#anyway have some young snow sisters

[delulujuls]

snow scales | cregan stark

hi, here comes the big boy aka the wolf of the north. i know that cregan got like three minutes total on a screen but man, the amount of babies that i would give him

anyway, for sure i want to write probably two more parts of this so watch out!

summary: westeros is at the gates of war and to gain allies, king's landing sends one of its dragons to winterfell to marry the northern wolf and increase the chances of winning the war.

warnings: none (?) i believe

pairing: fem!targtower reader x cregan stark

Westeros stood on the brink of war and no one could prevent it.

Rhaenyra, occupying Dragonstone, was gathering armies and allies around her. Aegon was doing the same, though he was merely a pawn in the hands of those wiser than himself. Nevertheless, the Targaryen family was split in two: one side wore black, the other green. However, it seemed that the Dragon Family had not just split in two but shattered like a broken glass.

One of the dining halls in the Red Keep hosted a silent dinner. Since the king's death, meals had passed in silence. At the head of the table, where Viserys once sat, now sat Aegon. Next to him was his mother, then the Hand of the King. On the new king’s left sat Aemond, followed by their two younger sisters. No one exchanged even a glance.

After dinner, everyone left the table and went their separate ways, but Alicent stopped her older daughter, asking her to have a word. The girl nodded and they went to the mother's chambers.

"Has something happened?" the young princess asked once they were alone. The woman quickly reached for a jug of wine and filled her goblet, taking several large sips. The alcohol, however, did not ease the knot in her throat. Alicent clutched the goblet in her hand and sat down, looking at her daughter. She stared at her for a few moments in silence, as if trying to memorize as many details of her as possible. If she could, she would have imprinted her image on her mind.

"Mother—" "You will go north," Alicent interrupted her, declaring it like a crossbow bolt. She knew this revelation would not be easy for her. Accepting the news would be equally difficult for her daughter.

"What?" the girl frowned. "Me? To the North?"

The woman nodded and sighed, wanting to gather some courage and convince herself that what she was doing was right.

"You know well that war is coming, and even if we wanted to, it is inevitable," she returned her gaze to her daughter’s face, who was looking at her with a slight frown between her brows. "We need allies, and the most are in the North. We must forge an alliance with them."

"Why are you entrusting me with such task?" she asked, shaking her head. "I understand you won't send Aegon, but Aemond? Ser Criston?"

Alicent tightened her grip on the goblet, and if it had been made of a weaker material, it would have shattered in her hand by now.

"Only you can bring the North closer to us."

The young princess frowned even more and shook her head. She didn’t understand any of this.

"Am I to go there alone?" she looked back at her mother, who only nodded. "How long am I to be there?"

"You will marry Cregan Stark," she announced, placing the goblet on her lap. "There is no stronger alliance than marriage. Rhaenyra can do nothing about it."

The girl scoffed in disbelief and took a few steps back.

"This is absurd, utter madness," she believed her mother was joking, but the woman's face still had the same expression. "But you promised me to Aegon!"

"Aegon broke off the engagement," she said, looking at her daughter's face. "He knows it is necessary."

The young princess laughed bitterly, and tears, hot as molten steel, streamed down her cheeks.

"The North will not stand with a usurper, you know that very well!"

"Lord Stark is extremely pleased with the prospect of marrying a Targaryen and eagerly awaits you," she said almost mechanically. She had been repeating this sentence nonstop for days, as if trying to convince herself that what is she doing was right. However, she couldn’t bear to look at her daughter's tear-streaked, bitter face.

"You're a monster," she sobbed, turning and grabbing the door handle.

"We all must sacrifice for the greater good," she said, but her daughter no longer heard her.

The shaken princess hurriedly left the castle, heading to the Dragonpit. She sobbed bitterly, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she heard Vermithor, she quickened her pace, running. When she saw the dragon, her heart momentarily lifted. It broke, however, when she saw the massive collar around the beast’s neck and the heavy chain that bound it. She cried out, reaching out and touching the dragon’s snout.

"What have they done to you?"

The bronze giant looked weakened, likely given a massive dose of something to sedate him during the collaring. The young princess couldn’t believe what her own family was capable of.

"There, it's alright," she ran her hands over his snout, though she herself was shattered into pieces. Sadness, grief, and despair mixed with fury. She walked around the dragon and stood before the collar clasp, grabbing the chain and pulling with all her strength. But even with that, it didn’t budge.

The girl screamed in anger, her scream not sounding like that of a teenager. It sounded like the roar of an enraged dragon, yet even the beast’s roar couldn’t break the brass chains.

"I’m so sorry," the girl sobbed, helplessly kneeling by the beast’s snout and hugging it with all her might. "I’m sorry."

The young princess did not return to the castle. She spent the night in the Dragonpit, nestled against the side of her dragon. She cried until sleep overcame her. Vermithor covered her with his wing.

The next morning, when the Dragonkeepers were ordered to bring the princess, the dragon roared fiercely, not allowing them to approach. The girl woke immediately.

"Princess," one of the men spoke, standing at a distance the dragon permitted. "The queen summons you to the castle."

"She is not the queen," the princess muttered, sniffing. She stood and wiped her face with her hands. She felt tears welling up under her eyelids again. Vermithor sensed her emotions and abandoned his aggressive stance, laying his snout flat on the ground. The girl smiled sadly and hugged the dragon one last time.

"Geros ilas, uēpa raqiros," she said, raising her head and looking at the bronze giant. She tenderly stroked his scales. Bitter tears once again wetted her cheeks, but she wiped them away with a clenched fist. "Nyke jāhor māzigon arlī skori issa jēda māzigon, se hēnkirī īlon jāhor zālagon ry lī qilōni gōntan bisa naejot īlva." (Farewell, old friend. I will return when my time comes, and together we will burn all those who did this to us.)

She walked away, not looking back. She heard the dragon's roar and cry, the clanking of chains, and the flapping of wings. But she left the Dragonpit alone.

At the castle gates, two carriages and about four dozen knights waited, all on horses and in shining armor. Alicent waited by one carriage, accompanied by the Hand of the King. Ser Criston also looked like he was being sent on a journey, probably to make sure than the princess will not run away. However, neither Aegon, Aemond, nor Helaena were among the crowd. The girl felt like spitting in her mother’s and the Hand’s faces. She could only guess that her siblings knew nothing about this. No one could convince her that Aegon had agreed to break the engagement. He might be foolish and reckless, but he loved his sister sincerely. And Helaena? She would never have let her go.

Alicent wanted to say something, reached out to her daughter, but the girl didn’t even look at her. She got into the carriage and slammed the door. She would return and burn them all.

For several days, until the first stop, the young princess didn’t say a word to anyone. She didn’t eat or drink much, which did not go unnoticed by several of her maids who had been sent with her. Fearing the princess planned to starve herself to death, they tried to persuade her to eat at least small amounts. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes not.

As a result, the girl lost a lot of weight during the journey. Her dresses became too large, her eyes sunken, and her hair, once like glowing gold, now resembled spider silk. The princess stopped spending the journey in tears only when the entourage passed Harrenhal. She remained silent, and the feasts thrown by the lords to host her were always the first she left, apologizing and explaining a headache. No one blamed her.

As the entourage moved further, the days grew shorter and the nights colder. Winterfell was near, but the approaching winter was even nearer.

The Targaryen princess reached the northern capital after over two moons.

At the maid's suggestion, the girl donned a thick fur coat, and as soon as she stepped outside her carriage, she was greeted by piercing cold. She had seen snow on the journey, but there was much more of it here, and it still fell from the sky. Lead-colored clouds hung low, and snowflakes swirled in the wind, falling onto the icy ground. They also fell on her snow-like hair, which the frosty wind blew, kissing her cheeks in greeting.

Cregan Stark, the young lord of Winterfell and her future husband, also came to greet her.

The young man was the textbook definition of a Northerner. He was only a little older than her, but his sharp features made him appear more mature than he actually was. The Wolf of the North was over a head taller than her, with broad shoulders and a well-built physique, now covered under a thick fur. The wind tousled his shoulder-length brown hair, and his toughened skin was impervious to the cold. Not like the girl’s cheeks, now rosy as petals of a fresh bloomed flower.

"Princess," he spoke, his voice deep and marked by an accent. "I welcome you to Winterfell."

"My Lord," she forced a smile, though she knew it must have looked more like a grimace. The Dragon Princess was aware that she would have to endure many more forced smiles and artificial courtesies.

The Wolf of the North, however, did not require any courtesy from her. He knew why the girl had been sent to him and what was expected of her; he had even heard rumors of a broken engagement. He decided not to pressure her and let her get used to the new place, to the North. After all, a Dragon had ended up among a pack of Wolves.

The wedding did not wait for the girl to get accustomed to Winterfell; it took place just a few days after her arrival at the Stark stronghold. The Dragon Princess had exchanged only a few formal sentences with the Lord of the North before she had to call him husband. The Godswood, where the wedding was held, had seen many a forced marriage. The girl had even come to terms with the bedding, but the Young Wolf announced that it would not take place.

"Perhaps one day a spark of affection will ignite within you, and you will come to my arms of your own accord," he said when he saw the questioning look on her face.

The night after the wedding, the marriage was spent apart. Every subsequent night was as well.

Days passed, and the young princess gradually came to terms with her new reality. She knew this was her life now, that she was the wife of the Wolf of the North and the Lady of Winterfell. The choice she had been forced into might not have pleased her, but it did not mean it was a bad one.

After some time, the girl began to spend more time outside her chambers. She abandoned reading and took up sewing, helping the servants mend linens and clothes. She insisted on mending her husband's clothes herself, asking that no one else do it for her. Although it was not her duty, every morning and evening she fed the animals. The young princess missed her dragon dearly, but she found joy in spending time with horses, feeding chickens, or petting rabbits.

One of the servants once ran terrified to inform Cregan that the princess was endangering herself with the direwolves. The Lord, worried, quickly went with her to the scene, only to find there was no reason for concern. The girl sat motionless on the ground, allowing the animals to sniff her. Two wolves wagged their tails, and one even lay down beside her. Cregan's heart swelled at the sight, not because of her interaction with the animals but because, for the first time, he saw a smile on her face. He could have sworn it was genuine.

The marriage, however, still did not see them spending much time together, nor talking much. This did not mean the Young Wolf was not interested in his wife; quite the opposite. Both morning and evening, he would ask the servants how the girl was doing. After some time, the young princess began to do the same.

"What is he like?" she asked one day, while she and two Winterfell servants were mending clothes. Though she did not ask directly, the women knew she meant Lord Stark. They exchanged glances and only smiled. Did her question mean that the Dragon Princess was beginning to warm to the Wolf Lord?

"He has a very big heart, my lady," one admitted. "At first glance, he may seem intimidating, but he is a gentle giant. Lord Stark is very kind."

The girl lowered her gaze, focusing on her work. She smiled slightly.

"I think he is a good man too," she admitted.

"That does not mean he can be trifled with," added the other. "He is kind when someone gives him the same. But he is a wolf, my lady. He can bite if provoked."

Indeed, Cregan appeared to be a man of steel nerves who could turn that steel into a sword, with which he could take a life without a second thought.

When the princess had finished her duties, she dressed and went outside to spend some time in the stables. In the courtyard, a few men were preparing for a journey, saddling horses. Among them was her husband.

"My lady," he smiled at the sight of her. Each of the men bowed slightly.

"Are you going somewhere, my lord?" she asked, stroking his horse’s muzzle.

"Hunting," he announced, fastening a crossbow to the saddle. "I will return before nightfall."

"Could I accompany you?" she asked without much thought. The young man's lips twitched upward. The unexpected proposal pleased him.

"You would do me a great honor, my lady."

And so the Wolf and the Dragon set off together, side by side. They rode at the front, accompanied by four men. No one questioned the princess's participation.

When they reached the depths of the forest, they tied the horses to a tree and continued on foot. At a certain point, they all split up, but the Wolf and the Dragon stayed together. They were silent, but it was not an awkward silence. Their mutual company was enough.

"Look," he leaned toward her, whispering. "There, between the trees. Beyond the fallen trunk."

The girl quickly found the point he indicated and smiled at the sight of a deer. The stag was large, and its antlers were even larger. It calmly stripped moss from the fallen tree.

Cregan silently removed the crossbow from his shoulder. The girl felt a pang in her heart. Of course, she thought. They hadn’t come for a stroll.

The Young Wolf noticed her troubled expression. He knew what saddened her.

"I never let them suffer longer than necessary," he assured. The girl quickly nodded, causing a tear to roll down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with her hand.

Cregan drew the arrow and raised the crossbow, aiming at the deer. A moment of silence, a whoosh of air, and a dull thud. The stag fell to the ground. The young man glanced at his wife's face one last time and moved ahead. When they reached the deer, it was already dead. Blood flowed from its mouth, and the once-living body was now motionless. Cregan approached to retrieve the arrow, but the girl beat him to it. She knelt by the dead animal and gently ran her hand along its neck, stroking it soft, golden fur. For a moment, she gazed at the deer, absorbing its beauty. Tears welled up in her eyes again, so she quickly grabbed the arrow, pulled it out, and stood up, handing it to her husband. Cregan took it in silence.

Although neither of them spoke for the rest of the hunt, an understanding formed between them, a sort of alliance. The culture and customs of the North were so wild and distant for someone from the South. The young princess, however, knew that Winterfell was her home now. And if it was her home, she had to learn its customs. Even if they were far from her own beliefs.

That evening, despite the darkness, the Wolf Lord could have sworn that the scales of the Southern Dragon glistened with a snowy sheen.

A few days after the first closer interaction between the young marriage, Cregan decided he would like to spend some time with the girl again. He knocked on her chamber door, and when she let him in, he entered. The girl was sitting by the fireplace, stuffing pillows with feathers, but she smiled at the sight of her husband.

"My lady," he nodded to her, lightly returning her smile.

"My lord," she replied, reaching for a needle and beginning to sew the pillow. "Something brings you here?" she asked after a moment when he silently observed her deftly working fingers.

"I would like to introduce someone to you," he replied, causing the girl to frown slightly in surprise.

"Do we have guests?"

The young man nodded and reached for her fur. Seeing his gesture encouraging her to stop working, she set her task aside and stood up. She walked over to him and turned, allowing him to help her dress. Shortly afterward, they went outside.

"Who are these guests? Did we know they were coming?" she asked, glancing at her husband.

"We expected them, but we didn't know when they would arrive," he explained.

They passed the courtyard, which was empty. There was no sign that Winterfell had visitors. The girl remained silent until they entered one of the sheds. This particular one housed the direwolves. She was about to ask what this was all about when she heard squeaks and whimpers. As she connected the dots, the frown disappeared from her brow, and her violet eyes lit up.

"No way, it can't be."

Cregan smiled and gestured for her to come closer. Around the corner, on a bed of straw, lay a she-wolf. Four pups were latched onto her teats, and one of them, with nearly golden fur, was sleeping a bit further away.

The young princess was genuinely moved by the sight. Cregan smiled as well, not just because of the litter but because of his wife's joy.

"They were born this morning," he announced. "Four females and a male."

The male turned out to be the pup lying away from the pack. He was bigger than the rest and had a bronze coat, a color familiar to the girl. When the little wolf woke up and stretched, Cregan approached and petted the she-wolf's head, silently praising her for a job well done. He picked up the pup that was away from the mother and held him in his arms, then handed him to the girl. The young princess cradled him, stroking him gently.

"So you've returned to me as a direwolf," she said softly, more to herself than to her husband.

Cregan looked at his wife questioningly. The young princess felt his gaze on her.

"My dragon has a very similar color," she explained, scratching the wolf pup behind the ear. "They call him the Bronze Fury, all because of the color of his scales."

"In the skies, is he truly a fury?" he asked, watching her interaction with the pup.

The girl laughed softly and shook her head. "Maybe once, when my great-grandfather rode him. Now he's an old beast. Sometimes I felt he preferred a nap over a ride with me."

Cregan smiled at her words. He noticed that she found joy in animals, especially direwolves and dragons. While he couldn't provide the latter, he was glad he could bring her happiness with the pups.

"He's yours now," he declared when she kissed the pup between the ears. "The Targaryens have dragons, the Starks have direwolves. It's time for you to have your own."

The girl looked again at the pup she was holding and smiled even more. Her heart swelled with emotion.

"Thank you," she said, looking at her husband. Cregan returned her smile.

"What will you name him?"

"Vermithor," she said without hesitation. "I feel he's a dragon in a direwolf's body."

To the servants' concern, they spent several hours in the shed, out of sight of everyone. They sat on the straw among the pups, talking about dragons, direwolves, flights in the clouds, and hunts in the forests. For the first time since they met and got married, they had the chance to learn something about each other.

"I've never seen a dragon," Cregan admitted. His sword lay by his straightened legs, and he leaned his back against the rough wall.

"I wish you to never have to," the girl replied. Her legs were crossed, and in them, like in a nest, slept little Vermithor. "Dragons never bode well."

"But still, they obey you," he looked at her. "How do you manage that?"

"You can't control them completely; they are still wild beasts," she noted. "But the Targaryens have managed to do so to some extent for thousands of years, back when the home of dragons was Valyria."

"Dragons respond only to the old language, right?" The young princess nodded in confirmation. "Just as I've never seen a dragon, I've never encountered that language."

"Zyr sindighy iderēbion, kes as qogralbar," she said, and the Young Wolf smiled. "Se valzi rijinyso sizi vys̄oron" (It is a very rough language, in my opinion. And also not the easiest to learn)

"If I were a dragon and heard something like that, I wouldn't hesitate to follow orders," he replied, making her laugh. Cregan also smiled sincerely. He never thought he'd hear the language of Old Valyria, but even more, he didn't expect to hear such sincere laughter of the Dragon Princess.

Winter began to settle more and more into Winterfell, but the biting cold was defied by the spark of affection that blossomed between the Wolf and the Dragon.

[oddwalkerduckarts]

Grassland Romance AU: Winter Winds

Summary: You've been slowly falling in love with Sylus, a strange outsider who joined your tribe some time ago. You haven't been able to pluck up the courage to say anything. However, when you are caught alone in the fiercest blizzard anyone can remember, it might not be up to you anymore.

AO3

CW: AFAB reader, no use of y/n, pet names (sweetie, little huntress), blizzard, hypothermia, hunting, nude spooning, 90% fluff by volume, sexual themes (but no sex), not proofread, melodrama (god so much melodrama).

Word count: 8k

Notes: poor Luke and Kieran have to be dogs in this AU.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoff, “how can lemmings foretell the weather? Their brains are the size of grass seeds!” The bay mare you’re sitting astride shakes her head, before pawing through the watery, heavy snow on the ground to reach the hidden grasses underneath.

Today, as with most days, you are minding the herds with your friend Cota. The two of you are practically sisters, as her family had raised you after your parents perished when you were a young child.

“I’m not the one who said it!” She protests, leaning back to aim a kick at your foot succeeding at knocking it out of your stirrup. “I’m just telling you what Elder Shikigur said, and he said, ‘There’s too many lemmings moving, there will be a large storm coming.’”

You groan. Blizzards are a continual hazard of grassland winters. Harsh winds are able to scream across the treeless landscape with terrifying fury, tearing through even thick winter deels, and whirling snow into a blinding haze. Preparing for one means rounding up the flocks, reinforcing yurts to hold against wind and snowfall, and digging out of the yurts once the storm is through. They’re critical jobs that need to be done. That is, when the weather actually calls for it.

“It’s practically spring!” You argue, gesturing wildly to the half-melted pasture around the two of you, “It’s so damn warm, that I couldn’t even wear my thickest deel today! I would’ve been covered in sweat!”

Cota shrugs, “I’m just telling you what the elders were gossiping about.”

“Well, regardless of what they say, I’m not taking out my winter deel again until next winter.”

“I bet you would if Sylus asked you to.”

You feel the color rise in your cheeks at the sing-song tease, and the mention of his name.

You aim a return kick at Cota’s leg, but she reins her mare to the side in time to evade you. “I would not! And besides, he’s out with some of the others hunting pheasant, anyway.”

Cota’s smile grows wider, “Oh ho, so you’ve been keeping track of which hunting parties he goes with, huh?”

An irritated groan leaves your throat as your friend laughs. “Aren't you supposed to be heading back about now? I'll tell the elders you've been slacking to sit around and gossip.”

“Aw, don't pout! It's cute, all your pining. You're going to have to do something soon though, otherwise some other girl is going to catch his eye at a festival, and then what will you do?”

“I’m pretty sure you're supposed to be helping with cooking right now, aren't you?”

Cota makes her own irritated groan, “No one likes when I cook anyway!”

“Better that than you sitting here and teasing me.”

She makes a rude gesture at you, and you return it.

"Fine,” she grumbles, “but keep an eye on the weather, okay?”

“Of course, I'll let you know if the lemmings are oracles or not.”

Cota rolls her eyes with a scoff, before reining her horse around and trotting back to the village. It’s good timing, you notice the right side of the herd has started to splinter a bit, and needs to be rounded back in.

As you go about your job, you can’t stop your mind from pondering over your relationship with the strange man.

Sylus had come to the tribe as an outsider a few years ago. Strong and skilled in both riding and archery, he’d been welcomed into the fold immediately, seemingly to his own surprise. His striking appearance had immediately caught many eyes; tall, broad and strong in the chest, with eyes the color of freshly-spilled blood set in a devastatingly handsome face. The one criticism you heard of him was of his curt, reticent nature, that meant he constantly had a severe expression on his face.

Well, almost-constantly.

Within a month after joining the tribe, there had begun to be problems with a particular wolf picking off sheep in the night. It had always seemed to know where to attack, far enough away from any of the herders that it was impossible to reach him in time. It even managed to evade the vigilant Bankhar dogs, who kept constant watch on their flock, and rarely let a wolf’s presence go unpunished. The predator managed to evade everyone. Everyone except Sylus.

It had only taken two nights of Sylus on guard, before he returned in the early morning light, with the giant, tawny corpse of the wolf thrown over one shoulder. He’d managed to kill it, in the dark, with a single arrow to its skull. The entire tribe had celebrated that night; an end to the nights of doubled watches in the dark and lost sheep. Wine and kumis had run freely that night, along with music and dancing in the center of the temporary village.

The wolf’s body had been set aside, to be skinned for the fur and used as linings and blankets to guard against the frigid winter months. Even in death, it still looked fierce, its fur sleek and body corded with lean muscle that reminded you of its killer. You had bent down to examine the bared teeth, sharp and white against the pale flesh of the gums. You reached out to draw your finger over one of the fangs, curious to see if it would be sharp like a knife, or blunt like one of the Bankhar dogs.

“Disturbing the dead?”

The deep voice, close enough to feel against the back of your neck, had you stumbling backwards, and gracelessly falling on your ass. A throaty chuckle came from above your head, and you had looked up to see Sylus, his face smug and scarlet eyes dancing with laughter.

“It doesn’t count if it’s a wolf,” You grumbled, pulling yourself off the ground, “ass.”

His head was cocked to the side as you rose, finger tapping his cheek in mock-thought, “I thought a wolf was supposed to be the father of the first herdsmen? Wouldn’t that make this creature here your cousin?”

“That’s an old story, no one believes that.”

His answering smile was sharp, eyes darkening into a sneer. “Is that so?” He drew closer, close enough that you could feel his breath on your face, and feel the fabric of his deel brushing against yours. The gaze he cast down made you realize what a cornered sheep must feel like in the moments before jaws close around its throat. “I think there’s more of wolves in people than you realize.” His growl was just as deep as the dogs when they scented a threat.

A part of you wanted to shrink down in your boots, make your excuses, and flee. But, a much larger, louder part of you was indignant. How dare this man sneak up on you in the dark, make you fall over in surprise, then have the audacity to growl at you like a beast?

So you had tipped your chin up defiantly, “Better be careful. Apparently even the cleverest wolves get arrows in their heads.”

He had stared at you for a moment. Made a single blink. Then a strange, amused smile curled across his face. “Are you going to be the one to fire it, little huntress?”

“If you don’t back up, maybe I will.”

Sylus chuckled then, backing up a few steps. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, body thrumming with… anxiety? Excitement? Both? You couldn’t tell. To distract yourself, you turned your attention back to the kill.

“It’s kind of a shame, really. It’s a pretty creature.”

His head cocked to the side again, though the curiosity in his eyes seemed to be genuine this time. “Feeling bad for the predator?”

“He was just trying to live.”

He huffs a small laugh through his nose. “You’re cute.”

“Excuse me?” You look at him, deeply irritated at his patronizing tone.

“Most animals that steal livestock are weak. They’re sick, or injured. Otherwise it just isn’t worth risking the tangle with dogs or people. This one,” he gives the corpse a nudge, “was perfectly healthy. Strong. But instead of using its smarts to take on saiga, or capercaille, it decided to take the easy way out. It never would have stopped, once it knew that it could fool the shepherds.”

You had sighed a little, knowing that in this instance, he was right. “I know. It still seems like a shame. But at least we’ll stop losing so many sheep.”

You had looked up then to find Sylus staring at you with such intensity that you had taken a step backwards. “What?”

He blinked, the intensity dissipating as quickly as a strike of lightning. “Nothing, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” Your nose wrinkled at the childish nickname.

He gave a small laugh, a mischievous glint coming to his blood red eye, “You feel pity for a predator that would have snapped you up in an instant. It’s very sweet, if maybe a bit naïve.”

“It sounds like something you’d call a toddler.”

“I suppose it does,” the glint was quickly accompanied by an equally mischievous curl to his smirk, “I suppose I’ll have to call you that when you’re acting like a toddler, sweetie.”

“Ugh. Ass.” You’d turned on your heel to return to the fire, trailed by the sound of deep, smug chuckling.

Since then, Sylus always seemed to show up near you, whether you wanted him there or not. And, at least at first, you certainly leaned more towards the former. He had a talent for approaching silently, getting that smugly pleased look from startling you into stumbling or squeaking. He also began to challenge you, goading you into contests or archery, or riding, or throwing knuckle bones. He was nearly impossible to beat, and even on the rare occasions that you won, he had the gall to look completely unbothered by your triumph.

Really, after a few months, you should have hated him.

But in between all of the needling and teasing and challenges, you began to learn more about Sylus. You learned that he enjoyed being out hunting or riding far more than he enjoyed being surrounded by people, even if they were praising him. You learned the long-limbed black stallion he rode when he first encountered your tribe had been declared untamable before Sylus had taken him. When one of the livestock dogs died shortly after having two pups, you even learned that (if he wanted to be) he could be downright gentle. He’d done so well in helping care for the pair, that as they grew, they followed him everywhere and obeyed his every command. All of this new familiarity, so at odds with your first impression of him, had cultivated a quiet companionship between the two of you.

Even more surprising were the moments of softness, startlingly close to affection. When Sylus had sat drinking kumis with you on the new year, and you’d excitedly shared your hopes for what was to come, he listened with a quiet smile. He’d brought you the furs from the wolf he’d killed when you caught a particularly nasty winter cold, and had even insisted you keep it after you recovered. When you met other tribes for trade, he often found you afterwards, giving you some ornament or silk from beyond the grasslands. Despite the fact he’d never admitted to it, you knew that when his two dogs accompanied you out into the grasses to watch the flocks, he’d commanded them to do so.

Maybe most importantly, he’d specifically sought you out to show you a den where wolf cubs were playing in the summer, knowing you’d like to see them tussle.

They’d been adorable, large paws and ears far too big for their fluffy bodies. The two of you had left your horses some yards away and sat down a bit distant from the pups, down wind and silent so as not to give your presence away. For a while you couldn't take your eyes off their energetic forms, tussling in the dust in front of the den, chewing on each others’ ears, yelping and licking when it became too rough. Eventually you'd looked to Sylus to ask him something, but your eyes had fallen on the short, recurve bow at his side.

“You're not going to kill them, are you?” You'd whispered

He raised an eyebrow at you in a wordless question.

You checked quickly to make sure the pups hadn't heard you. Fortunately, they still seemed to be involved in their own games.

“I mean. I know they're wolves. They might eat our flocks when they get older. But, they're just babies.”

He blinked at you, with an odd, expression you couldn't place. He rose soon after, walking silently away from the den. You'd followed him, confused.

“Hey,” you hissed, “What are you doing now?”

“Leaving. One parent or the other would've been back soon to feed them. Then I would've actually had to use this.” He tapped the bow that was now slung over his shoulder.

“Oh.” You murmured, realization dawning, “Is that what you brought it for? If one of the parents came back?”

“I certainly wouldn't have needed it to kill a fragile little pup.” He scoffed. “Besides, there's no use in killing something weak and defenseless. Though it's nice to know just how highly you think of me, sweetie.”

“That's not-” a frustrated noise had escaped you as you struggled for words, “I don't think that of you. It just… others would have done that. To make sure they didn't grow up to prey on our animals.”

He turned to you then, with a gaze that seemed to be searching you, trying to find the truth of something. “And I'm ‘others’ to you?”

“Of course not!”

He arched an eyebrow for the second time that day at the vehemence in your voice.

"You're the strongest warrior we have. And an infuriating opponent. But you're also the person who protects orphaned dogs. And brings me extra furs when I'm sick. And-” you stopped yourself before you could incriminate yourself further, taking a small breath to collect yourself. “You're Sylus. Not… Others.”

There was a small silence between the two of you for a moment, as you walked over the flowing grasses together. The only sound was the occasional waves of wind across the landscape.

It was broken, only slightly, by Sylus repeating those words. “Not others.” He said them quietly, slowly, as though testing out strange words in a new language. When you turned to look at him, you caught a glimpse of a small, soft smile on his face. A look so deeply genuine, and beautifully content, it made your breath catch in your chest.

Things had begun to change after the day with the wolves. You were beginning to come familiar with the slight curve of his smile, his real smile. Instead of your usual irritation, the glint that so often came to his eye when he was planning mischief fanned a wave of warmth in you. You began craving the slight huff of breath he gave when amused with something you’d done. The deep chuckle he sometimes gave when his body drew close to yours made something strange and molten coil in your gut. When he was out hunting saiga, you found yourself unusually sullen and snappish. And when you heard people whooping and clamoring at the return of the hunting parties, you’d be jostling to the front of the small crowd to see him.

You’d started to notice things though, in this time. The gossip among the elders as they cooked about when Sylus would marry, and whose granddaughter would be the lucky catch. The gaggles of women that followed him when he’d practice archery or spectate his races, giggling and blushing. Some of the bolder women would even bring him wine at the fireside and try to curl against him (you wished sometimes that he’d respond with more than amused chuckles at their ridiculousness, though it did produce a gratifying amount of insult in the rejected ladies). Last year at the games, you noticed he’d received pouches from women of every tribe. The smug look he gave you when he’d noticed you glaring at them had been insufferable, and you couldn’t quite force yourself to congratulate him on the numerous offers.

