious about me. Touch me."

Jan couldn’t lie. She was very curious about this devil. “Your costume and prosthetics are incredible.” She very gently stroked an ear, not expecting it to be warm and responsive to her touch. “Oh!”

"That's because it's not a costume, baby," she said with a chuckle. "Also, it's quite appropriate that you're dressed as an angel. Or maybe it's inappropriate, considering the circumstances."

“Inappropriate?” She asked quizzically. She was starting to wonder if this wasn’t a costume. “What do you mean?”

"Do you realize what being dressed up as an angel means for this initiation?"

“...isn’t everyone?” She hadn’t seen Denali dressed as an angel yesterday. But like her she’d likely arrived in just her white dress.

"No, lovely, only virgins are dressed as angels," Rosé purred.

Jan assumed that was part of the initiation, not realizing fully what Rosé meant. “Oh is that why full sisters wear black? They get ‘devirginized’?” She made air quotes.

"Essentially, yeah, it mainly signifies that their ritual is already complete, but no longer being a virgin is just part of the territory," Rosé explained, tipping Jan's head up to face her. "Do you get what I'm saying, darling?"

Jan studied her eyes and then realized. She blushed deeply. “Oh!”

Rosé pulled Jan into her lap and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "I'll make it good for you, baby. I've always made every single girl I've been with cum fucking hard. I'd never hurt you, I'm only about pleasure."

Jan blushed deeper. “I’ve never even been kissed before,” she admitted.

Her brows rose, "Never? You're too cute to have never been kissed."

Jan blushed. “I went to Catholic school my whole life. This year is the first year I’ve ever been away from home. And I just don’t like any of the boys here?” She blushed. “I’ve never liked a boy actually. Any boy.” She blushed deeper. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” But Jan did feel safe and comfortable around Rosé...

"You're in luck, baby, because this entire sorority is a bunch of lesbians," she cackled. "But I am glad you're opening up to me, I don't like to fuck anyone who I don't get to know at least a little bit."

Rosé gently tilted her head up to look at her again and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She wanted to rectify the little issue of Jan never being kissed immediately. Her lips were soft and sweet and Rosé knew that kissing her would be blissful each and every time. She understood why Jan wasn't allowed to have any sort of sexual experience, but it was still a travesty in her eyes.

She loved that Jan was getting more comfortable around her, and more comfortable with intimacy in general, but she would still take it slower with her. At least until Jan asked for more, and not to be a little cocky, but Rosé knew that once they got into it, she would absolutely be begging for more.

"Tell me what you want, baby~"

Jan stared at her wide-eyed and innocent. “I don’t know what I want. Isn’t it a set ritual?”

"Right. Catholic," Rosé snickered. "And no, certainly not. The ritual is individualized. Here, let me show you."

She carefully pushed her back onto the plush bed, running her hands down her body. When she trailed them back up, she pushed her dress up with her. Leaning down over her, she pressed more kisses to her jaw and down her neck. She still took it slow, looking for any cues of hesitation, but found that Jan was giving her none thus far.

Jan wore simple white cotton panties under her dress. She certainly hadn’t expected for anyone to see them. But she didn’t feel shame, only curiosity about what Rosé was going to do to initiate her. Her nipples felt sensitive and she felt a heat in her lower belly. This was all so new and unexpected.

Rosé gave her another kiss, one that was deeper, this time pushing her tongue into her mouth with a little more force. Her fingers found their way between her legs, rubbing at her through her panties. Little by little she would bring Jan's arousal forth, making her soaking wet and fucking needy for her.

Jan gasped, knowing this was naughty, taboo and forbidden. Was she going to Hell for this? Absolutely. But Jan didn’t care. It felt so good. It didn’t take long at all for her to feel things she’d never felt before and didn’t fully understand, but she knew that she needed Rosé to keep going and give her more. “Please...” she whimpered. “Please.”

"You're so cute," Rosé chuckled against Jan's skin before she sucked on her neck. She kept rubbing at her, but now her fingers were against flesh and she could feel just how wet Jan was getting. With claws retracted, she pushed one of them inside the blushing girl beneath her. Slowly she'd prepare her, make sure she was fully worked open so she would have an amazing first experience.

Jan gasped as her fingers slid inside. She’d expected them to be sharp, as she’d seen her claws, but they weren’t. There were so many new good sensations going on Jan couldn’t process them all. She bared her neck, surrendering to the experience. Denali had told her to just let it happen and finally she knew what she meant. She whimpered. “Rosé! Please! I need more.”

"Well, someone's getting into it~ But that's okay, I love that you are." She slid another finger into her, fingering her faster and a little harder, maybe she'd make her come on her fingers first. Having a multiple orgasms never hurt anyone.

Jan gripped her furry shoulders. “Please! It feels so good!” Her hips rocked against the fingers inside her, eagerly chasing after her own pleasure. “I never knew it was this amazing.”

"You never got the chance to experience it," Rosé purred in her ear. She worked her deeper, faster, loving that she was chasing her own pleasure at this point. The poor girl deserved it. She also assumed that she had never touched herself so this was the first time she experienced any sort of pleasure like this.

Jan was losing her mind. Why had she be warned away from this for so long? Thank goodness she had great core muscles so she could rock herself onto Rosé’s fingers, because she was desperate for more at this point. “Rosé!!”

"Do you think you can handle a third finger, baby~?" she asked, wanting to be sure before she gave her more.

Jan nodded. “Please! I’ll take anything you give me.”

"Let's just keep it to my fingers for right now, babe." She did add a third one though, knowing that Jan really could take it. She was so wet and so needy, she was well aware Jan's body craved this so fucking badly and Rosé was going to be the one to give it to her.

Jan had never felt like this before. She clung to Rosé like her life depended on it. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the feeling.

Rosé could see that she had reached that intense climax. She fingerfucked her through it until her body slumped back down onto the pillows beneath her signaling that she was fully spent from her first orgasm. Rosé wasn't going to go right into the next one, instead she wanted Jan to come down from this one and relax for a moment. She has never had these sorts of experiences before, and Rosé did not want to overload her.

"Are you doing all right?"

It took Jan a second to regain control enough to nod. Her breathing was ragged, but she’d never felt better.

Rosé pulled her fingers out of her and licked them clean before wiping them off on the sheets. "I take it you enjoyed that~"

She nodded. “I never realized it was like that.”

"Well, now you know, love~"

Jan bit her lip. She wondered if that was it, her initiation complete. She kinda hoped there was more.

She stroked a furry shoulder tenderly. “I do... but I feel like there’s so much more I don’t know...”

