#but i could never find a fitting character

[strwbrychffoncke]

"you'll feel it deep down whenever you're alone,, 1.1k words synopsis: caleb can't find it in himself to regret this if its something you've always wanted ,too contains: nsfw! (+ angst?) ,lnds caleb x afab!reader ,wouldn't call it 'forbidden love' but just playing w the idea of yearner!caleb (& coming to terms w being able to have u) ,caleb wrestling w guilt over his feelings ,reassurance from reader (u both want this) ,you sit on his lap ,confession ,kissing ,touching ,implied first time (more for caleb than for reader) ,hand holding ,unprotected sex ,piv ,caleb is kinda possessive right at the v end ,i think thats it note: (unedited!) knew this song was perfect for him but had to try had to write smth that would fit too.... this is lowkey a character study disguised as a fic :x also thought ab this + this art while writing which helps convey the feeling i was going for here (go support the artist they mean sm to me)

-

caleb knows he shouldn't feel like this.

he's known since he first realized his feelings back then.

how many years has it been now? he couldn't tell since he's loved you for as long as he could remember.

he's known he shouldn't feel like this, he does, but when you asked him so sweetly, sitting on his lap, testing the waters, pressing yourself against him and finding a shred of boldness to spill what's been on your mind all of these years, what could he do but comply with your desires?

"i'm in love with you, caleb. i always have been. i need you to know. i... i need you, more than anything. you're the only one that i want."

his hands caress the apples of your cheeks and he reminisces about your baby fat from when you were younger, admiring the current softness of them, unable to resist the urge to squish them just slightly.

he watches you nuzzle into his familiar touch, eyes fluttering shut at the comforting warmth of his hands.

his breathing picks up ever so slightly.

how many times have you been in this sort of situation right now? so close in proximity, breaths beginning to intermingle with one another, wondering who will make the next move.

a thumb glides over your lips, caressing the plushy flesh.

how many times has he held you like this, wanting more than anything to close the distance, but unable to find it in himself, hesitating before pulling back altogether?

your eyes crack open, looking directly into his.

'don't....'

"caleb..."

'don't look at me like that.'

you lean forward ever so slightly, eyes locked with his.

'don't....'

he feels your warm breath on his lips, so close that if he leans forward just slightly, he'll meet you.

'don't say it....'

"kiss me."

your words are a whisper against his lips, and his eyes are wide, looking back into yours, so close yet unwilling to make the move if he really isn't willing.

you've never made it easy for him.

his thumbs brush over your cheeks.

"are you sure?"

"i'm sure."

his forehead rests against yours.

"you've really thought about this?"

"more than anything."

he inhales a shaky breath.

"okay."

he closes the distance.

-

the kiss slowly escalates to now, his fingertips traveling slowly down your skin, hands trembling at your sides, torn between holding you in his firm grasp and pulling away completely.

you were the worst kind of drug to him.

but he could never stay away.

noticing his hesitation you gently rested your hands over his, pushing them flat against your abdomen.

"its okay," your voice was soft, too soft, too sweet right now.

don't say it like that.

"you can touch me, caleb."

his breath hitched.

don't say that so easily.

"i want this, too," you breathed out, offering a kind, reassuring smile devoid of the usual teasing you two were used to engaging each other with.

and he felt what little restraint he had left, snap.

don't....

he took a deep breath, planting his hands firmly onto your stomach, feeling the soft material of your shirt under his fingertips before he started dragging his hands up and down.

he looked up at your face.

you nodded. keep going.

his touch moved up, feeling your breasts through your shirt.

you hummed under the kneading of his large hands, and he felt his heart lurch.

he was really touching you like this.

you were so soft, just how he'd imagined you'd be. his heart hammered in his chest, unable to tear his eyes away from you, unable to tear his eyes away from the face that he was the one corrupting you this way.

even so, even if he felt like he was ruining you under the touch of his fingertips...

"caleb, take it off."

when your sweet reassurances were all that continued to spill from your lips, looking up at him pleadingly and longingly, how could this possibly be wrong?

-

caleb is taken aback at the sight of your body in all of its beauty.

sure, he had grown up with you, watching you grow in return, and would often be reminded of just how much you'd grown from back then.

this was a sight he'd only dreamed of.

he realized he'd been staring for too long when you squirmed under his gaze, looking to the side and shielding yourself with your arms.

"dont just stare.... i know i'm—"

"you're beautiful, pipsqueak," he breathes out.

you meet his eyes staring right back into yours, and watch as his hands reach for your wrists, removing your arms from your center and gently pinning them to the mattress.

his eyes rake over your body again, his hands inching up to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"i just.. can't believe i really get to have you like this."

you heart thrums, small smile curling on your lips. you knew exactly what he meant.

"me too," you whisper.

caleb lets out a shaky breath.

he feels you squeeze his hand.

"kiss me, caleb."

he doesn't think twice this time, leaning down to capture your lips with his, the depths of his feelings pouring directly into you, and you can feel it, feel how badly he's wanted this, how badly he wants it, and you're only filled with relief that the sentiment is shared.

when you break away and urge him to keep going, he does so with little hesitation.

each touch of his is spurred on by your pleased sounds and urges of "just like that" and "there" as he explores your body, learning about what exactly makes you feel good, committing it to memory for future reference of this repeated time together.

when you urge him on, whining about how you need him inside, caleb is slipping out of his shorts and boxers and tossing his shirt over his head, wasting no time in pumping himself with one hand and caressing your stomach with the other before lining himself up with your awaiting entrance.

he looks up at you again, another look.

"are you sure?"

and you grab onto his arms, eyes full of determination and desire.

"yes, wanted this for so long, please caleb!"

a relieved sigh.

"me too, pipsqueak."

when he sheathes himself into you for the first time, he can't bring himself to feel guilty anymore, not when this feels so right, not when you feel so good.

and when he begins moving within you, thrusting in and out and setting a steady pace, your sounds of pleasure filling his ears, the sight and feel of you enveloping his sense, he leans down to kiss you again, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you two were always meant to be together like this.

he wouldn't let you go. he would make you his properly, and you would always be together: caleb would make sure of it.

-

a/n: i know i know im behind... working on the other fics as we speak :x

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[bat-gwuck]

Okay so this is my entry for @drizzledrawings competition!! Get ready for a whole ass fucking wall of text…whoopsie!!

anyway drizzle i love u and ur cowbians they me goofy-grin-on-my-face-kicking-my-feet happy — u and ur art are such an inspiration mwah!!

—

I present to you my entry: Adelaide Forsythe – a travelling scholar and astronomer who’s shifter form is a magpie!

So, starting off with the animal choice. I chose a magpie for two reasons: one, I’m a bird nerd and two, I felt like the symbolism attached to magpies really fit her character??

As a member of the Corvidae family, Magpies are known for being quite intelligent, as well as having a love for shiny objects (get it, get it, she’s a scholar and she loves stars which are SHINY…I’m so smart guys)

BUT BUT BUT there’s a lot of folklore attached to them which I thought was also fitting – my Mum is like *really* superstitious and growing up she always had me salute magpies and you had to ask how its “wife” was doing if it was on its own bc (apparently) if you didn’t you’d be inviting bad luck – there’s a little song/poem that goes “one for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told” so the idea is that if you see a lone magpie its an ill omen so you salute it n stuff to ward all that away bc you don’t have to salute a pair of magpies

Or maybe its just smth my Mum does idk BUT ANYWAY

I thought I could play with this a little bc in some cultures magpies are acc seen as signs of good luck and fortune, which brings me to Adelaide: she is an academic in an untamed land, an outsider among both frontier folk and the scholars who dismissed her, she longs for scientific recognition, yet finds freedom outside of its rigid institutions, she is a woman in a world that has no clear place for her—too independent for England’s high society and yet too refined for the lawless frontier. Like the magpie, she adapts, moving in a space that both welcomes and rejects her.

THEN, you have the “seven for a secret never to be told” which I felt was fitting for a shifter who doesn’t want to be found out AND THEN the “three for a girl, four for a boy” fit a bit as well, as she often poses as a man to further her academic pursuits (bit a stretch, maybe?? but idc im rolling with it)

In addition, magpies were almost hunted to extinction because people were so afraid of them, which I felt also fit with her place as not just a woman, but a woman in academia AND a shifter who’s trying her best not to get found out and skinned or smth. They’re ALSO associated with witchcraft, which fits too!!

Anyway enough about magpies, onto the actual character lmao.

—

Adelaide’s defining trait is her insatiable curiosity. She is a woman who cannot look at the night sky without wondering what lies beyond it, who cannot hear a folk tale without questioning its origins, who cannot witness an injustice without demanding to know why the world is the way it is. She does not simply observe the world—she dissects it. Whether it’s the trajectory of a comet or the migration of birds, she sees patterns and logic in everything. Even when confronted with superstition, she doesn’t scoff outright—she analyzes, compares, and tries to understand why people believe what they do.

She does not downplay her knowledge for the comfort of others. When a man tries to explain something she already knows, she listens politely for about ten seconds before cutting him off with a far more detailed explanation. Her sharp tongue has made her enemies in both academic circles and the rugged frontier. She is rather exacting in her speech, rarely mincing her words. She dislikes vague statements, preferring specificity in all things. When others say "a bright star," she responds with, "Do you mean Sirius, Betelgeuse, or Vega?" This can make her seem arrogant, though in truth, she simply values accuracy. Besides, if anyone has earnt the right to be a bit arrogant, Adelaide would say it’s her.

Yet, for all her logic, there is an undercurrent of childlike wonder beneath her nose-stuck-in-a-book personality. The moment she gazes through her telescope, or rides the wind bathed in starlight, all pretense falls away, and she becomes a child staring at the heavens for the first time again.

Adelaide has always been an outsider, whether in Oxford’s elite intellectual circles or the rugged towns of the West. She does not belong to any one world, and she has long since given up trying to fit in. While she values solitude, there is a quiet ache of loneliness beneath her independence. She spends many nights staring at the sky, comforted by its constancy, yet knowing that the stars cannot speak back to her. In Oxford, she was too bold, too opinionated, too unwilling to be a wife first and a scholar second. In the West, she is too refined, too intellectual, too ignorant of the ways of outlaws and bounty hunters. She is always “too much” or “not enough” for the world around her.

Adelaide does not easily trust others, not just because of her “little secret”. She has met too many people who have either underestimated her or tried to use her intelligence for their own gain. When she does form connections, she values them deeply, though she often struggles to express this in words. Instead, she shows her care through small, practical gestures. Yet, despite her walls, there are moments—rare but profound—when someone earns her trust, and the walls crack just enough for light to slip through.

She keeps meticulous journals filled with astronomical calculations, weather patterns, and folk stories she gathers from the people she meets. Her saddlebags are filled with star charts, old books, and curious trinkets.

Once she sets her mind to something, she will not be dissuaded. If someone tells her a mountain is impossible to climb, she will reach the peak just to prove them wrong. It is both her greatest strength and her biggest flaw.