And yet, Sylus remained alone. You didn’t even notice other women entering his yurt (though you’d die before you admitted to watching for such). You didn’t know what you’d do if he did take an interest in someone. The thought of someone else being transfixed by that soft smile in the quiet hours of the night made bile rise in your throat. But there was always the chance that he simply valued his freedom; and being rejected in favor of an ideal you could never match seemed just as nauseating.

You mull over these thoughts as you and your mare round the goats back to the group. Or, at least, attempt to. One of the damn things stubbornly refuses to rejoin the group. You can swear you see defiance in its eyes when it looks at you. Challenging you. Mocking, even. Every time you have it going the right direction, it turns and bolts in a random direction, leaving you and your bay sliding in the slush. You then have to catch back up to it, and start herding it back once more.

You’re an excellent shepherdess, with a keen eye and a skilled hand with a bow. You've rarely lost an animal on your watch, and certainly never on purpose. But at this point, even you are beginning to think that losing one goat would really not be all that bad if it means this one wouldn’t be part of the herd anymore. Besides, a wind is beginning to rise, a cold one that cuts through the previously-warm day like a freshly-sharpened knife. You’re beginning to wonder if maybe the lemmings were smarter than you’d thought.

After one more, particularly long chase, you give in.

“Fine then!” You yell at the animal, which stood watching you with unaffected eyes as it chewed grass, “you want to deal with a blizzard alone? Go ahead! I’ll laugh when you end up as a goat-cicle! Laugh!”

With a huff, you turn your horse about, ready to gallop back to the herd, and start moving them to a more sheltered part of the pasture. The animals, however, have moved further away on their own. You can see the large dark mass of them in the distance, and you feel a slight unease in your gut. You're not sure how much you believe about oracle lemmings, but you know livestock well; They instinctively group up close when bad weather is imminent, and it seems that they are bracing for a storm now.

Even more worrying is the wall of iron-gray clouds you see blowing in. They're advancing rapidly, overtaking the sky at a pace you've rarely seen before. The wind, too, is beginning to blow so furiously it all but screams, whipping any unmelted snow up into the air.

You again feel that unease in your gut. The village is even further than the herd from where you are at the moment. Thanks to the previously warm weather, you're woefully unprepared to weather a blizzard alone. But both your other options are bleak; either try to make it to the village and hope there's not enough falling snow to make you lose your way, or try your luck with the herd and hope their bodies keep you warm enough to make it through. At least if you make it to the village, your survival is guaranteed. The same can't be said of the herd.

You rein your mare toward the direction of the village, just as the first volley of fresh snowflakes batter your face and hands. And despite your own dire situation, you can't help but think of Sylus, out with the other hunters. They may have arrived home already, and even if they haven’t, their chances are good; the men should be able to find protection from the wind and cold in a group. Nevertheless, your gut twists with anxiety. Hunters rarely stay completely together. And even in the few minutes you’ve been galloping towards the village, visibility is worsening. The gusts of wind have turned into blasts, ripping through your deel and chilling you to your bones. The blasts are also heaving the already-fallen snowflakes up to rejoin the fresh ones in the air, and creating moments where the landscape is inscrutable.

Between the moments of furious wind, you can see the outline of the village. Even as your heart pounds with hope at the sight, a needling numbness begins to take hold in your hands, making it difficult to keep hold of the reins. You try to switch hands; tucking one into the overlapping fold of your deel in an effort to keep it warm, before switching to the other. The biting wind, though, is so vicious and unforgiving, that it takes a mere few seconds for whatever warmth one hand has gained to be lost. At the same time, the numbness has taken hold in your feet, making it impossible to distribute your weight properly. The violent shivers as your body tries to warm itself are a further complication.

It only takes one misstep from your mare. One hoof landing on some uneven ground, causing her to stumble. And despite the high-backed saddle, and your best efforts, it’s impossible to keep your seat. You land hard in the snow. It’s soft enough, at least, that you’re pretty sure nothing is broken. Not that it matters much. Lost and alone in the screaming wind, and featureless white storm, you are as good as dead.

It feels like an eternity that you lie there in the snow, body wracked by violent shivers in a last-ditch attempt to survive. Logically you know it can’t have been more than a handful of minutes, since you are still alive and conscious, but time loses its meaning in a situation like this. Everything ceases to exist, save for the horrible wind and the bone-deep, soul-leaching cold. The snow is falling fast, fast enough that it’s already covered you as you try to huddle for a semblance of warmth. You’ve been buried alive, waiting to die as the world around you slowly quiets and darkens.

A morbid part of you wonders if the tribe will find you, once the snow begins to melt. You imagine Cota will insist they stay long enough to find your remains. You hope she doesn’t feel guilty; neither of you could’ve known the storm would come on so fast. Your mind wanders to Sylus, too. Did the hunters make it back home before the storm hit? You pray they did; or at least they were together when the snow began to fall. The thought of Sylus in the same situation as yourself seems impossible. You have to believe it’s impossible. Entertaining any other idea strikes a dread into your heart as cold as your little tomb. You pray instead that he’s made it back, that he is safe, and warm. And, if you’re able to be a little idealistic, perhaps wondering where you are.

Quite suddenly, a sound shatters your quiet morbidity. Stark against the background of shrieking wind, there is a deep bark. Then another, closer. Soon, there is a constant barrage of the noises.

Hope burns bright in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, all is not yet lost.

You try to shift under the snow, trying to claw your way out of your icy grave. But your limbs are trembling so hard, so frequently, that controlling them is near impossible. Worse, your muscles are becoming weak. Soon they’ll be too exhausted to even shiver, much less move the heavy snow that entombs you. Nevertheless, you have to try. You must try. Because if you don’t, your last hope of warmth will move on, and then you will truly be as good as dead.

Your efforts come to a halt when a startlingly loud crunching begins in the snow above and around you. It doesn’t take long before the blanket of snow is lifted from your head, and a warm puff of air greets your face.

You open your eyes. And instead of a blinding white storm, your vision is filled with deep brown eyes set in a furry face as black as night. The same face that Sylus has sent to accompany you on night watches and sunny days alike. You smile at the familiar creature, despite the chattering of your teeth.

“H-hey, boy.” You whisper, your numb hand reaching up to sink into the dog’s deep fur. You can still hear his brother nearby, barking furiously above the wind.

Though Sylus knows them at a glance, you've never been particularly good at telling the two dogs apart by looks. They're both black, with intelligent eyes and powerful frames. In behavior though, they are slightly different. Gerel is louder, and more playful. Khar, though quieter, is definitely the smarter of the two. He's likely the one blocking your body from the worst of the wind, now.

You try to call Gerel over as his brother curls himself around your quivering body, but it’s too hard to draw a deep breath. Instead, you lean against the one lying on you, burying your face and hands against the one reprieve from the cold. You can think of nothing else but how good the slight amount of warmth feels, even as your fingers begin to burn slightly from the frostbite. It is a promising pain, one that feels of returning life rather than looming nothingness. You doubt it will be enough to truly save you, but at least you have some source of comfort now.

Eventually Gerel goes quiet, and you begin to worry he's become lost in the storm as well. You lift your face from Khar's fur, and try again to call his brother, but fail. Khar perks up, though, his massive tail wagging a fan-shaped dent in the snow. Perhaps he can smell his brother on the fierce wind?

A few moments later, you hear it. A deep, commanding voice that cuts through the shrieking wind like a blade, calling your name.

Sylus.

You don’t know why he’s here, or if he’s even real. It may be an illusion conjured by your failing mind and body. It does not matter. Real or not, you must go to him.

You try to draw yourself up, try to call his name, but Khar remains a dead weight on you. You try to shove him, but your muscles are still shaking uncontrollably, making any efforts to dislodge Khar useless.

Please, you think desperately, please, I need to go to him. I need him, I need Sylus.

In the midst of your struggle with the animal laying on you, you very nearly miss the crunching of snow approaching you. Gerel soon appears, fur nearly white with the coating of heavy, wet snow that clings to him. And directly behind him is a sight that would make you weep if you had the breath for it.

It's Sylus. He's battered by the wind and ice as he wades through the fresh snow, only a step behind Gerel. His face bears a sharp, unwavering determination and ferocity that puts even this storm to shame as he wades through the drifts. His eyes, bright scarlet amidst the daunting white, lock onto yours. Only when his master is a single step away from you does Khar finally wiggle himself off of you. The wind immediately rips away all the warmth the dog has lent you. But you feel the loss only for a moment, as in the next breath, Sylus has yanked you bodily out of the snow and crushed you against himself.

“Found you,” his deep voice is quiet, heavy with an emotion you can’t name. And oh, oh, even if this is a dream sent to ease your last moments, you do not care. There is no one you’d rather imagine at your side right now.

He releases you, only slightly, to tug off his own gloves and put them on your trembling hands. The heat that envelopes them makes your skin burn, and a whine that is half-choked by shivers bubble out of your throat.

“Bear with it,” he murmurs, wrapping a thicker, warm deel over your current one, “You won’t be able to beat me at archery if you lose your fingers, little huntress.”

Normally, you would call him an ass, berate him for worrying about losing his archery competitor as he gave you a smug smile for taking his bait. But you can’t. Your mind is foggy, and all you can do is curl into him as he sweeps you up into his arms. You notice briefly that his eyes have narrowed again. He looks… irritated maybe? Angry? You aren’t sure. Before you can think about it for very long, though, you are distracted by a sharp whistle from Sylus, shrill and sharp even over the unending wind. It’s followed by a whinny, as his tall, powerful horse wades through the snow with a determination identical to his master’s.

Sylus walks to meet the horse halfway. He says something, and then suddenly his arm drops out from under your legs. You stumble slightly, knees buckling under your own weight as your boots drop through the knee-high snow. You are strangely surprised when you don't hit the ground, and it takes you a moment to realize that Sylus has a hold on your waist, steadying you.

Oh. He was going to set you down. That's what he had said. Of course.

You look up at him, and find a hard expression on his face. Why does he look angry now? You don’t understand.

His bright eyes bore into your own, cutting through the confusion for a moment. When his voice comes, it is a command, not a request.

“Stay with me.”

You're not sure why he's saying this. It's not like you're going anywhere. All you want right now is to just curl up and sleep, back in his arms, if possible. But you nod anyway.

Sylus swings himself up onto his horse, settling himself behind the canticle. This again confuses you. You're supposed to sit on the seat. Not behind it. But before you can continue puzzling over this, Sylus has bent half-over, wrapped an arm around you once more, and hauled you up against the side of the horse. The pressure of it is uncomfortable, and you try to squirm out of the grasp. Sylus's hold is sure, though, and before you can break it, he's hooked the other arm under your knee, and lifted you up into the seat of the saddle.

You try to brace your legs, to keep your seat as the stallion begins to move beneath you, but your vicious shivers make it difficult to control your limbs, even for an action as instinctive to you as walking. Before you can falter though, Sylus’s arm wraps around you, holding you safe and steady against him.

You do your best to keep your eyes open against the biting wind and freezing snow. But the scant amount of warmth you can feel through the thickness of both your clothes, paired with the movements of the stallion slowed by the snow, is almost hypnotic. And you are tired, oh, so tired.

“You lost this game,” he says, in that damn smug voice that always makes you want to punch his arm.

“Game?”

He gives an affirmative hum. “Hide and seek. I found you, didn't I? That's another victory for me.”

You give a grunt of disgust, still not sure what he's talking about, but irritated by the condescension in his voice all the same.

“Don't be such a sore loser, sweetie.”

You don't know why you're even sitting on the same horse as him.

“A-ass,” you hiss around the waves of shivers. “Sh-should. P-push off.”

The dark chuckle behind you is as alluring as it is infuriating. “I'd love to see you try.”

You do try, for a moment, pushing against his hold. But you are soon frustrated by how clumsy your movements are, and exhausted by the effort. Sylus's tight grip is immovable anyway.

“Seems I'm still on the horse, sweetie.” Comes the singsong mocking from behind you.

You give a grunt in response. You can't be bothered to be angry. All you can feel is the heavy tiredness dulling all your senses.

Sylus says your name, sharply. There's an odd tone to it. You don't care enough to think about why.

You're vaguely aware of being jostled. And then, for a while, you are senseless.

The damn shivering is what wakes you. It's so violent and pervasive that it drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping between the waves of trembling to try and regain it. On instinct, you try to curl into yourself, but are unable to. In fact, apart from the tremors, you can’t move your body at all. You seem to be surrounded by some sort of heavy mass, pressing on every inch of you. You struggle, pushing against the weight near your face to get some breathing room. The mass grunts, then moves away for a moment, freeing your head and upper body. You have only a moment of reprieve from the claustrophobia before…

Something warm, wet, and slimy drags across your face.

“Ur-rgh!” You bring a quivering arm up to rub away the slime.

A deep chuckle rumbles behind you, the breath of it close enough to make warmth fan across the back of your skull, “Is that how you thank Khar for helping to save your life, sweetie?”

Your eyes snap open at the familiar voice; although instead of the carmine eyes and seductive smirk you expect, your vision is filled (for the second time today) by pitch-dark fur and smiling brown eyes set in a distinctly canine face. Right as that same face applies another sloppy lick to yours.

“Kh-khar!” You squeak, bringing your now-free arms up to protect your face from the onslaught of affection. “Th-thanks, but s-stop!”

Khar obediently jumps down from where you’re laying, though he gives you a pathetic whine. A further weight is removed from your lower half when Gerel reluctantly hefts himself off of you to join his brother on the floor, giving you a similarly dejected look.

Without Khar laying on you, you can see more of your surroundings. It’s clear that you’re in a yurt, one that is unfamiliar to you. The only light source is the barely-visible fire crackling complacently in the small stove at the center, leaving much of the place in shadow. Is it night, then? Why are you here? And why do your hands and feet feel like they are burning?

You flex your hands between shivers in an attempt to stop the strange, tingling heat. If anything, that seems to make the feeling sharper, more biting in its ferocity. Shifting them out from underneath a heavy woolen blanket and furs to inspect them gives no answers, given the dim light.

“Can you still feel them?” Sylus’s voice, humorless this time, cuts through the slowly-lifting fog of unconsciousness and confusion.

“H-hurts.”

“Good, that means there’s still life in them. Better than losing such pretty fingers to frostbite.” Memories come to you at the word ‘frostbite’. They are hazy, as though recalling a dream several hours after waking; the dogs finding you in the snow, warming you and guiding Sylus to you through the blinding storm, Sylus carrying you in his arms, and keeping you upright in the saddle before you drifted into unconsciousness.

“Syl-” Your words are cut short. In trying to turn to face him, you realize that his powerful arm is curled around your waist.

Your naked waist. And at your back, you do not feel the rough texture of clothes; but instead the heated, sticky kind of softness of skin on bare skin.

Your body stills in shock; suddenly, you are horribly, wonderfully conscious of every inch Sylus has pressed against you: The firmness of his chest, the sharp jut of his hips, the tangle of his legs around and between yours, and (both the most enticing and mortifying of all) the warm, heavy weight of what must be his cock nestled against your ass.

That damned smug chuckle comes again, “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. It took you a while; maybe I should be more worried about your head than your fingers, hm?”

You stutter a few times, as your mind comes to terms with your situation, before blurting in a rush, “Where are my clothes, Sylus!? Where are yours!?”

“Ah, you mean our freezing, sopping wet clothes?” His tone is almost sing-song in its blithe news, and bereft of any shame, “I took the liberty of removing them so that you didn't continue freezing to death.”

Somehow, his complete lack of any embarrassment heightens your own, as though your mind has determined to make up the difference between the pair of you. The heated panic in combination with exhaustion, confusion, and desire collide in a nerve-wracking swirl. You scramble wildly to get up, get away from this source of searing, tumultuous emotions. But the movement of your hands makes them burn as you try to gain purchase In the blankets and furs, and his arm around you is immovable as stone. “You- I- Couldn’t you have just thrown a blanket on me or- or something!? Gods, let go!”

He gives a derisive snort. “You would have just frozen to death under a blanket instead of snow. You didn’t have any heat left to trap, so I lent you some of mine. And no.”

“No what?”

“I just risked my life in a blizzard hunting for you, and I’m not about to let all my effort go to waste when I’ve already caught my prize. So, no, I will not be letting you go.”

“This isn’t- Can’t you just put on some damned pants, at least?”

“Hm, I could… but are you sure you want me to?”

“Sylus!!”

He gives a full laugh at your flustered squeak, “Once I’m sure that you’ve completely warmed up, I will. Until then, I suggest you stay still. Unless you’d like me to warm you up a different way. But I’d suggest waiting until your hands have healed.”

He must be teasing, surely. Delighting in your embarrassment as always. Still, a tiny, idiotically hopeful part of you can’t help but wonder… if you were able to see his face right now, would you see a small glimmer of want for you underneath the inscrutable mask? You dismiss the thought quickly. Even if you were able to see his face, you’d only see that damn self-satisfied smirk that makes your stomach twist.

“The elders are going to be insufferable about this,” You mutter, desperate you lay those thoughts to rest. Well, as best as you can, considering Sylus is curled around you.

“So what? Let them talk.”

“Easy for you to say. They won’t say anything to you; you’re the one half of them are looking to marry their daughters off to.” You’re only aware of the venom in your last few words after they’ve already left your mouth. You pray Sylus doesn’t notice.

But of course he does.

“Jealous, little huntress?” You can hear the smile in his voice

“You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“I’m hurt sweetie. I run out into a storm to find my poor, lost huntress, and in return she calls me an ass.”

He gives a mock-sigh, but something in his words raises a question in your mind. Sylus had been out with the other hunters just before the storm hit. You hadn’t even been sure he would make it back to the village in time, but somehow he managed to find you?

“How did you even know I was out there?”

Sylus pauses for a moment. His voice, once he does speak, is startlingly somber. “Some of the hunting group saw the cloud wall rolling in. We rode back as fast as possible. Even so, if we’d had further to go, the wind would’ve outpaced us. I’ve never seen clouds that heavy and fast, outside of summer storms.”

“I tried to ride back too, when I saw them. But with the cold, I couldn’t feel my hands, and the rough ground…” You trail off, fully prepared to be teased about your riding skills. Instead, you feel an ever-so-slight tightening of his arm around you. You wonder if he’s even aware of his own movement.

Sylus continues, “When we arrived, people came out to greet us and help get everything secured before the worst of the storm. I didn’t see you throwing people out of the way like usual.”

“I do not throw people out of the way,” You mutter.

“If you say so, little huntress.” You can hear the smile in his voice for a moment, though it disappears when he continues, “I found Cota, and asked where you were. When she said you were out shepherding, I knew you wouldn’t make it back before the snow came. So, I took Khar and Gerel, and had them track you.”

“Was anyone else missing?”

“We’ll find out after the storm.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, as you process his response. He didn’t notice anyone else was gone. He didn’t ask to see if any others were lost. He didn’t bother to try and search for anyone else in the snow.

He noticed you were missing.

He asked where you were.

He went into the storm for you.

“You… Sylus, were you out in that storm, just to find me?”

A small, humorless huff of laughter fans across the back of your skull again. “I wasn’t out there just taking a stroll, sweetie.”

“You could’ve lost Gerel and Khar. And your horse. And your life.”

“Worried about me, hm?”

Of course you were. Sylus is a strong, clever man. Perhaps the greatest warrior and hunter your tribe has known; but even the greatest of mortals are brought to their knees by the forces of nature and the whims of chance. You want to tell him all this, tell him that the thought of him standing alone amidst the howling winds, searching for the path to safety… even just thinking about it makes your chest feel as empty and cold as the storm still raging outside. Your breath catches, and you cannot force the words, glutted with feelings as they are, out of your throat.

So instead you reply, “It’s a big risk to take.”

“Maybe.” His tone is nonchalant, as though he is talking about what he’d brought home from hunting, rather than the act of risking his dearest possessions and life trying to save you in near-hopeless conditions. “But I don’t gamble unless the prize is worth the risk.”

It takes you a moment to digest the words, heart caught in your throat, hardly daring to believe that you’ve understood him correctly. A fragile but brilliant hope lights in your chest. You had been aware of the friendship that had begun to form between you and Sylus, and you had been aware of your desire to be something more to him, to be someone he wanted. But you hadn’t dared to imagine occupying a position of such value to him.

“You think I’m worth all that…?”

You don’t mean to say the words aloud, but the exhaustion loosens your lips just enough for them to spill out. Immediately your stomach lurches at a strange, shifting fear. Perhaps speaking the thought aloud has crossed some sort of line, daring the universe to snuff out your hope just as it had been lit.

A soft, teasing lilt returns to his voice as he speaks, “I believe that’s what I just said, little huntress. Hm, maybe I should be more concerned about your head.” The hand that isn’t curled around your middle gives the top of your head a soft tap, tap, tap.

A small, breathless laugh bubbles up out of your chest, the hope within you flaring bright and making your heart race. You don’t know how he manages to do it; to convey something as heartfelt as ‘you are worth risking my life and all I hold dear’, while simultaneously sounding like it’s the most simple thing in the world. Something that should be obvious even to a small child.

It’s a special talent you’ve noticed in Sylus ever since that day with the wolf pups; he makes you want to throttle him one moment, and in the next breath he’ll speak with such sincere simplicity that it utterly disarms you. He somehow manages to walk that fine line between keeping you on your toes with bantering, and keeping you grounded with his forthrightness. It's addictive. It's comforting. You're not even sure if it's something he tries to do, or if his natural state of being is just something that draws your soul in effortlessly.

You need to face him.

You turn in his grasp to look at him, trying to ignore the burst of prickling heat in your hands. It's worth the pain. Sylus is a striking picture in the low light; all silvery tousled hair, gold skin, and sanguine eyes, graced by a rare look of surprise for just a moment.

And then his face relaxes into a soft look, one you've started to see more and more, but never fails to make your heart race faster than a horse galloping over the grass sea.

“There you are,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. And you simply cannot help it. Frostbite be damned. You might die if you don't kiss him, and you've come close enough to that today already. You have to kiss him.

The press of your lips against his is insistent, but chaste. At least, at first. Sylus takes in a sharp breath, and for a fraction of a second you wonder if you've misread, if you've pushed too far. And then, his mouth becomes soft, and pliant, and something in your chest melts when the arm he has around you slides up your spine to press at the nape of your neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. A pleased sigh escapes you, unbidden. Before you are quite aware of your own movements, your hand is at his jaw, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer.

A new flare of pain sears your hand at the pressure, and you reflexively pull away with a hiss.

You open your eyes (when did they close?) to see Sylus, pupils blown wide, looking at you with that same sort of ferocity and determination you saw in him earlier, when your eyes met his in the storm. And for a moment, caught in that unwavering intensity, you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

His eyes remain fixed on your own as he takes your wrist and gently (too gently) moves it away from his face, which has settled back into its usual near-arrogant smirk. Reality crashes in on you then. You are in Sylus's yurt, kissing him, sharing a bed, naked. The realization is followed by a disorienting mix of embarrassment, pride, shame, and excitement. You've just kissed him for the first time, and you know if it weren't for the pain in your hands you would have taken as much as he would give you. Begged for it, maybe. What does he think of you now? How much would he let you take? What would you tell everyone once you left here?

But as usual, when your mind threatens to whirl itself into chaos, Sylus cuts through it.

“I'll have to collect on that part of my prize later, little huntress,” He murmurs, and you wonder if it is merely your imagination, or if he is actually as breathless as you are. His thumb strokes across the soft skin at the underside of your wrist, across the vein where your pulse is thrumming like a caught hare's. “I want to see what those pretty hands can do to me when they're all healed.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes the embarrassment resurface with a vengeance, and the barely-leashed heat in Sylus's gaze makes it unbearable. Breaking the stare, you take your hand back and shuffle under the blankets once more, until the hem falls across your cheek.

Sylus's amused chuckle earns him a glare from you, but your indignation is quickly soothed over as he drags his fingers through your hair, across your scalp, gently untangling the strands. After a few minutes, the gentle scratching opens the door for a wave of exhaustion, heightened by the warm darkness and the muffled howling of the winter winds outside.

You wonder, vaguely, if the touch was meant in apology, or to make you drowsy. You're not sure it matters. Sylus is here, looking at you with that affectionate, soft smile, as your lips begin to flutter.

“Sleep, shevonica,” is the last thing you hear before drifting into unconsciousness. This time, in the safety and warmth of Sylus’s hold.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Keith, I need a favour.”

Keith stops in his tracks. Slowly, he sets down the helmets he’s holding, freeing his hands, then holds the phone out in front of him. He ponders it carefully.

“I could throw you into the sea,” he says to it. He does some quick calculations. If he drives to the nearest seafront now, he will be approximately twenty-three hours late to his date with Lance by the time he gets back. However, if he skips the fanfare and drops his phone into the disgusting oil-filled puddle right next to him, he can proceed to his date on schedule.

“Decisions, decisions,” he muses. Fanfare is important. Dropping his phone into a puddle is whatever. It’s derivative. But dropping his phone into the North Atlantic…now that is revolutionary.

“Fucksake. Keith,” sighs the voice coming from the phone. “If you don’t answer me, I am going to change the Netflix password.”

Keith frowns. “Hey.”

“Thank you,” says Shiro emphatically, “you brat.”

“Netflix is sacred,” Keith protests. “You can’t joke about the Netflix. I am a delicate orphan, Shiro. What will happen to me if my primary care figure breaks his promises? I’ll regress and act out and end up in prison. Do you want me to end up in prison?”

“A little, honestly.”

“Gasp, Shiro. Gasp. How dare.”

“I think you should consider a degree in the dramatic arts.”

“I think you should eat my farts.” Keith snickers. “Hey, that rhymed.”

Shiro sighs, long and loud, and Keith can practically see the smile twitching on his face. “Where did I go wrong. Truly. To think I tried to raise an upstanding young man, respectful to his elders, happy to help when needed. Shame that you’re a gremlin and a changeling.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Blah blah. Get to begging for my help. I have places to be, old man. A new jacket Adam bought me to wear in front of pretty people. Well, one pretty person. Anyways.”

“God, you’re whipped,” Shiro says, and Keith ignores that because if he doesn’t he’ll combust. “You and Lance going out?”

Keith tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder, picking the helmets back up and continuing his walk to his bike. “Yep.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Dinner at Caribella. It’s an excuse for a ride, really. Maybe walk around downtown for a bit.”

“Sounds fun. How much more fun would it be with your little sister, huh?”

Keith stops for the second time. He can see Red maybe fifty metres away. He looks at her mournfully.

“So close,” he despairs quietly, then turns back to his phone. “Not super fun, Shiro. Since she’s, you know. A year old. And a date is something you traditionally do with your boyfriend. Alone.”

Shiro makes a weirdly strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a stressed croak. “Well! The thing is.”

Keith waits. No thing is listed.

“Shiro.”

“It’s no big deal! Really.”

“Oh? I guess I’ll just hang up, then —”

“It’s just that Adam and I are at his sister’s, right, and —”

“There we go.”

“And we have a sitter. Obviously. All is well. Except, you know. The storm forecast. And everything.”

“And you’re four hours away with a car that you haven’t put snow tires on yet,” Keith surmises. He looks forlornly at his bike, sitting all pretty in her parking spot, freshly polished red paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. So, so close. “You dumbass.”

“The forecast was clear this morning!”

“You’re a dad! You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Well!”

“Can’t the sitter just — stay? Overnight, or something?”

He feels bad. Any other day, he’d be happy to have Hana over, or go stay over there. He does it all the time. Hana is the coolest. He has no idea how she’s the daughter of the two biggest goobers he knows. Hell, he’s already got plans to watch her this Thursday, so Adam and Shiro can go to their old person museum date thing.

But he has plans tonight.

Fuck.

“She’s sixteen, Keith,” Shiro explains, sighing. Keith envisions his brother slumped against a wall somewhere, rubbing over the scar on his nose. “She’s too young for that. She’s Adam’s friend’s daughter, and she’s a sweetheart, but she’s got school. She can’t be responsible for a baby overnight.”

“No, I — I figured.” He drags his free hand down his face. “You need me to go over there?”

“Yeah. Mara – the sitter – can’t drive yet. Her parents are coming to get her in an hour.”

Shiro’s voice is quiet, subdued. He sounds guilty. Keith hates when Shiro is guilty. He covers his hand over the phone so Shiro can’t hear, screams a little, breathes deeply, then forces a smile wide enough that it will bleed into his voice. Hopefully.

“It’s fine, Shiro. Seriously. Lance and I’ll reschedule, Hana and I will make sure to fuck up your Netflix profile. All is well.”

“Thank you, Keith. I owe you.”

It is a dire thing when Shiro doesn’t complain about Keith messing up his Netflix profile. Once, three years ago, Keith forgot to switch the TV in their living room and watched some Hallmark movie as he sketched, just to make noise in the background. Shiro made snide comments about his taste for three months, because he’s a pretentious indie loser who watches shit like Empire unironically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll start a tab.”

That, thankfully, makes Shiro snort. “Brat.” He brightens. Keith can almost hear the ding of a lightbulb going off in his head. “Hey, I know it’s dorky, but maybe you and Lance can still go on your date! Me and Adam used to when you were little, in the old apartment.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What, like when you marathoned Lord of the Rings on the shitty futon and ordered the greasiest pizza known to man? That’s not a date.”

“Is so! We enjoyed it, you had pizza so you weren’t having a tantrum, what else could we need?”

“You guys have been weird old people your whole entire life. Did you know that?”

“Only because you aged me. You pain. Anyways. Go pick up my daughter, or you can stay at our place. Minivan keys are where they always are. I gotta go. Love you, kiddo.”

“Ugh. Love you too.” He hangs up, blowing a raspberry at the phone. “Minivan keys are where they always are, he says. What a soccer mom.”

He stares, hands on his hips, at his bike.

What to do, what to do.

He really doesn’t want to cancel on Lance. It’s been a couple days since they’ve seen each other, because Lance’s job hates him. Plus, Hana isn’t very fussy. It’s kind of dweeby and embarrassing, but. Well. Lance likes kids. So it could be fine, honestly.

“Hana first,” Keith decides, nodding to himself. He lifts the seat compartment under the bike and shoves the extra blue helmet in, strapping on his own and starting Red up. To bring Lance to Shiro’s for an embarrassing old person date, or to cancel. That is the question.

Eh. He’ll decide on the ride.

— — —

He does not decide on the ride.

“What do you think,” he asks his sister, lips pursed. She gurgles happily at him from her high chair, shaking her soggy-Cheerio-covered fist at him. “I mean, you go to bed in a couple hours. So it’s not like it’s pure babysitting.”

“Abdalalala,” she says, which Keith translates to mean actually, now that I know you want me to sleep, I will spend tonight completely resistant to sleep, as karma. Enjoy.

“That’s rude,” he informs her.

You’re batshit, says the Pidge that lives in his brain. Also, quit procrastinating.