"I'm not done with you yet, I just don't want it to be too much at once."

“I’m ready for more, even if I don’t know what that is. Please, Rosé. Will you show me?”

"I love how eager you are now," she murmured against her lips before kissing her. "I'll definitely show you."

Rosé sat up and pulled Jan's panties off. She unlaced he dress and let it fall off her so that she was completely naked beneath her. Gently, she caressed her skin, running her fingers between her breasts right down to her pelvis. Goddamn, she was so gorgeous, she could get lost just touching her, kissing her, so much so that she had to pull herself back down to earth for a second. She didn't want Jan to feel exposed though, and it was only fair that she get rid of her own clothing too. Her garment had a long, full body zipper making it easy to take it off.

Jan hadn’t realized how much of that was clothing as the devil was suddenly naked before her. Jan gently reached out and touched her, like Rosé had done to her. “You’re stunning...”

"Yeah~? Tell me something I don't know, babe." She laughed, "Thank you though, I'm glad you think so. You are too, absolutely fucking gorgeous. I can't wait to ravish you, to have you moaning and mewling underneath me."

Jan blushed, her thighs rubbing together shyly. “May I ask, is it true that if you don’t put it in... the front it doesn’t count?”

Rosé was so taken aback by that question, but didn't show it on her face. God, these poor humans really were fucked when it came to, well, fucking. She hated how taboo sex was in the mortal realm, all because of how virginity was basically worshipped in her adversary's religion. It irked her to no end, because most humans wanted to engage in sex and they deserved to have actual education on the subject so they can keep their sex lives fun and safe.

"That is absolutely false. Anal sex is sex, and it counts. That is just a stupid ploy perpetuated by stupid boys who want girls to sleep with them. It can be pleasurable when done correctly, but for your first time it will feel so much better right here," she said as she slid her fingers down between her legs.

Jan blushed. “Sorry it’s all just so new to me. But I trust you. And I want you.”

"You don't have to apologize, lovely." She kissed her again. "Also, tell me if anything gets too intense, okay. I don't want you to think you don't have a say in your own pleasure."

Jan nodded. “Thank you. Shall we get started?” She didn’t know how to do it but she trusted Rosé.

"Of course, love~ But I will warn you, my anatomy is not the same as yours, or any human's honestly. I mean, I can mimic it to be that way, but normally it's like this," she said, letting her tentadick come forth and rub against her.

Jan gasped. “Oh!” She hadn’t expected it to be able to stroke her on its own. Did men have that in their pants too?? She bit her lip. “Will I... will I get pregnant?”

"No, babe, I'll make sure of that. Magick and all. And to answer your other question, because I know you're thinking it, no men don't have this," she told her with a smug smirk. As if a man could live up to what she was about to give her.

Jan blushed. “You can read my mind?”

"No, not really, but I just knew you were thinking about that." She chuckled a little as she continued to tease Jan. Still rubbing at her, wanting her to be a whining, desperate mess before pushing inside.

"How much do you want this, baby?"

Jan blushed. “Oh.” She rocked her hips, loving how it felt at her entrance. “I want it so badly,” she purred. “I’ve never felt this good before.”

"That's my girl."

Rosé started to enter her inch by inch, making sure she was okay as she gave her shallow thrusts at first. She wanted to make sure Jan could take it before going deeper. Rosé could tell that Jan was already completely hers, and she couldn't help but to let that go to her ego, just a little bit.

"Goddamn you feel so good."

Jan scooted down so that Rosé could get deeper into her, so eager for it all. She felt... full but in the best way possible, loving the sensations of Rosé pushing inside her slowly. “Ohhh you do too!”

Rosé's movements started to quicken, and she gave it to her somewhat rougher, still being careful of the fact that this was her first time. Of course, Jan was doing nothing but moaning her head off and Rosé took that as a sign to keep going, increasing her pace little by little. "I've heard you're quite the vocalist~ Let's see how loud I can make you sing."

Jan wasn’t ashamed of the sounds she made, didn’t even know that was a thing most people would be ashamed of. As an athlete and a singer, Jan had excellent lung capacity and vocal abilities. “You want me to sing for you?” She asked breathily, so caught up in the pleasure of it all.

"I mean, I'm going to make you sing regardless."

Rosé grabbed her hips and started to fuck her hard now that she was worked open and oh so willing to take it all. Watching Jan's eyelids flutter closed, her mouth open with such sweet sounds coming from it, along with her nice tits bouncing with each thrust made Rosé love this even more. She wasn't sure what to expect with Jan being so closed off from sex, and so innocent at first, but now? Now, she was sure she'd end up like Denali and Mik.

Jan raised her hips up to meet Rosé’s thrusts, gripping the blankets as she moaned loudly, trying to sing for Rosé just like she wanted, enjoying every second of it all. Jan vaguely wondered if her sisters above could hear her singing out for the demon.

Rosé reached between her legs and started to rub at her, "I want you to cum for me, baby. I want you to cum fucking hard.”

Jan whimpered. She was close but she wanted more. Jan chased Rosé’s touch, crying out loudly as she squirted.

Rosé grabbed her hips and fucked her through it, groaning as she chased her pleasure this time. She'd make her cum again, she'd make her cum three, four times before the night was through at this rate. She knew she was overly sensitive now and it would be so easy to destroy her completely.

Jan gripped her shoulders, clinging to her, desperate for more. She wouldn’t mind if the Devil turned her over and switched so she could take her from behind. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind whatever Rosé wanted to do to her. She was so utterly hers.

Rosé leaned down and murmured in her ear, "Do you want more, baby~?"

“So much more,” Jan panted. She was energized and greedy for more. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

Rosé knew that all the other girls loved it when she turned them over and fucked their brains out, and so she'd do the same for the cute little Catholic girl who just lost her virginity to the Devil herself. That in and of itself was hot as fuck. She pulled out and flipped her over before sliding back in all the way to the hilt.

"Fuck~" Rosé moaned.

Her lips found her neck, kissing the warm skin and giving Jan a little love bite there, just something to remember her by after the fact. She kissed down her shoulder blade and took in all her cute sounds she was making at all the touches and kisses. Rosé sat back up, grabbed her hips and continued to ruin her, able to fuck her even deeper now.

"Fucking take it, take everything I give you. I know you love it, you little slut~”

Jan moaned her pretty little head off, absolutely loving this new position. “Give me everything, please! I’m yours! I’m your little slut!”

"Damn right you are, you and all your sisters love my big cock inside your tight little cunts," she cackled, giving Jan a spank. "Did those uptight nuns ever spank your cute ass with their rulers?"