She has little patience for those who exploit others, whether it be a professor stealing credit for a woman’s discovery or a wealthy rancher cheating his workers. She does not take kindly to men who assume they can buy her loyalty or silence.

Though she claims she prefers to stay out of trouble, she has a habit of stepping in when someone is being mistreated. She does not pick fights often, but when she does, her words cut deeper than bullets. Adelaide does not resort to violence unless absolutely necessary, but she will ruin a man’s reputation, expose a fraud, or leave damning evidence where the right people can find it. She believes in the long game – vengeance is best served cold, calculated, and with irrefutable proof. She did learn some things from her upper class upbringing, after all.

Beneath her sharp intellect and hardened exterior, Adelaide has a deeply buried, fragile softness – one she rarely allows herself to indulge. She denies being sentimental, yet she cannot help but stop to admire a field of wildflowers or the way the Milky Way stretches across the sky. She has a poetic way of describing the cosmos, though she would never call herself a poet. Though she claims she does not care for fame, a small part of her fears that when she is gone, her work will be erased, her name lost. She has spent her life chasing knowledge, but in the quietest moments, she often wonders if anyone will remember her.

—

Born in 1871 in Oxford, England, Adelaide Forsythe was the only child of Dr. Reginald Forsythe, a respected academic who specialised in mathematics and astronomy, and Margaret Forsythe, a woman of high social standing whose primary concern was ensuring her daughter’s successful integration into elite society. While Margaret sought to mold Adelaide into a proper young lady—one who would marry well and host extravagant dinner parties—Reginald saw his daughter’s keen mind and indulged her curiosity, albeit discreetly.

The Forsythe line carried old magic, ancient and restless, passed down in blood and bone. It was not the magic of spells or incantations, but of transformation—of slipping between forms, of becoming something other, something free.

Adelaide had been standing on the balcony of their estate, staring up at the night sky, when a sudden pull overtook her. Her skin burned, her bones ached, and before she could cry out, the world tilted. The next thing she knew, she was plummeting through the air — not falling, but flying. Tiny wings beat frantically as instinct overrode panic, and she soared above the rooftops, free in a way she had never known before.

And then she crashed, hard, into a chimney stack and tumbled ungracefully to the ground.

Her mother found her shivering in the garden at dawn. There were no screams, no hysteria — only a cold stare, a tight grip on Adelaide’s wrist, and a warning whispered with more force than any slap:

"You will never do that again. Do you understand me?"

Frightened by her parent’s stories of torture, death and other such things, Adelaide was keen to agree with her mother.

But nature does not forget so easily.

—

As a young girl, Adelaide would sneak into her father’s study late at night, pouring over his scientific texts by candlelight. The first time she glimpsed Saturn’s rings through a telescope at the age of ten, she was transfixed. The chaos and expectations of human society seemed so small compared to the great, unending vastness that was the universe. She devoured every book she could find, often pestering her father’s academic colleagues with endless questions during social gatherings.

Her precocious nature made her an outlier among other girls her age. She had no interest in embroidery, courtship, or fashionable gossip. When she was fifteen, her mother caught her sneaking into her father’s lectures disguised in her brother’s old coat and hat. Furious and humiliated, Margaret demanded her father put an end to her academic pursuits, fearing that no reputable man would ever marry a woman who thought herself equal to scholars. But Reginald, torn between duty to his wife and pride in his daughter’s intellect, found a compromise — he arranged private lessons with an old friend, Professor William Crenshaw, one of the foremost astronomers of the era.

By the age of twenty, Adelaide was unofficially assisting at a local observatory, analyzing star catalogs, observing planetary movements, and even drafting papers under her brother’s name (Adam, who had wholeheartedly agreed to the plan) to bypass gender restrictions in scientific publishing. She developed a reputation for being fiercely intelligent but also unyielding, unwilling to temper her opinions for the comfort of her male peers.

Her greatest challenge, however, was not the task of unravelling the mysteries of the universe but the narrow minds of her peers. While some admired her brilliance, others saw her presence as a scandalous threat. When a comet she helped chart was credited to a male assistant instead of her, Adelaide protested openly. “If a woman’s eyes can see as far as a man’s, then her name should reach just as far,” she argued. Her defiance earned her both admiration and ire.

In 1891, her growing reputation secured her an invitation to travel westward to Lemoyne to observe a rare solar eclipse. This would be her first real taste of life beyond the confines of academia and upper class English society.

Lemoyne was unlike anything Adelaide had ever known—rugged, lawless, and ungoverned by the rigid structures she was so used to back home. The journey was treacherous; the expedition was plagued by broken equipment, aggressive wildlife, and even an attempted robbery by outlaws. Adelaide, having never fired a gun in her life, was nearly helpless, relying on the protection of local guides and her quick wit to survive.

Despite the hardships, she made her way to the observation site and witnessed the total eclipse—a perfect black void swallowing the sun, a fleeting moment of cosmic wonder. As she gazed at the event through her telescope, surrounded by untamed wilderness instead of university halls, something within her shifted. The American West was a world of mystery and discovery in its own right, she thought.

When she returned to England, she found herself restless. The constraints of her life now felt suffocating.

It was misfortune that eventually spurred her onwards. During a risky midnight flight, Adelaide had injured her wing, and as such, was stuck in her form for a while. A colleague of hers had found her near the University and had taken it upon himself to care for her — much to her horror, and her gratitude. Adelaide had hoped to escape before he found out but it was not to be. Upon finding not a freshly healed magpie, but a grown woman in his kitchen, the man understandably freaked out. He threatened to expose her secret — stating that she was to step down from her post if she wanted to (quite literally) save her skin.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Adelaide set out for the Americas once again — this time alone. With nothing but a collapsible brass telescope, a collection of notebooks, and a revolver she barely knew how to use, she sailed westward, determined to document the night sky from places few had ever studied before.

She traveled from town to town, funding her journey by selling star charts, lecturing at any schools that would take her (which were few and far between), as well as a sizeable fund from her father, who had helped her flee. She often sought out high ground, camping alone in the mountains or vast plains, sketching the heavens by firelight.

But the frontier was dangerous, and a woman traveling alone is easy prey, especially one of “her kind”. She learned to navigate both the celestial sphere and the lawless lands beneath it. She bribed hunters to look the other way, outwitted charlatans who sought to take advantage of her, and, after a close brush with a gang of highwaymen in New Austin, reluctantly learned how to use her revolver. Though not a natural fighter, she became adept at using her intellect to survive, talking her way out of most trouble before bullets were needed.

By 1899, the world was changing. The frontier was vanishing, swallowed by railroads and industry. Scientific institutions back east were growing in prestige, but still refused to fully recognize women.

Eleanor found herself caught between multiple worlds — too independent for the constraints of academia, too refined for the lawless plains of the West and too wild, too different for all of them.

She had spent years mapping the stars, but her greatest challenge remained: carving out a place where she, and her work, could live and be remembered.

She would never be a wife waiting at home, nor a delicate lady confined to parlors and polite conversation. Nor would she be held down and restrained because of the blood that ran through her veins.

She was a scholar, an explorer, a collector of knowledge and forgotten stories. A woman with a revolver in one hand and a telescope in the other, chasing the stars and riding the wind before the West faded into memory.

Because the world will change, the frontier will disappear, and one day, even the names of its greatest outlaws will be forgotten.

But the stars will remain. And so will she.

Either way, Adelaide would continue to look skyward, seeking answers in the infinite dark.

—

Okay so that’s the end (so far)!! Hope you enjoyed!! I might expand on her and give her some friends (maybe even a girlfriend…heh) later but idk??

P.S. Adelaide would def be besties with that palaeontologist you meet who gives you that dino bone quest

[fungifanart]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a nsfw fic with a male!reader who is chubby with Leona Kingscholar?

Context: Leona returned to his home country for a festival with his boyfriend, where one of the events involved dancing women, where one of the girls got injured, leading to the reader asking to take her place and performs out in public, wowing everyone and enticing Leona with the reader's outfit and performance, leading to enjoyable night...

Hope this is good! Thank you!

A song of yearning and lust

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Male reader, plus size!reader, Falena and Cheka are there for two seconds

CW: Smut, blowjobs, anal fingering

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: Hi! Thanks for requesting! I'm SO sorry that this took so long. Like I said in my last fic, my muse has been in a bit of a state recently and then he decided to run away with this fic after he finally recovered. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it!

-----------------------------------------------------

At this point, Leona's come to the conclusion that he just can't have nice things.

There's always gotta be something that gets in the way of his plans.

Case in point, he was able to bring you, his precious boyfriend, with him to a festival in Sunrise City, but then the lead dancer managed to hurt herself while practicing for the main event, which was SUPPOSED to be a romantic moment between you two.

"It’s too last minute and we don't have anyone to fill in for her! We'll have to cancel the whole show at this rate!" The event organizer laments, much to Leona's great frustration.

"What kinda event organizer are you that you don't have ANYONE lined up to fill in for the most important part of the show?!" Leona criticizes harshly before you chime in.

"U-um, if you need a performer, then I think I can fill in for her!" You offer, which, while surprising to the lion, causes the organizer to look at you like you've grown a second head.

"...*ahem* With all due respect, the role of lead dancer is traditionally filled by a woman with...slightly less...circumference than yourse--" The organizer begins to say before finding Leona's hand clutching his neck like a vice.

"That's a BOLD statement to say to the literal second prince's boyfriend right in front of him." Leona states in a very threatening tone that comes with an unspoken order of 'Choose your next words VERY carefully.'

"I-it's just that the costume might not fit him a-and--" The organizer manages to squeak out before the lion's grip tightens further.

"Then make it fit him. You don't have a choice now." Leona finishes, leaving no room for debate and releasing the organizer who immediately scurries off with you in tow.

After being seated in the crowd section reserved for the royal family, Leona waits anxiously for the show to begin. He's seen you express an interest in performing arts, but he must admit that he's never seen you actually perform before, so now the lion is VERY interested to see how this goes.

The surrounding lights dim as the time for the performance arrives and a single spotlight shines on the center of the stage, revealing you in an outfit that makes Leona's heart skip a beat in how it beautifully accentuates every curve on your body. He suddenly feels the need to cross his legs even before the performance has started.

It's then that the sound of hand drums fill the silence and you begin to sing.

-------------------------------------------------------

Embrace the dark you call a home,

Gaze upon an empty, white throne

A legacy of lies,

A familiar disguise

Sing with me a song of conquest and fate

The black pillar cracks beneath its weight

Night breaks through the day, hard as a stone

Lost in thoughts all alone

---------------------------------------------------

Oh, what the hell.

Leona watches, fully mesmerized, as you dance and sing to the music perfectly, your voice powerful and full of passion accompanied by sharp and spirited movements that show off your curves even more with every roll.

He needs to cross his legs even tighter now.

"Unca, are you okay?"

Leona tears his intense gaze away from your performance to face his poor, innocent nephew who's looking at him in concern from his seat next to his parents, "Y-yeah, 'm fine." He responds while subtly trying to position his clothing in a way that hides his growing erection.

Unfortunately, the brat's nosiness draws his father's attention.