“Ugh,” he says, out loud. He pulls out his phone and hesitates over Lance’s contact.

to: lance <3

hey you like kids right

from: lance <3

oh my god

from: lance <3

keith, are you…

from: lance <3

pregnant??????

Keith laughs.

to: lance <3

you are not funny

from: lance <3

i’m hilarious actually it’s a tragedy

from: lance <3

i carry the burden of knowing i am solely responsible for my friends’ good humour

from: lance <3

heavy is the head that wears the crown. pensive face emoji solidarity fist emoji broken heart emoji

Keith refuses to dignify that with an answer. Also, he has been informed by Lance’s best friend that if he ignores the emoji bit it will go away eventually. So far it’s been going strong for three months, though, so Keith’s not certain. He can only hope Hunk is correct.

from: lance <3

anyways yah i like kids why

to: lance <3

how much cooler and charming would i be if i picked you up in a minivan. with my sister

from: lance <3

aw, keith!

from: lance <3

to be coolER and MORE charming you have to be cool and charming to begin with :)

from: lance <3

and you are a dweeb 💖

from: lance <3

sounds good tho

from: lance <3

Bring Forth The Child

from: lance <3

oh also bring forth burritos on ur way over

from: lance <3

i’m hungry

Hana yells and bangs on her tray. When Keith looks up, she lobs a Cheerio at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

“You’re right,” he says sagely, peeling it off and flicking it back at her. She shrieks in joy. “I cannot let this shit slide. I cannot simply allow myself to be roasted, Hana. I must have self respect.”

She blows a raspberry at him and bangs harder on her tray. Baby conversations are, honestly, riveting.

“Exactly, squirt. You get it. Let’s get cleaned up and go, hm?”

— — —

He picks up burritos on the drive.

Hana laughs at him.

— — —

He’s hardly pulled up in front of Lance’s apartment building when a blur streaks across the front walkway, yanking open the van’s side door.

“Oh, hell-o, precious darling!” gasps Keith’s boyfriend, tumbling into the backseat and slamming my the door shut behind him. “Hi, Hana! Hi hi hi! Aren’t you the bestest ever? You are!”

Hana, evidently pleased with the attention, babbles something incomprehensible and pats Lance’s cheek. He melts, babbling something so quickly it’s equally incomprehensible and shaking her hand. Keith watches, torn between endeared and affronted.

“Hello, boyfriend I have not seen in days,” he deadpans. “Yes, I missed you also. No, I don’t mind at all that you leave me to wither away, alone, in the front seat. Excellent chat.”

“You have a very very grumpy brother, don’t you, Hana,” Lance coos. His shoulders shake with held back laughter.

“Lance, get your ass in the front.”

“But I’m meeting the baby!”

“She is not going anywhere! Meet her at home! You turd!”

“Name-calling is not very nice,” retorts Lance primly, crawling over the console and finally settling in the passenger seat. “What kind of example are you setting, huh?”

He leans over the armrest once he’s buckled in and kisses Keith gently, cradling his hand against his jaw and tilting their heads together. He smells, as he always does, of flowers and sunshine, and Keith sighs as he sinks into the softness of him, the curve of his smile and nip of his teeth.

“Hi,” Keith murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his chin, and then squarely on the mouth again.

“Hi,” Lance responds, a little breathless, grinning widely. His hair is damp and curling at the edges. He’s left out his contacts for the night and the gold lenses match the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Everything he’s wearing is stolen right from Keith’s closet, except his socks, which are bright purple and covered in obnoxiously orange weiner dogs. Keith is so in love with him that the intensity of it embarrasses him, and he pulls away, face red, very interested suddenly in adjusting is rearview mirror.

Lance, knowing, only smiles.

“These are for you,” he says gruffly, shoving the paper takeout bag at Lance’s chest. Lance wastes no time digging through and shoving half of one in his face.

“Aw, baby,” he says, mouth completely full. “You’re literally the best. Sweet, attentive, manipulable, obsessed with me. Everything I intended when I did the love spell on you.”

Keith eyes Lance from his peripherals. He’s digging through his patched backpack, face completely serene. Keith is reminded of the actual sigil he has tattooed on his ankle. (He’s very familiar with it. It’s often right at eye level. Hard to miss, really.)

“…You’re a strange, strange man.”

“Anyways!” Lance continues, visibly gleeful. Keith reminds himself to focus on the goddamn road and remember his sister is watching with her giant wide eyes in the backseat, probably committing all his embarrassing actions to memory to report to Adam the second she is capable of speech. “I brought lots of movies. Mostly Jurassic Park, but also some educational stuff for the baby. Ghostbusters, High School Musical, you know. All that good stuff. And I stashed popcorn behind your microwave last time I slept over so we’re set for snacks.”

“Oh, we’re going to my brother’s place, actually, ‘cause Hana’s more comf— wait, behind the microwave? Why behind?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. We’re not going to your place?”

“No,” Keith says carefully. “I have some baby stuff in my apartment, but not a lot. Plus, Shiro has a better T.V. and also Adam just bought Moose Tracks. So.” He slows to a stop at a red light, noting Lance’s odd expression. “That okay?”

Lance screws up his face for a second, thinking. “I’m pretty sure? As long as there’s an extra toothbrush there. I have one at your place so I didn’t bother bringing one. And I guess I can survive a night without my face serum, but if I get one single wrinkle we’re beefing.”

“You’re not gonna get a stupid wrinkle,” Keith grouches. “And why would you get pissy if you get a wrinkle? We’re gonna get them eventually, and you —”

“‘We’?” Lance teases. “You gonna grow old with me? Gonna marry me someday, Kogane?”

“—can even use Shiro’s face stuff, anyway, I’m sure it’s the same.” Keith clears his throat. “And plus —”

His voice cracks horribly. Lance makes a valiant effort to keep his giggles to himself, but as Keith face continues to get hotter and hotter he loses control and laughs, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every hitched breath. His laughter sets Hana off, too, both of them encouraging each other’s ridiculousness until they’re as red as Keith is, gasping for breath.

“I hate it here,” Keith mutters darkly. “I’m turning around and bringing you back. You’re the worst. Why do I go out with you.”

Lance, barely recovered, makes kissy faces at him. “Because you want to maaaarrryyyyy meeeee, you think I’m seeeeexxxyyyyy, you want to kiiiiisssss meeeee —”

He cuffs Lance in the back of his head, pretending to check his blindspot and ignoring Lance’s cries of spousal abuse. “I actually just want you to watch Miss Congeniality twelve percent less often. For your own mental health.”

“Lies and slander! Peddling of falsehoods! Perjury and defamation!”

“I’m burning your thesaurus.”

“And now threats! Hana, you shall be my witness! I will testify against you in court! You will be jailed! I will visit you twice monthly!”

“That’s the second person today who wants me in jail,” Keith comments, pulling into Shiro’s driveway. “You’d visit me even if you put me in there?”

“Well, duh. Have to make sure you don’t go around kissing cute criminal boys or I will become a cute criminal boy.”

“Right, of course. I should have known.”

“You should have, yes.” Lance leans over and kisses him on the forehead with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. “But it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb.”

“Help me get the diaper bag, goober,” Keith snorts, shoving him away. “I want to get inside so I can have a burrito before you eat them all.”

———

Lance was not kidding about High School Musical.

Obviously.

“Do you want her to grow up with no understanding of community, Keith,” he scolds, and pays no mind when Keith replies, “Well, she has a family, dude, so I’m not worried.”

They watch the stupid musical.

Keith is horribly endeared by Lance’s extensive knowledge of the choreography. Lance is horribly appalled at Keith’s ignorance. Hana is intrigued, mind body and soul, by every scene with Sharpay Evans. Keith assumes this will be a problem for Adam in the near future, and resolves to make that problem worse.

All this to say he’s having a very embarrassing night, in terms of mushy thoughts and feelings.

“I can’t wait to have kids of my own someday,” Lance sighs, a very sleepy Hana tucked into the crook of his arm. He watches her, soft, and Keith pauses with a DVD held loose in his hand, enraptured, because there’s a curve to Lance’s smile that he’s never seen before, and suddenly his left hand looks bare. “I know it’s supposed to be stressful and everything, but I used to force Hunk to play house with me when we were kids. Literally every day. And when my neice and nephew were born I hogged them all the time, even when they were screaming. I dunno. Being a parent sounds awesome. You get to…like…grow a person. It’s like growing a plant but a bajillion times better, probably.”

“Yeah,” says Keith, softly, and without meaning to he’s thinking of Shiro’s tired smile and the gentle hand Adam lays on the back of his neck, of their door that was always open for Keith’s nightmares, of Shiro’s clothes ruffling as he slid to the floor and sat for hours as Keith screamed himself hoarse and cried for a mother who left. Of Adam’s boiling pots and gentle hands as he guided Keith around a chopping knife. Of both Shiro’s choked-off sobs and Adam’s right embrace as Keith came back, thirteen, in the middle of the night, scared and no longer angry, and their quiet I’m so glad you’re safe. Thank you for coming back. “Yeah, family is important.”

Lance hums. He’s quiet long enough that Keith looks up, realising for the first time his gaze has been locked, unseeing, on the pictures on the wall, of Shiro and Adam and the two of them together and with Keith and with Hana and with Keith and Hana. Lance is watching him, quiet, dark eyes knowing, Hana finally asleep in his arms, beautiful and strong and everything Keith has ever wanted, suddenly, at once.

“I love you,” he blurts.

Lance smiles. “I’ve noticed.”

“Oh, you dickhead.”

“I’m saying it back!” Lance says, snickering, free hand held up in surrender. Keith walks over and slots their fingers together, squeezing slightly, leaning in and holding, a second, a hair’s breadth away from Lance’s mouth, watching his lips part, feeling the heat of his breath. His words are breathless, near silent, mouthed as much as spoken. “You changed my life, you know. I made you chase me because I thought it was funny, but — I made Hunk get me your number from Pidge the night I left the bar. I was going to text you if your brother’s tweet didn’t go viral and cement your dorkiness for eternity.”

“That’s a lotta words to say ‘I love you’, dorkbrain.”

“I know. You make me nervous.”

“You never get nervous.”

“I do with you.”

“Yeah?”

They’re so close now that their lips brush with every word, and Lance is grinning, eyes crinkled and lashes fluttering against Keith’s cheeks, and Keith has a hand careful on Hana’s head so he doesn’t crush her and is smiling just as wide. Cheesy, dorky, corny, and everything Keith wished for after every romance novel he’d steal, fooling no one, from Adam’s shelf and read long after bedtime.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I love you. Even though you’re a dweebus and a simp.”

He is, really, because he lets Lance get away with that, kissing him to shut him up, to feel his laughter right up close. It’s sparks flying and warmth spreading and heart slowing, and in the gentle darkness of the night.

It’s the promise of more to come.

[phoward89]

Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️: Coryo is his own warning in and of himself. Delusional!Coryo, Soft!Dark!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Coryo, Reader has some survival instincts, Reader knows keeping Coryo happy keeps her alive and well, cussing, possession, obsession, slight manipulation, threats of harm, threats of rape, threats of violation, choking, murder threats

Chapter 7:

Coriolanus has been on Peacekeeper duty for the last 3 days. It sucks because Sejanus isn't with him. Instead he's doing his medic training at the infirmary with the Matron, leaving Coriolanus to do street patrols on his own.

But today he's on watch duty at the Peacekeeper Uniform Factory. His partner’s some grunt he’s barely even talked to. Honestly, he doesn't care to get to know the grunt since he's not sticking around much longer.

Coriolanus is taking his Elite Officer's Exam tomorrow; he knows he'll pass with flying colors. He can't wait to get you out of 8, to be able to claim you as his wife on legal documents and paperwork. Coriolanus sent a letter to Pluribus Bell about your father and one to Strabo Plinth as well, so he's hoping to receive some responses with some advice on how to move forward with inquiring about the asset law of Colonel Javanis Halvir for you.

Coriolanus grappled with the idea of writing to Dr. Gaul, but then decided against it. The woman, after all, was a bit crazy and had planned on killing all of the leftover tributes in the arena with her rainbow snakes; if he didn't cheat then there wouldn't have been a victor for the 10th Hunger Games. So, he decided not to contact Dr. Gaul. God forbid the woman wants you to return to the Capitol, to be rescued from your abandonment in the Districts for so long.

Yea…

Coriolanus isn't giving you up for anything. You're his wife; that makes you his responsibility. He's your protector since you're now Mrs. Snow. That gives him power; no one's going to take that away from him.

Coriolanus is dressed in his denim fatigues, his lanky frame leaning against the concrete wall as he keeps an eye on the women and teenagers that're working the loom machines. His icy blue eyes have been staring a hole into your once sister-in-law’s head, but that's mostly because she keeps giving him nasty looks. But that's fine with him; not like he cares what she thinks about him anyways.

In fact he hates Ashlie for abandoning you in a strange place; for being the cause of you to stoop down so low to stealing- to getting punished by the lash.

Yes!

Coryo has the audacity to shoulder the entire blame of your whipping onto your once sister-in-law. He refuses to take responsibility for it. He ‘loves’ you (more like he's head over heels obsessed with you) and refuses to believe that his greed and overwhelming need to impress his superiors hurt you in any way.

Plus you love him and married him. If he hurt you why would you have done that?

Yea…

Private Snow’s thick skull doesn't grasp that you latched onto him for pure survival- got somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome going on with him. Can't bite the hand that feeds you, eh?

Eh…Coriolanus feels like he's in for a long day. It's not even noon yet and he's already ready to take a break. And he can't help, but to wonder how your day’s going so far.

Ah, to be young, in love, and a newlywed.

You're making yourself a simple sandwich for lunch whenever a knock sounds at your door. You're not expecting anybody, so you're a little taken aback. Your husband's at work until the evening and you don't really have any friends in 8.

So, tentatively, you approach the door and open it. Standing before you is a postal worker, but not just any postal worker- one with a Peacekeeper postal uniform on. On the ground by their feet’s a large wooden crate.

What the?...

“I have a delivery for a Coriolanus Snow and a Y/N Snow? Are one of them present to sign for the package?” The postal worker asks, holding a clipboard with an attached pen.

You simply answer the postal worker with, “I'm Y/N Snow.”

Without a word, the Peacekeeper postal worker hands you the clipboard; which you take and sign your name on in the required spot before handing it back.

“Have a nice day, Ma’am.” The postal worker tips their hat at you before walking down the hall; leaving you alone with the crate.

You picked up the crate, which wasn't too heavy, and brought it into the house. Once you set it down, you read the return label. The name on it was The Plinths. You quickly realized that Sejanus' family sent Coriolanus something. You knew that they're friends from the Academy in the Capitol that joined the Peacekeepers together.

Well, it's nice that they sent your husband something.

But then you remember that the postal worker had said the package was for Coriolanus and Y/N Snow. Oh boy, so did they send you something in the crate too? And how did they know that Coriolanus got married? You've only been married for 3 days. Did they just assume or did Sejanus get a hold of his parents and tell them. How fast does Peacekeeper mail travel?

They say curiosity killed the cat, but it didn't kill you.

You opened the crate, with the help of a bottle opener that you used to pry the wooden lid off, and saw that inside of the crate was a few wrapped packages and a tin. Oh, so the Plinths sent Christmas presents. That's very nice of them.

You take the packages and the tin out, only to place them on them on the kitchen table. Then you realize that you don't have a Christmas tree to place the presents under. You'll have to talk to Your husband about it when Coryo gets home.

During the factory’s lunch break Coriolanus is stuck watching the workers gather in a breakroom while waiting for his relief to come. His partner's relief showed up, but not Private Snow's. Talk about shit luck.

So, Coriolanus stands up straight in the break room, watching over the factory workers with some scurvy looking Peacekeeper a few yards away from him.

Coriolanus narrows his icy eyes as he watches Ashlie shake her head at her co-worker and stand up from her lunch table. What's she up to?

“Why's she heading over here?” The scurvy Peacekeeper asked Coriolanus.

“She knows my wife.” Was Coriolanus’ curt answer.

“You got a wife?” The Peacekeeper by the platinum um blonde asked, his brow skewed up curiously.

“By District 8 rituals, yea.” Coriolanus nodded. “I got a wife.”

“You know that ain't allowed. Better keep it a secret.”

“You gonna tell on me?” Private Snow asked, his face stony, as he looked the scurvy guy next to him in the eye.

“No.” The Peacekeeper next to Coriolanus shook his head. “I don't care what you do, but there's some people that would sell that kind of information to further themselves.”

Little did the scurvy Peacekeeper know that Coriolanus is one of those people who'll sell out somebody for the upper hand; to get ahead.

“I need to talk to you.” Ashlie told Coriolanus as she came to a stop right in front of him. Looking between your husband and his fellow peacekeeper, she added in, “Privately.”

“Fine.” Coriolanus told her. “I'll be in the hall with her; I won't be long.” He told the peacekeeper before turning and leading your once sister-in-law out into the hallway.

Once in the hallway, he sneered, “What's so important that a whore like you had to seek me out for?”

“One of the girls says that she saw you in the market the other day buying supplies for a handfasting.” Ashlie's eyes welled up with sorrow as she begged, “Please, tell me you didn't marry my sister.”

“Y/N’s not your sister. Her dead brother was your meal ticket, but that doesn't make her your sister.” Coriolanus coldly told the factory worker. “In fact, she's shit to you since you abandoned her shortly after dragging her here.” Towering over Ashlie, like a predator tower's over their prey before they strike, he condescendingly said, “You're such a good ‘sister’ that my darling rose has to stoop so low to resort to stealing to feed herself. If I wasn't there to witness her whipping; to carry her home and tens to her then who knows what shape she'd be in right now.”

Ashlie’s eyes blazed hatefully as she looked up at Coriolanus. “I’m going to do anything I have to get Y/N to see the light and leave you. You filthy Capitol blooded peacekeeper.”

Shoving the thin brunette girl against the wall, Coriolanus wraps his large, calloused hand around her throat. Pressing his thumb, hard, into her windpipe he hatefully threatens in a snake like hiss, “You stay the fuck away from my wife, you ratty lil whore, or else I'll fuck that pussy of yours up and pass you around the barracks to let my squad take turns with you before snapping your neck and tossing you into that sludge filled river.” A managing look crossed over his face as he toyed with the girl who's life he literally had in his hand. “What's it called again? That's right, the Cuyahoga River.”

Ashlie couldn't breath, all she could do was let out high pitched wheezes. She frantically clawed at your husband's hand, desperate to breath since he was choking her.

“Stop your dramatics, you stupid whore.” Coriolanus commanded harshly before letting Ashlie's neck go.

She gasped desperately for air, her lungs aching for oxygen to give them their substance, as he knees buckled. Ashlie slid against the wall, watching as Private Snow- your cold and cruel husband- walked back into the factory's break room as if nothing has happened. As if he just didn't nearly kill her; threaten violent things against her.

Ashlie's off tomorrow and, even tho sh was threaten by Coriolanus, she's determined to get you to leave him. So, she's going to be paying you a visit.

A visit that'll prove to be her last once your husband hears about it.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

5 - A War of Tragic Beginning

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

Length: 18.5k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, mentions of executions, discussions of war, blood and violence, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, slight dom/dub dynamics, casualties of war, major character death, unexplained mystical phenomena, slight canon divergence

Notes: I have no excuse for the length alright, I apologize. Anyways, I told you this was a slow burn, so strap in because we are in for the long haul now. Series Masterlist Here.

Little news had come out of Kings Landing since Robb had received your raven about his father being injured in the streets by the Kingslayer. Maester Luwin had tried to maintain an air of rational saying that things are likely too busy but it was an unspoken look between him and Robb that talked of a worry about what as to come. Once word from you stopped coming, Robb stopped sending, the likelihood of anothers eyes intercepting any word between you, too much of a paranoia.

He had kept busy, falling into his fathers role as Lord of Winterfell more naturally then he had once feared. You had assured him the morning you left that you had every confidence in him, and a boyish part of him hoped that you’d be proud for seeing the right future in him. Bran was still getting used to his older brothers new demeanour having separate Robb from him as a brother and his more common demeanour now called Lord Robb. If he remembered correctly, he didn’t have too different of a point of view when he was a child.

Still very young, and his only other sibling, only friend even being Jon, Robb had many memories of having the free time to watch his father assume a role he was never meant to have. Winterfell was meant to go to his Uncle Brandon, and once the war ended, his father had to quickly learn to take this role over. Days his father was in court, he was much more stern whereas in the quiet of the night was when he finally could see his father laugh and joke.

Robbs nights however, weren’t filled with the same peace. A plot by the Lannisters to murder his brother that none seemed to know why, his father, sisters, and wife away in Kings Landing where the only word was him being attacked by the same Lannisters, and his own brother, his closest companion for his entire life now up at the Wall swearing his entire life to a whole new family.

It was Jons choice, but somehow it made it harder to accept.

Somewhere along the lines, Robb couldn’t help but realize that he should’ve done more as his brother. He should’ve made Jon’s life less of a series of obstacles to jump over, should have stepped in more between him and his mother’s anger. So much of Robbs life had changed so drastically so quickly.

His father named hand of the king, leaving for the captiol with both of his sisters, his brother falling from a tower in a plot to murder him, his brother leaving for the wall, and now to add being tossed into a sudden marriage with one of his oldest friends and only having one night together before she too was dragged to the capitol. Even just a year ago, Robb would’ve had Jon there to talk it out with.

They’d ride to some challenging terrain in the woods and spend the afternoon switching between jesting at the other for complaining and reassuring the other. They were both good at that, or at least Jon was. Robb once more, regretting not being more of that reassuring support to his brother when it would have mattered the most. But at least Robb could’ve gone to Jon to stop the noise in his head screaming about you.

Jon knew you as long as Robb had, and he had a better friendship with you as well. He was close with you for so many years and that was nothing to scoff at but there was a quiet understanding you and his brother had that he was thankful for. Whatever Robb couldn’t see, you always did, and vise versa. Robb had only started to work with you in the training yard, because Jon had started teaching you first. Were the one brother he could talk to still here, maybe he wouldn’t feel so strange about his feelings over you.

Robb wasn’t blind, he knew all too well you were pretty. By the time you had come to Winterfell when you were fourteen and had matured considerably since the last time he saw you, Theon who had not met you by that point made an off handed comment about being the one to teach you what a man looked like. All three of them were around sixteen at the time and he could still see the glaring and aggressive looks both he and Jon gave him instantly. But he wasn’t wrong, you were very pretty.

There had always been a spark of something there, but something in Robb told him to hold off on acting on any of it. Your friendship regardless was fond, soft looks that always warmed him on the inside and eventually Robb simply had matured enough that if this was all there was then it would be alright. Then the letter came.

Something about the morning you came to his room, nervously trying to get out that you didn’t want their first kiss to be in front of the way too big crowd of the wedding set Robb alight. The fact that you did want to, the softness of your lips and skin under his touch and the sigh that Robb didn’t even think you realized you let out dragged him down.

It was duty to marry, but you were someone he cared about, and neither of you were shying away about what being married would entail. He had to guide you that night, and as he watched you nervously collect yourself in his room looking out the window he truly felt like some lecher. His eyes unable to stop looking at you in a way he never really did before and how easily you melted under some of the lightest of touches made him want to ruin you.

It scared him how easily you two fell into something neither thought you’d ever even have, how well you felt around him and how responsive to his touch you were. And now not seeing you for months, not even knowing if you were okay? It made Robb desperate to talk to someone about how on edge it made him feel. Like he was too protective, his thoughts about you too obsessive and he needed someone who understood him to work through his mess of a mind over you.

He couldn’t really talk to Theon. He trusted him like a brother, easy to forget he was a ward, a prisoner, when they both treated each other like he was just meant to be there. But Theon wasn’t the right one to talk to about you. His interest in girls was always just sexual and Robb couldn’t even remember a time he talked about someone in any kind of romantic way. Being so far apart so soon after marrying you was messing with his head.

But, that feeling only got worse. A raven came from Kings Landing, and as he stood there with Theon and Maester Luwin, that confusion turned to rage. Holding it in his hand he looked it over again. “Treason?” Looking up to Luwin he felt as confused as he was enraged. “Sansa wrote this?”

Luwin was doubtful but confident, “It is your sister’s hand, but the Queens words. You are summoned to Kings Landing to swear fealty to the new King.”

His blood growing hot he couldn’t even bring himself to read the words another time, for case he tore it up on the spot. “Joffery puts my father, and my wife in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?”

Luwin spoke low, offering a reason that as Robb only imagined the right of you and his father tossed away in their dungeon, sunk to the lowest parts of the sea. “This is a royal command, my Lord. If you refuse to obey..”

His voice was confident now, the Lord Robb that Bran would call him. It felt drastic, but as every other scenario played in his head, none came to mind that sat alright with him. “I won’t refuse. His Grace summons me to Kings Landing, I’ll go to Kings Landing. But not alone.”

This was it, he says these words and he has chosen his, his families, and the Norths course of action but as he looked at Luwin, he didn’t see the look of someone who didn’t trust him. He saw the same support and loyalty that he’d seen towards his father many times over.

“Call the banners.” Asking to be sure, asking if he truly means all of them and he didn’t blink nor pause to respond. “They’ve all sworn to defend my father, have they not? Now we see what their words are worth.”

Luwin was proud, even if he didn’t say it. They’d dismiss him as a boy, but that was not the command of anything but a man and a leader.

It took some of the houses far sooner to get here, the North was vast but as they arrived it was with no doubt or offence. It would be a few days before they could expect all of the banners, should all of them prove their loyalty at least, and it left Robb tense.

Unable to relax, there was a constant clench in his jaw, a heavy set in his shoulders that hardened each passing hour. Grey Wind stuck dutifully by his side. He didn’t have the words to explain it, but there was a connection he had with his direwolf, something that he was sure if he brought up to Maester Luwin, would be dismissed as his imagination. But Grey Wind always knew what Robb was feeling it seemed and at times, Robb didn’t know why but it felt like he was controlling him as if he were the true wolf.

It was that sense which he put trust into that night. Grey Wind grew agitated and worked up, Robb letting him out into the main yard thinking he may just be in need of a good hunt as all of these men converged on Winterfell.

Robb was speaking with Maege Mormont when it happened, the howling of Grey Wind, a chattering just outside and the galloping of a horse. Drawing him out the doors, Robb had barley stepped onto the gravel below when his eyes deceived him.

You were feeling truly exhausted. Not having slept in days, and the second you had landed in White Harbour you heard of the banners being called and made one hard ride to get here. The no food and barley any water wasn’t didn’t make you any less shaky either. Climbing off the horse, you could only look at Robb as you struggled to catch your breathe. Looking at him, he was more of a leader then when you departed, and you were certainly not similarly better off.

He called your name, and it was hard to remember if you went to him, he you, or met both ways but all you could really recall was collapsing into his arms. Robb pulling you tight against him, one hand wrapped around your lower back and the other cupped the back of your head to hold you close to his neck. Your name once more murmuring quietly from his lips, being hummed into the side of your head as you tried pulling back. “No, no, no, relax. Hold onto me, okay?” That warm voice almost made you cry, soothing in a way you hadn’t heard or felt in months you only managed to wrap your arms around his neck before Robb swiftly scooped you up.

Turning his head away to the crowd you heard him command someone to fetch Maester Luwin, only to turn back to you quietly when you tried shaking your head. “He’s looking you over, and that’s final.” A command in his voice that was well suited on him.

A woman’s voice shouting in the background as Robb brought you inside to, “You heard him, get your asses moving,” He chuckled into you when your brows furrowed slightly.

Your eyes tried fluttering shut, so in need of sleep but Robb slightly adjusted his hold on you to be tighter and higher, “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” You tried to speak, mind racing to get it all out at once but he shushed you with a gentle murmur of your name. “It’s alright, relax for me first. Let’s just make sure you’re okay before we do anything else.”

Sitting you gently onto his bed, you winced to sit up against the headboard as Robb took to the edge of the bed facing you. A hand running over the side of your face, his bright eyes narrowing with flashes of anger at the dirt and cuts still scattered about. Your hand gently reached up, grasping at his wrist and holding it there as you ran a thumb over his pulse. Still as strong as it was when you left. “I’m fi-”

“You’re not fine, you could barley stand for two seconds the second you got off your horse.” Opening your mouth to protest, Robb called your name firmly with his other hand gently at your waist. “You going to force me to make it an order?”

Smirking weakly, you felt some of your insides come alive too at the soft one he returned. “You ordering me around as what, Lord of Winterfell or my husband?” A playful scoff left his lips as he leaned in, sliding the hand on your cheek to gently hold the back of your neck. “I’ve only just gotten back, my Lord. A little patience wouldn’t hurt.”

You barley saw him roll his eyes before he pressed his lips to yours. Nothing firm or pushing, just an ever so gentle kiss as he ran his thumb over the back of your neck from his firm grip. Your hands weak, only willing to grasp at his waist before he already pulled back. Meeting your eyes, you wanted to pull him back at how much was overwhelming his.

Both of you looking to the door as Luwin came in, a genuine look of relief in his eyes as he closed the door behind him. One that was so much more real then any of the people around in Kings Landing.

Robb stood close by as he watched him check you over. Answering his questions, where certain marks came from and Robb’s jaw tightening with each explanation. “They are mostly innocent, should heal in a matter of days but you are okay. I can get someone to fetch some food and water for you,” he looked up to Robb “and you make sure she gets some sleep.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, “You’ll need all the energy you can to deal with the lot out there.” Laughing weekly, you leaned your head against the wall behind you, covering your face with a long sigh, collecting your thoughts.

“Are you up to telling us what happened?” Hands falling down to your lap you nodded, much more serious then just before. Glancing between Luwin and Robb you explained as best you could. About looking into Jon Arryn, the King’s death and what Renly and Petyr Baelish tried to propose and by the time you got to what truly occurred you felt the same rage you did in the moment.

“He played us for fools. Trusting him, the city watch, all of it.” Your eyes on the fire at the opposite end of the room glazing in the flames as you saw it all again. “He was right, she didn’t care what we were going to do, she knew. Cersei knew we wouldn’t stay quiet and she counted on it, we were always going to get thrown into those cells.”

Luwin relayed what the raven from Sansa had said, and you confirmed what Lord Varys had told you himself. “She’s still engaged to Joffery, and as long as she is she’ll be safe.” Pausing with a tilt of her head, “Relatively safe.”

You hadn’t mentioned Arya and neither did the letter, “What about Arya?”

Shaking your head, a weaker feeling passed over your eyes. “She’s still in the city, and if she is they’ll find her. They’ve got eyes everywhere, someone will see her and Cersei will likely keep her under close watch.”

Luwin had thought it over, “The Queen needs them alive, especially now. Three Starks to trade to prevent war.” Robb asking what about you, and the glance between you and Luwin said it all. Your eyes narrowing as you looked down to nothing as he was far more grim. “She’s not just your wife, she’s Stannis Baratheons daughter, his heir.”