Jan blushed. “No, I was a good girl.”

"I'm not even surprised by that, you've been such a good girl for me too~"

“I wanna be the best,” she admitted.

"The competitive type then, I take it?" Rosé chuckled.

“I played soccer for years,” she confirmed. “I always like to win. I have to be the best.”

Rosé couldn't help but to snicker a little, oh playing on her competitive nature would be fun. But perhaps another time, for now she just wanted her to feel good and cum as many times before she was completely exhausted.

Jan had to wonder if Denali had been like this too, as her sister was just as competitive as she was. But she didn’t really want to think about her right now when she had this lovely devil absolutely destroying her in the best way.

“Harder, please!”

She grabbed the back of Jan's neck and shoved her face into the pillows as she fucked even harder, not holding back. She knew at this point Jan wanted every single thing she had to give and that she could take it. It was cute how Jan went from blushing virgin who had never even been kissed to a moaning little slut wanting the devil's cock to destroy her pussy. It was a wonderful turn of events.

Jan didn’t stop to think about anything but the pleasure of the moment. She’d never realized sex could be like this. Why had she been denied this for so long? She didn’t want to give this up.

“Are you only around for initiations?” she inquired.

Rosé snickered, "No, baby, I can fuck you whenever you want~ Well, as long as someone else doesn't have me already."

Jan pouted. She definitely needed to be the best now. She pushed herself back into Rosé thrusts, trying to get her as deep as possible. “But I need you,” she moaned.

Rosé knew damn well that little quip would bring out her competitive nature. She had to wonder if Jan and Denali would try to compete for her tentadick, that would be amusing to say the least. "Don't worry, baby, if you really think that I can't satisfy you and all your sorority sisters, then you don't know me at all."

“Oh I have no doubts you can satisfy me. Or anyone lucky enough to share your bed.” Jan just wanted it to be her all the time.

"Is someone feeling a little selfish? A little envious~? A little lustful?" she purred in her ear. "That's cute~ Give in to all those feelings, baby."

Jan knew this was a sin... many sins actually, but she didn’t care. She needed Rosé to want her as badly as she wanted her. “Yes. I want you so badly. I don’t want to have to give you up. I wanna keep going as long as I physically can.”

"I can go all night, darling, and you know I will give in to any temptation~" Rosé purred. And she would, she'd give it to her as long as she could stand it, but she knew that Jan was getting to the point of exhaustion just by the energy that vibrated around her.

Jan kept giving it her all, trying to impress the demon with how much she could get it, but she was definitely tired. She’d cum... five times? six? She’d lost count. But she wanted to be the one the demon came to. This was the demon she’d cling to. She’d made her choice. “Rosé!” she cried out.

Rosé had held off long enough and she was full on animalistic, and she grabbed Jan's hips and fucked her hard until she came just as hard inside her. She fucked her through her orgasm until she was completely spent. "Fuck... goddamn that sweet cunt of yours was amazing."

Jan panted, utterly spent. She’d cum so hard when the demon did that she barely registered the words and could only moan in affirmation. She reached for Rosé, for her hand, for some kind of affirmation that she’d done well.

Rosé pressed a kiss to the back of her head and murmured in her ear, "You were wonderful, babe~"

Jan attempted to turn around but she couldn’t quite manage. She just wanted to face the demon and be held by her for a bit.

She pulled out of her and laid down beside her, pulling her close and giving her a kiss on the forehead. Despite who she was, she sure as fuck wasn't going to leave a girl alone with no aftercare. After all, she was a hedonist, she wasn't evil.

Jan snuggled closer, kissing the crook of Rosé’s neck where she’d curled into. She needed the closeness.

"You doing okay babe?"

Jan nodded. “I just need you to hold me for a bit...”

"Of course, lovely. I'm not just going to leave you."

Jan smiled. “That was...” she didn’t quite have the words for it but she offered a soft smile. It was incredible, pleasurable, and so much more than Jan had ever expected it to be. She hadn’t anticipated losing her virginity to a demon... but that was something she’d have to come to terms with later. Right now she just wanted to cuddle.

"Mmm, just rest, baby." Rosé kissed her forehead and trailed her fingers through her hair. She knew this was a lot for the girl, the sexually repressed Catholic virgin at that. Rosé didn't see it as a ruining, she saw it as an awakening. She always thought it was unfortunate that so many women don't have amazing sex, that they settle for mediocre, or even bad sex, that they don't know how to ask for it, or to pleasure themselves. She also hated the fact that so many women didn't get the aftercare they needed after intense sex, but that is exactly why she wanted to open the eyes of these women.

Jan drifted off, feeling safe and cherished in the arms of the demon.

Rosé pressed another kiss to her forehead, letting her rest against her, knowing that she was exhausted after that rigorous session. She was glad that Jan got to experience this, and that she enjoyed it as much as she did. She also couldn't help but to be a little smug about being Jan's first...

Upstairs they got the signal that Jan’s initiation was complete. Denali went with Jackie to go fetch Jan and tuck her in. They took her upstairs and got her into her bed.

Denali climbed in with her and held her close. “I’ll stay with her, Jackie.” Denali couldn’t wait to hear all about Jan’s first time, especially since they’d heard her singing. The story was bound to be good.

[theyungrose]

Chrysanthemums and Daisies (Roman Reigns/Jey Uso X OC)

A/N: More Chrysanthemum and Daisy for the TL today. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Rematches and Realizations

Daisy stayed with Chrysanthemum for the remainder of the show talking with her sister about her match and other things, but not once did she bring up Jey. How could she? The last thing Daisy needed her sometimes holier-than-thou sister believing is that she was only focused on finding love, especially her first night on her show. Not only that, from the looks of whatever intense exchange her sister and Roman had before she walked in, that part of the locker room wasn’t really friendly territory. At least to her. 

Still, she couldn’t forget the gentleness in his chocolate eyes, the smooth velvety feel of his skin, or the dreamy butter voice he spoke to her in; even for those few seconds. Admittedly Jey hurt her feelings a little bit with the way he reacted to her after her match, it’d brought her down from her victory high quite a bit. Could she blame him though? His cousin was a tyrant. 

“What boy are you thinking about now Daisy?” 

Chrysanthemum lightly hit Daisy over the head with a beanie before pulling it over her head.

“No one...”

“My ass little girl, who is it?” 

Daisy giggled jumping off her big sister’s desk. Chrysanthemum was the perfect balance of mom figure and older sister when she wanted to be, a trait she had perfected over the years. 