"Hmm, you are looking a little stressed, Leona. Are you sure you're alright?" Falena asks as he reaches out to feel Leona's forehead for a fever.

However, the younger lion quickly slips away from his brother and out of his seat, "I said I'm fine. Just need to go get some water." He lies before striding out of the royal seating area and towards the back of the performance stage.

Speed-walking down the hallway, he hears the music of your performance finish and sees you emerge from the door at the other end, still wearing that damn outfit.

Your face lights up upon seeing him approach, but then turns to concern when you see his serious expression.

"Leona! U-uh...did you like my performance--" You start to ask as he reaches you at the middle of the hallway, but you let out a yelp in surprise as he hooks his arm in yours and drags you into the room you'd stopped in front of, which seems to be a large, but dimly lit supply closet.

Leaving you to stumble into your new surroundings, Leona quickly turns around, shuts the door and locks it before turning back around and pushing you up against the nearest wall.

"L-Leona???" You shriek, still disoriented, "What are y--"

"So when were ya gonna tell me ya could perform like that, huh?" The lion cuts you off in a low, intimidating voice, "I was so caught off-guard, that I almost couldn't cover this up in time." Leona reaches down and moves the fabric in front of his pants, relishing in your surprise upon looking down and seeing his erection struggling to free itself, “And how embarrassing would it have been for you to have made me pop a boner in front of my family?”

“U-uuuhhhh…” Is your only response, seemingly unable to take your eyes off of the twitching bulge in Leona’s pants.

Amused, Leona uses his strength to force you down onto your knees, “Since this is your fault, why don’t you go ahead and take care of it for me? You’re already drooling over it anyway.” He says mirthfully while reaching down and lifting your hand, guiding it halfway towards his bulge, allowing you to close the distance of your own free will.

Finally, you lay your hand on the other man’s bulge, sending a shock of pleasure through his lower region from that one touch. You then begin rubbing all along the outline of his shaft inside his pants, already forming a wet spot around the tip from the precum leaking out. You look back up at him, silently asking for permission, as if you need it.

“Do it…Herbivore, please. Just do it.” Leona urges, almost begging you to continue.

You nod before taking hold of the waist of the other man’s pants, pulling them down and allowing his member to break free and stand at full attention. And, no matter how many times you've seen it, you still have to take a second to take it all in as Leona's patience wears ever thinner.

“Herbivore, for the love of all that is–” Leona takes a sharp inhale as you interrupt him by laying a kiss on the tip of his dick and then proceeding to do so along the shaft to the base, worshipping every inch until you reach his balls. You then proceed to lick all over them, only stopping to spit in your palm and use it to start pumping Leona's entire length before fully taking his balls in your mouth, swishing them around with your tongue.

“F-fuck, you're so good…!” Leona praises as you release his balls from your mouth with a satisfying pop before dragging your tongue from the base of his cock along the shaft to the tip, swirling your tongue over it and savoring the taste of his precum.

Before taking his full length in your mouth, you take a brief moment to pull away from Leona's dick, putting your right hand in your mouth and thoroughly coating your fingers in as much saliva as possible before snaking your arms around to his now uncovered backside.

“Herbivore? What're you– gah!!” The lion exclaims as you use your left hand to spread his asscheeks open and run the moist fingertips of your right hand over his exposed asshole, lubricating it enough to insert two of them and begin gently massaging the inside as moans begin escaping the proud lion’s mouth.

With your right hand at work, you move your left hand back to your boyfriend’s shaft, still rock hard or perhaps even harder then before, and hold it steady as you begin taking it fully into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down his length, running your tongue over all of his most sensitive spots and causing his moans and grunts to turn into whines as the stimulation overtakes him and the pleasure builds more and more.

“Shit, Y/n, keep going…!!!” Leona begs as he drops his nickname for you and puts his hand on the back of your head, pushing you further down his shaft, making you choke slightly before doing as he says. You make your fingering and tongue movements faster and more rough as the pleasure starts to overflow and Leona feels himself about to burst, “Fuck, I-I’m gonna–” He cuts himself off with a huge moan as the pleasure spills over and you keep your head still to let him release his huge load down your throat.

After reaching his climax, Leona lets go of your head as your massaging of his asshole and shaft slows down, coaxing the last drops of his cum into your mouth before releasing his softening shaft, letting it flop down against his pelvis and finally taking your fingers out of his asshole.

“Damn, Herbivore,” Leona says, out of breath, while caressing your cheek affectionately, “You’re always so good to me.”

You smile at him as you finish swallowing the rest of his cum that was in your mouth, “It’s because I love you!” You respond while standing up, allowing Leona to share a deep and passionate kiss with you, ignoring the salty and sour taste still on your tongue, until he feels something hard brush against his thigh.

“Heh, guess I should return the favor.” Leona says while looking down at your own throbbing erection poking through your outfit.

[literallyjusttoa]

Realizing I also want to keep track of the songs Apollo mentions, so I'm gonna go back real quick and mention "You Send Me" by Sam Cooke, released in 1957, which he mentioned in chapter 2, and "Rise to the Sun" by Alabama Shakes, released in 2012, which he mentions in the opening of chapter 10. Listened to them both, and honestly, they're both great songs! And Rise to the Sun actually fits Apollo really well, I was genuinely surprised.

Going back also makes me realize that Apollo was going to sing an honest to god love song to stop Cade and Mikey. That image will stay with me for years, I think.

Rhea is described as dressing like a "Libyan queen of old" which is interesting, bc I couldn't find any reference to Rhea being an important figure during the period where Ancient Greece had footholds in the region. What's interesting though, is that Apollo definitely was. One of the two cities Greeks established in Libya was Cyrene, and some myths even call the native Libyans the founders of both Delos and Delphi. So like, I have no idea where Rick got the idea of Rhea being connected to Libya, but it helped me learn new things, so that's cool!

Another anecdote: When Apollo drives the sun chariot as a bus, Hermes always sits in the back, because that's where troublemakers sit.

The way Apollo describes his physical state, I'm convinced he's just constantly in excruciating pain. Like, all he does is get off the cot in the Apollo cabin, and he says that his "eyes felt as if they were being microwaved in their sockets." Bestie, what? Are you dying, wtf lmao?

Anecdote: Apollo once attempted target practice in Zeus' throne room. That feels like it might have been a more pointed thing.

Apollo sees Nero in his dreams for the first time in chapter 10, but he doesn't recognize him yet. He spends the rest of the chapter simply referring to him as "The man in the purple suit", "The ugly mauve-suited man", and simply "the ugly man" King behavior, honestly.

I know I made a post about it a while ago, but I still can't get over Apollo's outrageous claim of 33 mortal girlfriends and 11 mortal boyfriends. He has past that in Ancient Greek lovers alone lmao.

Rick does a really good job of writing these long flowing internal monologues for Apollo, only to cut them off with a short sentence that both allows for an easy transition out of Apollo's head and back to the action of the scene, but also simulates Apollo getting distracted in his own ramblings and then abruptly coming back to reality. Like, he goes on for three paragraphs about Nico and will, and then his past loves, and then his embarrassment over sharing his love for Hyacinthus and Daphne, only to end it all off with the short line "I am so confused." and then we're right back into the scene. It's a really great comedic bit, and it does wonders for Lester's characterization. (Also my god does Lester read so much like he has ADHD. Almost more than Percy to me, but then I think Lester's flavor of ADHD is much more similar to my own than Percy's is)

Anecdote: Apollo cosplayed Rocky at midnight showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Queen.

Apollo mentions that he filmed the orientation film on "a tight budget in the 1950's" which like, why? Maybe it's mentioned in the supplemental books somewhere, but why would a god ever be put on a budget for something lmao?

"Had I been a god, I would have turned her into a blue-belly lizard and released her into the wilderness never to be seen again. The thought soothed me." One, Apollo she is twelve dear god. Two, I love this as a character moment for Apollo (Stay with me here). Apollo comes from a culture that is so focused on strength and power and violence. The moment he loses control of a situation, he grasps for any way to get power back into his hands. And in these moments, his way of giving himself power is by reassuring himself that he could totally murder everyone here if he wanted to. Killing people is a way to assert control, it's a way that Zeus and the other gods assert control all the time. And there's an implication with Apollo using these lines too. By asserting that he can kill people, it's also an assertion that the people he is threatening cannot kill him. Idk it's just a very interesting way of coping.

Real quick fun fact! Lester describes the Oracle of Delphi in Greece as a "cavern filled with volcanic fumes" but that's not actually 100% correct. The oracle of Delphi in Ancient Greece was actually in the Temple of Apollo, with descriptions from ancient scholars putting her either in the cella or in an adyton that was below the main temple. There was a opening in the ground in this chamber, but it certainly wasn't a cave. Furthermore, the whole idea of Apollo fighting Python in a cave? From what I can tell, this is also not based in myth! Most descriptions of the fight between Apollo and Python that I can find in myth describe Python being coiled around the mountains of the Parnassus range, which is a terrifying image honestly. Just find it interesting that none of the cave stuff is actually a part of the Delphic Oracle. I mean, from what I can tell, the nearest mythologically important cave is the Corycian cave, which has nothing to do with the oracle and is also like a 45 minute drive away from Delphi.

I usually try to read three chapters before rb'ing, but I had so many notes on these two that I'm gonna cut it off here. Also, this has kind of just become pointing out shit I find interesting instead of focusing specifically on Lester-isms, but I'm def still gonna point those out, so the tag will stay. I just have so much to say about my little blorbo, sorry guys.

I think I'm gonna make a reblog chian of all the little phrases and Apollo uses throughout ToA, now that I'm rereading it. Bc like, he has such a unique way of speaking, and I really wanna dig into it, you know? Ok let's start.

He says "heavens help me" instead of "heaven help me" using the plural the same way demigods do with "oh my gods". I'm guessing this is an acknowledgment of other pantheons? Or I'm looking too far into it, I've just never heard this phrase with a plural "heavens" before.

He calls Cade and Mikey "Ruffians" . And he makes fun of the arrow for being Shakespearean.

He also refers to people as "Mortals" a lot here, which I remembered him doing, but now I want to keep track and see if he keeps that up throughout all the books, or if it peters out near the end.

"I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death" I honestly love how violent Apollo's thoughts can be sometimes. Like, you can tell he's someone who has done shit like this before.

I also want to keep track of all the little anecdotes Apollo brings up, so we'll start with the guitar contest against Chuck Berry in 1957, which apparently ended with him getting repeatedly stomped on.

"But something told me this was not she" II love how it's the little things that really get across how old Apollo is. Rick could've easily just said "It wasn't her" or something, but instead he had Apollo phrase this in a way that is far more formal, and more reminiscent of the grammatical patterns of old english. Idk it's just really cool.

(Side note that's not connected to Apollo: Meg's glasses are black? I feel like I've been living a lie, I've been coloring them red for years lol)

God his metaphors are just so striking. Like, I can imagine the phrase "Whatever was left of my pride turned into ice water and trickled into my socks" but I don't want to, because that's such a visceral feeling. I like that Apollo inadvertently proving how poetic he is by making the reader as uncomfortable as possible.