Your voice was tight, yet fooled no one of the strain behind it. “If I didn’t leave when I did, I wasn’t coming out of there with my head.” Missing the restrained anger in Robb as you failed to look at either party in the room. “If somehow they beat my father, then the claim passes to me.” The words felt heavy and unnatural on your tongue as you said them. “Then they really can’t risk it.”

“You’d be dead either way.”

Turning to meet his eyes, you knew the rage behind his stilled expression all to well. A rage many Starks held and one that you had seen in his father as things continued to get worse. He wouldn’t lose it here though, with his fathers bannermen outside there was a real place to channel that rage.

Luwin left you both alone, going to ensure someone sent you up something easy to down as Robb came back to your side. Sitting close enough now that he could lean his forehead against yours, his hands on your cheek and waist while yours found enough strength to gently slide around his neck.

Despite how you both got here, there was no doubt that in this very moment, Robb felt like home and how much you truly had missed him. Maybe it was too strong or too soon, but now wasn’t the moment for you two to talk about that. Right now as he waited for someone to bring you something, you both sat in the others presence. Appreciating both the quiet and the feeling of the other in your arms, but like that day by the Weirwood as everyone else left to give you two a moment. Just quiet closeness to reassure the other, it had to be about you two now and your heart was much lighter at the sensation of how easy it was getting to allow it to be that way.

You’d remember your strange dream that night in the black cell later, the one of fierce cold and fire and the urgency in the rasping voice that you once knew but couldn’t place the longer you were away from the dream. But right now, it was the soothing, all consuming warmth of the one you vowed to be with.

Laughing to yourself, he pulled back with a slight grin. Running a hand over your hair, “What?”

Maybe it was how tired you were, but it just slipped out no matter what you had just tried to tell yourself not to do. “You make it too easy to fall in love with you, you know?” Robb’s eyebrows raised and his eyes lit up playfully.

“Do I, now? Do you want to elaborate on that at all?” Rolling your eyes you tried turning away but he gently pulled you back. “Oh no you, don’t. You’re in my bed, you’re not getting away that easily.” Leaning in he brushed his mouth against yours as he spoke, “How about my pretty little wife tells me all about what’s made her cold, hard, exterior fall for a man like me?”

You smirked as you felt your insides fluster, you were exhausted and for days on end now, in a constant state of panic and yet here Robb was making you feel like a little girl as he teased you. Part of you felt guilty at how Jon had simply known you’d find it easy to do so, but looking at Robb you knew not only did he deserve to be loved but you wanted it to be from you.

Something about these Starks apparently spoke to you. One real father away on the island of your home and yet the one you worried for was the wolf trapped away in Kings Landing. So much of the men in your family found no love or affection for the women in their life and yet both of Eddard Starks eldest sons found their own unique way to make you soft on the inside.

Pushing forward to kiss him yourself, Robb sighed into your mouth. His body relaxing a bit more like you both could only put on a ruse like this for so long. Pulling away just enough to press his lips to your cheek and down your jaw you smiled weakly, “You’re supposed to let me rest.”

Humming as he kissed your neck, it almost tickled from the brush of his facial hair. “I never said you had to do anything, my lady. Just relax, and take it like a good girl.” Oh he was unfair, he was not allowed to make you shiver like that now of all times.

Lightly pushing him back, he breathed a laugh at the knock at the door, sitting back to give you space as he called them in. To your surprise, the door was rather busy. One made sense, Grey Wind having found his way inside, no doubt also keeping to Robbs side more as people arrived. Some likely unsure of being around the increasingly growing dire wolf, and seeing him obey at his masters side would lighten that doubt.

The three others, one was a large man you recognized as Hodor carrying little Bran who upon seeing you widened his eyes and exclaimed your name. Nodding to the bed, Bran glanced at the large man with a polite, “Please, Hodor”.

Steps loud and large, Hodor reached the bed where Robb gently took his brother himself to sit up up close to you the way Robb was. Bran reaching forward the same time you did with a hug, you burying your face at the top of his head running a hand over his back, little exchanges of “I’m so glad to see you,” followed by an “I missed you too.”

Pulling back he sat in front of you as you looked up to the other woman. Not a face you recognized but putting down a tray of what looked like a simple broth and bread. She avoided your eyes but curiously glanced up as you moved your head to meet hers. Bran spoke up first, “This is Osha, she’s-”

“One of the free folk.” She paused before adding on a quick, “My lady.” That sounded unnatural from her mouth, which given who she was you supposed made sense. A quick glance to Robb he nodded calmly that he’d explain later but assuring enough to trust her. Gesturing towards Bran, her voice was deep and with a bit of a rasp that sounded strained, but appeared to just normal. “The little lord heard you’s was here and wanted to see you.”

Thanking her, she turned and slunk away as you watching curiously before looking back to Bran, running a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you woke up.” He seemed to be in better spirits then what Robb had written to you about, no doubt time doing much of the help.

You three sat for a while, you slowly working away at the food while Bran sat, leaning slightly against Robb as you all pretended like the world outside the room wasn’t awaiting death and war. You noticed Rickon wasn’t there, but Luwin later would tell you that Robb calling the banners had almost sparked something in the six year old that made him spend more time on his own.

You felt for him, he was too young. Bran was as well, but at ten he was better equipped to handle and understand the situation. Growing late into the night, Hodor took Bran to bed as Robb insisted you sleep, noticing it was getting harder for you to keep your eyes open.

By tomorrow night almost everyone should be arriving or close to, and when they did? You and Robb were to be put to the real test. A lifetime of being raised by respected lords and leaders and the question of not only could you both be leaders, but did you have it in you to do it together.

Morning came early, far too early but you had woken up in a way you could barley remember by your return. The sun just lightly shining into the window from the more cloudy northern skies, a warm fur draped over you as you lay in a bed, one actually soft and forgivable on your muscles. But it was the warm body behind you that pulled you out of your sleep.

One large warm hand draped over your hip has caused your shirt to ride up ever so slightly, enough that it let him slip under and explore whatever he could find. Sometime during the night, he seemed to have pulled away the thick of your hair out of his way, giving him the space to rest his own head partially against the back of yours and enough for Robb to have pressed a few gentle kisses to your neck when he joined you in bed hours after you fell asleep.

The stone walls of his room were so much more relaxing then the brightness of any quarters you had in the captiol. Twisting slightly, you tested if you could move without disturbing him, but Robb just adjusted in his sleep to whatever you did. Turning to face him now, your hands rested gently in the small space between you.

You wondered if you looked so calm, so at peace in your own sleep. Somehow you doubted it, Robb was the better one to look at in this pair afterall. His brown curls once more tinted red in the morning light, begging you to gently run you fingers through them. Trying not to jostle, you sighed quietly at how soft they were and how easily you could play with his hair.

This..well this was something unique for you. For everything that had your heart before him, the only time you’ve ever had the real grace of waking up next to someone to intimately were dark, stormy nights on Dragonstone. Nights when Shireen had snuck into your room and whispered if you could let her sleep in your bed tonight.

But waking up like this was something you only had once before, with the same man. This time your exhaustion wasn’t from any memory you wanted to look back on, this time it was the scattered fears of fleeing a city wanting your head no doubt. Just as you tried to shake off such a thought, Robb’s brows furrowed, eyes still not open.

His voice matted in sleep, accent thick as anything and slurring together as it came out raw. “You trying to drive a man crazy this early in the morning?” Opening one eye with a playful annoyance you breathed out your own laugh in return. Robb flipped onto his back, arms pulling you along with him, your body cuddled into his side as your head rested closer to his chest.

Moving in closer, you felt your limbs buzzing at how new yet normal it felt with him. “I’m not allowed to admire my husband?” If the way his grip on you tightened, so freely calling him that stirred something within that man.

Keeping his eyes sharp on the ceiling with a smirk sliding onto his lips, Robb let one hand trail down your side. “Not when it riles him up so easily, and you’re supposed to be resting.” His hand said something different however. His palm rough on you as it made its way to your waist, stopping to greedily squeeze the soft skin he could grasp at. His smirk grew at the skip in your breathe.

Your own eyes narrowing playfully as you gently ran your own hand over his chest. Pushing the open sides of his shirt off him to give your fingers room to explore without anything in your way. “I’m supposed to be. Didn’t stop you from getting in the way of that last time.”

Mistake. That seemed to be a mistake. Robb shoved his hand down your hip and thigh, the force of the action shoving your pants down with him. Turning slightly to see you better, you weren’t nearly as teasing or daring as your words. It only made him bold.

Suddenly moving so that you were the one on your back and Robb learning over you on his side, his face looking down your legs as he yanked them the rest of the way off one leg. Pulling back to hover over your bottom half he grabbed the other side and yanked it off as well, tossing the article to the floor like it offended him.

He didn’t give you a chance to return the favour. Climbing up your body, Robb just as roughly pulled your shirt off as well leaving him mostly clothed and you laying back in his bed completely bare. His eyes raking over yours he found himself pausing, “How is it you look even better then I remember?”

Not giving you a chance to answer, Robb leaned down and captured your lips. His kiss much greedier then last night as he wrapped an arm around your back to pull you up into him. Your hands running over his chest and pushing the material off of him enough that you could grasp onto his shoulders.

One hand grasping your jaw to tilt your head to stay exactly where he wanted. Your knees parting without thought to let his hips slide into the space as he hovered over you more. Biting you bottom lip, you could feel the sting from his force pulling a gasp from you. Robb chuckled darkly into your mouth at the high pitched sound, using the perfect opportunity he wanted to slide his tongue into your mouth.

One hand raking up into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as he dragged his tongue along yours while his hand on your jaw gave you no choice but to let him taste you at his mercy. Dragging his fingers along your inner thigh as he dragged them slowly across your folds, you jolted and grasped onto him tighter when he dragged his nails over your clit.

Moving your neck to push your head into the pillows, he granted himself access to your neck with bites not letting you ease into it. Gasping his name, Robb smirked against your neck as he bit and sucked at the skin with much more ferocity then he had your only other night together.

His fingers slid back down your entrance and back up in the same tease as before with no pause, your thighs now sat the side of his own hips shaking slightly as you exhaled trying to keep composure. A feat not worth fighting as you let a whine slip as Robb pressed his lips firmly to a sensitive spot of your neck that he could feel soak his fingers more. Slipping them up to your ear your eyes fluttered as his warmth breathe ran over it, “Is it really this easy to make such a composed woman into such a needy thing for me?”

Another whine failed to swallow down your throat before he heard it. Pushing up onto his knees he pulled the rest of his shirt off. Reaching for his own pants he paused, hands right at the lace when he looked up at you with a dark need. Slowly Robb moved his hands to slide over your thighs and grasp at the skin.

Your chest heaving you couldn’t stop glancing down as your veins burned in a need. “Robb-”

“You want my cock?” It should’ve been shameful how you didn’t even think to nod, but his eyes only grew darker. “Be a good little wife and pull it out for me, then.” What should’ve been more shameful was how quickly you sat up to obey him. The way he looked at you like you were just a juicy piece of meat all for his ravishing hunger made your brain feel foggy.

Looking up at him, you undid the lace slowly pulling the material down. Just as you freed his cock, he grasped the back of your head, keeping your eyes on the thick length begging for attention. You couldn’t understand why you felt so willing to do anything he wanted or asked, but it was like having only him and his touch in your thoughts was a craving. Your hands gently grasped at his hips as he still knelt above you, his voice thick as anything. “It’s all yours. Just ask for it.”

“Please, Robb, my lord, I want you in my mouth.” Were he not spreading them you’d have clenched your thighs together at how tightly he fisted your hair as he almost hissed at you. Unable to risk speaking, he pushed your head forward.

You licked the tip of his cock, eyes closing at the salty taste of precum already leaking out. Moving to take the rest of his length into your hands, he tsked at you with a tightening in your hair. Fingertips flexing, you kept them on his hips as you took his tip into your mouth. Sucking gently as you licked what you could it, it didn’t miss you that even just this he stretched your mouth wide.

Ever so slowly, he allowed you to take him at your own pace, your own saliva building up and coating his cock the deeper you took him. Pushing past a certain point only a little over a third, your heart skipped a beat of what felt like panic. Robb however, seemed to sense it, loosening his grip and more massaging where he held you at your hair, his other hand reaching for your neck. His thumb gently running up and down your throat, as you felt your heart steady and your muscles relax.

“That’s a good girl. You can take all of me, I know you can.” How was he so calming yet making you even wetter all at the same time? It took some time, Robb muttering small praises before you were more then halfway down his length.

You pulled back a bit, as Robb guided your head himself now to pull your mouth up and down his cock, the sight of your closed eyes enjoying as you bobbed your head on him too much. His head falling back with a needy groan, something which might be your name thrown in there as he let you take this for now.

The more you sucked his cock, the more you forgot the world around you, the more worked up you felt on the inside and the more eager you became to take all of him. His length throbbed just as he yanked your mouth from him. A trail of saliva caught between his length and your gasping lips as you looked at him. Soaked from your mouth and shining from how much you spread his own precum along as well.

In an instant, Robb shifted. Pulling you up to his lips as he leaned down to yours. “Turn around for me,” He muttered between another kiss.

Without thought, you moved onto your hands and knees as Robb yanked your hips up more, forcing your face slightly towards the bed. One palm sliding over to roughly grasp at one of your ass cheeks he swore with a grumble under his breath. The other went to gather the wetness between your legs and ran across your clit with two fingers. You gasped as the spark of pleasure burned your core as he was firm and rough in his touch.

Pressing himself closer the tighter the rough circles he had on your clit, the more overwhelmed you felt from it. Head dropping you found it hard to breathe at the constant touch and Robb behind you left your ass to drag up your spine and grasped the back of your neck. Pushing you to stay face down into the sheets as he slid the two fingers deep inside you. Pumping quickly for only seconds before pulling them back out and up to your clit again as you begged with “Please,” and breathless “Robb- oh fuck,”

The hand on the back of your neck made you feel like an animal forcing to obey their pack leader, but perhaps that's exactly what this was. He was the wolf, and you were the mate on your hands and knees soaking his hand. Only Robb’s own need was strong.

Just as you moaned, the fire inside you burning to bright and snapping, your orgasm washing through you did Robb push inside. His cock just as soaked from your mouth and what his own touch gathered from you, he slid in deep way too fast.

You were too slick inside and he sunk deep enough in one thrust that you could’ve cried, but you may have cried more if he pulled out. Pausing, Robb leaned over you, his cock that way pressing firmer inside as he rested his forehead against the back of your own. “Fuck- I should punish you for keeping a cunt this good from me for so long.”

His hips started to move, and they were not gentle but maybe they shouldn’t have been. The pace was fast but the roughness was unrelenting to the point that you could only dig your hands into the sheets and brace yourself. He felt so thick inside of you and his thrusts so fast and rough that it took your words and your breath but not his own.

Biting at your ear he slurred out in great desire as he pounded into you, “My perfect girl, perfect little wife so fucking good for me, taking my cock,” You whined his name and his laugh almost sounded somewhat delirious. “Oh fuck, clenching around me like you want me to spill inside of you already, That what you want? Want me to fill you up already?”

You barley could nod from how pressed into the sheets you were, but you would’ve stayed that way for as long as he kept fucking you so intensely. “Anything, fuck anything Robb please,”

His strength was less rough but his pace was deliciously cruel. “Don’t say that, don’t you fucking say that if you don’t mean it.” His entire chest laid over your back as he buried his head into your neck rambling. “You have no idea the thoughts that run through my head about you, no fucking clue. You’d run back to your father if you knew the things I want to do to you.”

You cried out his name, reaching one hand blindly behind you to grab onto him and grasp his hair like your own anchor. “Please, I mean it, I mean it I promise. I’m yours, fuck-”

His words spitting into your skin as he pushed your orgasm right back to the edge, his cock having to pound into you with more force just to fuck you as deeply as you clenched so tight around him. “You’re mine, pretty girl?” You nodded but he needed more. “Say it. If you’re mine tell me, fuck tell me you’ll always be mine and I’ll fill this cunt right fucking now.”

Nothing else came to mind, only him. “Always. I’m yours, Robb. Now and always,”

The angle was awkward, but as Robb turned you to bring his lips to yours with force neither of you cared about how messy it was, how your teeth bashed against the other at one point as he kissed you and fucked you, he dragged your orgasm right around his cock.

Crying his name into his mouth, his deep groans turned to moans as he came as well. You could feel his seed, more thick then you remembered and somehow so warm as he filled you up. As long as you were still feeling shocks of pleasure from your orgasm, somehow you kept milking Robbs cock for all he could spill inside of you.

Both of you were ragged, out of breathe as he stayed inside you, laying atop you as neither tried to move him or yourself. It was a while you stayed just like that, his touch turning to gentle and soothing eventually. His voice turning much warmer and soothing again as he lulled you back to the present with soft nothing whispers.

You two only had one other night in this bed, and yet today was your last for you didn’t know how long once more. Only this time, as the men all gathered on Winterfell, you’d decide on final plans before departing and then in the dead of night?

It would be the true final judgment, did your lives truly prepare Robb and yourself for war. But at the very least, you both had the other for however this journey took you both. You weren’t going to sit idly as war fought alone for the father who made you feel as he was yours as well.

For all his faults, you at least understood what it was about Northerners that you could see would greatly put off your father. Some of these men you knew, others you didn’t but there was no question that they saw you as part of the dynamic. Maege Mormont took a liking to you right away, with a comment that would’ve flattened your father and sent him walking into the sea were it him.

“And those ingrates said you didn’t have enough of the North in you.” An arm wrapping around your shoulder, she pulled you into her tall, large frame fondly. “Looks like our lady here got plenty of Northerner in here last night.” Her other hand nudging at the marks you had quickly realized just wouldn’t get covered.

Robb had smirked quite proudly to himself when you realized he had done so on purpose.

The laughs though, didn’t put you off. From everything you’d heard about the woman next to you, your tongue slipped the words out easily as dry as ever. “I can hear the bears all growling without you to warm their nests from here, Mormont.”

Grasping your shoulder she shook you with a hearty laugh as did the others. Introducing you to her daughter, Dacey. Just as large and imposing but with the same grin on her face as she forewent the formalities with you as well.

Maege had been the one to give you the run on which lords were which and what houses you didn’t already recognize. Normally with a greeting and nudging you up yourself. Knowing the men you’d fight beside with was not out of the ordinary for you, you knew most of your own fathers bannerman by sight but the ease of their handshakes and talk put your mind at ease.

Northerners were different then you, for many reasons you got along with them but at the end of the day you to anyone else would be seen as the enemy. You grew up in the Crownlands, your Uncle was the King and your father one with his own claim down south. Your blood was that of the Andals, theirs of the First Men and yet the ones who didn’t trust you spoke to you and found little to care about in those differences.

And the others, well seeing how you already knew a number of these houses was answer too. It was hard to remember, that across the continent, another war was being prepared by the one man it seemed the Crown thought you’d stand by.

But you were told to stand by your family, and if Eddard Stark had not made you feel as if he was a father to you already? You lived half your life in the North, with these people, your heart belonging to more then one. And now you were Robb’s wife, and that made you a Stark to them more then those who still saw you as a Baratheon.

As the sky fell, more plans begun to form and a camp was in mind that would be the first act of taking them all out into the field. Draped in a fur and standing so confidently at Robb’s side you could feel the starting of looking at those who made such promise of council.

Having come over to greet Robb, you were then met with a pair of curious eyes that sat on the face of a very hard to read man. His voice was smooth and with a quiet kind of power his handshake to you felt unusually tight. His eyebrows raised however, when you squeezed back with your own strength as he now kept his eyes on you. “I must say, my lady, you are surprisingly exactly what I expected.”

Your face remained impassive as you struggled to find something behind the polite gaze. “And what would that be, Lord Bolton?”

Then there was a small half smile on one side of his mouth. “Your father has quite the reputation as a commander. I see much of that in you.” Nodding his head to Robb, “The lad is lucky to have you by his side.”

He and Robb shared an easier look before he pulled you a tad closer with a playful tug around your waist. “That I am. I’d be a fool if I just left her here after spending all those years knocking her into the dirt.” You narrowed your eyes playfully as his smirk grew wider. “Hey, I didn’t say I was still doing it.”

Bolton looked at you with a curious gaze. “I look forward to finding out how a southern girl fairs against her own kind with the North at her side.”

In the moments as he walked off you and Robb were silent before you spoke up. “You’re sure I should come with you?” His eyes narrowing as he turned to stand at your front. “You don’t think it’s a mistake having me at your side out there?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

Shaking your head, you tried turning away crossing your arms over your chest. “I know how to swing a sword, but maybe that doesn’t mean I have the right to be out there with you and these men.”

Robb grabbed your upper arms, not a trace of amusement in his eyes and a sternness in his voice as he looked at you. “How many wars have you fought in?”

“None.”

“How many have I fought in?” You tilted your head at him in indignation but he ignored it. “How many?” You repeated the last answer. “Exactly. You’ve been in as many battles as I have. You’ve trained like I have, and yet none of those men are telling either of us we should just stay here and let them do the fighting for us. They trust me to lead them as I’ve called upon them. And I trust you.”

You looked off at the nothing in the growing sunset for a bit, your voice smaller then you wished. “It’s paralyzing. Not knowing that it’s really going to be like.”

You didn’t see it but Robb smiled softly. Tilting your chin to look over at him with two fingers he leaned down to you. “At least we’ll be scared shitless together.” He pressed a short kiss to your lips before pulling away and tugging you into his side.

“Now come, we have a bunch of men in the main hall all clambering to yell about which one of them gets to do the most killing.” Huffing a laugh, you thought back to your father once more.

Certainly, a very different atmosphere then the kind of army he commanded indeed.

The more ale in their bellies the more rowdy they became over it. Robb had you sat by his side in the hall, Bran beside him on the other table end and Grey Wind having found a place between both of them on the floor. You felt for him, having to watch his brother leave off for war and leaving him in charge of Winterfell at only ten.

At the opposite end of you and Robb sat quite a large and imposing man. Greatjon Umber has a loose tongue and a louder yell as discussions continued. “For thirty years I’ve been making corpses out of men, boy. I’m the man you want leasing the vanguard.”

With one elbow on the table resting over your mouth your eyes narrowed slightly at the roundabout debate continuing on. Robb beside you was stern yet too growing agitated. “Galbart Glover will lead the van.”

Greatjon acted as if he’d just been served piss stew as he scrunched his face up in offence. “The bloody wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover.” Robb leaned forward, resting both hands together in front of him, his shoulders tense. “I will lead the Van, or I will take my men and march them home.”

You rose your head high, a narrowed look that caught Brans attention before Robb’s did. His eyes were unamused when he looked to Greatjon. Sitting back as his voice came out rough and yet unwavering in tone. “You are welcome to do so Lord Umber.” Standing slowly he braced his palms on the table as the ferocity didn't even blink in his eyes. “And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker.”

“Oathbreaker?” Jumping from his seat, Robb stood straight as you and multiple others stood from yours in defence. The man pushing his luck a great deal too far had silence wash over the hall. “I’ll not sit here here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass-”

In an instant something that caught stuck with you played out. Not even half a second went by, did he reach for a blade by his side did Robb’s eyes narrow slightly and a growl let out. Grey Wind leaped up onto the table and in a few short steps lunged onto the man grasping at his hand with his teeth.

A snap echoed as Greatjon yelled out in pain on the ground, while Grey Wind calmly returned to Robb’s side. Calm as the wolf had been moments before the outrage as Robb scratched behind one of his ears staring still at the rising man holding his bleeding hand. “My lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord. But doubtless. The Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me.”

Throwing his chair to the side, none moved but all with watching unsure eyes as you and Robb both stood next to each other with still gazes. “Your meat...” Something in the man seemed to dull back down as he looked around the room then back to the two of you. Realizing in his haste, he had pushed Robb too far and bore the punishment for the subordination. He rose his bleeding hand, and so did he lighten his tone. “Is bloody tough.”

A different air in a Northern Army indeed, as both men started to laugh as did the hall join in with ease as the tension melted down to nothing. Crime committed, justice given and both men could look at the other knowing their limits. For a quick second as the man looked at you, a smirk on his face as Robb placed a hand on your thigh, the touch burning as if his blood ran hot from such an encounter.

“No wonder you fit so well, lass. I’m not the only one whose got a wild bite or two in ‘em now am I?” Gesturing with the bloody hand to your neck, maybe you should feel ashamed for such marks be so glaringly obvious but the laughs that came weren’t at you. In fact a fair few seemed to be of an amused approval.

Robb beside you, tightened his grip on your thigh. Roughed up by a wolf indeed, you were. Only you’d ask for it, even beg for it at this point. The warmth of Robb beside you, the heat of the castle, and yet for some reason as you glanced at him? Feeling something grow inside of you at how easily he sat there in control of such a rowdy barrage of soldiers?

You felt a strange wave of cold, a cold that felt just like that image of fire and rasping tone that so far away from you now, you couldn’t quite recall what it was you had dreamt. But the cold returned as you sat there, at Robbs side preparing to leave for war.

It didn’t last, but it wasn’t the same cold that the army had all left into. Whatever cold and the distant rasp seemed to be trying to get to you with, was something that not even the furs around you shook off.

For only a second, you thought of ice.

Snow had begun to fall once you had reached Moat Caitlin. Only a light dusting that stayed not long after hitting the ground but it felt fitting. The North left for war and this brought the cold with them.

You had all left in the middle of the night, eyes could be on you at any time and under the cover of darkness was the safest bet. Robb took no chance at allowing the Lannisters to find out they were coming. You both had looked back at Winterfell one last time before turning to the other. If the other had nerves running through their heart, neither of you showed it.

A number of you stood in one of the tents, around a map as word reached you all of both forces against you. Tywin Lannister had his army planted close to the Trident and had the numbers, but with a lesser number still greater then the North had, Jaime Lannister was besieging Riverrun fast and pushing them back close to their tails.

“Lord Tywin has more commanders at his own camp-”

“Jaime’s moving faster through-”

Your eyes trained on the map, seeing the forces move in the stillness of the image as you looked to the numbers coming to mind. Either choice was risky, yet the lands that surrounded them spoke to different fights to come. The man around you speaking in your watchful quiet, “Our scouts confirm it’s even larger then the Kingslayer’s.”

“One army or two, the Kings in the North threw back hosts ten times as large.”

You were quiet but the eyes you as you spoke both had a similar understanding. “We worry about their numbers to ours we’ll be here until they find us. We push on Tywin and there’s nothing around us except to chance us against theirs.”

Roose Bolton glanced to you curiously, “What are you suggesting?”

“If we break-” Multiple lords at once looking up, had you and Robb turn to a sight that you hadn’t expected. Lady Catelyn stood with Ser Rodrick almost with a look between shock and worry on her face to the scene she arrived at.

Her and Robb shared a moment where they hesitated to embrace in front of the men, almost making you smirk. Truly there was more love in that little moment then you think you’d ever seen publically from your father in a lifetime. Whatever image of leadership was at their thoughts was already far too much for Stannis Baratheon.

Lady Catelyn smiled at her son in front of his men at the minimum.

Looking at you, she found a far sight from the stripped down emotions you two shared in Brans room as he lay unconscious. Had you asked her, you reminded her far more of the detached reputation of Lord Stannis. You nodded once at her as she requested, “I would speak with my son alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords.”

In a quick moment, you found yourself feeling unwelcome. Not to any fault of hers, but you found yourself pulling from Robb. His quick touch to your waist pushed back gently as you jolted your head to the entrance of the tent. “You heard her.”

Beside you, Theon was shoved forward as well. Greatjon snatching him like wrangling a child, “You too, Greyjoy. Are you bloody deaf?”

The pair of you came beside the other as you gave the pair space to talk, you not looking back at what still didn’t feel like your place. Theon however, felt no qualms of bringing it up. “You’re as much her family as you are Robb’s you know.”

Face flat, you shrugged a shoulder. “She said alone. Can’t be alone if I’m there.” Looking forward you could see Grey Wind wandering along the edges of the camp, eyes trained on you without having any need of. You thought of that day in the hall before looking back to the men around you. Theon kept looking as you shook your head. “What?”

Stopping, you turned to look at him as he looked not like he did to a superior he served, but just as the boy you spent years with at Lord Stark’s side. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Brows narrowing in confusion he stepped forward with an eye roll. “Your father’s off on an island about to declare war on the Lannisters too and you’re not with him. Don’t try and tell me that doesn’t make you feel a bit fucked up.”

Oh, oh this is not what you wanted to talk about at all. It was hard to tell if you gave anything away in your expression as you looked to him. “Robb’s-”

“A husband that he chose for you.” Something inside you felt uncomfortable, not with Theon but with an implication you were clever enough to pick up on. “I’m just saying, you’re still that old bastards daughter and if he’s the one with the actual claim to the throne then that-”

“Don’t.” A harsh almost whispered hiss that took him back. You did not want to hear this, that was not the life you chose and not something you were meant for. “I’m not fighting for a fucking chair, Theon. I’m here for the Starks. That’s all.”

The air between you was thick at the sheer amount that neither of you were saying, and it wasn’t lost on you how he didn’t chose his path to serve this House as you did to marry into it. If he was almost one, as he was insinuating that you could be one right now?

Absolutely not. You wanted nothing to do with this, and neither should he. He tried saying your name and you shook your head. “We are not discussing this.”

You hated whatever the hell this had turned into. Something unspoken and volatile swimming between you both that if you wanted nothing to do with, you pleaded on the inside for him to drop it as well. It was not the same as what happened then. This was about Lord Stark, about the girls, about keeping together the family that had made you both like one of their own.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Grey Wind perched closer by with an eeiry aggressive look in his eye looking in Theons direction. Nervously looking between you both, he backed off with a genuine regret. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

“It was.” A mere second passed before you exhaled. Looking around the camp with a much easier time breathing before turning to stand more beside him as you felt the brush of Grey Wind come to sit close next to you, your hand reaching down to run over his head gently.

“Now that you’re married, is it wrong of me to say you look sexy in that armour?”

Whatever he tried to bring up, now gone into the wind once more. It wasn’t a life meant for either of you, and you knew it. So you both stood there and laughed. Nudging him with your arm he nudged back as you both glanced with a small smirk. “Still look better then you, Greyjoy.”

If something more was running through his head, it was impossible to say, but you laughed together and felt less like you both were here armed and armoured for bloodshed. But once more two people who had long bonded over irritating duties and even more distant fathers.

Running your hand over Grey Wind you spotted Maege Mormont over in the distance, what looked like yelling but could just be her natural manner when story telling. The rowdiness of the northern army stood out so much more. The only other army you’d truly seen ironically was what led you to Theon.