“There’s no boy mom. He’s a man.” 

With her back turned Daisy couldn’t see Chrysanthemum roll her eyes playfully. She had to see Daisy finding a love interest here coming, she found love interests everywhere. She was in love with the idea of love, and as cute and sweet as that was, it was just as dangerous. 

“Well you make sure this man doesn’t become the reason I have to yell at you too. I was so proud watching my sister’s hand get raised for the first time on my brand.”

The duo continued to suit up for the cold December air awaiting them outside. Right before they were about to leave, Daisy decided to run to the bathroom one last time.

“Daisy I will leave you here if you’re not back in five minutes.”

Daisy grinned kissing her sister on the cheek.

“You won’t though.” 

In all honesty, Daisy was actually looking to use the bathroom before the flight back to Georgia, but the smallest part of her hoped Jey was still here. Hopefully he wouldn’t regard her the same way if he was.

“Daisy...” 

See? All it took was a little patience. 

Jey had almost missed her, Daisy was on her way back to her sister’s office when he ran into her at the end of the hallway. He was dressed to leave himself, decked out in a black beanie and heavy black winter coat.

“I thought I had missed you.”

Daisy just smiled as she looked up at him, hopefully he didn’t find her slight infatuation with him creepy or disturbing. 

“Almost, I was just about to leave.”

Jey leaned against the wall they were standing next to, admiring the smaller woman in front of him. He tried hard not to make it too obvious, but he couldn’t help it. From the moment her small hand had touched him the way she did when they first met, it was as if she’d placed him under a magic spell. Her beauty enthralled him, the soft tone she spoke in sounded like singing in his ears, and he was sure those emerald green irises could tame a savage beast.

She herself, was magic. 

“I’m sorry about how I reacted to you earlier, when you tried to talk to me. I know you were only trying to help.” 

Daisy nodded clasping her hands in front of her.

“I know. It must be hard having to live with that everyday.” 

“It’s torture actually.” 

Daisy felt the urge to reach out and touch him but she quelled it, partially scared of how he might react. She yearned to comfort him though, to take some of that heavy burden away. 

“He acts like this around family too. Not just my brother, everyone. I’ll never understand how you can just turn on family like that, as if we weren’t here for you when no one else was.” 

Jey’s head began to droop again, and just like he’d secretly hoped for, her hand lifted it back up again, bringing his eyes back to hers.

“I’m sorry Jey, that must be terrible. No one deserves to be treated that way.” 

Jey responded with a soft smile, avoiding his mistake from earlier tonight and allowing her hand to stay there for as long as she wanted to. 

“Do you have a ride to the airport? I assume your heading home for the weekend.” 

Only then did it occur to Daisy that Chrysanthemum was still waiting on her, probably with smoke fuming from her ears as she was not one to wait. 

“Yeah I am, I have a flight to Atlanta in a few hours actually. As for the ride, if you’re offering...” 

“I’m on my way to the A too. There’s this little underground burger spot I know about where we can wait until morning.”

Daisy grinned tucking her hair behind her ears. This wasn’t an opportunity she was going to give up by a long shot, even for a road trip with her sister. They had plenty of times for those, and she figured without having to go the extra mile to drop her at the airport, Chrysanthemum could stay here in Maryland where she lived. 

Unfortunately, big sister didn’t share the same sentiment.

“What do you mean you have a ride? Who are you riding with?”

Daisy was never one to lie to her sister, but this time she knew her late night date with Jey depended on it, and while sisters always came before misters, tonight, quite frankly it was quiet for all that. 

“I’m gonna drive myself to the airport. That way you don’t have to make the extra trip.”

Chrysanthemum raised her eyebrow crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Little girl, I drove you here today. How are you going to drive yourself anywhere?” 

Now, Chrysanthemum was no dummy. She could add two and two and get four; whatever guy had her deep in her thoughts a short while ago obviously had found her while she went to go pee (or she found him) and now she wanted to ride with him instead. A silly and hasty decision on the part of her sister, but not one she could fault her for. She was lovesick and young one time too. 

“I know that look, that means you understand. Thank you sis I love you!”

Daisy ran up to her sister and wrapped her in a tight hug, placing a long kiss on her cheek before grabbing up the rest of her things. Chrysanthemum didn’t say anything as she packed, but right before she ran out the door she spoke up. 

“Daisy.”

Daisy stopped mid-stride before her handle could touch the door, silently praying Chrysanthemum hadn’t changed her mind. 

“Does he know we’re sisters?” 

Daisy glanced over her shoulder, noting the subtle worry on her older sister’s face. 

“No of course not. No one does.” 

Chrysanthemum nodded giving her a small smile. 

“Keep it that way.

The conversations between Jey and Daisy seemed to stretch on for hours. She loved the way he chuckled a bit at his own jokes, and he loved the way her eyes were focused only on him the entire time he spoke. Being the quieter twin of the Uso duo, he wasn’t used to that much attention, but Daisy watched and listened to him as if he was the most intriguing man on this Earth. And to her, he was. 

Admittedly, Jey would be lying if he said it didn’t surprise him how fast Daisy took to him. Daisy was gorgeous, absolutely stunning to be exact, she had the kindest spirit he’d ever come across, and with those green eyes she could have any man she looked at. Yet, here she was with him. Jey didn’t want to imagine how different life would be if he’d never taken the time to talk to her earlier, or if he hadn’t found her before she left the arena. He wondered what good karma allowed the universe to bless him so. 

“Why are you staring at me?” 

Her soft voice pulled Jey from the trance he’d unknowingly fallen into while speaking to her, and he realized that he was indeed staring at her with his chin propped up on his hand. 

“Sorry Daisy I didn’t mean to stare. I think I just got lost in your aura for a moment...you’re just magical girl.” 

Daisy smiled softly, pushing her chair back so she could rise from her seat. Jey looked at her questioningly as she slid her warm hand into his, urging for him to stand with her. Slow holiday music played from the speakers in the bar’s walls, and as she pulled him under the ambient lighting in the middle of the space, Jey realized that she was silently asking him for a dance. 

There were a few other superstars from Smackdown gathered in the bar with them, but as Jey glanced around at them no one seemed to be paying much attention. Daisy smiled into his chest as his body finally relaxed against hers and his free hand slid along her side to cup her back. Now closer to her than ever before, Jey took in the notes of vanilla and amber in her scent. The softness of her straight hair against his cheek. 