I think I'm gonna start crying out "Horrors!" when I'm upset to. I think I deserve that level of drama.

ahh the classic "My blessings upon you!" Again, I love how every little line characterizes him. Either it's overly formal, like before, or subtly arrogant, like here, or both. It's so fun.

I need to write him saying "Sacred Sibyl!" more. Because that is such a fun little term. Rolls right off the tongue, honestly.

I think I'm gonna leave it there for now, but trust that I will definitely be adding more to this later. Bc Lester-speak is so fun to really look into.

[michaelwheelerdefiodental]

Jocks dynamics on Season 5 and comparing them to Henry Bowers gang from IT (and others iconic 80s villains):

This boy below with a blue shirt is the only one that didn't wear their jersey in season 4. I believe he wasn't part of the team at all in Season 4. My theory is that just like Lucas, he is just a black boy trying to fit in; he even did some research and helped them with Eddie's case, just like Lucas. He helped them find the house of that drug dealer named Rick. But he was never seen with them while they were going on a "mission", he just gave them tips and hanged out with them during parties, he doesn't appear in the basketball game, playing or even in the bench, if i remember correctly. His shirt is similar to Lucas blue shirt in episode 2 too, i think they were purposefully making parallels with these two.

We can see Andy and Chance on this paparazzi pic, and supposedly the same guy from season 4, but now he is wearing the jersey below his jacket (we can see the collar from the jersey they use, and some green color too).

Now we have a new jock, a blonde one, that not only resembles Jason (of course), but young Johnny Lawrence from Karate Kid too. This means he will be a big problem, the Duffer Brothers wouldn't cast someone similar to Johnny, a 80s iconic bully, to just make him a random weakling bully (the actor name is Deric Replogle).

He is following Dustin on the school grounds, so he is taking the lead against the actual symbol of the Hellfire Club. Meanwhile, Andy, Chase, and the new teammate are following Mike. When Dustin is at the cemetery, he is the one person more close to him; i think he will do the most damage to Dustin. Chance is there with him, the actor is shaking hands with one of the Duffers. There's no sign of Andy, maybe the actor is behind the camera, or he didn't participate in this scene.

Now i'll explain what i think their conflict will be. Andy is probably the leader now that Jason is dead, and we know he is way more crazy than him; Jason had a twisted idea of justice, but Andy seems to like to inflict pain on others. He made jokes about Chrissy being the one that was murdered, smiled while talking about hunting Eddie, and tackled Erica, a 11-year-old, while threatening to break her arm. Now this new blonde jock could be another violent and sadistic asshole, he looks like Johnny Lawrence, who is someone very dangerous to mess with, and he is the one most close to Dustin after they beat him; this can make both Andy and the blonde to try take the leadership for themselves. The blonde resembles Jason, and this would make Andy feel like an underdog again. I think he actually cared about Jason in some twisted way, but now that he is in a leader role, he won't let anyone take this from him.

We can compare this group with the four core. Andy would be Dustin, the blonde guy would be Mike; both Mike and Dustin are the ones to take the lead a lot of times, and some people tend to discuss who is the real leader of the four core, but they wouldn't care about it. On the other hand, Andy would definitely care about somebody taking him off his leader role, and this blonde jock can be the one. Chance would be Will; both are quieter guys, but Will actually has his own opinion about things and isn't always hiding them; Chance just followed Jason and Andy like a stray dog. The blue shirt guy would be Lucas, as i said. He just wants to find a way to fit in (there's a post here on Tumblr comparing the four core with the original jocks from season 4, but i couldn't find it, if you have it, send it to me so i can put the link right here).

After being challenged by the blonde too many times, Andy would end up killing him, and right after this, he would decide to kill the whole main characters gang for good, after the whole town turned into absolute chaos. He can be influenced by Vecna to do all of this, just like Henry Bowers from IT book and movies. And we know Stranger Things is heavily influenced by IT; Vecna is literally a mix of Pennywise and Freddy Krueger. Pennywise influenced Henry to kill his father, then he made the whole city of Derry be engulfed by a storm. Soon after this, he made Henry and his friends, Victor and Belch, go after the Losers Club. On IT, Henry's main target was Mike, a black kid, and it isn't a reach to say that Lucas, a black teenager, will be Andy's main target too, as he will probably think Lucas killed Jason.

After seeing all this crazy shit happening, the new boy (the one with the blue shirt on season 4, in case you have forgotten, lol) would be scared, as he didn't really want all this to happen, he just wanted to fit in, just like Lucas. Now there are two options that the writers can take, 1: he decides to get the hell of this group just like Lucas on Season 4; 2: he can continue in this hellhole and die with Chance, just like Victor and Belch from IT, to show that not everybody is like Lucas, some people will decide to continue in a bad environment just to fit in; Andy would die later on after having an encounter with the main group, just like Henry Bowers.

Or: Andy could end up being someone like Patrick Hockstetter, a sadistic maniac that ends up having a premature death, then the blonde takes the role of Henry Bowers for himself. But i think the other way is more coherent; Andy is already established as a character (and there's always the chance of this blonde guy being just a random that don't even has lines, but i hope not don't think so, lol).

I think this would be a good way to implement some horror with human villains in the series. If you're going to make a high school bully a villain, make him terrifying, just like Henry Bowers. There's the military like Sullivan and Linda Hamilton character, but i ain't really scared of them; i just know they have resources like guns; they aren't scary at all for me.

I came up with this idea after seeing @will80sbyers posts about these paparazzi pics, thank you!

[bunnwich]

I just found out a Prince of Egypt Musical exists, and one of the addition songs— 'footprints on the sand'— really gives me Leona vibes

(Spotify link to the song)

https://open.spotify.com/track/40PqpFQdrylghRZgY36W8G?si=wATkespmQyar931PNnNc8A&context=spotify%3Aalbum%3A7MOGTYjo3ifwHDBf0EBE71

(Genius lyrics)

https://genius.com/Original-west-end-cast-of-the-prince-of-egypt-footprints-on-the-sand-lyrics

So since you're— at least in my view— one of the Leona experts, I was wondering what your thoughts would be on it!

Not that it fits perfectly; no song ever really fits 100%, after all. But I think it has strong Leona vibes

Leona VS The Weight of Insignificance

(Ahhh sorry I am just getting around to this.;-; BTW DFGHJK I’m flattered that you consider me a Leona expert??)

So this is pretty cool because I didn't realize there was a Prince of Egypt Musical? I’m a big fan of the animated movie and of musicals so I’ll have to listen to the rest someday!

So, I think in general the theme of “Footprints in The Sand” is about the idea of “trying to leave a mark” in life, but feeling like it won't matter in the long run and also exploring the insignificance that we all feel as people.

That being said, I can see why this song made you think of Leona! It brought up some feelings about what being second-born in a royal lineage means and how that can make someone feel insignificant just in concept. The spare heir if you will. 

It's interesting because it also made me think about how Leona has such complicated feelings about his title too?

Like on the one hand, he feels like he's “forever in the shadow of Falena” but at the same time, I DO think a small part of him secretly enjoys the mobility of not having the reasonability of king and therefore the first few lines of the song before it fades into him sounding more melancholic made me think of this.

(AND ALSO since we’ve seen how he would handle being king in his Chapter 7 Dream OOF.) My thoughts on that: X

The second son– My father's wrong (THIS LINE TOO) It's got to be the easiest role on Earth Just play around Just play along Enjoy the bounty of my birth So what's today's amusement For this second son? Which one shall I choose from so many kinds of fun?

I think it leads back to the age-old conclusion about Leona’s character (that his dream really hammered home), is that being king is NOT what he truly wants and it more comes to feeling worthy as a person as if he has to “justify” his own existence of feeling useless. It’s more about the kind of attention he craves. To be useful, respected, adored. 

The song mentions the fear of not leaving behind a legacy and feeling the weight of your own insignificance as a person. I can see how both the characters of Moses and Leona both struggle with “finding their purpose” and not being able to see their own worth like others who care about them do. 

It made me think of the song (also in Prince of Egypt) “Through Heaven's Eyes” which I feel actually continues this theme. The idea that even if you can’t see your OWN value that everyone—has their own innate value as people—and that in itself is meaningful.

A single thread in a tapestry Though its color brightly shines Can never see its purpose In the pattern of the grand design And the stone that sits on the very top Of the mountains mighty face Does it think it's more important Than the stones that form the base?

For Leona—the people he acts as a mentor to like—Ruggie, Epel and Savanaclaw as a whole—have a pretty high opinion of him despite his flaws. And the fact that he can’t always see that and appreciate that value that he unconsciously and consciously brings to them reflects this. He has and will leave an impact even if it's not as “important” as a king. And he could do even more good if he actually tried to do so.

I think it’s a lesson we all struggle with TBH, the whole: seeing our inherent value as people and it’s def why I think Leona is a more relatable character than he first appears in twst. :3

Thank you for sharing with me though! I love finding stuff like this! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!💚

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

70 - Conflicting Boundaries and Ties

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

Length: 21.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, flashback scene, past character death, blood and violence, disturbing imagery, references to infant death, self harm, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, over stimulation, blindfolds, bondage

Notes: No I don't know why this chapter is so bloody long, don't ask why. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It felt normal, everyone sat where they always did and food piled onto their plates without thought. A few seemed to be missing, but most of which always made their way a bit later to give the rest of them a chance to both wake up and for the youngest to get their early morning energy out of their system. Multiple times Arya had to turn to Bran and fix how he was holding his cutlery, his small hand holding each utensil with a closed fist and letting it stab down at his plate, his young mind not grasping why food wouldn’t stick when he did it. Only a year older, Arya had a good handle on bringing her little brother up to speed. Sansa kept eyeing Arya with a suspicious look, but also one with a wondering in mischief that wasn’t often seen on her face.

Across the table from them, Jon sat beside Robb hoping that his nerves did not come off of his person whatsoever. He looked more tired then usual, but the previous nights known activities could explain that. Nudging his brother in the side, Robb was the first to bring the more unusual missing person up as he gestured with a nod to the seat normally you took beside Sansa. “I’ve never seen her this late. What did you leave her out in the woods?”

If he played everything off as normal, it seemed as if his brother bought it when he shrugged one shoulder. Half finding his words through bites as if to cover up whatever would’ve come out in his speech. “If I never found her maybe.”

He felt lucky, Robb taking it much more playful then Jon knew it really was. “Didn’t think she’d be one to take losing so harshly.” Jon only jesting that maybe you were afraid they’d tease you for it right away, a grin shared between both brothers as Robb only muttered, “Well, we would.”

Jon could thank the gods no one could hear his heart by the time you made your way into the dining hall, otherwise they’d worry he was about to die, even if he felt like it anyways.

Nothing looked out of place, you had dried from the rain of the night before and your dress was different as if it wouldn’t be the next day, but Jon thought he hated it. The image burned into his mind was of last night, how you looked with the rain soaking your hair that it stuck to where it touched your neck, how it all drenched your dress and even though you had been dressed in more leathers for so much time outdoors, what soft fabrics covered you still had clung to you.