Your father had taken charge of taking down his uncle, Victarion Greyjoy and his Iron Fleet in the Straits of Fair Isle. A victory which allowed your uncle, Robert and Eddard Stark to gain access to the Iron Islands and end the rebellion. In exchange for Balon’s life he surrendered his ambitions to take his crown and gave his last living son up as a ward to the Starks.

Victarion as far as you knew continued to serve his brother and the third, Euron had been banished for crimes that you need not think about. That was a man who was a true Iron Islander. Does and takes what he wants, only paying what they called the Iron Price. If they want something they only get it by taking it. Standing next to Theon though?

Watching other Northerners? You two felt similar. Neither of you belonged with these people by blood, but in many ways you also didn’t feel at home with your real blood. Balon hadn’t been Theon’s father for ten years and Stannis had not treated you like a real daughter in the ten years since Shireen was born either. Yet you stood here now, accepted amongst these kinds and both someone of great importance to Robb Stark.

But still, perhaps what was spoken between you? Was just the insecurity of both, the worry that you wouldn’t be seen as one of them, and the wonder if you should be? For now, all you had to focus on was getting the Starks back.

Everything else now was secondary. This wasn’t a war of anything but justice.

It was Catelyn who later found you, “It seems our families can’t stop going into war together.”

Looking up at her from where you had been partially leaning against a tree, your tilted your head in mild agreement before looking back out to the camp. “Perhaps the crown should stop giving us reasons too.” Clearly there was something else on her mind, but you could see she was struggling to find the right words for it. Pushing up you stood next to her for a moment before speaking up. “I shouldn’t have left.”

Her face shifting into something confused before it morphed more into a motherly concern, saying your name consolingly you just shook your head and looked straight.

“No, I know I shouldn’t have. I thought I didn’t have enough time to get to him, or find Arya or Sansa and I just left. I was there to stand by your husband and do my duty, and I failed that.”

You could sense part of her wanting to come closer, the soft embrace of a mother but with your arms crossed and a distant harsh stare she looked down before taking but one step closer to your side. Not that she said anything, but it didn’t fail to occur to Catelyn that her own reunion with Robb was likely nowhere near anything you’d get should you see your own father and mother again.

The truth she spoke wasn’t sugar coated at the least, “If you had stayed there, the Lannisters would prefer your head on a spike then to even consider trading you.”

A whisper, but one without fear or pain as if you had thought of it too many times to be bothered anymore. “Knowing Joffery, he’d have it sent to my father. Paint a nice picture of what he was willing to do to keep his uncle from taking his throne.”

It bothered Catelyn that this didn’t seem to horrify you as it did her or Robb. “And yet you still think you shouldn’t have left? What would that do, whose justice are you serving by rotting away in a cell?”

A question you thought you knew, but the more you considered it the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that running wasn’t how you were raised. “We both stood in that room and committed the same crime, but I’m the one free and he isn’t. My duty was to stand by his side, what should these men think of me? Knowing I fled that?”

“Your duty is also to stand by Robb’s side, is it not?” Shoulders tensing, you felt tightness in your chest that put a pressure on your lungs. “There is every chance we can get Ned and the girls back safely, but you’re also Lord Stannis’s daughter. Cersei thinks she has no reason to fear us, but she does about your father. And killing you sends a better message then keeping you alive.”

Your eyes were trained down on your feet, a noise in your head that begun to turn into an ache. “I’m willing to wager trading your families lives in favour of my own would’ve caused a lot less bloodshed.”

She had no chance to respond, Robb’s warm voice coming up behind you both. “You mind if I steal her away?” Catelyn relented, but a look between them spoke of a worry in her eyes as his hand found it’s way to your lower back and pushing you forward. Beside him was a larger man, a harsh narrowed almost glare on his face and an armour that was dissimilar to the men around him but a little more like the lighter material of yours. The black colour also flared out in what looked like scales.

Robb introducing you both, and the design clicked. Brynden Tully, known to many as the Blackfish. You nodded to him as he watched you back with a curious look. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, my lady but I would’ve much preferred it to be anywhere but here.”

A weak willed half smirk slid onto your face for only seconds. “Same to you.”

Robb could sense something wasn’t quite right, but it just wasn’t the moment to address it nor did he suspect you were going to make that easy. He’d seen Theon talk to you about something and since then it was like something changed in your brain and kept you at arms from everyone around you.

At least it’d be easy to get out of the Greyjoy what he said then to try and force you to explain what was bothering you. He knew all too well you tended to keep it bottled up until it exploded.

The area around the table was crowded as those present huddled to debate their movements, plotting out who was where in the process. Robb was standing at the head, you and Theon on either side of him. Ser Rodrik to your left, then around the bend was Greatjon Umber, Brynden Tully, Rickard Karstark then closing the loop beside Theon was Roose Bolton.

Night had fallen on the camp and a decision needed to be made now if they were to have any chance at riding ahead of any scouts from the opposite end. Roose Bolton leaning forward as he debated his own stance. “We need to get him on broken ground, put his knights at a disadvantage.”

Greatjon was loud in response to the former’s more quiet tone but with no less fever. “No, we need to get around him and break Jaime Lannister’s siege of Riverrun. Do that and the River Lords will join us.”

Peeling your eyes from the map you met the man’s eyes, a spark of agreement that had you both give the other a very slight nod. Loud and brash, but he had a better point in your eyes. Robb beside you had his eyes much like yours on the map as he plotted out in his head. “To do either we need to cross the river, and the only crossing is at The Twins.”

Palms braced on the table, you scratched at the wood with your nails slightly. “Robb’s right, we need that bridge, but Lord Frey isn’t going to just open the gates and let us pass. Or if the Lannisters have bribed him to their side.”

Brynden Tully rapped his knuckles lightly against the map, “We get to the Twins, then what is it going to be? Do we move against Jaime, or Lord Tywin?”

The answer on Robb’s tongue was interrupted however, two men dragging a small man covered in grime in between. “Pardon, my lords. We’ve captured a Lannister scout.”

Both you and Theon taking an edge and throwing it over the other half to cover the pieces at play, catching the Greatjon’s amused attention. “Don’t you worry, he won’t be leaving this tent with his head.”

Robb watched the scout with careful, dark eyes. Calmly asking where they found him. “In the brush above the encampment. He looked to be counting.”

The quiet in the tent was thick, the only sound being Robb making his way around to the front never taking his eyes off the nervous scout. Coming in front of him, he still made no move that put him at any less fear. “How high did you get?”

Eyes darting around the room before looking back to him, “Twenty thousand. Maybe more.”

Leaning forward, you watched Robb who had yet to give anything away but you could see the gears in his head click into place. Ser Rodrick beside you, knowing him still as a boy tried to offer an out. “You don’t have to do this yourself, your father would understand-”

Turning to him, Robb looked not like the boy he thought he was speaking too, and his voice as sure as any of the seasoned fighters in the tent. “My father understands mercy, when there is room for it.” The men around you far more looked with less confidence as he looked back to the scout. “Let him go.”

The smallest whisper of protest was let out, but a pride filled you with how quickly it was shut down as Robb turned to look at them all. Only as his eyes met you, did yours narrow slightly with a tiny tilt down of your head almost like a nod of yes. You could see the conclusion, both Greatjon and Roose were right.

Stepping towards the scout, Robb leaned in close, voice low and a dangerous authority to it that ran shivers down your spine. “Tell Lord Tywin, winter is coming for him. Twenty thousand northerners marching south to find out if he really does shit gold.”

Almost shocked at leaving with his life, the scout had some decency before being dragged out. “Yes my lord, thank you my lord.”

It appeared, his choice was not yet clicking in some. Both Roose Bolton and Greatjon Umber appeared their own distinct variety of angry but it was the hulking size of the later that rounded the table to get into Robb’s face. Almost spitting as he scolded him, “Are you touched boy? Letting him go?”

Without even a blink, Robb was quietly calm and unflinching. “You call me boy again.” Greatjon leaned forward as did Robb. “Go on.”

Greatjon stammered, taking a leave with nothing more then a huff. A rowdy man that you suspected wouldn’t quite temper that aggression until Robb could prove his worth, a worth you had no doubt in whatsoever. Turning back, he looked to you as your eyes shined with a proud and impressed glaze over them, pulling the map back Robb assumed his previous position. Two carved wolf heads being put down in front of each carved Lion.

“Once we reach below the Neck, we split into two.”

The plan had to move fast, whatever negotiation with Lord Walder Frey was going to have to be done quickly. Roose Bolton would lead two thousand men to the Green Fork and sneak up on Tywin in the early morning before any word could reach him or Jaime Lannister that the main force of the army was sneaking right up on the kingslayer in Riverrun.

If the scouts were correct, you’d come right up behind him at Whispering Wood but first as you stood on the hill in sight of the crossing at the Twins you knew time was ticking. Theon stood primed with a bow, ensuring no word was coming in or out by raven. So far none stood out, and none were directed anywhere but as letters to other Freys, the last one read out by Theon, “A birthday to his grand niece Walda.”

“Or so Walder Frey would have you think.” Catelyn looking to Theon, “Keep shooting them down, we can’t risk Lord Walder sending any word to the Lannisters.”

You and Robb stood next to one another, the tensity in your veins seemed to twist and connect to his as you stared at the bridge in the bright barley rising sun. “Father rots in a dungeon, how long before they take his head? We need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now.”

Theon looking over to him, “Just march up to his gates and tell him you’re crossing, we’ve got five times the numbers. You can take the twins if you have too.”

Watching the sight you could only see the darkness of the black cells you knew Eddard Stark was still tossed into. “Not in time, Lord Tywin will either get too far north to surprise or he’ll hear word from his own scouts before we can get Bolton and his men at their heels.” You and Robb glanced the other, an urgency in both your eyes. “For six hundred years they’ve exacted their toll, we need to get in there and make a deal now.”

“Have my horse saddled and ready.” Peeling his eyes from you, Robb looked to his mother who turned to look at him with her own disapproval.

“Enter the Twins alone and he’ll sell you to the Lannisters.”

Others threw out other suggestions, but if you were to get across now there was no use in standing around debating how to go about it. The longer it took as well the was increasing the chance that you’d lose the ambush on Jaime. Robb shutting down his mens protest. “My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing. Whatever it took, and if I’m going to lead this army I won’t have other men doing my bargaining for me.”

Just as he looked down to you, Catelyn spoke up. “I agree. I’ll go.” The protests were just as loud as before but there was a calm confidence in her. “I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl. He would never harm me.”

Something turned in your stomach, like it was filling up with blood and threatening to spill out from a slice inside it. Only Robb heard you, gripping your wrist with a thumb over your pulse to ease you down as you whispered. “Unless he had a profit in it.”

Nerves raced within you the longer time ticked by, an antsy feeling that refused to give up no matter how calm others around you felt. You supposed this was normal, that most in your position felt this way but the passing of time had you staring out to the water like jumping in would wash away the growing lurch of anxiety.

Sat down on a high stone nearby, you had one arm laying across your chest as your elbow rested on it to bring your nails up to your lips. Threatening to tear at the skin until a rough hand slid across the back of your neck firmly. “You know it never felt real until right now.”

Robb didn’t question, just coaxed you to stand up. Facing you now his hand drifted more to the side of your neck so his thumb stroked at your jaw. His blue eyes bright in the morning sun and an anxious pang smacked you at what was to come once more. You grabbed at his wrist, turning with it so he rested it alongside your collarbone and you leaned back into the cold armour on his chest.

“All these men, they all came at my call. Following my commands, but they’re all far less terrified then I am.” Your hand tightened against him with a furrow of your brows. “Maybe they’ll know we’re coming, get the jump on us and then I lead them all into a slaughter.” You could feel him glancing at those whom were to be headed towards the Kingsroad into Tywins forces. “More then I already am.”

His voice was deep and rough in your ear as he forced himself to stay calm about it. “I thought the scariest part would be the prospect of yourself dying when I was a kid. I never understood why my father didn’t even blink twice when he set out to take out the Iron Fleet, but I think I get it.”

Your heart raced and your limbs itched to move as you both stood there, “I’m not just watching you sail off to war and hope you come back. I’d have to watch it, or even worse have to live with myself knowing I survived and you don’t.”

He didn’t show the fear he spoke of, it was kept tight in his chest and you wished you had that ability to stay so together. “Then we just don’t die then.” You could feel the small grin in his voice, bringing one out of you as Brynden approached.

“Pardon the interruption, but I know two scared shitless kids when I see it.” If the anxiety weren’t so strong you may have felt flustered at how Robb didn’t move an inch from you as he turned to his great uncle. “Saying we all felt the same before our first time won’t help, but it’s true.”

Robb holding you an indeterminable amount of tighter, “It’s not just being able to fight, I have to lead these men. My father needs me to lead them.” His voice was controlled, not letting much get passed an even tone.

Coming next to you both, Brynden from that angle reminded you a lot of Catelyn. Tougher, brasher and far more authoritative by nature you assumed, but you could see the same worry in his eyes that you had seen in hers many times. “If you weren’t good enough to lead them you would’ve have gotten all them this far anyways. Not just anyone can command twenty thousand men for the first time. Gods know Edmure doesn’t have that kind of leadership.”

You hadn’t met him, but from all accounts he seemed to be in a similar place as Renly once was in the trio of siblings. The youngest and the one which didn’t have the same kind of authority that ran deep in the families blood. At least the Tully didn’t see fit to crown himself and tear the family apart.

Not a single Baratheon was working together, and yet the Starks and Tullys both seek to work together for the sake of a cause of family and justice. The only Baratheon who is even with another of your family is Shireen, but being ten she didn’t count. You were quiet in volume, but the more you leaned against Robb the calmer you felt. “Your fathers a good leader, for all his faults mine is too but I think that’s the problem.” Robb looked down to you, his curls brushing over the side of your head slightly. “You’ve gotten us this far on your own merit, and we didn’t follow you because we expect you to be like Lord Stark. We all followed you because we trust in you.”

Brynden nodding to him, a fond look in his eye to his great nephew before looking to you. “And you’re certainly not your father.” Looking over with a raised eyebrow he shrugged his shoulders as his arms crossed his sleek black armour. “Trust me, us riverlands folk might be more forgiving, but that lot wouldn’t trust Robb if they thought you’d bring him down.”

You bit your tongue, keeping your face impassive. “Guess I die, we’ll find out if that's true.”

Maybe on another day this talk of death would’ve put Robb off, but this was your first battle as it was his. You both knew the others skill, but there was too much at stake in this battle. You lose this and you lose this entire fight for Lord Stark’s life. You lose this with your life? Even worse.

Jaime would have yours and Robb’s head sent to Kings Landing and no doubt Joffery would parade them around the court boasting about what fools the northerners are. You had been in a cell expecting that to be you, but you’d rather throw yourself down in front of the court then have the same done to Robb.

Some time passed before Robb spoke up again, “What do you think he’s asking? Walder Frey?”

Brynden rose an eyebrow with a grimace on his face. “Be thankful you’re married already. There’s nothing Frey wants more then to spread that damned family of his across the kingdoms more then their ugly mugs already are.”

You never considered yourself attractive, your mother was never spoken of like the beauty of the Stark women, your own sister whispered as “that ugly daughter” like they had any right. You briefly wondered if he’d be better off with a pretty Frey girl, a strangely childish and girly worry while you waited to send men off to battle.

By the time Catelyn had returned, you all were quite antsy through the whole camp. Those whose blooded their swords before ready to jump atop their horses and go, and others worried about how long it would take before it was too late in the morning to not be spotted early.

Looking up, she seemed to have an air of relief about her. Robb beside you spoke first, “Well? What did he say?”

All in the tent dropping with a sigh as she spoke, “Lord Walder has granted your crossing. His men are yours as well.” The Greatjon letting out a small sound at the news. Numbers were indeed what you needed desperately with the events about to come. “Less the four hundred he will keep here to hold the crossing against any who would pursue you.”

Now comes the part all dreaded as he asked, “And what does he want in return?”

“You will be taking on his son Olyvar as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in good time.” You held off a smirk at the easy dismissal from Robb, more of a nuisance then a burden at the least so far. However, “And Arya will marry his son Elmar when they both come of age.”

You and Robb did share a glance at that one, you could genuinely hear her yelling about such a thing from here. You tilted your head with a slight grimace, “She won’t like that one bit.” Catelyn paused, making you both worry. “And?”

She sighed to herself, glancing at Brynden. “When the fighting is done, Edmure is to marry one of his daughters. Whichever he prefers.” So Arya wouldn’t be the only one causing a fuss over this deal it seemed, but it was so. Crossing was granted.

As the horses mounted, the drawbridge crossed you, Robb, and Roose Bolton passed first. The pair of you nodding to the man, his own confident back. “When we meet again, my lord, my lady.” Watching two thousand men ride off in the direction to get the jump on Tywin Lannister you and Robb looked at one another.

For everything you worried about earlier, it was that sight and that sight alone that had you both feeling unwell. Roose was a skilled man and a terrifying one at that, but the men he led weren’t being drawn to a fair fight. They were cattle being tossed onto the Lannisters for slaughter as you jumped on the other.

You and Robb looked at one another as the men all crossed to the other side. His voice was even and confident like the man you’d seen last night. “You with me?”

You exhaled the shaking on the inside. “Now and always.”

The feeling you had watching the men head one way was the same feeling Catelyn had the watching her son and his wife lead the others in the opposite. Ser Rodrick stayed behind with her, from the point of safety when she refused to leave. The longer the two of them waited, the more she felt her heart tear itself up.

When she had watched Ned ride off to war over two decades ago, she had found out soon after she was pregnant. Robb was the thing that carried her through being alone in that war and now she sat atop her horse, waiting to see if that same son would come back. A son who started a war to rescue his father.

And you. As she waited, Catelyn felt she hadn’t given you the chance. She’d known you since you were a little girl, watched you grow up on and off in her own home and see her children and husband consider you one of their own. But the older you got, the more your friendships started to form and she couldn’t help but think she let one of those get in the way.

It made sense, out of all of her husbands children you and Jon Snow were the most alike. The quieter ones, a little more reserved and closed off and tended to be on the sidelines. A night she remembered vividly, you had been twelve and Jon fourteen, you two had snuck out in the dead of night. Arya was barley two, and was terrorizing Cat’s sleep by doing nothing but fuss and cry at night.

She walked through the second floor outside, gently humming her newborn to sleep when she saw you both come into the yard from the stables. The pair of you soaking wet, head to toe clothes and all as Jon was walking you both forward, his arms wrapped around your front as you could barley speak through teeth chattering laughter.

Apparently having snuck out to ride to a small lake in the dead of night, Jon had picked you up and tossed you in the water, and when you went to climb out, he jumped in himself and dragged you back with him. You both were so comfortable with the other in a way she hadn’t seen from you and Robb, not that you and him weren’t friends but she’d just never seen Jon like this.

It was painfully obvious to her in that moment, Jons crush. She didn’t know when it went away, but the older he got the less she ever saw it until it stopped occurring to her. You were younger, you were only twelve and hadn’t even bled yet, you weren’t thinking of boys that way. The boys did though. Robb, almost fifteen by then had confessed to Cat that he thinks he liked you and it was seeing that same crush in her husbands bastard son’s that made her put a block up.

That crush went away for Jon, and eventually it seemed to simmer down for Robb as you both became adults and had other duties to attend too. But she always kept something in her mind as if it was your fault that you were just closer to Jon. Like you chose a side, but where were you now?

In the thick of Whispering Wood fighting by your husbands side, by Robbs side and she felt ashamed for not having looked to you like the daughter you were now. You both didn’t marry in love, but the foundations were all there.

She hadn’t accepted that when Robb called the banners, it was you he was also fighting for, and yet you were the one who fought your way back to him first just so he didn’t have to ride into war alone. She’d seen the way her son looks at you and it wasn’t fair of her to dismiss you like you were just another soldier in his army.

Catelyn saw the way that you only ever looked like there was truly a living breathing emotional woman in there when you looked at her son. The way you and Robb would grasp at the others wrist was just like that day in Brans room. Grasping at the boys wrist, feeling his pulse as weak as it was to remind yourself that he was indeed still alive.

You hadn’t lectured her, judged her, or said anything but your own understanding of her grief. You hugged her, kissed the top of her head like she was the child in need of comfort and not you. And she hadn’t given you any of that courtesy from the moment she returned.

“We should go, my lady.” Catelyn didn’t even look at him as she refused. Ser Rodrick leaning closer with more urgency, “My lady..” But horses were in the distance. And Catelyn would see them no matter what.

Hearing them gallop and neigh before beyond the treeline did they appear, dark ones all around the edges and two light ones up front. Was it a laugh or a sob that left her? Maybe both. But she smiled none the less.

You and Robb both rode next to the other. Grime, dirt, blood all covered him and you as your eyes trained harsh and forward. Your nerves had all but been shot out of their existence and your heart no longer pounding from your chest but weighing down inside of it. It was both everything you expected and yet none like it.

It was worse but not the nightmare you imagined somehow, and through it all the victory was with no question. The Lannisters had bigger numbers but were overrun like they were sparkling boys of summer unable to keep up. As you had been taught, you weren’t ever going to be strong like them. So you were quick, dodging all the lessons came back to you in many voices at once that blended together until you acted without them.

It was truly hell, but not one that you couldn’t do again. You’d only ever seen the Kingslayer almost overpowered once when he was up against Lord Stark and this time it seemed he had only become cockier for the worse. A man like him looked at Robb like a boy, young and inexperienced that was in over his head until blood was seeping from his face at Robb’s mercy.

Men trying him up with no care of how rough they handled him, Robb had looked to Grey Wind as his teeth bared and the blood pumped in his veins. Grey Wind snarling at the Kingslayer before running to where he had kept track of you.

Robb cared not who saw him stride up to his wife, and grab you by both sides of your face pulling you into a biting kiss before checking you over to see if you were hurt. If the men had anything to laugh about such a display, let them, he said.

Now as the man all surrounded the area, you climbed off your horse as Jaime Lannister was dumped onto the ground in front of Robb. Coming up to his side, you stared him down with nothing more then dark eye. Being jostled up onto his knees before you both, he looked up to you and had finally decided which house he saw fit you belonged too. “Lady Stark. I’d offer you my sword, but I’ve seemed to have lost it.”

His smug face and bright green eyes had once been described as handsome but they all painted him in a vile image as did the voice attached. “I’d take far more from you before that, Lannister.”

Theon stood behind him, the blood in his veins having not yet cooled he was loud and worked up as he spoke with vigor. “Kill him Robb. Send his head to his father, he cut down ten of our men. You saw him.”

Eyes now dark and glaring, Robb spoke low and calm as the eyed the once great fighter on his knees bloody and broken. “He’s more use to us alive then dead.” Standing there, he looked truly like the wolf he was meant to be.

Glancing up at Greatjon you nodded to him, “Put him in irons, feel free to make sure they’re tight.”

Grabbing him roughly, Greatjon yanked him up as Jaime just could not control that mouth of his. A flaw he never outgrew it seemed. Twice your ages and more of a patronizing child in the face of the Stark who beat him firsthand. “We could end this war right now, boy. Save thousands of lives.”

Call him a boy, you thought but he was more of a man then the Lannister had ever been in his entire life. Letting him spill out his little speech as he watched with no taste for the games. “You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters. Swords, lances, teeth, nails choose your weapon, and let’s end this here and now.”

Robb didn’t hesitate against him. “If we do it your way, kingslayer. You’d win. We’re not doing it your way.”

You nodded at Greatjon to take him away, him snatching him up and dragging him along, “Come on, pretty man.”

The men around you and Robb cheered, smiles and yells for what they’d accomplished. But you and him looked not at them, not each other. His voice broke your heart as it was full of sorrow, “I sent two thousand men to their graves today.”

Theon trying his cheer, “The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice.”

Lannister called Robb a boy, but there was man beside you. One full of a painful responsibility that he felt in his bones, one that was no game or glory that he knew rested on him. “Aye, but the dead won’t hear them.” He stepped towards you, arms pressed up against the other as you both looked out to the men around.

Robb twisted his hand, grabbing your wrist and you did his. Both of you feeling the beating pulse of the other under their thumb, and pressing against it with harsher pressure in desperation. His voice was loud, cracks as he cared not to hide the weight of their losses. “One victory does not make us conquerors. Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen?”

You held each other tighter as he pleaded the reality to his men. “Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees?” There was quiet amongst them. “This war is far from over.”

Robb looked to you finally and you back, not letting go of the other for a while after. But he was right, this war was not yet over. Only, the war he set out towards burned in front of you when the raven arrived as hours turned to a passing day upon its landing.

Dragged away from the other as the slimy words of Janos Slynt coated your ears and his roughness scratched you up, the last you saw of him was the shocked, angry betrayal as you were forced from the other. The last you saw of him was the seconds after you both had put your lives on the line for the sake of the truth, and as it turned out it would be the final time.

Silence was painful in the camp that day. Defeat heavy in the hearts of men who all came together and just as they begun it was taken off of them. You heard not the quiet words of the soldiers you passed, and you didn’t know if they thought you cared. Face cold, staring forward with nothing but a shaking will power to stay stoned and together in front of them.

You felt no breathe leaving or entering your lungs, but they screamed at you as the world felt fuzzy and the sensations coming to you felt unreal. You had reached a clearing that was scarce by the edge of the camp as you collapsed with your back against a tree.

Kneeling over all alone you gasped, ragged breaths that stung and did nothing to settle you. The panic and gut churning anxiety of what you had done, left behind to such a fate made you feel sick and horrified. Someone on an island you once called home, Stannis Baratheon was alive and well.

So why did this feel like you lost a father? Why did the last thing you did, being smuggled out of the city without Eddard Stark feel like you were at fault and you had the sword in your own had that did it? Why was the world spinning and your breaths coming out in cries you hadn’t noticed?

For years you knew him, and now you felt as if you had been Joffery and you had cut his head off. But no, not even Joffery would do it, he’d leave the pain of being Eddard Stark’s killer to others and not get his hands dirty.

The senses around you only came too when the sound of another person was somewhere ahead of yourself. Yells followed by a thud, grunts that had a similar crying pain to them that called to you, the cool air revealing tears down your cheeks you didn’t know fell in such volume.

Coming up the hill in the brush of the woods did the sun peeking it’s final moments brighten the scene before you. And there was the now the only thing your heart could see. The slashes of his sword against the tree were harsh and violent, and the pain yelling out each time from Robb cut you as he did it.

Twice you tried calling his name, but the sob in your own throat fought with it. Forcing yourself up an edge to the flat ground he stood at you called to him once more, a waver in your voice. “Robb,”

The man he was, gone. Tears of his own, face twisted and broken as he heaved looking at you. Maybe you should be comforting, but he wouldn’t be fooled if you tried to ignore the tears of your own as you looked a the other. You had such little conviction in your tone, nothing but a weak softness that knew there was nothing you could say. “I-”

Head dropping down, his hands gave up. Letting his ruined sword fall to the dirt and leaves as he stepped towards you. He was no longer the man, the leader you saw, and you were not the woman his men watched stand by his side.

He collapsed into your arms, his wrapping around your waist as you both knelt down. You wrapped yours around his shoulders, and one cradling the back of his head to your neck as you perched in his lap. Trying to hold as much of the larger man as you could in your arms as he held onto you.

Robb spoke and it was nothing but pain, a growl in his tears that was a wolf too in pain to hold himself up. But there was such anger and pain in his voice that it pulled more tears from you, and you pulling him closer to you. “I’ll kill them all. Every single one of them. I’m going to kill them all.”

You ducked your head into his curls and kept him close, his arms tightening around you. Your voice was like a whisper in his hair only for him, and with a softness that was new to both. “My love,” He held you closer. “I’m with you, I promise. You and I, we stay together from now on, and I promise we will kill them all.”

Pulling his head up enough, he found the strength to cup your cheeks as his blue eyes found strength for one thing only to give you. Muttering close to you, you felt his breathe on your face as he spoke and his words only pulled tears more. “I love you, now and always.”

You pressed your forehead to his, feeling like the only two who existed anymore and your heart couldn’t find a way to be closer if you tried, you returning the gesture as you held the others face impossibly close. “And I love you now, and always will.”

You shared a kiss, gentle and both of you poured your heart into it. Pulling back, he fell into your neck and your face into his hair. Neither you nor Robb know how long you knelt there together, but there was only one thing you walked away with and it was the only one either of you needed.

Robb had made you his lady wolf, and in turn you gave him your heart and the young wolf gave you his.

The gods had punished you all, and now, they intended for one final test. Your heart was Robb’s, but your loyalty? Your sword? Your duty to the justice demanded from you?

Your heart was asked to choose between something and you made that choice to Robb. But you had another that you didn’t expect, and one you had no way of knowing was coming that same night.

Fitting in with this lot seemed to be of your nature. Neither you, nor Robb, or Catelyn displayed the sheer pain felt by Ned’s loss but as you looked at her, and her you? She saw the pain you could see in her and once more her doubt of you melted away. Robb sat you next to him with Grey Wind laying by his feet as the men gathered around.

His hand was on your thigh as he had you sit up against him with no shame for his display.

Roose Bolton had returned with the few straggling survivors to the news, and thus the fighting begun. A purpose you all came together to fight was taken from you. Now? There were three kings pulling in every direction. Three kings and no agreement.

From one end Galbert Glover had been fighting with the Blackwoods before he turned to Robb with confidence. “The proper course is clear. Pledge fealty to King Renly and move south to join our forces with him.”

Robb watched you shut your eyes in a frustration he knew was making your head pound. Grey Wind below him reached his head up to run against your leg as Robb yelled, “Renly is not the king.”

Glover for all his skill as a soldier, was not a man who could read the camp well. “You cannot mean to hold to Joffery, my lord. He put your father to death.”

You peeled your eyes to look up at the man with a fierce glare and gritted teeth, “That doesn’t make Renly King.” The camp had been growing to learn to listen to your quiet tones as they many times were laced with a surety that many of them did not have.

Robb shutting down that side of the debate, “He’s Robert’s youngest brother. If Bran can’t be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly can’t be king before Stannis.” Someone in the crowd asking if this meant they were to declare for Stannis.

As he looked to you, and you to him there was a tightness in your face that screamed of a doubt that was difficult to explain and impossible in front of this lot. But Robb could read you easy, a hesitation about loyalty to your own father as something inside of you had been pulling away from what used to be your duty as just his heir.

Fighting continued before Greatjon started to yell. “My Lords,” repeating himself louder as he stood facing the crowd with his great stature. “Here is what I say to these two kings.” Spitting on the ground half of the crowd laughed, and you raised your eyebrows in wonder.

Continuing he seemed more confident then you’d ever seen and more passionate then the other men trying to lead the debate. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me. Nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine fro some flowery seat in the south? What do they know of the Wall? Or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong.”

Pointing to you with a bit of a smirk as he said your name, “Well we know all too well she’s had more then enough Northern inside of her to make her one of us.” The crowd definitely laughed at that one, making you bit your tongue to fight back a fierce fluster as Robb gripped your thigh higher and rougher.

“Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to, and now the dragons are dead.” Pulling out his sword, you stared with parted lips as he pointed to Robb who sat with a powerful respect. “There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee too. The King in the North!”

Shivers ran all the way down your spine, Robb didn’t look at you as he stood, but his hand on your waist ensured you stood with him. Another stood next, “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castles, and their Iron chair too.” Coming before you both, he pulled his sword out kneeling down with his sword blade in the ground. “The King in the North.”

Theon next, no question in his voice as he looked at Robb. “As your brother, I swear to be yours to command. The King in the North.”

There was pause as some looked to you. You were his wife, rode into battle by his side and was seen by many as Northern as that like Catelyn was now. You also, were the daughter, a would be declared heir to the one man with the best claim to the Iron Throne.

You felt your insides shake, and your heart swell as you looked beside you. Robb finding your eyes with not a second of guess or question as you spoke to him. “Are we together, now and always?”

“Now and always.”

You felt you eyes sting and did nothing to hide the water wanting to glaze over as you looked at Robb, turning to face him as you stepped back to be right in front of his person. Pulling your sword out, you knelt down closer to him then the others, but knelt all the same. “My heart is yours, my sword is yours. In victory and defeat, from this day until our last day.”

The men of the camp erupted. Standing with their swords high in the air all yelled “King in the North” with a pride like a chant as no man there saw him as anything less.

Robb pulled you up as they yelled, arm around your waist as you both looked at the other as if this was only a fate he wanted if you are to be his at his side. Turning to the crowd, you both looked with a hesitation but awe.

Robb Stark did not choose his fate as King in the North, but the North itself decided he was the only one they would follow now and ever. You had chosen a wolf’s heart today, and now you had chosen your loyalty, your duty, the people who were as much yours to protect as your husbands.

You chose your side.

Miles away in either direction, your fate was known by two. One, hair dark and curls more wild as he heard none, but in his head was the vision of two. The sight of you by his brothers side with love in the eyes of both. Why he kept seeing you like this, why you would appear to him in the dark in foggy visions and dreams at all he didn’t know.

His heart did though, and it tightened a little more painfully as it did each time his dreams showed you with Robb. Jon Snow didn’t go to the wall thinking he would move on from you, he went there thinking he would eventually learn to accept the gods chose Robb for you instead. But it was getting harder and harder to accept that with every harsh blow, every new horror he slowly uncovered in the icy north.

Jon Snow did not understand why he was being shown dreams of you that seemed to come true.

On the other side of the continent on an equally dark place, only this was an island of more then just dim looks. This was the place you once called home, and the people who once called you family.

As news reached him, it would take someone with a keen eye to see the sheer amount of anger in his eyes. Stannis Baratheon, the one true King now stood a the painted table looking over the raven scroll for five times to many now. His firstborn daughter, the one he expected would come to him with the allegiance of the North, the one who would be his heir?

But the North had declared Robb Stark their King in the North, and the River Lords had joined them.

Renly took his men, Joffery took his throne, Robb Stark took two Kingdoms for himself and now had taken Stannis’s daughter and heir, as his Queen. Queen in the North those lot had named her, and oh did those words mock him as he read them over.

The woman in red, draped around the angered Stannis. “She will come to us, my King. Her and her wolf both, the flames have shown it to me. The Princess will return to you, and with her love beside her. The heart of the Great Wolf will stand by you too. That I promise you. The Lord of Light has shown it.”

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Christmas Family Swap

Christmas is supposed to be the time of year where you celebrate joy with your family and loved ones. But everyone has that one family member no one looks forward to seeing, and I’m no different. For me that person would be my grandpa. He'd always been a really cranky guy who, I swear, could find something to complain about on literally any topic. I don't know why he even comes over for the holidays in the first place. Maybe he's just lonely? At least my siblings are coming home. They're all older than me and left for college years ago. Sometimes I felt like I was behind everyone just because I was the youngest, but they always tell me to enjoy being young while it lasted. At least I still had my dog, Lucy, to keep me company. 

“Shoot. Ferris, we forgot to buy your grandpa a present,” my mom mentioned while preparing dinner for Christmas Eve.

“Does it matter? He's not gonna like anything anyway.”

“Yes I know. But it's Christmas. The time of year where you need to treat even those you dislike well. Could you quickly go to that gift shop and buy some cheap ornament?”

“Mom, it's Christmas Eve! Half these places are closed or closing soon.” She looked up a store on her phone and showed me that it closed at 5. It was 4:38.

“There's that one hallmark store within walking distance still open. You can make it in time! I just don't want to cause a scene.” I wanted to take the car, but it would take too long to shovel all the snow, so I walked. The store wasn't that far by foot, but it was still an awful time in the freezing cold. When I arrived, there was a single employee at the counter - an old lady with a messy bun. She greeted me and asked what I needed.

“I have just the thing.” She walked over to the shelf and showed me a little Santa ornament that was wearing a galaxy pattern suit instead of the regular red. It was actually a pretty good gift because my grandpa loved outer space, not to mention he kinda looked like Santa anyway, just without the beard.

“This is perfect.”

“Then why do you look sad?” Her response caught me by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. It's Christmas Eve. You should be happy!”

“That's probably easy for others. But for me, Christmas means family time and I don't exactly like someone in my family.

“That's a shame. You're lucky to have a family at least.” She looked down at the floor sadly. It was clear what she meant by that.

“But since you still have people in your life I'd like to help you with your problem. Could I have that ornament back please?” I assumed she was about to check me out so I started reaching for my wallet, when she walked into the backroom with the present instead. As soon as the door closed, the power suddenly went out and I was in pure darkness until there was a weird purple glow coming from the door. All of this only lasted about 10 seconds and the power came back on as if nothing happened. Did I just imagine that whole thing? It was weird. The woman walked back out with a big smile on her face.

“Did the power go out or something? And what happened in there?”

“Oh nothing,” she said with a grin. “Merry Christmas!”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I guess.” She checked me out and I was on my way back home.

When I arrived, my siblings were already there, as well as my grandpa.

“Hey! It's Ferris!” said my oldest brother Calvin. He had definitely gained a lot of weight since I last saw him, even though he was an athlete in college. Looks like he still refused to shave the messy beard he started last year. My older sibling Sam grinned at me. They looked exactly as they always did - expressing their love of anime with a nerdy t-shirt and wearing ear gauges that have gotten bigger since the last time I saw them. My sister Em walked up to hug me. She was always the one I was closest with, since she was only 2 years older than me.

“I got a present for Grandpa.” He suddenly looked at me, and then to the bag I was holding.

“It's about time you buy me something! Lemme see.”

“Well not until Christmas.” Despite living to see many Christmases, Grandpa was still an extremely impatient person. He'd actually opened up his Christmas presents early before because he just couldn't stand the wait. This was my first time buying one myself for him (even though it was really just my mom sending me) so I guess he was beyond curious.

“Come on. It's basically Christmas anyway.” He got his large ass out of the seat and approached me. He was wearing a tucked in blue plaid shirt that covered the gut hanging over his pants. He stumbled over to me until we were face to face. I could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, almost making my eyes water.

“Boy, give me the gift.”

“Dad, just wait until Christmas. You're gonna spoil the surprise.” My mom thankfully defended me and started walking over.

“Fine, but I-” He faked content and snatched the bag from me.

“Dad! Enough!” My mom shouted but it was too late. He had taken the ornament out of the bag, but clumsily dropped it. It shattered all over the floor before he even had a chance to react.

“Oh man.” Sam gulped.

“Now look at what you've done! You ruined my present!” Grandpa yelled in my face.

“Dad! Dad! Calm down. I think you need to go to bed now.”

“Fine! But only because your idiot son ruined my Christmas!” My mom escorted him to the guest room and Em picked up a broom. We both swept together as my mom walked back into the kitchen.

“Could he possibly be more…you know…” I started.

“Horrible? Pathetic?” Calvin added.

“Gross? Nasty?” Sam added.

“Your grandfather is just lonely really. His parents - my grandparents - let him do whatever he wanted. He's a real spoiled man. But I don't think there's any changing him now so let's just endure the day tomorrow and you won't have to see him for a while. Got it?”

“Fine.” The rest of the night was much better and I had a great time with my family. Calvin scarfed down the food so fast he almost choked, Em told me all about what college was like, Sam bragged about his new gauges, and Lucy practically flew under the table as soon as my mom dropped a piece of ham.

When it was time for bed, my siblings got settled into their rooms - Calvin and Sam sharing the same bedroom they did growing up, and Em sleeping in the basement because her old room was turned into an office. I looked at the Christmas tree glimmering with lights and decorations, excited to see what the presents underneath it would look like in the morning. It's a shame that Grandpa's present broke and we had to throw it away, but I guess he got what he deserved for being such a dick. I headed into my bed, where Lucy was already snuggled up in, and nestled up under the covers.

The next morning I woke up to the sounds of shouting, which was unfitting for what was supposed to be a peaceful Christmas morning. It was coming from the room next to me and sounded like my brothers, which was weird because my room was across the hall from them. But it sounded so close. I started getting up, to see what was going on, but when I looked around, I realized I actually was in the guest room

How did I get in here? I gazed down to find my stomach seemed swollen in my white tank top. I lifted it up and to my horror, I realized my slim chest was replaced with a flabby belly! How did I get so fat? I know I ate alot last night but this was ridiculous! The gut flopped out, to a bit over my waist. It felt weird knowing a part of my body was just hanging there. I noticed a bit of chest hair, which was foreign to me, but when I noticed they were gray hairs, it finally hit me. I was a fat old guy in the guest room. I somehow switched bodies with my grandpa!

I heard the voices leave the room so I stumbled over to the door, not quite used to the shift in weight compared to my old twink body, and was about to put my hand on the doorknob when I saw someone looking at me in the mirror. I turned my head to find that it was my grandpa…I mean me…staring back.

I really did look disgusting, not just because of my looks, but because I now had the face of an impatient jerk. I tried doing different facial expressions; it looked weird because I rarely had ever seen my grandpa smile at all. I noticed that I couldn't see my own dick past the belly, not that I would want to. It was probably all wrinkly and gross! What was I going to do? I opened the door to find Calvin walking to the living room. He looked pretty concerned, which was unusual for the carefree personality he usually had.

“Hey uh..Grandpa?” Fuck. Looks like I'm not imagining it after all. I hated this. “Sorry for the noise, it's just that…”

“I'm not even gonna try to pretend.” I spoke, but my voice came out gravelly and deep. It scared me a little bit. “I'm Ferris, not Grandpa. I don't know how it happened! I just-”

“Shit! That's great! I mean not because you're Grandpa now. But because I'm not alone! I'm actually Sam.”

“Sam?” It was actually kinda funny, Sam and Calvin switching bodies. They were close but still completely different people. I couldn't contain my laughter and started giggling, even though it came out as my Grandpa's gruff wheezes.

“Oh sure. I'M the funny one when Mister-wheeze-a-lot can't laugh without sounding like he's dying.”

“Hey! Well Mister-” I stopped myself trying to continue the joke. “Wait, how does that work?”

“The gender is all up to the person. Sure the…” they stared down at the new extra pounds they now carried and shook their belly. “...expression might be different, at least at the moment, but I'm still me. BUT the idiot who looks like me doesn't seem to understand.” As if on cue, Calvin in Sam's body appeared, walking in a macho way, something that Sam would never do.

“Check it out Grandpa! I'm an enby!” Sam gave a huge facepalm.

“Calvin my sweet brother, We. Have. Been. Over. This.”

“Hey whatever. I think it's cool. My face feels so empty though. Maybe I'll start growing a bea-” Sam cut him off right there.

“If you go out there without a clean shaven face, I'm shaving YOUR beard.”

“God no please. It took me like a year to grow that!” Calvin pleaded.

“Hey hey, what about me?!” I interrupted their arguing.

“Oh yeah,” Sam started. “That's not Grandpa. It's Ferris.”

“Oh man Ferris. You're a fucking old dude now!” exclaimed Calvin. He then poked my new belly. “Welcome to the chub club! Well…” He glaced down at Sam's slim figure. “My membership is on hold for now.”

Just then we heard a scream coming from my mom's room. We quickly opened the door, already knowing what happened. We found my mom staring at the mirror with a look of pure horror on her face.

“It's ok Em, we're all body swapped too.” She seemed to calm down when she realized that she wasn't alone in all this.

“Weird case of Freaky Friday here. Especially with Em….and Mom,” added Calvin. Just then my mom, in Em's body, walked in to join in the confusion.

“Well this is awkward. Two of my kids in each other's bodies, my own son in my dad's and I'm in my own daughter's body. Could this Christmas get any crazier?”

“Where's Grandpa?”

“Probably still sleeping.”

We headed over to my room, expecting him to still be asleep, only to find him flexing in the mirror - in my body. I didn't actually have any real muscles, being a skinny twink, so he didn't really have anything to flex. That didn't stop him from admiring himself. When he noticed us, he walked over smiling. It was a creepy sight, not only to see my body move on its own, but also knowing it's my grandpa inside there smiling.

“Hello everyone. It's good to be young again!”

“Uh hey Grandpa.” He looked right at me. “No, no! Call me Boris! YOU'RE the grandpa now!”

I felt so humiliated. He was actually…cool…in my body! And I was just the fat old guy that nobody liked!

“Dad, we need to figure out what happened so you can become your old self again. Ok?”

“Hell no! I'm young again for the first time in years. No way I'm giving away this opportunity!”

“I got it!” Em suddenly exclaimed. We all turned around wondering what she meant. She showed us her phone - or rather my mom's phone.

“What?”

“How we all swapped bodies! That ornament that Ferris got! There's an ancient artifact that can take on different appearances. It says it's been known to cause mischief when broken.”

“What kind of ancient thing is meant to be broken? How has it lasted this long then?”

“That's the thing. Everytime it breaks, it finds a new place and takes on a new appearance. But it always takes on the appearance of an object that its next victim will need.”

“Shit. And that's why the present seemed perfect for Grandpa.”

“Hey! I got a much better gift than any of you!” cheered my grandpa as he flexed his arms once agaih.

“But…how do we find it again?”

“Y-you don't. Unless you want to search the whole world for something you don't even know what it looks like.”

There was a deafening silence after she spoke those words. We all realized the truth was that we would never return to our old bodies. I was stuck as an old man forever!

“Hey, it's not so bad,” my grandpa started, seemingly reading my mind. He leaned over and lifted up my shirt, exposing my gut, and slapped it. “The belly is pretty comfy after all. You'll love it.” Maybe he was right. I'm sure I could make the silver bear look work. As I thought about that, I noticed a bulge starting to form. Grandpa turned to look at everyone with a huge smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas everyone!”

[echos-girlfriend]

Tech and the Rebel

Tech x F!reader

Master list

This is a little Drabble. And sort of a reintroduction of me getting back into writing.. if this breaks canon or any timeline idc. Lmao I’m writing a story because I want to!

Tech was thankful his grappling hook didn’t snap.. but hitting the side of a rocky cliff edge wasn’t part of the plan. He had lost his helmet and goggles during the fall. When he finally came to there was a face looking down at him.

“Hello there.”

He was slightly startled and tried to reach for his blaster but he couldn’t really see anything

“Hey hey! It’s ok. I’m not gonna hurt you. You can’t see too well because there’s blood on your face..”

He still couldn’t say anything.. he couldn’t tell whether he was in shock or in too much pain. As this moment his genius brain seemed to fail him..

“Come on. I’ll help you..”

Whoever the person was, they lifted him up and placed his arm across their shoulders and carried him to their ship.

Once inside his face was cleaned, his wounds bandaged and his eyes blurry. He went to adjust his goggles.. but they weren’t there. He had forgotten they were lost during his fall

The person finally took of their snow coat and goggles.. it was a young lady with an odd emblem on her flight suit.. she told him her name.

“It’s nice to meet you..”

He finally spoke, still a little frazzled.

“It looks like you took a nasty fall there.. what’s your name?”

“My name is Tech.. I did fall.. out of a cart. My brothers and my sister were on it.”

“You were the ones in those carts. I saw the others run away towards a cliff side.”

“They were probably heading back to our ship” he tried to stand but failed.. “I need to get back to them. I don’t particularly trust any of them with driving it without my supervision. Well.. maybe Echo..”

She watched him talk and ramble on.. almost as if she wasn’t there. Like he was having a conversation with himself.

“Well.. they have probably already gone. I can take you back to my base. It’s small.. and there’s not much to it but it’ll be ok until you get better.”

Tech sighed.. he really didn’t have much a choice but to trust this person. He couldn’t walk or do anything for himself at the moment.

“Don’t worry.. I’m part of the Rebel Alliance.”

“Rebel Alliance?”

“Yeah.. we are trying to stop the empire! One small victory at a time.. sometimes anyways.”

He raised a brow at her confidence and bravery. She seems to think it could be easy to take the empire down. But he shook it off.

———

Some time later they had finally reached this mystery planet.

“This is Yavin 4. We’ve only got a small group of rebels and a few senators willing to support us but we will grow.. it’ll just take time.”

She helped Tech walk out of the ship and into the base.. he was placed on a small medical gurney.. not inside a medical room or even a medical bay.

“You act like you can’t see anything.. didn’t blood get in your eyes?”

“No. They did not. I am partially blind to put it simply. The goggles I had were lost during the fall.”

“Oh.. well that’s a bummer. Uh.. well we have other goggles here-“

“That’s all I need. I can simply recreate mine if you have to correct electronic parts”

She was a little taken back as he cut off her but she nodded.

“Yeah yeah. Just take what you need.”

Tech stopped himself before he started to ramble on..

“Thank you, I deeply appreciate you saving my life.”

“You’re welcome Tech..”

-_-_-_-

I KNOW I KNOW ITS SHORT! And also not.. my best work. But I really want to get back into writing and get those requests done too! I’m also glad to finally be back! THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS AS WELL DONT YOU WORRY

[f1letters]

snow on the beach | ls18

"you wanting me tonight feels impossible, but it's coming down"

summary: nothing would ever compare to the feeling of simultaneously falling in love with each other

warning: overall fluff, rom-com energy that WILL cure any heartbreak really, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol, swearing, just a story about the exact moment when two people realize they fell in love with each other, not proofread (because my laptop is acting up and i'm done for today lol)

pairing: lance stroll x reader

word count: 3.2k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

hey everyone! honestly I've been feeling a bit down lately so this Wednesday I indulged my (not so) secret (now) crush on lance stroll and decided to treat myself (and all the lance lovers ofc) to some well-deserved lance content, haha! and for the ones who don't like him... just give it a try anyways and trust the process haha! enjoy! 💜

masterlist

One night, a few moons ago

I saw flecks of what could've been lights

But it might just have been you

Passing by unbeknownst to me

Do you know the feeling of your soul inexplicably catching fire? Of losing control of your thoughts all at once? Of your body being filled with enthusiasm at the sight of someone?

Y/N was very familiar with the thrill that hovered every time their eyes met across the room, as lately, it seemed to happen every time the young woman shared the same space with him.

It didn't matter how much she tried to deny it, or how much she looked for other justifications that would explain the butterflies she felt in her stomach. 

One thing was for sure: even in a room full of the most important people in her life, she still found herself continuously looking for his big, beautiful, brown eyes.

It was almost like he was the light in every room she entered.

The driver's lips curved gently, giving her a small lopsided smile as he returned his attention to her brother, bringing his glass back to his lips.

The girl's attention dropped from his eyes to his soft lips, studying the sensual way his mouth moved as he drank the rest of his whiskey. 

I wonder how his lips would feel on m- Stop, what are you even thinking?! Y/N shook her head, letting out a quiet growl, as she stopped whatever fantasy her mind was trying to create before it was possible.

We're just friends. She thought, trying to convince herself that this was just a moment of weakness. Maybe not even that.

Okay, sure, Y/N and Lance seemed to get along beautifully, the two naturally gravitating towards each other every time they got together. But in reality, Y/N couldn't help thinking that he was just being nice, keeping his future brother-in-law's little sister company.

Glancing at the boy beside the Canadian, she saw Scotty who, as if reading the thoughts in his sister's head, turned towards her and gave her a small wave, followed by a hand gesture to invite her to join them. 

Y/N laughed nervously, shaking her head, and decided to walk to the large dining room table to get some more appetizers on her plate.

Nothing like good food to entertain a confused girl.

Life is emotionally abusive

And time can't stop me quite like you did

And my flight was awful, thanks for asking

I'm unglued, thanks to you

Her eyes admired the decorations throughout the house, adorned in detail, without missing a single corner. It was clear that the eldest James sibling and his fiancée had set no limits on their housewarming party.

Their new home was simply magnificent. Its rustic stone walls perfectly complemented its wooden beams and columns, maintaining the house's original charm yet giving it a modern touch. 

The living room led to a majestic timbered window where Y/N seemed to spend eternities admiring the view from the top of the snow-covered mountain.

This really is Scotty's dream, endless snow, she smiled unconsciously.

"Uh-oh, she's smiling." She heard the Australian beside her, her smile growing exponentially as he leaned his back against the wall next to the window. "This can only mean danger."

"Shut up, you idiot." The girl shoved his arm playfully, shaking her head in annoyance. "FYI, I was having a proud sister moment, but I'm glad you stopped me. I definitely needed someone to wake me up from my temporary madness episode."

"Aww, baby sis, you're sooo cute." Scotty pinched her cheek, just like he always did since they were little, in order to annoy her. He knew how much she hated when he did that, so it didn't come as a surprise when she slapped his hand away from her face. "Hey! This is a no-violence zone. Just because you're an adult now doesn't mean I won't tell Mum and Dad."

Y/N rolled her eyes at the image of the smirk on her brother's face. "Just leave me alone, Scott. Go piss off Chloe or something."

The girl turned back towards the food, picking up a small pastry for herself, while the boy put his arm around his sister's shoulders.

He sighed dramatically, although she could still hear the smile on his face. "And here I was thinking you were going to say that I should 'go piss off Lance'... But I'm sure you would rather have that task for yourself, right sis?"

Almost choking on the delicacy she was eating, the girl started to cough, drawing way too much unnecessary attention to her.

Scotty was informing everyone that she was fine, enjoying her reaction to his words too much, as her eyes rose from the table. 

And she couldn't help but curse her bad luck when she found Lance at the other end of the room, right in front of her, wearing a concerned look on his face, as she almost choked to death.

At that moment, she realized not even time stopped her quite like he did.

But mostly, she realized she was completely and utterly fucked.

And it's like snow at the beach

Weird, but fuckin' beautiful

Flying in a dream

Stars by the pocketful

You wanting me

Tonight feels impossible

But it's comin' down

No sound, it's all around

Scotty was patting her on the back, trying to help her, but he was interrupted by the sudden movement of the girl turning towards him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She was nervously fixing her hair, her voice still struggling to come out.

Her older brother couldn't contain his laughter, letting his hand rest on the girl's shoulder. "Oh, my sweet, sweet Y/N... Everyone knows you're head over heels for our boy Lance! No need to deny it, especially to your big bro."

"WHAT?!" She yelled, drawing all eyes in the room back to her. She chuckled lightly turning to the crowd. Before anyone could say anything, she grabbed Scotty's wrist and pulled him into the kitchen. "What?!" She scream-whispered now.

"You heard me." Scotty said, crossing his arms confidently in front of her chest. "You have a big fat crush on Lance and you know it, I know it, everyone knows it!"

"Only someone blind wouldn't be capable of seeing it!" He continued to tease her, having too much fun making her uncomfortable. "In fact, even a blind man could tell by the way you sigh all lovey-dovey every time he walks by you."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"Yes. You. Do." Scotty emphasized word for word, making the girl give up, even though she would never admit defeat. The man took advantage of her silence to provoke her even more. "Y/N and Lance, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-"

"Scott, stop! Are you a fucking child?" Y/N approached him, covering his mouth with her hand. "I hate you, I swear. Stop this nonsense!"

"Don't worry, baby sis, he likes you too. I'm sure of it." The snowboarder said, giving his sister a kiss on her temple and a final pat on the shoulder, and leaving her alone in the kitchen with her own thoughts.

Lance? Wanting me? That feels impossible. She thought to herself, feeling slightly disappointed. 

But she never let those feelings hang in the air too long, immediately contradicting them. 

It doesn't matter. I do not like him. 

We're just friends.

Like snow on the beach

Like snow on the beach

Like snow on the beach

Like snow, ah

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, Lance swept through the crowd anxiously in search of the girl that he couldn't seem to get out of his head ever since he laid eyes on her that afternoon.

Though he himself also denied his growing feelings for the young woman, Lance couldn't help but notice how his palms were sweating, or how his heart was beating faster. 

He just couldn't help but feel worried when she disappeared in that state, leaving him wondering how she was.

Waking him up from his ceaseless search, a familiar hand landed on his shoulder, making him turn and find his sister with a sly smile on her face.

"Thank God you chose Formula 1 as a career because you would make a terrible actor."

"What on earth-"

"Get that lost puppy look off your face, Y/N's fine!" Chloe laughed, shaking her head. "Who knew? Two Strolls and two Jameses..."

"I'm not- I was just-" The driver found himself stuttering, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Jesus, Chloe, we're just friends! Friends care about each other. Don't start with this shit again."

"Mm-hmm, sure, friends." Chloe pretended to accept the repetitive excuse that came out of her brother's mouth every time. "I love it when you lie straight to my face just because you don't have the courage to admit that you have the hots for my favourite sister-in-law."

"I don't have the hots for-"

"Hey, watch it, pretty boy!" A voice appeared from behind him as the mysterious person quickly hugged the Canadian by his shoulders, causing his older sister to laugh uncontrollably. "It's my baby sister we're talking about here! Control your emotions, Romeo!"

"I- She- I don't-" Lance found himself in an even more awkward position again, suddenly turning into a deer in the headlights as he was caught off guard.

"Ahhh, kids." Scotty sighed, moving to his fiancée's side, leaning his head against hers without taking his eyes off the boy in front of him. "So young, so in love, and most of all... so stupid."

Lance threw his hands in the air in frustration, turning his back on the couple as he headed to the porch where he would be able to finally get rid of the two of them.

This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen

I searched "aurora borealis green"

I've never seen someone lit from within

Blurring out my periphery

Lance carefully opened the elegant glass doors, being immediately hit by the intense cold that settled at the top of the mountain as usual.

He silently thanked himself for remembering to put on his army green padded coat and his grey beanie on his head. He would never have been able to survive those freezing temperatures without them, even if his Canadian blood helped him a bit.

Another factor that quickly contributed to his body heating up was the girl sitting by herself on the wooden stairs.

As soon as his brown eyes landed on Y/N, the driver could have sworn his heart started pumping faster. 

Just a coincidence, he thought, this is all Chloe's fault for putting these ideas in my head.

Gathering the little courage he had left to face these new feelings that were beginning to stir within him, Lance silently walked over to her and sat down on her left side, making the girl jump in fright.

"Oh my God, Lance!" She brought one of her black-gloved hands to her chest in shock, as the other one removed the AirPods from her ears. "You were about to give me a heart attack! Please don't scare a girl like that without warning."

"Sorry, sorry! It won't happen again!" He put his hand on top of her shoulder, laughing at her reaction. 

He took a few moments of silence to watch as her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in her surroundings.

"God, it's really beautiful up here, don't you agree?" She said, almost in a whisper.

Lance kept his gaze focused on her, not even thinking about taking his eyes off her beauty.

"Just like a movie scene."

My smile is like I won a contest

And to hide that would be so dishonest

And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it

'Til you do, 'til it's true

Unaware that he was subconsciously referring to her and not the dazzling snow that surrounded them, Y/N spoke in agreement. "It is, isn't it? I feel like I'm trapped in a Christmas movie or something." She laughed, eventually letting out a happy sigh. "They're going to love living here. I'm so happy for Scotty and Chloe, you know? They deserve this."

"Yeah, me too. They deserve more than anyone else to live their dream." Lance saw the girl shiver from the corner of his eye as she hug her own body closer. The driver moved closer to her and let his hands run up and down her arms to try to warm her up. "Are you cold? Do you want to go back in?"

"No, no! I'm fine! Just a little chilly, that's all, but thanks."

"Here." The boy removed the hat from his head, pulling it over her hair. The girl blushed at the affectionate gesture, not being able to hide the smile that was stamped on her face as if she had just won a contest. "That will make you stay warmer."

Now it's like snow at the beach

Weird, but fuckin' beautiful

Flying in a dream

Stars by the pocketful

You wanting me

Tonight feels impossible

But it's comin' down

No sound, it's all around

"Thanks, Lance. You didn't have to do that." The girl smoothed her hair shyly, pulling it behind her ear.

As it always seemed to happen, their eyes met, and couldn't let go. They were like magnets, drawn to each other. They just couldn't stand being apart from each other.

With no sound around them other than the muffled voices from inside the house, they both felt their stomachs drop as they both realized it simultaneously.

Fuck me, I'm completely in love with him, Y/N thought.

Fuck me, I'm madly in love with her, Lance thought.

Suddenly, all seemed to be coming down. The two felt consumed all around by the connection between them and they both knew they could no longer escape their undeniable attraction.

"I think I've had enough socializing for today," Lance said, charged with adrenaline. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Lead the way, Stroll."

Like snow on the beach

Like snow on the beach

Like snow on the beach

Like snow, ah

The wind blew in through the open windows of the driver's Aston Martin as the two made their escape without anyone back at the party noticing.

The girl's hair was blowing in the breeze and, even though he knew he should keep his eyes on the road, Lance couldn't help but appreciate the moment and the fascinating smile she wore on her face as she sang to the song that echoed through the car.

God, she's just... absolutely gorgeous, he thought to himself. 

A small smile appeared on his face, mirroring hers, as he imagined how much his older sister was going to piss him off for being right this whole time about the boy's crush on Scotty's sister.

Hopefully, the headache would pay off and he would have a chance to get the girl.

I can't speak, afraid to jinx it

I don't even dare to wish it

But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet

Now I'm all for you like Janet

Can this be a real thing? Can it?

"We're here." The boy said, parking the car in an empty lot with no one in sight.

"The beach! I love this place, how did you know?" Y/N jumped with joy, getting out of the car and letting her arms wrap around his shoulders without thinking too much about what she was doing. "Oh, sorry! I don't know what-"

She was about to pull away when Lance, driven by the realization of his most intimate emotions, pulled her closer to him by the waist. The girl's eyes widened as his face approached hers. "Just took a guess."

Oh but it wasn't a guess.

In all the years they'd known each other, Lance had found himself noticing every detail about Y/N. 

The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about the happiest days of her life being at the beach. 

How she bit her bottom lip every time someone asked her about her unstable career as an artist. 

How she tugged the skins on her thumb impatiently whenever she didn't have her hands busy with some task.

Lance didn't know if he could speak, if he shouldn't wish for a chance with her.