It was then that Jey started to realize the magic he held in his arms, and soon he was convinced that meeting her tonight was no coincidence. Daisy was a free, gentle spirit, warmth and love exuded from the depths of her being, and Jey knew then and there he only wanted that warmth and love for himself. She was a fragile snowflake that had tumbled down from the heavens into his hands, and he would protect his fragile snowflake with his life if he had to.

He would hold her in his hands forever, just as he did now. 

Meanwhile, Daisy couldn’t have been any happier. She’d trusted this feeling from the moment she felt it, and her intuitions had not misled her. She knew the energies that drew her into this man was not to be ignored, and now here in his arms, she felt safer than she’d ever been. His arms around her were like her favorite comforter wrapped around her naked body with the heat going.

There couldn’t be a more perfect ending to this perfect day.

*****

Fast forward a few days and it was Monday Night Raw, and as promised Roman interrupted McIntyre in the middle of his promo and demanded a rematch from Survivor Series. Drew didn’t pass up the opportunity, and with a few verbal jabs there was security overcrowding the ring to keep the two men from tearing the other to shreds.

It would have to wait until the end of the night.

Roman knew in the back of his head that this wasn’t a good idea, and Paul surely wasn’t allowing him to forget. He knew Drew was almost an impossible feat to overcome, he’d barely succeeded the first time. He knew this. To attempt it twice was simply put, a stupid idea. Nonetheless, Roman was here strapping up for his match because he had something to prove.

More specifically, something to prove to her.

Chrysanthemum had occupied the Samoan’s mind since the last time they spoke. As a man, a woman that attempts to challenge his power should offend him, and offend him strongly. Yet, when Chrysanthemum spoke, even as she was ripping him a new ass, he was undeniably drawn to her.

Her power matched his, only his. The way she walked and carried herself through life, he admired it. She was the alpha female if he’d ever seen one, and the only one worthy enough to hold her hand was the hand of the Chief.

When he reached the gorilla for his main event match, he was pleasantly surprised to find her standing in the corner beside the curtains. Even more surprising, she’d changed her hair. The usual raven black was now mixed with a light honey blonde, the splash of color bringing out the bright features of her face.

“I’m assuming you’re here to watch your champ go main event?”

Chrysanthemum smirked at his cocky tone, on a worse night it would’ve pissed her off, but even she would admit she was happy to see him.

“Actually I’m surprised you showed up at all. You’re usually more stubborn than this, at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Chrysanthemum had been this close to him on Friday, but this time he was shirtless. Hair wet down his chest and shoulder, dripping water down his abs. It was a little bit harder to maintain her composure. At least a smidge.

“Well I’ve got something to prove to you tonight little mama, and I’m never one to disappoint.”

At the end of the day Chrysanthemum was still a boss woman. She was here only to represent her broken brand and bring some power and respect back to it, which was the only thing Roman needed to focus on. This wasn’t about whatever Roman was trying to make it about, and she would show him mercy if-and only if- he walked out of here the victor tonight on his own. Polynesian God or not.

He was still just a man.

Roman noted the sudden straight expression that covered Chrysanthemum’s face, and secretly he hoped he hadn’t offended her.

“Don’t call me little, Reigns. And don’t embarrass me either. I’d hate to walk out of here with a loser.”

Just then Roman’s music echoed through the Superdome.

“I think that’s you’re cue...champ.”

Roman smirked down at her as they walked past each other, him towards the curtains and her towards the computer monitors. They shared one last glance as she sat down at a desk and pulled a headset over her ears. With those full pink lips she mouthed...

Make me proud.

And boy did he.

As promised, Roman gave Drew the ass whooping of a lifetime. It was like watching a man with nothing to lose yet all the world to prove, and Chrysanthemum loved every second. He dominated damn near the whole match, and in the small moments where it looked like Drew had the upper hand, he came back ten times harder.

As soon as he hit Drew with a deadly spear in middle of the ring, Chrysanthemum knew it was over. But its when he didn’t go for a pin, that’s when she knew she had him wrapped up like a toy on Christmas. 

When Drew finally stood up Roman nailed him with another spear more deadly than the first one. Then with a white fire in his eye Roman hit him with a third, nearly snapping the poor Irishman in half.

“That’s a man on a mission there.” One of the producers said.

Chrysanthemum could only giggle and grin to herself, knowing she was the reason why.

@lavitabella87​ @oncetwiceandoveragain​ @msbigredmachine​ @stellarollins​

@saccreigns​ @fatedxdestiny​ @thewrestlingobsessor​ @bigpsychicbagelauthor @jasmine03322​

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 158 prt 1

158

Lance’s scan went well. Their twins were doing well, better than Lance felt at any rate. He and Keith had gone shopping. Keith had sprung it on him after the scan results were positive. Confused as to where his boyfriend was taking him, as it clearly wasn’t back to the apartment or Garrison, Lance had started crying when Keith’s surprise became clear. He’d been worrying himself over what had been said in the toilets. Worrying that Keith would work it out, and no longer love him. Neither of them had been “gay” before meeting each other. Lance wasn’t sure what to describe his sexuality as. Men were hot. Women were hot. He could appreciate both, but Keith was a whole next level batting out of his league kind of deal. Keith might be tall, broad, grizzled and sexy as all heck, but he was so much more than that. He was funny. He was smart, funny, coffee addicted, and there wasn’t anything he’d change about his boyfriend.

Heading into the store, Lance knew it took a lot of courage on Keith’s behalf. The store’s car park had been pretty full, large signs in the windows declared some kind of sale. Keith grabbed a shopping cart, anything he liked his boyfriend wanted to buy. Lance felt the exact same way... Even if he was the more practical one of the two. The vampire only had a couple of rules for their shopping trip; practicality came first and they didn’t need super duper fancy when something simple would do the job.

Steered away from the cute onesies, Lance once again was clueless. There was so much to look at, his hands resting on his baby bump, trying to take everything in. That’s when he realised. Keith was leading him to maternity clothes and he could have kissed his boyfriend for it. There was absolutely no way to hide his bump now. The clothes Keith had bought him only just covering the roundness of his stomach. Tears rolled down his face, excited as heck for new clothes that’d fit his changing body. Keith misinterpreting his tears, trying to stutter out asking what was wrong as Lance tried to reassure him they were happy tears.

Though feeling self conscious as he looked at all the flowery and flowing materials, Keith urged him to pick whatever he wanted. He’d always dressed himself somewhat neatly, much preferring the fashion of now to short short and jeans that suffocated his testicles. He couldn’t help but blush hard at putting in a couple of maternity bra’s. He didn’t exactly have breasts, but he didn’t not at the same time. Keith seemed to love them. Especially during sex where he’d hold Lance’s breasts instead of his hips. His boyfriend was definitely more okay with the changes in Lance’s body than Lance was, but that was okay because it meant Keith still accepted him for him and not his body.