Swallowing roughly whatever of his food he had been chewing, he tried not to think back to the way as you heaved to catch your breath looking up at him, the way he had almost noticed for the first time just how much mature your body had changed to be almost without him noticing. You always covered up so modestly, that until your clothes stuck to you in the rain did Jons eyes, without you even noticing, tear down to your chest as you breathed heavily, the thought of whether or not they’d fit perfectly for his hands, but he dared not make any move like that.

Here as you walked in, you were innocent. Hair mostly pulled back save for loose strands you always liked to lay at the sides of your face, the braids done behind your back in a fashion he’d only ever seen on you before. Something you once told him was a sort of style that was common amongst women from the Stormlands, a complete contrast to the night before where your hair had fallen loose around you. If he curled his hand into a fist perhaps Jon could still feel the way the strands were soft and soaked between his fingers. Your dress long and warm this time, hiding away much of what men would describe as the body of a woman.

It drove Jon mad sitting there as all traces of the night before were nowhere on you, and how normal and calm you appeared without even glancing at him. Not even in an avoiding manner, as if you continued your day now as if nothing happened. No one noticed how tightly Jon held the fork in his hand to the point his knuckles turned white looking at you.

Instead of taking your seat, you found your way behind both girls, crouching down with raised eyebrows as you muttered between them. Not enough for no one else to hear, but quiet enough to indicate you only meant to speak to them. “Now, either you can both come with me. Or, we can wait until your mother comes down and all four of us can have a long chat with Septa Mordane and get to the bottom of this.”

Just as Arya tried to protest that it was Sansa’s fault, did Sansa protest that she didn’t do anything and it made both Robb and Jon smile at how little your knowing expression changed. Both turned to look at you, and that time Sansa at only six, tried very hard to act as calm and mature as you despite the blatant look of fear in her eyes of disappointing you. “I only did it because Arya did it to me first.”

It was lost on her that she sounded exactly like the small girl she was and not anywhere near as mature as you were almost ten years her senior. Tilting your head you only looked at her until her own gaze dropped with guilt, turning then to Arya. Jon knew whatever it was his sisters had done, you’d give Arya a little more slack considering she was only four, which her answer matched that. “I did not-” Sansa only snapping back that she did, and Arya cutting back in with a louder, “Prove it.”

A smirk, you pushed up to your full height before taking the matter out of their hands. Picking up Arya with ease at her size, you plucked her down onto her feet before half turning to look back at Sansa. “Either we handle this now with just myself, or your mother and Septa will determine what punishment is suitable.”

Both hands nudging the girls out of the room, if it were any normal day Jon wouldn’t have considered anything that you said nothing to him. But still, his heart pounded as he sat there with narrowing eyes watching where you were no longer in sight. You seemed calm and normal about this though, nothing like you were upset or mad or different in any way. Maybe that was a better sign then anything else.

No one knew, and neither of you gave away that there was anything to know. It made his day easier to get through. One thing, then the next, only sometimes did you make an appearance throughout Jons day spent mostly him with Robb, but normally you’d only show up with Theon in toe. No one in Winterfell thought you were acting different, and it made Jon relax immensely. No one treated him as if he were acting different.

By the time evening fell over the sky, Jon walked back to his chambers considering if he were hungry enough to even think about joining everyone for supper. The thought was rather boyish, but that if you were going to be there, he might find worth in it after all. Maybe he’d change through first. Take off his heaviest layers, wash up as if you needed impressing.

He didn’t notice until he already closed the door. The nervous figure standing in the middle of his room, hands wringing together in front of them with wide eyes and a matching expression that told him there was nothing but gut wrenching anxiety behind it all. Gently calling your name in question, you nearly turned to him with a startled gasp. As if you stood there nothing but nerves, and nothing like the normal girl you were during the day.

Opening and closing your mouth, he could see that the manner of yourself in the day was nothing but a facade. One falling apart before him as he stood there, but the moment he took a step towards you did you take two away, turning from him somewhat. Your voice soft but a stammer. “I- I came to apologize.”

Face twisting in confusion right away, Jon took a hesitant step towards you even when you weren’t looking. “Apologize?” You didn’t look at him as you nodded, just wrapped the shall around your arms over you more as if to hide away. Turning to attempt to glance back at him but never fully committing as you looked to nothing. “Apologize for what?”

Your brows furrowed, turning to him in your own frustrated confusion. “What do you mean for what?”

For a moment, both of you stood there. Feet from each other feeling as if it were miles. Both too afraid to approach as if it would spook the other, but really the only one at risk with such emotions were you. Something wide and almost shining behind your eyes that looked as if one wrong misstep here and he’d pull tears from you. Which spoke to him that something more serious was going on in your head. You never cried. Or, you never wanted to cry in front of anyone.

Tilting his head to implore you to give him something to go off of, you bit down on your tongue as you looked away only to inhale before speaking. Still not looking back at him. “For last night. I-” As you cut yourself off, Jon felt something twist in his stomach.

This couldn’t happen. Not now, not so soon. He’d never been happier then he was last night and it was all about to be for nothing. Jon was sure, he wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t sure. He knew it, he felt it, but now his own heart pounded painfully unsure if he read it wrong, and what that meant for your friendship going forward. The fear flowing through his blood that he had ruined everything.

Looking back at him though, something soft and vulnerable was on your face but the expression was strange as it tinted in shame and guilt. But not a judgmental one, a personal one, an upsetting one. “I should never have done what I did last night. When we..it was wrong, it was inappropriate, and I know I never should’ve put you in that situation.”

Jon took another step closer, now that fear turned to pure confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong-”

“I did, Jon.” A raise in your voice lowered, looking around the room as if terrified everyone in the castle could hear you yelling before turning to mostly a mutter only he could hear. “I know better then that. Not to...” Repeating you, as not to what, trying to prompt you into being honest. Jon felt confused about what you were really trying to say now, but hearing it out loud hit him in a way he didn’t expect. “I didn’t mean to- I tempted you into it.” You begun to pace along his floor. “Being alone with you so late at night with no one around, the rain, my clothes, everything. It was wrong of me to put you in that situation.”

Truly, for a moment, Jon had no words as you looked at him with the watering in your eyes wishing to turn to tears as you elaborated. “If you need distance from me...or if you wish for your father to send me back home again, I’ll understand.”

His chambers were dead silent but the fire crackling beside him. Sometimes, Jon could forget. That you were younger then him. In two months, you’d reach your sixteenth name day but Jon had been eighteen for nearly half the year now. He’d been a man practically since you arrived a year and a half ago, but you were younger, and so much more innocent.

It was easy for Jon to grasp on his end, he knew he had never kissed someone before and he didn’t hesitate to share it with you. But you weren’t where he was. You likely had never even considered having your first kiss until bloody marriage the way you were raised so strictly. Everything the women in your life had taught you, the Seven, your Septa that Jon hated even though he never met her.

Jon kissed you last night, and you stood in his chambers now afraid that you had tempted him into it, and it was your fault. That you had done something wrong.

Sighing deeply, Jon took a step forward before his hand reached out. As if taming a spooked horse, he silently asked if he could come close. You looked at him wearily before nodding, and looking away again, the shall wrapping tighter around you. Coming up to your side, the nerves clearly hit you strongly as you turned away from him. Not stepping away, but your back now facing him not able to handle looking at him with your guilt.

Without second thought though, Jon let a hand raise. Come up to your upper arm, while the other found gentle and light at your waist. The term slipped from his tongue with ease, rasping and strong as if it was as natural as saying your name. “Darling, I need you to listen to me.” He waited until you nodded, his hand running up and down your arm soothingly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything in the first place. You didn’t tempt me, or seduce me or whatever it is everyone down south is putting in your head. I kissed you. Not the other way around.”

Your voice was a meek mutter, “I kissed you back, I encouraged you. You- men are different, and I shouldn’t have encouraged it when you didn’t want-”

He could tell his chuckle confused you. “Who says I didn’t want to?” You had no reply, nor did you have any idea of an answer he knew. “I kissed you, because I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time. Is it the kiss itself you’re upset about, or because it was with me?”

You didn’t really think about it, the way you turned to look up at him right away with wide, distressed eyes. Not realizing how close you stood with his hands on you, and how the stance had you and Jon pressed right up against each other. “No, that wasn’t it I promise-”

Moving the hand on your arm, Jon brushed some of the loose strands of hair at your side behind your ear, letting his hand trace to your cheek as this thumb ran over the soft skin. “Let me make this easy. Did you like it? When I kissed you?” Your nod was so shy Jon’s eyes could’ve rolled into the back of his head. “One more question.” Leaning down, he tilted your head up to look at him. “Did you want to try again?”

“Now?” Jon nodded, a stammer coming back over you as he felt your muscles twitching under his touch as if wanting to run.

Narrowing his eyes at you, Jon moved you to sit at the edge of his bed. Facing him as he sat beside you, your arms loosened their hold on the shall a little, his hand still cupping your cheek as he leaned over to you. “There’s nothing wrong with what we did, and there’s nothing wrong with the fact that you liked it. It was a kiss, darling. I didn’t tear your clothes off and take you against the tree.” The bright grin Jon had as you flushed terribly, looking away with a complete stammer.

You were so innocent about things, but he had never found it more endearing then that moment.

Your hands finally fell to your lap, fingertips toying with each other, voice soft. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.” He knew what you meant, but he nudged you to look up at him with his hand under your chin, his eyes asking you to explain. “I’m supposed to wait until I marry-”

Jons grin grew. “To what? To kiss a man?” Your embarrassment tried making you turn away, but with something a bit more playful added to it. Muttering your name, he tilted you to look back at him as he leaned close. “We don’t have to do it again, we don’t have to do anything. But you need to understand you didn’t do anything wrong, and I kissed you, because I’ve always wanted to kiss you. And if you ever want to do it again, I’ll be right here.”

That time your brows narrowed. Something a bit girlish in the way you let it mutter out in an embarrassed sort of jealousy he could sense you wished to cover up. “Why though? Why do you want to kiss me? You have plenty of other girls-” Jon interrupted with a gentle laugh asking what girls when you begun to stammer again. “The other girls..you..the ones who you kissed before me..”

Jon tilted your head to meet his bright gaze, “You’re the only one I’ve ever kissed, darling. The only girl I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” There was both an innocence but a hopefulness in the way you looked up at him, as if possibly everything was going to be alright. “This is new for both of us, but, we can do it together. However fast or slow you want.”

Jon knew it would be slow, very slow. But as you looked up brightly at him with a hope in your eyes even more prominent, he knew that taking it slow would be perfectly fine as long as it was with you. “I think I’d like that.” Prompting you to elaborate, there was a soft but embarrassed smile as you said it, the words foreign on your innocent lips. “...to kiss you again..”

He was as new at this all as you were, but still did it feel natural for Jon to take the reigns. Leaning close, cupping your cheek as his lips hovered over yours. Your eyes slipped closed, his hot breath dancing across your skin as his grey eyes looked down to your lips with a deep rasp. “We can do this as much as you like, I promise.”