He was scared, no, he was completely terrified of the idea that he might lose her.

Could they one day become a real thing?

Fuck it, he thought. It was now or never.

The driver went all-in and risked everything, moving closer to the girl as his eyes dropped to her plump lips. 

He felt a gasp come out of her mouth, such was the way she was taken aback by his sudden move on her, but Lance didn't flinch and persisted on his way to her, until he felt her lips brush against his.

The two leaned towards each other, ready to be eternally consumed by their burning passion...

Until they felt a snowflake fall between their barely joined lips.

Are we falling like snow at the beach?

Weird, but fuckin' beautiful

Flying in a dream

Stars by the pocketful

You wanting me

Tonight feels impossible

But it's comin' down

No sound, it's all around

Y/N turned away from him as her eyes watched as the snow fell from the sky, painting the sand on the beach white.

"Is that-" Y/N couldn't believe her eyes.

"Snow? On the beach?" Lance replied, equally confused. "This is so-"

"Weird." "Fucking beautiful." The two spoke simultaneously, bursting into laughter at the difference in their reactions.

Like snow on the beach (Snow on the beach)

Like snow on the beach (Flying in a dream)

Like snow on the beach (You wanting me)

Like snow, ah

But it's comin' down

No sound, it's all around

Lance's hand came up to the face of the girl in front of him, stroking her jaw with his thumb as he pressed his lips to hers not wanting to risk the moment being interrupted again.

His mouth pressed over her slightly pursed lips, starting with a gentle kiss and building in intensity as they both lost themselves in the moment for what felt like forever.

"I don't know how to put this into words but... Y/N, you are the most amazing, beautiful, fascinating girl I've ever met. Since I laid eyes on you, I've been head over heels for you. I've tried to deny it- Well, more because Chloe kept bugging me about my crush on you." The driver began to ramble on with the nervousness that came with his feeble attempt at a declaration of love. "Anyway, focus Lance! Y/N, you- You are everything. I-"

"Lance." The girl laughed, placing her hands on either side of his face and placing a quick kiss on his mouth. "I love you too."

"Yeah, those are the exact words I meant to say." He laughed, reuniting their lips once again, as they both got lost in their own little wonderland.

Like snow on the beach

(It's comin' down, it's comin' down)

(It's comin' down, it's comin' down)

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis  

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @scuderiamh @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[cardinalcanis]

First wife

This fic has been eating my brain since I drove to work this morning, hope you like this experimental lesbian fluff I have cooked for you.

Summary: Börte, Jaghatai Khan's first wife, reminisces about her time with the Primarch.

Pairing: f!Jaghatai Khan x f!oc

TW: sexual acts described poetically.

Word count: 1,274

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal @yestheantichrist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I still remember the first time she took me. We raced carelessly across the plains, even with the advantage she caught up to me with ease and lifted me in her arms so high I felt like flying. She let my hair down for it to play in the breeze, unraveled the bothersome layers covering my body so we could dance naked under the moon, the clicking of my jewelry and the cheer of our voices creating a tune that will only be ours.

There was no shame in being bare in the open fields as she was the Khan of all the sun touches and the stars kissed, the world was our bedchamber and for our blankets the sky. She baptized me in the endless stream of her lips that bathed my shores in hues of pink and red. The khan took my hands in hers and guided them through the all encompassing scarred landscape of her body. Sang poetry and praise to me as I worshiped the wetness between her thighs as she did with mine. 

The Warhawk pinned me down with the swift skill a bird of prey does a mouse, straddling her ever powerful figure over the spread center of my pleasure. Leaving no doubt who owned me as I was ridden with the ferocity one subdues a wild stallion into submission until all I could think of was my Khan, the veil of stars framing her and the ones she ignited inside me. 

We laid in the grass, bodies intertwined in a holy vow to never be apart again. Soothed into sleep by the smells of aged leather, motor fuel and wildflowers. 

It still surprises me how vivid some of my memories still are after so many years. I am the first wife but there was a time when I was the last wife. Young and wide eyed I was welcomed into a family of older brothers and sisters I didn’t share blood with, countless daughters I never gave birth to. 

‘The Radiant Wife’, she named me, ‘Just as the light unravels shadows so does your smile onto pains my heart haunt’, Jaghatai said; I hadn’t been told anything like that, so I believed her. 

A new spouse came and I became ‘older sister’ for them, following our beloved wherever her path took her, we still do. 

This has been her longest hunt I have the memory of. ‘The webway’ they call this place, my Jaghatai’s prey? The Xenos dressed in black and pain. We the spouses have had to say goodbye to several older brothers and sisters as time caught up with them, we the family had to grieve many daughters who lived and died by the blade. But also welcomed new ones in the exotic stops around our path. 

Our Khan of khans is not only hunting xenos, we believe she hunts a bigger prey that is still unknown to us but we’ll follow her to it anyways. 

‘Oldest sister’ the rest of the spouses call me, in their naivete I am to guide them, in their aggressions I am to strike truces, and in their inexperience I am to mark the example. 

“Oldest sister” I let my voice speak into the night at the same time I oversee our camp in the distance. The Webway has guided us to a new planet to settle at, at least for the moment as our Khan is a woman of movement. How long has it been since we started our hunt? My hair was still a silken curtain of black when Jaghatai laid her head on the late Forge Husband’s bountiful chest and cried about betrayal. Now my head is crowned by snow white like a winter hare. 

Time is hard to track in this place. By the way my face wrinkles and the skin of my body sags, how the joints ache in the morning and my breast has lost its bounce: I may say I am in my mid 60s or early 70s, but I am not the only one that has felt it’s been much longer. 

“Börte, my golden flower, what has made you stand alone in the cold of night?”  There was my hawk, as glorious as the first day she laid eyes on me save some frown lines. 

“I thought the Fourth Spouse, Graceful Husband, and Fifth Spouse, Eloquent Wife were entertaining you tonight with song and dance, my Khan.”  I answered politely as she sat by me, her arms dragging me into her embrace. 

“You are angry at me.” She said, her breath smelled like kumis. 

“Why do you think so, my Khan?”

She smiled, her black eyes enthralling me like no spell by any Sorcerer ever could. 

“You always use my titles instead of my first name in private when there’s something bothering you.” 

She was right, oh my Jaghatai whose guile has always brought me into defeat. Have I ever had a choice? The day she conquered my homeworld we bent our knees to our new masters bringers of blood and flame. The moment she lifted my brow from the ashen remains of my home it was clear I had been long claimed. 

There was my conqueror, sole owner of my soul.

“I’m just nostalgic, my Jaghatai” I half lied.  “Eloquent Wife reminds me of a mix of my late older brother, Cunning Husband and… me when I was in full bloom.”

“Does my Börte think she has withered and dulled in my eyes?” She turned me around on her lap to face her, my arms finding support on the strength of her bare shoulders. “What is eloquence in the darkness where there is nothing to rhyme about? It is brightness that uncovers the shadows and shows the wonders that could be put into song.”  I went from intoxicating in the leftover taste of kumis in her lips to prancing down hill by her hand. “Come with me my Börte, my Radiant Wife, as I am blind  in the dark without a light.” 

We raced carelessly across the plains, even with the advantage she caught up to me with ease and lifted me in her arms so high I felt like flying. She let my hair down for it to play in the breeze, unraveled the bothersome layers covering my body so we could dance naked under the moon, the clicking of my jewelry and the cheer of our voices creating a tune that will only be ours.

There was no shame in being bare in the open fields as she was the Khan of all the sun touches and the stars kissed, the world was our bedchamber and for our blankets the sky. She baptized me in the endless stream of her lips that bathed my shores in hues of pink and red. The khan took my hands in hers and guided them through the all encompassing scarred landscape of her body. Sang poetry and praise to me as I worshiped the wetness between her thighs as she did with mine. 

The Warhawk pinned me down with the swift skill a bird of prey does a mouse, straddling her ever powerful figure over the spread center of my pleasure. Leaving no doubt who owned me as I was ridden with the ferocity one subdues a wild stallion into submission until all I could think of was my Khan, the veil of stars framing her and the ones she ignited inside me. 

We laid in the grass, bodies intertwined in a holy vow to never be apart again. Soothed into sleep by the smells of aged leather, motor fuel and wildflowers. 

[bardicious]

Hi friend do you have any Charles/Erik fic recommendations of a gentle variety? I watched the First Class era recently and am just….a lil broken up Re:: the pain of Charles losing his best friend and his sister at the same time… and then bottling up that pain for as long as he could until “you took her away and you left me!”

Okay, nonnie! I've got a few here that may interest you. Now, I'm a big fan of hurt/comfort fics, so I can't promise anything too gentle, unfortunately. 😅 (Most of my bookmarks are hella dark apparently) Anyway! Ill list you some I recently read, and mostly remember.

How Still My Love by Regann

"A mysterious sleeping disease, three loyal guardians, and a friend-turned-foe with unclear motives. It might sound like something out of a fairy tale but it's life after Cuba in the Xavier manor for what's left of the so-called X-Men. When Charles can no longer lead them, it's up to Hank, Alex and Sean to figure out a way to protect their mentor, especially once Erik comes seeking an audience. (Variously nicknamed "the Fairytale Fix-it," "Snow Charles and the Three Wishes," and "Alex feels via Charles/Erik." All three are pretty accurate.)"

This one I highly recommend, it's so cute, and the way the author played with fairy tales is fun. Fair warning tho, Erik doesn't stay at the end of this fic. But Charles' heart is a bit more mended.

Second Chances by justavagrant

This one is a time travel fic. Basically young child age Charles, Raven, and Erik replace their older counterparts. The kids build a close friendship real quick, and I believe it's ongoing.

Another Like Me by Ad_astrah

It's 1950, young Charles is getting his powers under control. He meets Erik, 19 years old, who's tracking down Nazis and killing them. They go on a little adventure together.

Elpis by garrideb

Cute protective Erik, injured Charles. This fic is a treat!

Not Yet by GenuineSnoof

"AU - No Beach Divorce and no bullet, but Erik still didn't stay at the school for good. They have an established "with benefits" relationship."

Cold Hands, Warm Heart by pinkoptics

Cherik fic set in Genosha!

Idiot Control Now by cygnaut

"Hank screws something up in the lab and everyone's powers increase tenfold. Not knowing how to control them like this, they all try to cope and not kill each other by mistake while Hank tries to find a way to reverse the effects. Charles has a particularly hard time of it."

Come Together by blarfkey

Series of fics, from Peter's point of view. Decent amounts of Cherik.

Peter's Stepdad by nzeedee

"Peter takes his time to observe and learn more about Erik as he works up the courage to make a family connection. Soon he realizes that Charles is a valuable asset in Erik's life and they may come as a unified pair."

AND some honorable mentions:

First Class Era:

5 Ways Logan Fixed Everything (Like a Boss) by Starlingthefool

Reverse Polarity by smilebackwards (powerswap fic, can't remember well tho)

What Not To Expect When You're Not Expecting It by thehoyden (mpreg, but if you're not into that, I'm not usually either, I think this one was done in a fun way)

DOFP:

A source of knowledge, a source of hope by redaurorarora

Post/Apocalypse: (these might be my favorite, I'm a sucker for comforting charles after apocalypse)

More by humanveil

things we lost in the fire by goodmorningbeloved (3799steps)

all the things i thought I knew (I'm learning again) by spacenarwhal

Hope you like these, nonnie! Sorry if they couldn't be more gentle! I do hope they're more satisfying than the end of FC. 💀 I know your pain.

[inseasofgreen]

ghost!!!!

would it be a good thing or a bad thing to simp for zemorri? i feel like i should be conflicted about him, but i am instead simply biased.

anyways, use this as an excuse to give us zemorri lore pls.

thanks :)

Ayy!! My comfiest writer!!

Honestly I wake up everyday asking the same thing. He's not an outright evil character, but he does bring a lot of questions about morals and what is right and what is wrong. Specially in his case when there is no real winning for anyone, at least in book 1. How it unfolds in later books is honestly a mystery to even me. For once I don't have a clear definitive path with my writing, which is exciting!! For the most part. God Zemorri and Sciosa are going to give me a run for my money ripp

But on to some Zemorri lore!!

I was going to go on about some of the more light hearted things, his name, his dragon bond, etc. but I feel the need to dive a bit deeper. Let's go with his claim to the Vultis throne.

Zemorri was raised as a bastard, believed to be the son of a disgraced dragon rider who attempted to betray the Good Emperor Mikath, Zemorri's real father, and tip the odds to the Usurper Xorulth favor. Zevetta actually wasn't told who to claim was Zemorri's father, only that she was to protect him at all costs and prepare him for the day he would have to reclaim his throne. So Zevetta came up with that lie on her own. Knowing that Zemorri would be better received if the man who fathered him died fighting for the Usurper and also who Zevetta could've logically had the proximity to conceive with. So not only has Zemorri lived a lie his whole life, he's done so while being in close proximity to the Usurper.

Zemorri and his mom have played a very dangerous game. Zevetta getting her husband to talk to the Usurper and basically talk Zemorri up while Zemorri is off doing all these "great" deeds in the King's name. We're not even going to go into the fact that his stepfather let Zemorri be raised with his true born sisters.

I should also mention that Zemorri as the imperial champion ranks above the whole military, his stepfather included. He only has to answer to the Emperor. The crown prince too, but that's more of a case by case basis tbh. So him, already plotting and scheming from a young age to claim the throne, mixed with his rank in court, as well as going to Nivra? Simply put, shit's going down in Nivra.

Oh, and a bonus. Zemorri's dragon Indiss is actually a wild dragon. He doesn't listen to the Zrato like one bred, hatched, and raised dragon would. He's also bigger, like x2 the usual dragon Zrato's ride. Indiss also is just a little freak in general, being as his usual breed is quite colorful with patterns on them and are mean. Indiss however is white as snow and doesn't eat everyone and thing he comes into contact with.

Zemorri is going to be either well loved or absolutely despised by anyone who reads POTO and they'll be no in between honestly lmaooo

Tagging the POTO Tag List because yes.

@lord-fallen @inkingfireplace @rhikasa @leahnardo-da-veggie @satohqbanana

@real-fragments @the-inkwell-variable @tildeathiwillwrite @fromthenortheast @heycerulean

@sonnetery @wyked-ao3

[valiantphantomangel]

I saw you requested ideas for stories! Maybe one where steve have told his little sister numerous times to clean her room, but she haven't really gotten around to it (didn't feel like it haha) and when she is about to leave to meet some friends he ask if she cleaned her room and she says yes, but when he goes to check she clearly haven't, maybe pushed some of her clothes under the bed or something

Big brother

After literally months of Steve's voice demanding in your ear to clean your room you had enough.

So? Glad you asked.

You shoved all your clothes, books, toys and everything that was out of place like empty chip bags or empty cookie packs, into your closet and quickly closed it before it could fall out again.

You smile to yourself in your 'clean' bedroom and skip out of your room, down the stairs to hang out with your friends.

"Where do you think you're going young lady?" The devil named Steve Rogers aka your older brother asked as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

"to hang out with my friends" you answered as you put on your jacket, it was getting colder in New York and the first snow was already expected.

"Have you cleaned your room"? He asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yep"

"alright then go and have fun" Steve said before walking away.

Wait, it was that easy? It couldn't possibly be that easy to fool Captain America, you shrugged your shoulder's and walked out of the Avengers tower.

When you returned to the tower later that day, you could almost feel the eerie quietness. You looked around on alert as you put your jacket down, slowly walking towards the stairs when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

You turned around faster then the speed of light and sighed in relief when you saw it was Steve, but that quickly changed when you saw the look on his face.

"Had fun with your friends"? He asked as he walked to stand in front of you.

"Yeah it was nice" you answered with narrowed eyes.

"Well i came into your room and I had to say it was very clean, really thought you were fooling me there" he said with a laugh as he casually put his hand on your shoulder.

"O-oh good" you stuttered nervously.

"Now what was less pleasant was when I opened your closet door, it was a literal avalanche of toys, clothes and books which hurt by the way, any idea how all of that got there?" Steve said with a squeeze on your shoulder.

"Nope no idea, anyways I need to get some sleep, very tired you see" You quickly said with a fake yawn as you tried to walk around him.

"Not so fast young lady" He laughed as he threw you over his shoulder in one fast movement before throwing you on the couch and straddling your thighs.

You were already giggling nervously, you knew what he was gonna do since it has happened A LOT of times when you were younger.

"Already giggling hmm? And I haven't even done anything yet" Steve said with a mischief grin as he suddenly spidered over your tummy.

You instantly fell back in a giggling mess which turned high pitched as he began digging into your ribs. Which was a death spot.

"Ohhhh I think I've found myself a good spot" he teased as he continued to spider over your tummy before switching spots again.

"NOHAHAHAHA STOP ITHIHIHIHI" you threw your head back in laughter as you squirmed around.

"lemme think about that, uhm no" he grinned before continuing his tickle attack.

"Sounds like someone is having fun" Someone said from behind you that you just didn't want to hear. Loki

"SHUT UPHAHAHAHAH" you can't even make full sentences anymore from laughing your breath away.

"Don't forget her underarms, she's really sensitive there" Loki said with a wink before walking off again.

"DAMM YOU LOKIHIHIHI" you screeched with laughter as Steve full on attacked your underarms.

"seems like you got a new death spot" Steve grinned as he tickled you.

When your laughter fell silent and you stopped trying to fight back he finally let up.

"You alright little sis"? He asked with a smile as he pulled you up to let you cuddle up against him.

"You are the worst brother in existence" you grumbled as the remaining giggles left you.

"You love me"

"Yeah alright, i do"

"Love you too giggles, but you do have to clean your room, properly this time"

"Fine" You sighed before snuggling against him with a soft smile.

You love your big brother, even if he was a pain some times.

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 1: Once Upon a Time

Prompt 1: Steer - FFxiv Write 2024 Characters: Arafel de Courcelle, Fiera de Courcelle, Addifore Adelrik @nnamierart, and a Lady Rosaire (a lady borrowed from @houserosaire 's family's past) Content Warning: Blood.

They say peace follows farewells. In the chance of bidding those dear to our hearts fair passage, we who are left behind gain a calmness of mind and heart.

I say who are they anyway?

I’d state the year, but days all blend together after a point, so instead I’ll say when I was a young man barely grown into my ears, my father saw fit to arrange my elder brother, Alderic, and I marriages. His occurred first, of course, seeing as he was the Viscount de Courcelle’s heir and far more important than his gangly spare. My younger sister, Rosine, had already been betrothed for some time. Such was the way of nobility then, children naught more than pawns to move on a board where few truly understood the game.

War consumed us back then, and we were not yet weary of the fight. Tradition and family glory meant raising Alderic to be a fine knight, and though my father tried with me, my strengths lay not in the sword or the lance, but in books. Perhaps if I had been the third son, he’d have agreed to send me into Halone’s service via the cathedral or the Tribunal. He did not permit this and instead, when I was allowed near the city, I spent my time flitting between the Arcaneum and the Scholasticate. My youth, otherwise, was spent in the countryside on my father’s estate, a place now frozen beneath snow and ice and memory.

The bride my father selected for me was a lovely girl, stout-hearted and fair of face with dark chocolate-hued hair that flowed in waves to her waist. She adored chocobos and loathed getting her feet wet in the rain puddles. Her ability in fencing surpassed my own, a fact I appreciated. All in all, we may have made a sound marriage, that Lady Rosaire and I, if it had not been for the fire in the third row of the Scholasticate’s Arcane History class.

The Lady Fiera outshone her classmates by mere presence alone. Her smile struck like a wildfire, furious and easily burning the viewer to the core. Emerald eyes glittered with mischief and good humour, and I was not the only lad desiring her gaze. The Sanguemont good looks and fire-red hair helped her stand apart from the more dowdily-dressed young ladies in attendance.

Belief in love at first sight was a laughable thing to us young men back then. Lust at first sight on the other hand ran amok through the male ranks, feats boasted over and equally scoffed at. To say I lusted for her was not a wrongful claim. I did, shamelessly so. By that time, I had earned a place as the professor’s assistant in the arcane classes. My skill with aether manipulation far exceeded most my age. I have no doubts it was my position that granted me a chance with her. Those of a cerebral nature in any school setting were often the last a pretty girl ever think to look at, so when she asked for assistance with her studies, I eagerly agreed.

Days turned into moons, and my regard for the Lady Fiera only deepened. Her wit and ample kindness underlying the wilder desire to see and do all she could proved itself more intoxicating to me than any liquor or drug could manage. The toll paid became my heart, something I lay readily in her hands to care for ever after with our marria—

“What’re you writing?” The deep voice sliced through Arafel’s thoughts, dragging him from the intricate loops and curves of his hand writing at the tip of a silver-tipped, raven-feather quill to the pair of curious eyes gazing down at him. Addifore’s gaze flicked from the vampire toward the leather-bound notebook lying open on the desk in front of Arafel.

“Nothing of import. Memoirs of my youth, or what little I recall.” A slight shrug accentuates his words, followed by the nonchalant snapping of the journal closed. His crimson eyes darted to the side, sliding over the figure of his lover and taking in the flecks of blood, the bits of mud clinging around the base of his boots. “Did you find supper?”

“We did.”

“Excellent. I’ll finish this later.” Arafel pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. A single claw tipping the end of an elegant finger stroked along the contour of Addifore’s jawline, uncaring about the thin line of blooming red he left in his wake. “I do love watching you dine.”

[raaorqtpbpdy]

(Not so) Imaginary Friend

A young Tucker Foley befriends a yeti.

For the Prompt: A young Tucker has accidentally befriended a Yeti of the far frozen. As the years go by, the yeti keeps trying to leave messages for Tucker but Tucker's father tries to put a stop to their interactions, stating Tucker is simply "too old to be playing with imaginary friends" [from Shinx]

Read also on AO3

[Warning for unsafe parenting on the Fenton's part, and uncompassionate parenting on the Foley's part. Basically questionable parenting choices all the way around.]

Tucker was six the first time he met the yeti. Even at that age, he'd known Amity Park wasn't a completely normal town. He was excited, because it was the first snow day of first grade, and his dad had agreed to take him over to his friend Danny's house to play.

When they got there, Danny's older sister Jazz had opened the door and let Tucker inside. She said her parents were downstairs and not to bother them, and Tucker said goodbye to his dad and sprinted in to find Danny. When they saw each other, the two of them ran full-force at each other, slamming into a hug at top speed. It probably would have been smarter not to do that on the stairs to the second floor, but they were none-the-worse for wait after tumbling down a few steps and laughed it off.

Tucker had been all but literally jumping up and down as he waited for Danny to finish putting on his warm clothes so they could go out into the back yard and build a snow monster. A snow monster was like a snowman, except way way cooler, and instead of a carrot nose, it had baby-carrot teeth. The Fentons never had full-sized carrots, anyway.

When they ran outside, they offered to let Jazz join in, but she said she would rather stay inside and read. Tucker and Danny had only gotten up to the letter M in their class, but they were in first grade, and Jazz was in third grade, so she knew all the letters already. Tucker was excited to learn all the letters, but he liked math even better.

The two of them played for hours. They built an awesome snow monster. They had a snowball fight. And then, there was a loud sound from inside the house. It was a sort of whirring humming noise that grew louder by the second, and green spots started to appear in the air.

Tucker was two distracted to see what happened to Danny, but when he looked over, his friend was lying in the snow, looking like he was dead. Tucker ran to him, but he couldn't decide if he should be more afraid of Danny passing out unexpectedly, or of the green spots in the air that were slowly but surely growing wider and wider.

He held Danny close against his chest, but didn't take his eyes off the nearest green spot. Soon, it was as big as Tucker was, and although it stayed green around the edges, Tucker could see more snow on the other side, but different snow. He could see mountains and rolling hills of white that were definitely not Danny's backyard.

Then, he saw a snow monster. A real one. This one was covered in white fur, its horns were bone and not sticks, and its teeth were definitely not baby carrots. Tucker's eyes widened and he held Danny tighter in his fear as he tried to scramble away.

The snow monster stopped without warning, and turned its head to look at Tucker.

"Please don't hurt me!" Tucker shouted at the top of his lungs. He didn't know if it would work, but his mom told him that if he said please he could get almost anything he wanted, and he really wanted the snow monster to not hurt him.

"Why would I hurt you?" the snow monster asked.

Tucker was surprised to hear it speak. It had a gentle, masculine voice that eased Tucker's fears almost as much as his words.

"Is something the matter with your friend?" the snow monster asked.

"I don't know what happened. He just fell asleep in the snow, and he won't wake up!"

"I know some medicine," the snow monster offered. "Maybe I can help."

"Are you a doctor?" Tucker asked, suddenly afraid again.

The snow monster laughed and shook his head. "No, I'm just a medic, and an apprentice one, at that. May I help?"

Tucker looked between the snow monster and his unconscious friend with apprehension. It didn't look like Danny was breathing, and he wasn't supposed to bother Danny's parents while they were working in the lab. That humming noise was so loud now that Tucker couldn't think.

"Okay, please help him!" Tucker shouted finally.

His mother always told him not to shout too much because it bothered people, but he didn't think the snow monster would be able to hear him if he didn't shout.

The snow monster didn't need to shout though. His voice cut right through the electronic hum like it fell silent the moment he opened his mouth.

"Alright, I will," he agreed, and stepped through the green spot.

Carefully, the snow monster took Danny away from Tucker and gently felt Danny's forehead and checked the color of his tongue, and so forth. Tucker wasn't really sure what he was doing, actually.

"My name is Blizzard," said the snow monster. "I live in a place called the Far Frozen. What's your name?"

"My name is Tucker Foley and I live at 2-2-1-7 Woodsboro Drive," Tucker recited. "And that is Danny. He lives in that house."

He pointed to the Fenton house. His parents had made him memorize his address in case he got lost, he also knew both their phone numbers, and the Fenton's home phone, just in case. Tucker was very good at memorizing numbers.

"It's nice to meet you, Tucker," Blizzard said kindly. "If I ever want to write you a letter, I'll know where to send it. As for your friend here, it doesn't seem like he has hypothermia, or anything like that. It looks as though he's reacting to all the ectoplasm in the air."

"The what?"

"All those green spots and the holes opening up to different places, they're releasing massive amounts of ectoplasm from the Infinite Realms into the air," Blizzard explained. "Ectoplasm is what gives ghostly beings like me strength. It looks like Danny has been exposed to ectoplasm before, but never pure ectoplasm like this, and it's causing a negative reaction with the stale ectoplasm already in his body."

Blizzard reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a twig with a few sparse leaves. He plucked a couple of them and pushed them into Danny's mouth.

"He would recover with time anyway, but this should help him recover faster," the snow monster explained.

Tucker looked intently at Danny, and already, he could see his friend's breathing getting stronger.

"I think it's working!"

Suddenly, the humming noise grew more high pitched, and Blizzard lifted his head, and perked up his ears.

"I should go," he said. "I fear these portals will not be open for much longer, and if they close, I will have no way to get back home."

"Will I ever see you again?"

Tucker asked.

Blizzard smiled at him and reached into his bag again, this time pulling out a piece of carved ice in the shape of one of Blizzard's horns, but hollow.

"If you blow in this, I'll hear you wherever I am," he said. "I may not always be able to get to you, but I'll always remember you."

Tucker took the frozen horn and blew into it, but it didn't make any sound.

He looked up in confusion when he hear Blizzard laughing at him. "You blow into the other end, silly."

"Oh." When Tucker blew into the other end, it made a low trumpeting tone.

"There you go!"

The humming noise became more high pitched again, and this time Blizzard looked genuinely alarmed.

"I have to go, he said," clambering quickly to his feet and running through the hole he'd come out of. His legs were a lot longer than Tucker's, and he could run much faster because of it.

The humming was replaced by a horrible shriek, like the school's fire alarm but somehow worse. It held for about three seconds, and while it did, the green spots and holes in the sky glowed so brightly, and spun and the edges got all warped and weird.

Then the only sound was Tucker's ears ringing, and the green things in the sky were gone.

A couple minutes later, Danny woke back up, and Tucker suggested they play inside for a while.

A grimace came across Danny's face and he spit out the leaved Blizzard had put in his mouth, and shuddered from laying still and unconscious in the cold.

"Yuck!" he said. His teeth chattered. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind going inside for a little while."

As soon as they got inside, however, the doorbell rang, and Danny and Tucker ran to answer it. Tucker's dad was there.

"What was that?" his dad demanded.

"I don't know," Tucker said.

"What was what?" Danny asked.

"I'm going to have to talk to your parents, young man!" Tucker's dad pushed his way inside and went straight to the basement door.

"No, wait! You're not supposed to bother Mom and Dad while their working!" Danny called out, running after him.

Tucker followed, too, mostly because he wanted to know what was going on.

The three of them all went down into the basement together, and gasped when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Mr and Mrs Fenton were both unconscious on the floor of their lab.

"Mom! Dad!" Danny shouted. He ran up to his mom, who was closer, and tried to shake her awake, but it didn't work.

Tucker's dad knelt down next to her and gently pulled Danny away before pressing his fingers into her neck for some reason, and then sighing with relief.

"She's alive." He got up up and walked over to Danny's dad to do the same thing. "Him too. What happened to them?"

"Maybe the same thing that happened to Danny," Tucker said with a shrug. "When those green spots started showing up, he just suddenly fell asleep. Then my snow monster friend gave him some leaves to make him wake up faster. He said Danny would have been fine without the leaves, though, so they should be okay, too."

"Well that's... very nice of your snow monster friend," Tucker's dad said, though his voice had a strange quality to it, like he wasn't really sure how to react.

"You have a snow monster friend?" Danny asked excitedly. "What's his name?"

"His name is Blizzard, and he came through one of the green holes when you were asleep," Tucker said.

"Cool!"

The two of them startled when Tucker's dad suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Wait, what about Jazz? Danny, where's your sister?" he demanded.

"In her room, I think."

Without another word, Tucker's dad started up the stairs and the two boys followed. They kept going up the next flight of stairs to the second floor, and Danny pointed out which bedroom was Jazz's.

Jazz was on her bed, asleep, with a book open on her chest. But she was abnormally pale, and if she was breathing, it was so shallow they couldn't tell looking at her.

Tucker's dad checked her neck, too and sighed again with relief. He put a bookmark in her book, and handed it to Tucker to carry. Then he picked up Jazz and carried her out of the room.

"Come on, into my car, both of you," he said.

Tucker and Danny ran down to the car, and strapped in, and then Tucker's Dad buckled Jazz in next to them before heading back inside for a moment to leave a note for the Fentons when they woke up.

Then he took them all back to Tucker's house, and Danny and Tucker played battleship wrestling while Jazz slept on the couch, and Tucker's parents talked to each other in the other room.