The next wave of tears hit hard as they looked at cots. Lance wanted a room the twins could grow in. Some place filled with love and comfort, he was hit with wondering if Krolia wanted the same when she was pregnant with Keith. She’d probably had so many hopes and dreams, without the thought of having to abandon him in the future. Noticing Keith staring down into the crib, he moved to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. This had to be hard for Keith. To be wondering the same thing. To have spent years thinking his mother didn’t love him. Nuzzling into Keith, Keith turned his face to kiss Lance on the forehead. The gesture soft and sweet, making Lance smile with the amount of love he felt for his boyfriend. He loved Keith, and he loved being with him, but lately he’d found himself really needing time with his Gremlin. Pidge might not be overly maternal, yet she gave him a level of comfort that he longed for. That his sister would come to his house threw things out of whack. Pidge was more of a sister to him than his own sisters.

“You worried about being a daddy?”

Nosing Keith’s cheek, Lance knew he was. Keith had been acting a little strange in the way he was ignoring Krolia. Shiro mentioned Krolia called because Keith wasn’t picking up his phone. Lance left to wonder if it was because he wanted to go back to the house or if Keith had other things on his mind. He wanted to be able to chalk it all down to this planned surprise but that didn’t feel entirely right. The only logical conclusion he had was that Keith was internally panicking over being a daddy all over again

“I don’t know if I can be a good dad. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to choose a cot... like... what if I choose wrong? What if they die because I chose wrong?”

That was being a tad dramatic

“All of them have to conform to a certain safety standard these days. I was looking online a little and you can get cots that convert to toddler beds”

“That sounds like a smart idea. I’m sorry, this was my idea but I don’t even know where to start”

“We start with the basics. Shit, shower and sleep. So, cots, a baby bath, and I don’t think we really need a change table”

Keith snorted with laughter

“I don’t think you have to be so blunt”

“I’m just saying, they’re like the real basics we need”

“We haven’t even picked a theme or a colour for the nursery”

“Maybe we can choose it together based on the furniture? The only thing I was going to keep in there was the chest of drawers”

That made sense, right? Like repainting a wall to highlight a certain picture... Then again, decoration wasn’t Keith’s strong point. Red on black, with more black was how his boyfriend rolled

“But... like... bedding? How do we pick bedding?”

As long as it wasn’t black, Lance wasn’t fussy

“That’s easy. If it’s soft and nice it comes home with us”

“I don’t think it works that way”

“It does now. You’re going to be the greatest daddy to our twins. I know you don’t believe it, but I firmly do”

“I feel... out of my depth”

If only Keith could peek inside his mind and see how unalone he was with those thoughts. Keith was blissfully ignorant to his internal struggles with his boyfriend being labeled by an idiot. Shiro had been right. Each time he’d started to feel shitty about Keith being slandered, all he had to do was think about everything good inside Keith and how that idiot had no clue about his boyfriend

“So do I. I had a bit of practice growing up, before Luis became a dick. We’ll work everything out together”

And they did. Keith found a convertible bed he like while Lance found a change table he absolutely loved. There were drawers. Drawers and an inbuilt bin. The second he saw it he knew it was a game changer. Fluttering his eyelashes at his boyfriend, Keith snatched up to of the paper slips for the cots before jogging over to him. Lance hadn’t meant to wander away. The change table completely to blame as it lured him over.

Looking the piece of furniture up and down, Keith frowned at him

“I thought you didn’t want a change table”

That frown wasn’t bring down Lance’s excitement. If anything he was more determined to show Keith how fucking cool it was

“I didn’t know I needed a change table. Look at this beast! Look at it. There’s drawers. Drawers! They didn’t have this stuff when I was growing up and it has a bin!”

“What do we need a bin for?”

“Nappies, obviously! And wipes... Babe, I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with a piece of furniture so fast, and it’s white so it matches the beds”

Only in colour. The style was more curved, but with the right accessories it’d blend right in. Plus, he needed it. He needed it more than he needed blood. Every molecule of his being seemed to be vibrating with excitement over how much of game changer this really was. He loved his old drawer, but this... It was more a case of “Drawers? What drawers?”

Keith sighed at him in an overly exaggerated way, he was winning. Keith was caving

“If that’s what you want...”

Lance nearly squealed, yet as much as he wanted it... needed it, he wasn’t going to disregard Keith’s opinion

“Only if it’s what you want”

“They said online something about “Push Presents”. Do you want a push present?”

Lance knew he’d done plenty of research, and he knew Keith was the same, yet it still thrilled him Keith was researching all things baby. He didn’t really need a push present. Their twins were enough. Them alive and breathing, that was it

“I don’t need a push present, but I think I need this change table. No. I know we need this... I mean, look how practical it is! Babe, look at it!”

Keith laughed softly, Lance stepping back so his boyfriend could inspect the change table as he gestured wildly towards it. Keith’s eyes widening at the amount of space in the drawers as he checked the depth of the top two

“Seeeeeee. Think of all the supplies we could fit in there”

“We have to buy the supplies first”

Pffft. At this stage Lance was happy enough to buy it simply to look at it

“Good thing we’re at a baby super store...”

Keith tried to hide his smile, coughing to clear his throat, before giving up with a shake of his

“Alright. We’re doing it. Cross change table off the list. We’re getting one of these bad boys... Holy heck, the bin bit has a latch. Kosmo’s going to have a hard time getting past that”

Keith was hooked! Lance knew it! That squeal escaping out his nose, Keith raising an eyebrow at the weird sound. Pfft. Keith already knew he was dating a weirdo, a very excited weirdo

“I know! Whoever designed this needs a medal. So if we get this, then the bedding, and the supplies we need most when I pop, that’s like almost everything”

If he popped tomorrow they’d be basically prepared. Not that he intended to. He wanted these two to bake as a long as they could

“What else do you want to get?”

“A rug, and a bookcase... oh, and a chair. I definitely want a chair in there for nursing”

For nursing and “sleeping” in on sleepless nights. In his mind he could see Keith sitting in the chair, reading their twins their bedtime stories, or holding one of their twins for a bottle feed

“That sounds smart. Okay. Done. Where do we buy a chair from?”

Lance smiled at his boyfriend as Keith looked over the display of cots and bedding. With how large the store was, he wouldn’t be surprised if they did have rugs, bookcases and chairs, probably with a high price tag...