For a moment, Jon waited to see if you’d close the gap, but he knew better. He was still correct. You were younger, far more naive and innocent about physical feelings and as close to a woman as you were, Jon still was the man. He had to ease you into it, make you feel safe. And for now, being the one to kiss you, was what made you feel safe.

His eyes slipping shut, Jon closed the gap. His lips connecting gentle to your softer ones. Slow and chaste, but just as you had on instinct last night, responded right away. Moving with his kiss but letting Jon dictate everything about it. Your hands slowly reached forward, finding his upper chest, slipping to his shoulders as Jon cupped both your cheeks and turned you to his mercy.

More and more he deepened it, but never without slowly guiding you. One kiss, then another, barley able to even describe it as pulling away before Jon kissed you again. By the time he pulled away, your eyes still closed as Jons fluttered open to look down at you. Pressing a firm kiss to your forehead, Jon very gently let his nose nudge into yours to gain your attention. “Do you want me to ask everytime, or is it alright if I just kiss you again?”

Luckily, he read your nod. Pressing his lips back to yours. Both of you sat on the edge of his bed, nothing intense or even perverse about the gentle, intimate manner Jon kissed you with. His hands by your cheek and hair, yours clinging to his shoulders as if trusting him to lead you.

Jon knew what he felt, he knew it for a long time. He wouldn’t say it, but he felt exactly as he did last night too. Jon knew what love felt like, and he had found it nowhere but in your sweet and gentle kiss.

Yet, it didn’t feel like it was staying that way. Jon could feel you, taste, you, hear you but further and further did you seem to drift away from him. Out of reach of his arms and touch as the room around him grew cold. Too did everything change as Jon looked around. No longer sitting, he stood in the middle of his room until the his head whipped around, hearing screaming. Your screams echoing along his own walls as if they were made rock echoing at him. His hands raised up to his view, soaked in blood as you screamed more and more. Turning one way, he looked back towards his bed where it no longer was.

You laid against what looked like a cave wall, eyes open but unmoving. Soaked in blood like his hands, and the lifeless body of a small blood soaked infant in your arms. The screaming had faded as you and your son had from life, but the lingering horror tearing his eyes up did not last. Instead, Jon was forced away from you to a sound of crashing against the walls. Turning around and around you had disappeared, but now he stood in his room alone, but with walls made of wood.

Banging and clawing and smashing and suddenly did deathly arms break through. Faces torn and rotted and bone but with eyes shining blue as they clawed their way to the inside of Jons chambers. Dressed in blacks and leathers with Longclaw at his side, he heard fighting and shouting and death all around as they tried to get in. Each wall they tore down Jon could see around him. The snow blowing around everywhere and the white cold freezing beyond compare.

Just as they crashed inside, burst through as those outside the room in the cold died by the thousands did they circle him. But when Jon spun to face them, he was unarmed. He was lost, confused, and in the dark of the courtyard of Castle Black. In his hand, he clutched tightly a note with a paper tinged ever so slightly in pink before the wights which approached him.

One, then the next, each wight wore the face of his brothers. Most watched and did nothing. In his stomach he felt two at first. Right in his stomach and another not so far, the wight with blue eyes but the face of Ser Alliser. The next the same, but the face of Othell Yarwick, again in the stomach and one more by his hip. The next wight both in the chest, and the face of Bowen Marsh. The final was the most confusing, a knife plunged right in his heart as he could see Olly mouthing the words, “For the Watch.” But Jon could not hear them.

The cold fades around him, as water and green and lush surrounded as he fell backward against the ground, wounds bleeding out. As if armour had been covering him he felt heavy, and the wights fighting around him were nothing but living men in a battle. He could not make out the face which stood over him, but held in their hands was a great war hammer. And just as it was to come down, shattering his bones to pieces did Jon whisper a name.

His insides told him to whisper one womans name, but Jon laid there and whispered another. The name of the voice he could hear echoing in the distance, his own name right back. And just as the hammer found his chest, did Jon awake with a horrible startle.

Hands grasping at his arm, you leaned down right into his curls with a gentle shush. “Jon, breathe for me, it’s alright.” One gasp after the next, did Jon lay on his side struggling to seek his breathe. He had torn awake suddenly, tearing from your gasp as if the dream he had, had forced him into being awake with a jump. Turning to the side with his palms against the sheets hardly able to breathe like it had been taken away from him.

Pushing yourself more as Jon sat up more, his feet finding the floor but not committing to standing did you drape yourself gentle along his back. One hand by his waist, you reached the other to slid under his arm and seek out his heart. Scar and all you felt it pounding under your hand, but Jon reached his own up. Snatching yours and clutching it in the same spot tightly.

Your head leaned into his neck with your lips leaving gentle presses to his skin as his now more sweat dampened curls didn’t bother you in the slightest. Your voice hardly a murmur, but whispered light in his ear. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

His eyes remained closed for a moment as he tried to control his breathing. Not willing to let go of your hand, you continued to match the gesture with your lips not leaving his skin. Neck, his cheek, side of his head whatever you reached to try and lull him back to you. Feeling his head lean back into you, did you nuzzle right back. The hand on his waist curling around to press more to the scars along his stomach, not even realizing the degree to which your touch against the wounds was bringing Jon back down so quickly.

Letting his breathing even out, Jons eyes opened to the room. The fireplace the only light in front of him, but it was his chambers. The same ones his dream showed, where he kissed you the night after the first time. Only now, it was many years later, and he was the one in pieces as you kneeled behind him with gentle words and a sweet touch to bring him back to you.

His voice strained with a rasp, as if he had been yelling fiercely, despite silent in his sleep. “I’m sorry I woke you.” Shaking your head, you leaned back down into his neck muttering not to be. You felt his back lean more into your touch, his free hand rising up to run his hands through what he could of your hair, his fingers dancing through the soft strands with a sigh like he felt relieved. It took him a good minute to say anything, as if finding the courage too. “Normally they don’t wake me up like that.”

Your hand free along his chest run along the skin you could reach, feeling his muscles relax each passing motion. “You called my name out.” Your voice just a tender mumble in his ear. “Right before you woke up, you called to me quietly, like you were afraid.” His brows furrowed, you only nuzzling the side of his head more. “You don’t have to tell me, Jon. It’s alright.”

Shaking his head, he swallowed back down that fear now that he could feel and hear you in what he knew was the present. “It wasn’t just one thing.” You didn’t let go of your hold on him as he spoke. “It was about us, at first. When we were younger, then..everything kept changing. I was back at Hardhome, then Castle Black the night they murdered me. And you-” Jon dared not tread into the screams and sight of you he saw. Refusing to even bring it up to you, not just remind you of it, but not wishing for you to know he dreamt of it near every night. You leaned more into him with a tighter grasp, even as Jon relaxed more. “Then...I don’t know. I’ve dreamt of it before but I never figure out what it is. I was in a field..a battle..I was on the ground about to die when I tried calling out to you, then I heard your voice and I woke up.”

A gentle whisper in his ear, “We all have nightmares sometimes-”

“Like the ones you pretend you don’t get every night?” It wasn’t an accusatory tone, but it caught you off guard. Pulling back only enough to look over his shoulder more at him in a wide eyed question before he shook his head. “If you get to comfort me after mine, why don’t I get to after yours?”

Voice very quiet, but you knew Jon always heard you. “You’d never get any sleep if you did.”

Jon actually chuckled deep in his chest, a small bemused smirk coming over him as he turned somewhat to try and meet your eyes. Letting go of the hand over his heart to try and reach back to you, feeling the ends of your hair as his grey eyes grew a bit brighter looking at you. “I’m awake to know when you have a nightmare more then you think I am.” Asking why, almost in a purposefully playful tone to ease him back into things Jon only let his fingers trace over your cheek that he could reach. “Whose going to protect you if I’m asleep?”

Heart tight, you leaned more to grasp at him now as if for your sake. “We protect each other.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you gently pulled at him to follow as you moved behind. “Come on, we still have a little while before the baby wakes up.”

Instead of Jon resuming how he normally slept, on his side pulling you firm into his chest, you took the reigns with a gentle hand. Laying a bit more up against the bed, and pulling Jon down to rest more against your front. His hands able to grasp onto either side of you as he lay somewhat on his front and side against you. His legs reaching the end of the bed whereas yours higher up didn’t go nearly as far. One hand ran over his shoulder and back, the other not hesitating to find his curls and run your fingers through them, never allowing them to snag on a strand.

Mumbling into your front, you could tell how quickly Jon was fading back into sleep. “We’re not laying like this every night.”

A gentle laugh you weren’t even sure if it hit his ears as his breathing evened out against you. Always the one to comfort you, you suspected sometimes Jon forgot he had been through just as much pain and horror. That he still had things to haunt him. Your eyes tore between looking up to the stone ceiling, and back down watching Jon sleep as your hands never ceased running through his curls.

You knew come morning he likely wouldn’t be very willing to admit what had been in his dreams specifically, but you felt thankful he at least allowed you to give him this. That he allowed himself to be held by you for once, not to push down his struggles for your struggles.

By the time the sun peeked through the windows, you weren’t sure you slept much after that. Dozed off a few times, but you knew most of the time you had never let go of Jon or your gentle touch. By the looks of where the brightness was in the sky, Jon would’ve been awake before you by this point, but still his muscles felt dead to the world.

Glancing over, it was as if as long as Jon was asleep this deep, so was his son. You’d have to wake him soon to feed him, but both wolf and pup were as gone to the waking world as the other. A gentle knock at the door though, your eyes flew down to Jon, but still he did not stir. A smile crept on your lips, and this you had begun the painful process of sneaking out from his touch. Still asleep his brows furrowed as he reached out to grab at you, but you prompted him more to relax, laying on his front.

Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hands running down his back gently before getting up from the bed. Pulling something warm over you quickly just to cover up modestly, you creaked the door open only enough so that you could be seen and nothing else.

Both Sam and Olly seemed to have been bantering over something as they stood outside the door, but much to both their surprises, you were not who they expected. Part of you could only wonder, how often did Jon open the door in the early hours of the morning sending people off not to disturb you while still asleep, yourself. Your voice a quiet tone to try and ensure they didn’t speak too loudly. “What is it?”

Looking to Olly, it seemed you being there had taken them both off guard. Sam attempting to sound as normal as possible, as if otherwise he’d be coming off as awkward. “Well, I was just hoping to see Jon about something-”

“Is it urgent?” Sams head jolted back a bit by your more stern question, even moreso when you repeated yourself. “Is it urgent? Does he have to speak to you right now, or can it wait?” Sam only commenting that of course it could wait, and interrupted before he could say anything else. “Good. Now..now isn’t a good time.”

You could tell for a moment that Sam’s instinct was to make a joke about much more physical affairs, as if that was one he’d normally make to Jon. But meeting your eyes, there was something he could see in them that told you would not take that very well, for whatever it was it was serious he seemed to pick up. “I only thought, because Jons normally-” Shaking his head to cut himself off did he change routes. “If you could just tell him that I need to talk to him about something, sometime today.”