The Fentons had been very angry when they came to pick up their kids from Tucker's house. They yelled things like 'kidnapping', and Tucker's parents yelled back things like 'criminal neglect', and when Mr and Mrs Fenton finally stormed off, each of them holding one of their kids' hands, they shouted about never letting Tucker's parents anywhere near their kids again, and Tucker's Dad shouted back that the same went for them.

After that, Danny and Tucker weren't allowed to have play dates or hang out together outside of school for over a year. Tucker's dad said that he was never going to be allowed to go back to the Fenton's house, and as he understood it, Danny's parents had said basically the same thing to him about never being allowed to go to Tucker's house.

Tucker didn't have any siblings, or even neighbors close to his age, so he had to play alone a lot that winter.

He and Danny only lived a few blocks apart, so Tucker could see and even distantly hear when those green spots came back. His dad said that the spots were because of something Danny's parents were working on, which was too dangerous for kids to be around, and that was why he couldn't go back to Danny's house.

When Tucker saw those green spots start to show up though, he would get the ice horn out of his sock drawer—it never melted, no matter where he kept it—and blow into it, and sometimes, Blizzard would come and hang out and play with him. He would always leave when he thought the spots were about to go away though. He didn't want to be trapped away from home.

Tucker could understand that, but it still meant that he would have to play alone again. He missed having Danny over.

When winter started to give way to spring, Blizzard told Tucker that he wouldn't be able to come back until the snowy season started again, because it would be too warm for him, and he might melt.

This made sense to six-year-old Tucker, because all the snow monsters he and Danny had made melted during the spring, too. Even though Blizzard didn't seem to be made of actual snow, he was still a snow monster, and Tucker didn't want him to die.

Blizzard did promise to write Tucker letters though, and Tucker looked forward to that, and told him they'd see each other when winter came again.

Throughout the rest of the year, Tucker would occasionally receive letters. There was no sender address, but they were all addressed to Tucker Foley at 2217 Woodsboro Drive, Amity Park, Illinois. Blizzard's handwriting was not very good, but it was still readable. In his letters, he would tell Tucker stories about learning medicine, and all his yeti friends back in the Far Frozen.

Tucker learned that the technical name for snow monsters was yeti.

He couldn't write back, because he'd asked the mail lady, and she said that she'd never heard of the Far Frozen, and she was sorry, but she didn't think they could send mail there. So instead, after reading one of Blizzard's letters, Tucker would go outside and blow on the ice-horn to let Blizzard know that he was thinking about him.

When winter came again, the two of them played together some more. Tucker, hiving recently been made aware of the concept of 'too old for fun and games' by his older cousin during the summer, asked Blizzard if he thought he was too old to be playing with a little kid like Tucker. Blizzard said he was only an adolescent yeti himself, a young teenager, he clarified, but he never seemed to get any bigger, even though he commented on how much bigger Tucker had gotten in just one year. Apparently yetis aged much slower than people did.

Another winter passed, and Blizzard apologetically told Tucker they wouldn't be able to see each other until it snowed in Amity Park again. Tucker once again, understood, and through the rest of the year, Blizzard sent him letters every month or so, when he could get them through.

This continued for a few years. The Fentons stopped whatever experiment was making green spots appear, and Tucker was afraid that Blizzard might not be able to come back, but he managed it, though less often than previous years.

Gradually, Danny and Tucker's parents started to let the two of them hang out outside of school more, but even though Tucker eagerly told Danny about his yeti friend, and showed him the letters, the timing never worked out for Danny to be able to meet him.

Tucker never tried to hide Blizzard from anyone. He told his parents all about the yeti, and they seemed happy to indulge him for a long time.

Then, when he was eleven, and he got the first letter of the year from Blizzard in the mail, his parents started to look concerned. A few months, and two more letters later, his dad put the latest letter from Blizzard on the table between them and sat him down for a talk.

"Tucker... your mother and I have started to become... concerned about you," he said.

"What do you mean?" Tucker asked.

"Look, it was cute when you were seven years old and mailing letters to yourself, but you're about to start middle school now, and... well... don't you think you're getting too old for imaginary friends?"

"I don't have any imaginary friends," Tucker replied, openly confused by the conversation.

"Blizzard the yeti snow monster from the Far Frozen in the Infinite Realms?" His dad said flatly, raising an eyebrow. "None of those things actually exist."

Well... at least he knew now that his dad did actually listen to him. He'd always sort of wondered about that. Although not believing him was a new and different problem, obviously.

"He's not imaginary," Tucker said. "I see him every winter, and he sends me letters the rest of the year."

"Tucker, honey," his dad said in that overly sweet voice he used to tell Tucker things he knew he didn't want to hear. "Yetis are a myth. There's no such place as the Far Frozen, or the Infinite Realms. I'll admit you made up some pretty interesting lore for him, but Blizzard is not real."

"The Infinite Realms is another dimension," Tucker insisted. "The Far Frozen is just one of the realms in that dimension. And Yetis are real there."

"Seriously kid, you could write a bestseller out of this stuff," his dad said.

"It's not made up," Tucker insisted. "I still have the ice-horn he gave me when we first met, I'll show you!"

"No, Tucker. That's enough," his dad said firmly. "I didn't want to be bad cop, but your mother won rock-paper-scissors, so I will be. Blizzard is not real, and you're too old to be playing with imaginary friends. You have real friends, don't you? You have Danny! Play with him."

"I do play with him," Tucker said. "I play with Blizzard too, when I can."

"Not anymore," his dad said. "I'm putting an end to this."

He took the letter off the table as he stood up. Then he tore it up and threw it in the kitchen garbage can where it would have gotten instantly covered with the expired meatloaf Tucker's mom had just thrown away.

After that, Tucker's parents intercepted all of Blizzard's letters to him. Tucker tried to get the mail before they did, but every time he managed to, there was no letter from Blizzard in it anyway. They only came every six to eight weeks, after all. But now, he wasn't receiving any of them.

At his father's suggestion, Tucker made another friend once middle school started, a girl names Sam, who dressed in all black and scared most of his and Danny's bullies away.

Even so, Tucker still blew on the ice horn every once in a while, to let Blizzard know he hadn't forgotten him.

When winter came again, so did Blizzard. Now though, Tucker did make an effort to hid the yeti from his parents. He told Blizzard all about what his dad had said about him being too old for imaginary friends. He said it would probably be for the best if Blizzard stopped sending letters the rest of the year, because he wouldn't be able to get them anyway, and he'd probably get in trouble with his parents, too, since they thought Tucker was the one writing them.

Blizzard agreed, though he didn't seem happy about it. Tucker couldn't blame him. He wasn't happy about it either. Still, at least they managed to see each other about three or four times every winter and catch up.

Then, Danny's accident happened. When Tucker saw his friend come out of the portal, unconscious and visibly the wrong colors, his mind shot back to the first time he'd met Blizzard, when Danny's parents' experiment had caused him to suddenly pass out. He wished Blizzard was there to tell him what to do, but it was barely autumn, so there was no way to reach him.

He'd also never told Sam about the yeti, so if he had been there, she might've freaked out.

In the end, Danny turned out to be fine. Tucker never mentioned the incident to his parents. He'd only been allowed to come to the Fenton's house unsupervised again for a couple of years and had no intention of losing that privilege because of another one of Mr and Mrs Fenton's fucked up lab experiments. And Danny was fine.

More or less, anyway.

Tucker was more excited than any of them when Danny suggested they take his parent's specter speeder out to map the Ghost Zone. At that point, he was pretty sure the Ghost Zone and the Infinite Realms were the same place, and he thought if they searched enough of it, they might find the Far Frozen, and he might be able to see Blizzard more than just three or four times a year, during the snowy season.

They went into the Ghost Zone over a dozen times, and the more they tried to map it, the more they realized it was unmappable—or at least, Tucker realized. Everything on their map was in a different place than they'd last seen it. Everything in the Ghost Zone was constantly shifting and changing, and Tucker was pretty sure they'd never find the Far Frozen, especially not at the rate they were going.

Then, after months and months of exploring, they crash landed right in it.

Tucker didn't realize right away. He'd been only six years old the last time he'd seen the Realm of the Far Frozen, and he'd seen it through a wobbly glowing tear through space, and it didn't look all that different from any other icy wasteland. At first, all he knew was that it was cold and snowy and powder white as far as they eye could see. Then, they were attacked by a yeti, and instantly Tucker made the connection.

The yeti that was attacking them was not Blizzard. For one thing, he was a good few feet taller than Blizzard, and one of his arms was made of ice encasing bone. The way he was dressed also looked a lot more fancy than how Blizzard usually dressed. Based on all that, Tucker guessed that this yeti was Frostbite, the leader of the Far Frozen. Although, in the stories Blizzard had told him, Frostbite was a kind and compassionate leader, always level-headed.

None of those words really seemed to apply to the one attacking them. At least, until Danny plucked a thorn of ice from his paw and he regained his sense. Then he was calling Danny 'Great One' and enthusiastically offering to escort them all to the village.

On the walk over, through chattering teeth, Tucker asked Frostbite if he knew a yeti named Blizzard.

"Three, in fact," Frostbite replied. "Blizzard is almost as common a name as Tundra, or Glacier." After saying this however, Frostbite looked down at Tucker curiously. "Wait, you wouldn't happen to mean the medic apprentice, Blizzard?"

"That's him!"

"Amazing," Frostbite said, looking Tucker up and down with a look of awe. "To be perfectly honest, when Blizzard told us all he had made a human friend, we thought he was just telling stories. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You t-too," Tucker agreed.

"What are you two t-t-talking about?" Sam stammered through the cold.

"C-can we save this c-conversation for s-someplace warmer?" Danny requested.

The three teens passed the rest of the walk in silence, though Frostbite had no such problems with the cold and told them all about the village they were going to, and what yeti culture was like.

Eventually, they got into a nice, warm cave, and Frostbite handed out blankets and hot chocolate. Then he left claiming he had some business to attend to briefly in the rest of the village.

"It's exciting that we actually found this place," Tucker commented. "I've been looking for it since we first started trying to map the Ghost Zone."

"You knew it existed?" Sam asked, sounding suitably shocked.

"Yup," Tucker said. "When I was little, I went to Danny's house where his parents were doing ghost portal experiments and they all passed out from some ectoplasm reaction or something, I don't really remember that part, but I met a yeti ghost from here named Blizzard. I'll make sure to find him and introduce him to you before we leave."

"Oh yeah, I remember Blizzard," Danny said after a moment of thought. "Your snow monster friend that you played with back when our parents wouldn't let us go to each other's houses. I can't believe there's a chance he might actually be real."

"What do you mean 'might'?" Tucker demanded indignantly, putting his hands on his hip, although the effect was diminished by the blanket hanging over his shoulders. "I talked to Frostbite about him and he's totally real. Not that I was in any doubt."

Sam shook her head and stuck a hand out from under her blanket before immediately pulling it back inside.

"Hold up," she said. "You mean not only did you already know this place existed, but you're already friends with one of the ghosts from here?"

"Yup, and as soon as we get the chance, I'm gonna make sure we can meet him," Tucker said.

A few moments later, before the conversation even moved on from the topic, Frostbite returned with a familiar young yeti in tow. Tucker perked up immediately and stood to greet his old friend.

"Blizzard! Hey!"

"Tucker, it's good to see you again," the yeti said, pulling him into a hug. Blizzard's fur had always been cool, but it was also so soft that Tucker had never minded it. Blizzard pulled him away and looked him over. "Ancients, humans really do grow quickly. You're taller every time I see you, but I haven't seemed to grow at all."

Tucker laughed. Even though that was true, Blizzard was still a good foot taller than he was, and Tucker sincerely doubted he'd ever catch up to the yeti.

"I can't believe you're here!" Blizzard said.

"Neither can I," Tucker admitted. "I've been looking for this place for a while but I kinda stopped expecting to find it." He turned to his two human friends with a huge smile that was only a little bit smug. "Sam, Danny, meet Blizzard. Blizzard, these are my human friends, Danny and Sam."

"I am honored to meet you both," Blizzard said, his tone strangely formal compared to how he usually spoke to Tucker. "I did not know that Tucker was friends with the Great One. It his humbling to be in your presence."

Danny laughed awkwardly. Frostbite had explained the whole 'Great One' thing earlier, but as cool as it was, Danny wasn't used to that kind of attention, especially from ghost.

"It's nice to meet you too," Danny said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, though she seemed to be otherwise dumbstruck looking between Tucker and the Yeti.

They chatted for a while, and Tucker told Blizzard how they'd gotten to the Far Frozen, and about the Fenton Portal, excitedly telling the yeti it would would be a much more reliable way for both of them to visit each other, rather than having to rely on natural portals that opened unexpectedly and never stayed open for too long.

Eventually, though, the three human teens had to get going, Blizzard said goodby, promising to come visit once the weather was cold again, and more often than usual. For his part, Tucker said he'd come back to the Far Frozen to visit in the meantime—although next time, he'd be sure to dress warmer.

Tucker was smug as hell once Blizzard had left to get back to the medicine hut and the three teens were standing around the Infi-Map Frostbite had brought to take them home.

"So, is Blizzard the reason you're a furry?" Sam asked under her breath.

"Shut up!" Tucker hissed at her, though he could feel warmth rising into his cheeks.

She did shut up, but probably more because Frostbite had started to explain how the Infi-Map worked than because Tucker had asked her to.

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. I also gave him some anxiety and stuff because while he’s in love he doesn’t believe someone could love him back. He just has a lot of uncertainty with romance. Mawwiage happens. Alcohol is mentioned. Everyone's having a good time. Two pirates have a heart to heart in a way. A/N: This is second to last chapter so it may feel rushed, sorry! This was only meant to serve as introducing them and their relationship. Though it's funny because I've already made an AU for them featuring an OC for Buggy having an older sister that I've also been writing little fics for. I plan to get the epilogue out this week.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 18

“You don’t have to have an officiant.” Windy told Buggy that night on the ship while you and Blue prepared dinner. After words with her sister, Windy collected her husband, some rum, the rings, and headed to the ship to have words with the two of you. “Everything Stormy said was wrong. Snow married a pirate but he didn’t leave her like that. He goes off for six months and stays home for six months. They make it work.”

Buggy looked at the glass of rum he had. It was better stuff than he normally had. You had managed to make him feel better after your aunt insulted him, spending time with him as you told him all the reasons why you loved him, why you wanted to marry him, and to ignore that bitch of an aunt and her horrible words. Buggy did feel better and he knew you meant what you said, but there was sometimes still that little voice in his head that said there was no reason for you to love him or take care of him the way you did.

“I just told my Captain to say me and Blue were married and he did. That was good enough for us.” Windy chuckled as she sipped her own drink. “You two can exchange rings and just say you’re married. Who’s going to come asking for papers in the middle of the sea anyway?” She glanced over at Buggy. “You seem like the type to just do what you want anyway, Buggy, so if you two don’t want an audience, just exchange the rings. Hell, don’t even do that. Just say you’re married.”

“She wanted a ring.” Buggy shrugged. “And flowers. I gave her both.”

“You’re a romantic pirate, aren’t you?” She laughed as Buggy scowled at her. “You’re so cute. I’m not surprised Sunny fell for you.”

Buggy’s cheeks burned and he looked away from her, gripping the glass tightly. He wasn’t ‘cute’ but it was a little nice to hear that your mother seemed to approve of him. He wasn’t a romantic either, even if he had a picnic ready for you when he was going to tell you how he felt about you, or that he wanted to bring you every bouquet of flower he came across but didn’t because what if that was too much? But now he didn’t care, he would steal an entire field of flowers for you if he could.

“Let’s go check on’em.” Windy tossed her drink back and headed to the kitchen and Buggy followed after. He was feeling a little off, the doubt coming back as he wondered if he should have done more for you to show you how much he really loved you. There was still time for you to tell him this was a mistake, that he should just leave you behind on the island and sail away far from you. There were other suitors who would be better for you anyway, not some stinky clown who couldn’t go a meal without staining his shirt. You had to be tired of him by now, right?

The table in the kitchen was set. You and your dad had pulled together a delicious beef stew full of meat and vegetables, as well as a fresh loaf of bread. Buggy had to stop and watch you for a moment, seeing how much you were smiling when you saw him and that you stopped what you were doing to go over to him, giving him a kiss before leading him to the table to sit. He needed to stop those thoughts in his mind. There was no way you didn’t love him with the way you were beaming at him. 

“Buggy, we should just exchange rings.” You told him once you were all seated at the table. Buggy missed the look your parents exchanged. “I don’t care if we have someone here to say we’re married. We’ll be living on the sea, it doesn’t matter if we have someone saying it or not.”

“Wait, really?” He frowned, looking between you and your parents. “Are you sure?”

“Of course!” You beamed as you reached over to take his hand in yours. “I don't care about having a wedding at all. We can do whatever we want.”

He actually … liked the idea. He didn't want to stand up in front of your family to tell them something that they already knew: that he loved you and would be with you forever, no matter what. He just needed rings. He glanced at your parents, at you, then back at them before pounding his fist on the table.

“We're married, got that? No one can tell us otherwise!” He announced loudly.  “Where’s the rings? She needs a ring so no one messes with her!”

“Aw, our baby is married.” Windy chuckled as Blue pulled out a small box and handed it over to Buggy. He took the box and looked at you, a wave of nervousness slamming into him that he almost forgot what he was going to do next, but he shook it off and opened the box. 

“See, we’re married! We have rings!” He told you as he showed them to you. “Y-Your parents made them for us because I couldn’t find anything better.” He took one out, showing you the design your father etched onto it. It was of Buggy’s jolly roger. “That way others know who you’re married to.” 

He took your hand in his, suddenly nervous once again as he started to slide the ring onto your finger, his hand shaking as he did it. Your parents were watching, he didn’t want to mess this up, but he breathed a sigh of relief when the ring slid onto your finger and you leaned over to kiss his cheek. 

“I love you, Buggy.” You smiled as you took out his ring, pausing for a moment to study it. It was his jolly roger but around one of the eyes looked like a sunburst. You grinned when you saw it, turning it over in your hand to study it for a moment before taking his hand in yours and sliding it on his finger. He held his hand up and looked smug, glancing at Blue and Windy, both who gave him a thumbs up. 

“Ha! It’s official!” He said proudly as you kissed him on the cheek again. He was holding his hand up to your parents, looking quite smug while the two of them looked amused.

“We have a pirate for a son-in-law.” Blue chuckled softly, shaking his head. “And he’s a captain. Wait til the family finds out.”

You looked up at that, holding Buggy’s hand in your own. “Okay, but wait until we sail off before telling them. We don’t need someone storming the ship because they’re mad they weren’t here to see this.”

“That's fair.” Your mom nodded. “Stormy wasn't pleased with our conversation but she may still try to insist on something. If you two kids want, sail off tonight and then we will tell them tomorrow. No point sticking around unless you absolutely want to.”

“Yea? I'm okay with that.” You agreed before turning to your now husband. “Do you want to do that? Do we need any supplies before we leave?”

Buggy shook his head. He was suddenly very quiet, his brain now processing that oh, he was married to the woman he thought was the most amazing person in all of the East Blue. You chose him out of everyone you ever met, brushed off all those other men who tried to flirt with you, ask you to lunch, everything and yet Buggy was the one who you wanted to be with in the end. Not that scary man, the handsome swordsman, or even that sharply dressed Kuro. Hell, you'd turn down Shanks for Buggy; he felt confident now in even thinking that and as far as he knew you never even met Shanks! 

“Honey?”

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts. He looked over at you as you held his hand, giving it a squeeze. He looked down, seeing the ring on your finger, the one your parents designed and made for the two of you. His mind was racing, his heart started to pound, and his palms were sweaty. When he looked back up at you, seeing the look of concern on your face, he just grinned and started laughing.

“I'm married!” He announced, looking quite pleased with himself. “Ha! Bet no one expected that! Tell that aunt of yours to shove it, Sunny!”

He almost regretted saying that, but your mom snorted before she burst out laughing while your dad nodded in agreement. You shook your head and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I love you, Buggy.”

He turned red but grinned, looking quite proud of himself for a moment. He put his arm around you, tugging you closer to him as he leaned in to give you a kiss. It was kind of sweet to see the sudden change in his demeanor moments after the two of you put the rings on. You didn't think he'd ever do such a thing like this before, but now that you two were married, maybe he didn't care. He was yours and you were his, maybe he wasn't so worried about losing you to someone else.

~

The ship did set sail later that night after Buggy and Windy had a few more drinks to celebrate. Blue escorted his tipsy wife back home after plenty of goodbye hugs and tears, but you knew you'd see your parents again. Your mom insisted the two of you visit sooner rather than later, and she was pretty sure you would end up commanding the ship over Buggy some day.

You managed to get your tipsy husband to bed with little trouble, he wasn't as drunk as you'd seen in the past, but he was definitely loudly saying what a wonderful wife you were, that he would make sure you were always happy, and that he was the luckiest guy because he had the sexiest wife. You were fine for him to sing your praises as you helped him change into comfy sleep clothes and tucked him into bed.

Once he was flopped onto the bed, arms spread out with the biggest grin on his face, he lifted his head up just enough to watch you change into your own sleep clothes. You caught him staring and smiled at him as you pulled your nightgown on.

“What?”

“Nothin’. Just happy because I got the most beautiful girl to marry me.” He looked quite proud of that fact. “You chose me out of so many guys.”

“I did.” You smiled as you laid yourself down beside him, kissing his cheek as his arms went around you. “And I got the most handsome pirate to ask me to marry him.”

Buggy blushed at that, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against the top of your head. “Oh hush.”

“I did! I'm so lucky, Buggy.” You told him as his arms held you close. “You're so sweet to me and I'm going to make sure you are the most powerful pirate. Everyone in the East Blue will know your name.”

His cheeks were burning as he listened to your words. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look down at you as you gazed up at him. He didn't say anything, just tilted your head up to kiss you. He was the lucky one, never thinking he'd meet someone like you, fall in love, eventually marrying. It wasn't in his plans at all, but he couldn't help falling in love when he first met you, experiencing your kindness first hand like that. 

You smiled at him, reaching up to twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “Get some sleep, honey. It's been a long few days.”

[maeizy]

C!ranboo little sister x reader!

I HATE MYSELF RN, I LOST THE DANG REQEST THERE WAS TWO AND I REMEMBERED THE FIRST ONE- sjdjdnsidndoanfiehidn anyways the request was by @fantasyfiction-net ! and no I dont have a discord server yet! Ill try and make one though, ty for the advice! And yes I'd love to be freinds!!:D annnyways- ONWARD!!

INFO FOR REQESTS MY FANDOMS, AS WELL AS BLOG

GENRE: PURE FLUFF!<3

SYPNOSIS:x-reader where very young sibling,age 4-5. of C!ranboos, gets close with the sbi, Tubbo, philza, tommy ecr. To where he thinks they like the sbi more than him but they dont.

PRONOUNS: gn

TRIGGERS: getting hurt; (by water[since readers also half enderman]), no others!

Notes <3- totally didnt forget about this- I kinda hate it but its whatever I guess. Sorry for being so inactive as of kate, I'm making a lot of more fics, not in this fandom but in others like Lockwood and co ect. Please please please make sure to check out my blog info and my other stuff I have it linked in ever post :D sorry of this is trash but I hope y'all enjoy anyways.

you and ranboo where getting ready to go to philzas house it had just started to snow. you had always been fascinated by the white floating specs that reminded you of your very own purple ones that floated around you from time to time connecting to you to your ender man heritage.

"Y\N!" your older brother Ranboo yelled out as your tiny bare feet thudded out of the shack door breaking free from your bigger brothers arms to excitedly run out to the snow and attempt to flop down on it, but as soon as your bare skin touched the cold frozen flakes of water it burned, the excitement was then sucked away, as a searing pain tore through the pads of your exposed feet.

an enderlike screech of pain burst from your shocked mouth and purple particles was all your vision picked up on as you subconsciously teleported back, with a soft woosh, you popped back into the small space of the entrance of the Shack, that you and ranboo called home.

upright and confused, you where frantically holding your foot with a Audible "ow,ow,ow,ow,ow-" trying to balance on one leg and hopping backwards. already loosing your balance due to your freakishly long limbs for your age. (Thank your enderside) with a hiss you where sent wheeling back. being uncorranated as is, and then adding the fact you where standing how you where at the moment, you knock things down with you as you fall and land on your back with another shriek and a loud thump.

You let out another small, half hurt half annoyed huff, as tears formed at the ends of your green and red eyes. ranboo panicked running over in a semi-shocked state to grab onto you checking the red scorch marks on your left foot as you pushed yourself up on your elbows to let out another soft "ow" as he bent down to pick up your small 5 year old form.

being carefull not to bump into anything as he stumbled to set you on the staircase as he went to go grab some bandages rambling on with a " oh no!- I said to get your enchanted shoes on! Water hurts us-aww no please don't cry- healing poti-TUBBO"

The shorter boys head popped around the thrown open door as cold wind pushing its way in in a blizzard you hadn't noticed brewing till now, too focused on the throb in your foot.

The boys chipper voice was followed by ranboo half falling down the stairs to greet him and help you "Hi ran boo and- RANBOO WHY ARE THEY CRYING?!" ranboo fumbled with The wrappings as he wrapped it around the fresh wound " they went outside! in the snow! without enchanted boots and got hurt when it melted on them!" The little kid rushed over to tubbo hugging him tightly completely oblivious to ranboo who was trying to help; and ran into the shorter hybrids arms tubbo stooped to pick the younger child up as he set them down again on the staircase.

She wasn't full blown crying now, just sniffling as she tried to wipe of runaway tears as tubbo patted her head warmly with a small comforting grin to calm her nerves. she let the goat boy wrap the rest of the bandages around her foot then gave him an exited hug and a small. "thank you tubtub!" And got to her feet ignoring the ache and running to the front door to pick up her shoes, while ran boo wined a little at The younger boo and crossed his long arms in silent protest, giving a little huff of annoyance.

Tubbo chuckled "apparently she just likes me more" he said in a joking tone. But ranboo frowned "pftt-no.she-" tubbo laughed again as ranboos face turned a shade out of embarrassment. "whatever" he grumbled as he walked over to little y\n as she finished yanking the big enchanted boots onto her much smaller feet. she hummed with a happy little smile as he watched her with furrowed eyebrows standing their a little she got up humming a song tommy taught her and unconsciously grabbed his bigger hand bouncing as she pulled him outside "Phil's!phils!phils!" She chanted as her hand slipped from his when they got to the front porch of their small home in the snowy biome. Phil and technos conjoined house in the distance, lit with a warm light as the girl twirled through the snow twords it.

Ranboo teleported to the front step of philzas house with ease and tubbos head peeked out of the door of ranboos house, confused and annoyed, his shouts unheard as he ran across the landscape to join ranboo, and his sibling, who was huffing up the steps. "Cheater" you glared with a tired face. Your brother grinned as tubbo caught up. they didn't bother to knock as tubbo opened the door lazily and thunked his snow boots on the side of the doorframe. piles of snow landing on the hardwood deck from his boot.

The younger boo copied his actions holding onto the door frame for balance. And with a less powerful kick, her boot collided with the door, sending a little amount of Triump into the girl as she soon forgot about it and rushed into the house.

when she spotted philza and Wilbur having a chat in the kitchen she ran straight to them ranboo trailed aimlessly after her finding a spot next to tubbo as he chatted with tommy. Tomny and tubbo where fighting over who got the last peice of cake to which ranboo intervened and took it holding it above their heads while he took little pieces to eat himself while tommy and tubbo complained.

The little girl rushed over to hug phil who managed a "hey mate!" and patted her head and before he could say anymore she found techno who was talking to Wilbur.

"no -you have to kill them, then you can drag them into the-" he spotted the younger girls salt and pepper hair as she was silently staring curiously at him. He switched up his words as she walked up to him with a small cautious and confused face "kill someone?!" You questioned "uh-but of course we would skip the uh first step. and We would -drag them... to a nice place to have a talk-" she laughed hugging the pig-man who akwardly patted her back with a grimance. A glare shot from wilbur burned into technos skull.

You then hugged Wilbur who already had his arms stretched out. and with a warm smile she ran straight into him as she gripped his jumper with all her force. She leaned her small form back to Look up at his muddy eyes. With a mischievous grin then snatched his glasses off his scarred nose putting them on there face quickly, and dodging his long arms they Ignored the shouts of the older man. running off to find philzas arms to hide in. You darted into the living room, stopping shortly to take in there surroundings. the chatter from the boys, the sun streaming through the window, and the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen of whatever Phil was mixing up. it was comforting, but the loud footsteps behind them where not.

You couldn't make it to philza in time so you went to the person you would normally go for comfort, ranboo. Your brothers long limbs where crisscrossed on the floor and he silently nodded along as tubbo and tommy conversed. His green and red eyes found yours and his mouth turned into a grin and you sprinted twords him. Tommy spotted you coming there way and intervened "HEY y\n!" His bandaged arms opened wide, with a boyish toothy grin. Before you could decide who to go to, Wilbur rounded the corner. a glare set on his face as he squinted at her. "AHAHHHH" you ran straight into tommy.

the betrayal on ranboos face was prominent, his arms dropped slowly to his sides as his smile faded. though he didn't show it his heart panged a little As Tommy's arms locked in around you. He was supposed to be the one you ran too. He was your brother!

Wilbur barreled into the living room trying to take you from him. Tommy attempted to throw you on the couch and quickly cover you up with a pillow but it didn't work. The fight was over, Wilbur grabbed his glasses back off your defeaded half dead looking form and grabbed the pillow and proceeded to beat tommy with it.

You lifted yourself up, your hair now disheveled from the two brothers. You looked over to ranboo, your own brother, who looked a bit downtrodden. A wary smile was shot tword you, you huffed, feeling a bit tired you walked over to him, laying your head on his shoulder and gripping his arm "you ok big man?" He said as he patted your head lovingly "yes-can we go home now?" you yawned "we can- but I thought you wanted to hang out with techno, and tommy and-" " ranboo! I wanna spend time with you!" you smiled up at him, your eyes squinted. ranboo, forgetting you where a very unfiltered five year old died at your next words "Tommy's a little loud anyways-" he Busted open with laughter as wilbur did too, pausing over Tommy's defeated form on the spot on the floor where he had been being hit multiple times with the soft round throw pillow clutched in wills grip, tommy yelled in protest "HEY! I PROTECT YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME??" You look at him blankly " ummmmm- yes." Ranboo shoots grin his way, and scoops you up and grabs your shoes. As you slowly drifted off to sleep, you could hear techno voice echo " the kid was right, you are really obnoxious tommy" and another yelp from the blonde boy as a pillow thrown from techno this time, hit him square in the face. another loud scream was heard this time from tubbo "GET WRECKED" and a bust of laughter was heard.

This was your family.

And as you grew up, it always stayed that way, no matter what you went through, this, what some would call a ragtag group. was stuck with you, as family and you were ok with that, as long as your big brother stuck by your side, you felt impossible.