“From a furniture store. They’re not hugely necessary items, and we’re not going to have room in the back of the my baby once we get the boxes for the cots and the change table”

“Do you think they’ll deliver?”

The cots, or the chair? Either way, Garrison was outside of almost every free delivery zone. He knew from experience, but happy to spend the money if he really needed to

“If you want to pay a $250 delivery fee”

“Fuck that. I could probably ask Hunk if we can use his dad’s Ute”

Lance loved Hunk’s dad. He was as easy going as Hunk, but he didn’t want to ask for a favour without being there in person

“Or we could save it for the next time we’re in Platt, it’s only two weeks, and by then we should have an idea of colours to match with”

“That’s like super smart. Okay, so we need bedding next?”

“Mattresses too...”

“They don’t come with a mattress?”

“Some do, some don’t. I want to try and find one with a removable cover”

“They have removable covers?”

Keith seemed extremely shocked by this. Lance could only hang his head. It was like the first time Keith discovered the waterproof mattress protector on their bed. He’d been so confused until Lance had gently pointed out wet spots happened and he’d rather them not happen to his mattress. That and when Blue brought him presents he didn’t want squashed entrails on his mattress either.

Kissing Keith’s cheek, Lance then nodded

“Yep. Trust me, you’ll thank me the first time you have to clean shart sheets”

“Our twins are going to be perfect”

“Babies poop, babe. Fact of life”

“But they’re only small”

Boy was Keith in for a surprise. Good thing Lance hadn’t mentioned projectile vomiting and sometimes stuff came out both ends at once

“And sometimes they make a huge mess. I’ll save the first one just for you”

Wrinkling his nose, Keith looked as if the spell of excitement over their twins had been broken

“You don’t have to”

“Nope. You insisted”

“Well don’t let me do it again”

“I make no promises”

*

Garrison. Keith was grateful to be home again. Lance had been texting on the drive home, Keith finding out who when Hunk and Pidge had been waiting for them at the house. Volunteering Hunk to help unload, Lance was whisked away by Pidge. Keith somewhat glad Lance hadn’t insisted on helping with the heavy lifting. His boyfriend had loudly proclaimed he was beached this morning, while laying on his back with his belly out. The scan might have gone well, but Coran had done a lot of “ahhing” and “ohhhhing” and telling Lance to get plenty of rest, while not explaining anything to the pair of them. Though Keith had planned to take Lance shopping, he’d upped the schedule to distract his boyfriend from whatever Coran could possibly mean.

Opening up the back of the Bronco, Hunk’s eyes widened at the game of Tetris Keith had played in the back to fit everything in. Each cot had two boxes, the change table had three, then there were two mattresses, three tins of paint, a fly screen door Keith had no idea what for, plus the baby clothes, bedding, Lance’s clothes, the small amount of shopping they’d done for home, as well as nappies and wipes. Both of them had spent a fair chunk today, without buying the chair, bookcase, or rug Lance wanted for the room. Keith understood how Hunk was speechless, the hunter also somewhat speechless at the pile of shopping to be brought in and sorted.

Explaining the pile, Keith pointed as he talked

“The big boxes are for the nursery and the bags need to go to into the living room. Lance wants to wash everything before he puts things away. If it’s food, well, you know...”

Hunk cutting him off as he eyed the very top of the pile

“Is that a door?”

Yep. The stupid thing kept sliding forward to smack him in the back of the head every damn time he braked. Lance wouldn’t explain, saying it’d become obvious if he was patient

“Lance wanted it. He got distracted at the hardware store”

“I’m not going to ask...”

“You know he probably heard you ask”

Hunk groaned

“That’s not fair, man. And how dare you guys decide you’re staying in Platt without telling us about your date”

Lance had mentioned in passing that he missed his Gremlin. Unloading the bronco would leave Pidge and Lance to have some sibling time together. Keith knew he’d been thinking a lot about Lance’s sister showing up, which meant Lance had to be thinking about it at least twice as much

“I bet that’s what Lance is telling Pidge all about. Seeing you haven’t been to Platt, Lance brought home papers for Shay to sign. Basically the usual “she’s not going to tell anyone he’s pregnant””

“That’s usual?”

Okay, maybe not the usual... Lance said he’d sit down with Shay and explain things, and that the conversation was well over due. Hunk had dropped it on them so semi casually that old Keith would have flipped

“Nope. If you want to grab that top box, I’ll grab the one next to it”

Hunk looked the pile of shopping up and down

“That door’s gotta come out first. Did you guys just buy everything?”

“Not quite everything. Lance did get caught up looking at kitchen sinks”

Hunk didn’t laugh. Keith secretly quite proud of the joke. Lance would have laughed. He would have teased him about about understanding universal jokes better than he had when they met. Maybe even made a joke about “Who needs a kitchen sink when I can tap you?”. He missed Lance.

Talking as they unloaded, Keith found out he’d missed nothing much happening at the garage, other than Hunk’s dad looking for him when he hadn’t come in. Spending time with Hunk was pretty cool. Hunk knew enough to be a hell of a mechanic if he’d wanted to, so it’d been easy to discuss bike specs with him over Keith’s baby. The new exhaust pipe he’d ordered hadn’t arrived yet, the shipment delayed, but from the way Hunk filled him in he could tell the big guy had missed having him around. It was nice to feel missed, even if it twinged at him that Matt had gotten the job he’d hoped to apply for. Lance was right, he was made for being hands on.

There was a certain feeling of accomplishment that came with fixing each part of his bike up. According to Coran’s schedule he’d be starting back as a hunter in March. Coran hoped to have everything in place for summoning the demon out of Curtis by then, then he’d be a trio with Shiro and Curtis, instead of simply partners with his brother. Lance had asked Coran about what went into summoning out a demon, and Keith promptly became lost when it came to things that needed to be brewed.

He’d tried to pay attention for Shiro’s sake since it was his future brother-in-law’s life at stake, yet Lance seemed to have a better grip on how it’d all go down. He’d meant to ask Shiro and Curtis to come stay a few days before the summoning, yet forgot thanks to “baby brain”. The store had been pretty intimidating. As was the three missed calls from Krolia on his phone. Keith knew he couldn’t keep ignoring Krolia, but Krolia seemed to think he wanted to rush into proposing to Lance, leaving him agitated that she was meddling again.