Nodding firmly, “Of course.” Sam looked at you and then Olly before making his way. Your glance at Olly though, was more hesitant. Part of Jons dream he said, that night at Castle Black. The Olly in front of you now was very different no doubt then the one holding a knife that night, but still you thought. Jon didn’t often have so blatantly bad dreams, and you wanted to take care of him as he would you. “Maybe, you should come back later too.”

Olly’s brows furrowed, “Is everything alright?”

He didn’t buy your smile, nor did it last long enough on your face for it to be meant too. “It is, it’s..” Trying to put it as diplomatically as possible, you didn’t want any hint of guilt put on the boy for something that had been long discussed over again. “It’ll just be a slower start to the morning is all. Jon needs time before everything else today.”

Hesitating at your expression, but he did not fight you. “I understand, your grace. Should I pass that onto the maids?” Asking if he would please, Olly too made his leave as you closed the door.

The timing couldn’t have worked better, as one stirred awake before the other. A small sound crying into the morning air of the bedchambers, little Eddard breaking a smile out onto you without delay. Walking over to his cradle, you leaned down to let your hand rest at his front. “And how were your dreams last night?” Just a small babble with a smile did his make yours grow wider. “Good. At least one of you had an easy night.” Picking the baby up into your arms, he wasn’t yet impatient to be fed, just leaning into you as you held him more high against your chest to rest against at first. One hand holding him firmly, the other resting comfortingly along his back, not unlike the exact manner you had done lulling Jon back to sleep.

Looking over, you turned so the baby too could see him. Little head turning as he still rested it against you, a hand reaching out with a tiny cry as you smiled. Looking at Jon then the baby with a whisper, “Let him sleep more, silly boy. You and I can get through one morning on our own without him.”

By the time Jon stirred awake, his voice was a grumbling husk so heavy with sleep his accent was thick to follow. Glancing over to his side of the bed, Jon had turned onto his side facing you, letting his elbow prop him up to watch you closely. “Wish I could make up to this more often.”

You laughed gently, leaning against the headboard, you held the baby to your breast to feed, a tired but relax look on your face as you had been gazing down at the baby and even brighter now looking at Jon. “You could if you let yourself sleep in more.”

Shaking his head, Jon pushed up right away. Coming up to your side, and slinking his arms behind you and tugging you into him without jostling the baby. Kissing the skin below your ear before Jon rasped into it, “I can’t take care of you if I’m asleep and you’re not.” Muttering with a playfulness that he didn’t always have to take care of you, Jons brows furrowed as if you said something ludicrous. “Of course I do.” His lips pressed firmer to the hair at the side of your head, leaning down against you as his hand wrapped around to your waist and his other traced along your front. Pushing the material of your shift up, not for any indecency but so he could freely run his hand along your stomach, smoothing over the scar that matched the fatality in his.

The morning quiet for a few minutes as you both watched your son feed from you, Jon unable to help himself most of the time from turning into your hair with his lips to follow. Sometimes trailing down to your neck, but never yet pushing it too far. One hand always against your stomach quite firmly, as if so you always could feel he was there.

Neither of you yet spoke about his nightmare, but at least for the time being, there was peace between the three of you as long as you stayed in the little bubble of Jons chambers together. If only it lasted.

Forearms leaned across the table, your fingernails dug mindlessly into the wood as your face felt permanently twisted in thought. It had felt like that for the past hour, the men around you all discussing more then you could comprehend all together and eventually you found yourself lost in the whirlwind of theory and information being shared.

Having started from the top, the original intention was to relay everything of what they knew now and what occurred to both Stannis and Ser Davos, only for the interrupting figure of Ser Royce entering the room before they begun, his tone rough and on the side of doubtful, but when on this topic, doubt was something Jon was very used to being sent his way. “If the Queen is right, and these things are responsible for what happened to my son, then I want to hear about it. All of it.”

More then once your eyes would turn from the table, head spinning just enough to look over your shoulder to where the door to the side room was still partially open. On the fur laid out by the fire, Gilly was sat with little Sam, an easy to read book in her hands, and Sam in her lap as she slowly and quietly read the words. Helping Sam point along to each she read, sometimes prompting him to say certain ones back. A bit beside her, you could see the small cradle on the ground as well where your son was laying.

Sometimes you’d look and he was unmoving, clearly asleep. Other times you’d hear the occasional faint sound coming from him as a limb would move. If it was loud enough, Gilly sometimes would turn from Sam to give the baby bright smiling attention with ease. This time however when she glanced upward, with a more nervous swallow and bite to her lip did she look wearily at you. An attempt to act as if she was still looking at you in a normal way, but the manner she diverted her gaze quickly back down to little Sam told that she knew she couldn’t keep it up for long.

Eyes glancing back to the discussion around you, your shoulders deflated, feeling like your brows furrowed more and you turned inward on yourself. Pretending you didn’t feel Jons gaze on you each time your mood grew more dour each time Gilly would no longer talk to you.

Around you though, a thorough discussion was being had as the question was brought up, asked by Ser Davos as he gestured to you. “Why her though? I only mean both times wights attacked any of you in a group, they always went for her first.” Many things tossed about at first, being a woman, looking the most venerable, or that maybe you were simply just convenient in both instances.

Sam shook his head at most. “Nothing I’ve been able to find says anything about that. During the Long Night, they make no mention that women or children were exempt or special in anyway when the dead came through.”

Tormund rumbled from where he sat, giving Jon a more knowing look drenched in a darkness shared between a horror none here but them had seen. “Boys right. When they hit us at Hardhome, it didn’t matter who was in their way. A whole group of those things were children when they attacked Karsi.” Jon only muttering roughly to add that then she too was woken up into one of them.

It was your father who brought it up, directed at Sam. “You killed one of them, with a piece of obsidian. What happened before then, that could possibly tell us anything?”

That time it was Sam whose eyes went over to Gilly, but instead of a fear he once may have still held, there was something more brave in him finally as he spoke of it. “It didn’t care about me at all. It just threw me out of the way trying to get to Gilly. Or, well, she said it was here for the baby.”

Jons face twisted downward as he looked away, eyes closing for the length it took to roughly exhale through his nose before answering the why being asked in result. “Because that’s what Craster was doing to his sons.” All eyes looked at him, and yours barley flickered over as well with a knowing that only made you feel heavy in your limbs. “Everytime one of his wives had a baby boy, he’d wait until nightfall, then take them out to the woods and leave them there. So the Others could take them.”

“How do you know that?” Jon met Benjens gaze who looked the most like he believed it but still something exasperated in his tone that most all held hearing it now. “His wives used to say strange things about it, that they were gifts to the gods but I never..”

Swallowing rough once more, Jons hands braced against the table curled more into fists as if to relieve the tension somewhere. “I saw it. I followed Craster in the woods one night, and saw him leave his son out there. And I saw what came and took it away.” The wide look in his grey eyes as he found Sam, head tilting with something of a silent apology trying to follow. “It was there for the baby. Probably came to collect, and when the mutineers took over the keep, it went looking for the child.”

The glance shared between Meera and Bran caught both your and Jons attention. “We heard a baby in the middle of the woods, early on before we were captured by those men.”

Bran nodded, his eyes finding Jons as if too putting things together at just how close to this winding mystery they all were at separate times. “I went out in Summers mind trying to see what was happening, but before I did, I saw Ghost.” Jon standing up a bit straighter with a narrowing in his eyes. “They had him locked up in a cage, but Summer fell into a trap before I could see anything else. The next morning when we went to go look, was when they found us.”

Jon looking to Sam with something a bit more agitated playing close to his chest, “You and Gilly were already at Castle Black when that happened. Which means it was another boy they-” Cutting himself off in thought, Jon forced the thought through without blame for the women, he knew it wasn’t their fault for it. “They must have convinced Karl and the rest that it needed to be done.”

But Bran had pointed out what the glaring issue was as he mentioned to you, “But neither time they attacked her had anything to do with the baby. He wouldn’t even have been born when she got attacked at the Nightfort, and north of the Wall they attacked her when she was alone. If they wanted the baby, wouldn’t they have gone right for him, just like the Others did with Sam and Gilly?”

That time, you and Jon knew everyone saw the uncertain look shared between you. Neither of you tried to hide it, nor did either of you hide what expressions followed. Jons with that of frustration, yours much more of something helpless and defeated as you turned to look back at your nails still failing to scratch into the wooden surface. “What? What is it?”

Jon chose the hard path, but too the direct one. “In both times, the Nightfort and that day in the Haunted Forest. She was there both times, but what about her is different then anyone else was who was there too?”

A woman was out, as Meera and Yara were present the second time. The second time could’ve been called an easy target when alone but you were in the room with Theon the first, and Tormund and Olly both were just outside the room when it happened. You were unarmed properly the second time but armed the first. All options thrown about seemed to go nowhere until it dawned on one of them.

It seemed fitting that it first came from Bran. “The Andals.” Most eyes looked to him, but Jons only looked to yours. You felt them, but didn’t look at up at them. “The four at the Nightfort, and when we were north of the Wall. We’re all descendants of the First Men, but she isn’t.”

Tormund looked to him in a doubt, “I’ve seen my people and southerners alike get carved up by those things. Didn’t matter who they were.”

Bran kept going, his eyes narrowed as if putting it together in his mind from pieces he knew, pieces he saw, and everything else he’s head. “That was before, when the Nights Watch and Free Folk were both constantly north of the Wall. They still had men to collect for an army at that point.” Jon looked over to Tormund with a nod, Hardhome. An attack meant to collect the Free Folk left and gain the most of their army from what was far North they could, and they succeeded in the tens of thousands. Sam asking what that had to do with you being a descendant of the Andals, but again Jon caught your eye.

Yours were wide but with hardly any brightness in them, a tilt of your head slightly to the side to indicate that he should just say it. That at least, was something you both knew, for better or worse, though most of it continued to point to worse. “In some way, we know parts of each others languages. The Others using old runes to leave messages. The old stories say the Long Night ended with one man finding a way to defeat the Others, but we know better. One man isn’t enough to lead a battle to victory, not against them.” Jons eyes trapped back not dissimilar to somewhat of the disturbed way they looked when he awoke so violently that morning. “I killed one of them with Longclaw, and then one raised up tens of thousands they just killed. That was a message too. That it doesn’t matter how many of them I or any one else kill, they’ll always have more power against us then we do them.”

Leaning more to where Jon stood, Sam asked “What are you saying?”

That time when Jon looked at you, you knew you failed at giving him anything comforting, as if it all had left that morning behind safe in his chambers and had no part out with everyone else anymore. But his eyes were soft, trying to assure you, but you felt too distant and strained in your chest to be able to understand what he said in any specific of the silence. “The Dawn Age started when the First Men made peace with the Children of the Forest. Some treaty not to fight each other anymore. We may have enough weapons and dragon glass to defend ourselves and the people we love, but not enough to take down an army of that size. And we know we didn’t kill them. If we did, they wouldn’t be here now. They just left.”

Stannis put it together in words as some were still connecting it. “You’re saying that the First Men made an arrangement of peace with the Others?” Jon nodded with his muscles rather tense. “What does that have to do with their attacks on my daughter?”