Speaking of proposing, he’d also had a kind of crazy idea. Miriam’s rings were where they should be, but part of him wished he’d had them for when the time felt right to propose to his boyfriend. While Lance had slept, Keith had worked. He’d found every photo he had of Miriam, cropping things down until he had a clear mental picture of how her ring had been designed. His intention now was to save back up and find a jeweller in Platt able to recreate Miriam’s wedding ring, with his own tiny twist in it. Instead of three diamonds, he wanted 5 stones. 2 amethysts and two sapphires, with a diamond in the middle. Lance would realise the significance the moment he saw the ring. Or, at least, that was Keith’s hope. Never had anyone managed to reassure him about the unique colouration of his eyes like Lance did. Amethyst the closest stone he was probably going to be able to get, while he hoped he’d be able to find sapphires close to Lance’s own eye colour.

“Earth to Keith, you in there, Bud?”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Keith nodded as he straightened up. Having Hunk cut down on the number of trips up and down the stairs, but damn if he didn’t feel weaker than he had been

“Sorry, I was off thinking about the future”

“Was it interesting?”

“Mildly. What’s up?”

“I asked if I should just leave the bag of nappies up here? I grabbed them with the second mattress”

“Oh, yeah. That’d be awesome. You’ve got to see the change table when it’s set up. Lance is love with it. This thing is awesome”

Hunk chuckled at him

“I thought Lance was adamant about not having one. He told me he didn’t want one when we asked”

All their friends had asked what they wanted or needed. Being their firstborns, Keith and Lance both wanted to prove that they could support their growing family without the need of gifting. Keith particularly felt the need to overcompensate as he’d never had any real family experience until Shiro

“He didn’t until today. You should have seen the look on his face. He seemed ready to commit murder if he didn’t get the change table”

“I’m sure he wasn’t that bad”

Maybe not, but I’d been love at first sight for his boyfriend. Lance thinking he’d been turning on the charm to sway Keith, the joke on his boyfriend as Keith was very readily swayed by his lover

“He would have carried the one from the store home if he had to”

Hunk laughed openly as they both imagined that. Lance really would have. He’d probably even say it wasn’t at all heavy

“Is it bad I can see that? That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Keith snorted, smile wide

“Not really. Lance can be very determined”

“Man, don’t even go there. He’s almost as stubborn as you are about not letting us know about this date of yours. I know you took photos. Lance said there were photos”

“Only on my phone. We’re lucky half the zoo didn’t come home with us. Did you know he has no problem with snakes? He’s jus like “Yep, that’s a bit snake. I’m gonna touch it””

“I don’t need to know what you two get up to in private”

Keith was stunned. Slack jaw stunned. Their little Hunk was going there

“Oh man, don’t tell me I broke you”

“I’m not broken. Lance is going to lecture me about corrupting you with all the time we’ve spent together lately”

“You’ll have to talk to Shay about that one. No offence, dude, but she’s the one”

“None taken. If this is everything, we can collapse now, right?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve got some ice tea in the fridge”

Keith hadn’t been an “ice tea person” until he’d met Lance. Lance barely made ice tea, but Hunk... Hunk was their culinary god. Not that he’d tell Lance. Lance’s cooking was so amazing he was sure he was getting fat. Fat and lazy... He liked being mostly a home husband without the whole constantly fearing for his life. He liked having good people to come back to, no matter how far he want, they always welcomed him back

“Hunk, you are a god... You know this right? I don’t know how I can thank you for everything. We keep up and leaving... but... you guys...”

“Aw, man! Bring it in!”

Hugging Hunk, they both wrinkled their noses at how sweaty they were from lugging everything upstairs

“Dude, we need showers”

That they did. A cold shower would be just the thing to wash away the heat in Keith’s cheeks. He and Hunk had hugged before, but this hug had him feeling a little self conscious. The day had been long, shopping wiped him out much more than than thinking about his dwindling bank account

“You can go first. I should check on Lance”

“I don’t mind if I do. The tea’s in the fridge, all you have to do is pour”

“Thanks... and thanks for helping. Lance probably could have done it all in one trip”

“I don’t know. I think even he might have struggled trying to carry everything”

“Well... maybe. He would have tried though”

“This is true. Okay, I’m gonna hit the shower. Don’t forget the tea”

“As if I could”

Being polite Keith grabbed out the serving tray, glasses, and pitcher of tea before carrying them to the living room. Lance was snoring his head off, laying with his head in Pidge’s lap, Pidge shooting him a worried look

“Keith... I think I broke him. He started crying then fell asleep”

Okay. Lance crying wasn’t that unusual. Keith was still learning that tears didn’t mean sadness. Sometimes they just seemed to happen. Lance had cried on the way home because he’d bitten a hole in the straw of his drink... Still, the tray shook slightly in his hands, Keith forcing himself not to rush to put it down on the coffee table and spill everything as he did.

Spilling the tea slightly, the hunter forced down a breath. Pidge was still staring up at him, her hand on Lance’s hair

“I didn’t mean to make him cry. We were talking and he started crying and I didn’t mean to...”

Keith hoped he hadn’t been making a judgemental expression. Pidge adored Lance, she’d never intentionally make Lance cry

“It’s hormones mostly. Should I be worried about what you were talking about?”

“He asked if his sister had been back, then told me how much he’d missed, started crying and fell asleep...”

“Ah...”

Keith mentally groaned. He was terrible at this “comforting people thing” when it wasn’t Lance

“I didn’t mean to”

“It’s not your fault. We’ve had a pretty long day, and this is Lance, he cried a lot even before he fell pregnant”

Pidge snorted before sobering. Keith tried not feel possessive watching Pidge stroke Lance’s hair

“Yeah... I just... didn’t mean to upset him”

“I doubt it was you. Some stuff happened in Platt... Some wanker hurt him for bumping into him and he realised a few things. Trust me when I say it’s really not thanks to anything you’ve done”

“Thanks, Keith. I love him, you know. And did you just say someone hurt him?!”

Lance whined in his sleep, Pidge clamping her free hand over her mouth as they both watched. When it became clear Lance wasn’t about to wake, she slowly moved her hand down, whisper yelling

“Someone hurt him?! What the hell happened?”

“He had a bit of a panic attack, and the guy didn’t appreciate Lance stumbling into him. He’s okay now, but... Actually, I have something to ask you”

Keith was still on the fence about returning to the house. Lance wanted to go. Keith didn’t want to go. He didn’t want Lance committing that place to memory and his nightmares getting worse

“Oh? Actually, I’ve got something to tell you. Lance fell asleep before I could talk to him about it... well, two somethings... You go first”

Pidge had something to tell him? Why did he get the feel he wasn’t going to be happy? She was smiling, but he knew how sharp her teeth could be behind that smile

“You’ve known Lance longer than I have, and I don’t want to fuck this up”