“If they made some kind of deal to end it, it was thousands of years before the Andals ever came over to Westeros. They may not know the difference between the Free Folk and the Northerners living on the other side of the Wall, but they know the difference between the people they made a deal with, and the ones that they never agreed to have peace with.”

A loud scratch had you nearly flinching, the right painful degree of pressure pushed downwards to scratch into the rough wooden table just as you matched in how hard you bit down on your tongue, keeping your face twisted but unmoving, and hopefully to any but Jon, unreadable.

Tormund and Sam both brought up that they attacked the free folk, Northerners, and they didn’t care, but Jon too had an answer that you both knew, was far more confident then a man just figuring it out as he spoke them. “It could be two options.” First looking to Tormund, “They saw your people as necessary casualties to build their army.” The second he looked to the rest of them. “Or they see our mixing with Southerners as breaking whatever deal the First Men made thousands of years ago.”

Shaking his head, Sam looked as in disbelief as everyone else, only he had the courage to say something about it. “What kind of deal-” Jon only muttered that he had no idea, that it was over eight thousand years ago, which Sam relented. “Any information on the Long Night since has all but disappeared, I suppose that disappeared as well. But why now? The Andals came over four thousand years ago, the Rhoynar not long after that, why only wake up now?”

It was not lost on either of you, that you said it, so Jon didn’t have to trap himself in what could’ve come off as a lie. “That’s what we are still trying to figure out. We have ideas, but not the whole picture.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t quite the truth, and your nails continuing to carve into the wood meant you missed the grateful but needing look Jon had given you for it knowing he didn’t know how to say it or even what to say about it. Neither of you hardly understood it yet as much as you knew.

Ser Davos asked a very good question however, “How do you know that? The Andals and the First Men, how can you be sure that’s why they’d attack her instead of any of you?” Jon only saying that he and you went beyond the Wall in the first place to find answers like that. “So, what do we do? If whatever this treaty existed doesn’t apply anymore, what do we do?”

Jons answer was tinted in more vagueness then he was letting off, but it still was the right one. “Exactly what we’ve been doing. Prepare to fight, and hope the rest of the Kingdoms join us before it’s too late.”

Sitting down, his hand running over his face, Ser Royce looked up to Jon. “I never knew your father to be a man to lie in such outlandish ways, Jon Arryn himself raised him to value the truth. I may not know what the rest of the Lords in the Vale will think about any of this, but if Ned Stark were the one telling me all of this, I’d believe him. Which means I have every reason to believe what his son is telling me now.”

Jon nodded, a strain in his low tones. “I’m not asking you to believe me without question, but I’ve seen what the Others can do. Sam’s seen it, Tormund’s seen it. What the army of the dead will do to us if they breach the Wall, and even if the North somehow manages to protect itself, you, your people, no one in the south will be safe. And the Others won’t care how much you didn’t believe us.”

You could see why Ser Royce would be a man that greatly respected Ned Stark, the blunt manner he got to the point without being rude about it. “If I did choose to believe all this, what would you have us do?”

Right away Jon had an answer, and a powerful one. “Train. Your people all need to train. Spears, pikes, sword, bow and arrow. Every man who can hold a stick needs to be able to fight, and if they all fall, then your women and children need to know how to fight all the same.”

Leaning forward, he had the same expression that many of the men in the hall had the day Jon said it to the North. The same one that your father and Ser Davos now were wearing as Ser Royce said it. “My youngest granddaughter’s tenth nameday is this year. Do you expect me to put a sword in her hand when she’d barley be able to hold it up?”

Your nails only dug deeper, to the point you wondered if the stinging you were feeling was actually drawing blood, but you had not the will to drag your hand from it’s position to do so as Jon said it. “If winter doesn’t kill us all before I get a chance to have a daughter of my own, I won’t hesitate to train her exactly as I will my son.”

You knew no doubt to the southern men, all fathers in their own rights looked at Jon as if he had said something completely mad. But, your eyes only tore up to the side to look at your fathers, a narrowing glare to not stay in silence when you knew he understood Jon was right. Whether or not he felt pressure from you, or he found it willing in him to say it, did Stannis speak up in Jons defence. Saying your name as you hadn’t yet looked away from your father in a stare that could only be described as eerily matching of his own. “She came home to Dragonstone at twelve, someone had begun to teach her the basics of sword fighting while she was gone. I didn’t like it, I had never intended for her to learn. Fighting wasn’t for girls. But, she already started, and it would be a waste to let those lessons go nowhere. So I kept them going. I could only imagine how unprepared for this threat or the world she would be now, if no one bothered to start her on that path in the first place.”

Neither of you said anything how he had somehow figured out it was Jon, nor did you suspect Jon knew either. Only feeling his eyes in the back of your head as he spoke. “Ser Royce, I can only tell you what I told my people when they said the same thing as you. I hate every single time she’s anywhere near a fight or battle, but I’d never want to take away the fact that knowing how to defend herself has saved her own life more then I ever have.”

Were you not in a room with so many people, or your nails finally wanting you to scream in pain, you might have looked up to him with a brightness that Jon would know was a protest. You knew how to defend yourself because of him, even if he didn’t swing the sword in every instance, you still owed all of it to Jon for knocking you to the dirt in the courtyard with a training sword in the first place.

Ser Royce sat in thought, “I cannot promise anything, and I won’t until I know in my soul this all is true, but I could speak to the other Lords of the Vale. At least push the stubborn old bastards in the right direction.” Glancing at him, his face didn’t change any from how rough it was but his tone did take on what felt like a rare jest towards Jon. “No offence meant of course.”

You could hear Jon actually withholding a bit of a smirk. “No offence taken, my lord. There’s nothing you could say that I haven’t heard dozens of times already.”

A crack of a smile came over the man in return. “You’re your fathers son, no doubt.”

Only then did your eyes look over to Jon, and you knew only you had seen the flash over the greys that spoke much like something distant and disturbed again like that morning. Whatever this dream was in detail, it felt as if it wasn’t the first time he had it. Just the first time you had woken up with him when he awoke from it so suddenly.

The last to get up, it wasn’t until you felt a warm hand grab at your wrist, pulling your hand up from where it felt like it was melted to the table. Your fingertips shaking slightly as blood was clearly dripping from them, somewhat too coated as if it had been doing so a while. Nervous eyes glanced up to Jon, his own narrowing in a worried disbelief as he found the spot you had been carving into.

Prompting you to stand with his other hand finding your waist, Jon turned to Sam with as much of an even tone as he could despite you knew he felt otherwise not calm. “Sam, could you and Gilly watch the baby a little longer?”

It was discreet, the way Sams eyes looked from Jon down to where he clearly had a hold on your wrist and the sight more of blood, but with wider eyes trying to hide as neutral he nodded. “Of course, whenever you’re...finished.” Jon muttered a thank you, but you felt Sams eyes on you as Jon turned to walk you out.

Motioning for you to lean against the wall as he closed the door behind him, you sighed shakily before he came close to your front. Without saying much, Jon grabbed at your hips, lifting you with a gesture to sit back on the high table behind you, “There you go.” Looking over there only seemed to be two which had bled, eyes scouring for any sharp shards of wood he must have come to the conclusion whatever you scraped them so hard against was attached to the table not in your skin.

Hidden from his side, did he pull out wrappings, one hand holding yours up he lifted his other to use his teeth tearing at the fabric to make smaller strips before gently wounding them around each finger. “I’ll clean this later, but this will do for now.” Asking in a gentle voice if he just kept that on him, did he surprise you. Eyes peeking up with more of a playfulness and smirk to match, “I know who I’m married too.”

One finger then the next, before using the third to wrap around both and your hand in general, did his brows begin to furrow a little. “Jon?”

Shaking his head with a sigh he didn’t look away from his work. “Soon enough your hands will be covered in more scars then I am.” Your head tilted almost in a bemused disapproval, and too did he smirk before continuing. “I know you weren’t seeing anything.” A single shake of your head no. “Do you want to tell me what happened this time?”

With a sigh, you finally found it in you not willing to look away from him. “Everything we know, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.” Glancing up to you with a furrowed brow, Jon finished tying the wrappings off before pulling your hand up to press a kiss to the skin still exposed. Letting it sit in your lap with your other as he cupped the side of your head, leaning in with gentle eyes as you finished. “Sometimes it gets to me.”

Running his thumb over your cheek, he gave a small shift to a more stern expression. “You get hurt enough as it is. You can’t be doing it to yourself.” Leaning down more to meet your eyes properly, you gave him a nod. Which for now, he accepted without words to follow from you. His other hand coming up to your waist, sitting a bit low closer to your hip.

Keeping your eye, he slightly grasped at the skirt of your dress, pulling it enough that your lips parted, a fluster rising in your chest. Jons smirk grew as he only moved it enough to give him proper room to stand between your legs. Shifting his hand so the thumb on your cheek could now tilt you by the bottom of your chin to look up at him. Where the inclination came from, you weren’t entirely sure, but the tone you said it with while not at all seductive, there was a purposeful innocence about it that Jon knew was no accident. “My King?”

Eyes closing, Jon let out a rough exhale. His jaw clenched as he murmured your name in warning. “Don’t.” Asking what specifically, you felt his hand both at your waist and more by your jaw tighten as his eyes begun to bleed the grey into a darker colour. “Don’t tempt me here.”

You knew you were pushing it, a small grin fighting it’s way onto your face. “I didn’t say anything, my King.” A roughly muttered word of stop, and your hands reached up to rest at his shoulders. “I only ask if there’s anything you need. The King takes such good care of his people, he deserves to be rewarded-”

Both of you knew it was a trap you were setting, but Jon let himself walk right into it. Grabbing both of your cheeks, Jon pulled you up into him to press his lips to yours. Sliding a hand right away to the back of your neck, keeping you there in his hold. Your hands slipped to his waist to steady yourself, only able to follow Jons command.

His lips were so soft, guiding you deeper and deeper as you felt a whine in your chest travel up for him to capture. A growl rumbling deep in his chest, never parting from you for more then half a second and certainly never enough to let you gasp for air. Leaning more over you, Jon tilted your head back even more, nowhere for you to escape his kiss.

He didn’t even need too, the bite to your lip causing you to part the, so his tongue could slide into your mouth. You would’ve done so for him without being asked, but Jon had other ideas. Ones that had his hand on your cheek drift down. Grasping at your waist with a tightness, did he step forward. Too many layers between you, but enough bulk sat low attached to his person that you’d feel it at least brushing to your inner thighs. A tease of what you could have if you were anywhere else.

Running his hand down your thigh, he gripped tightly the edge of the skirt of your dress as low as it was, the temptation to yank it up growing more and more appealing to him. Brushing his tongue against yours as you let out a higher pitched moan, Jons hand fisted the hair at the back of your neck through his fingers tightly. Readjusting his hold more and more, as if telling you like a wolf that you were under his control. Which his strength certainly spoke of that. Letting go of your dress, Jon shamelessly let his hand drift up the skin of your leg, squeezing your thigh roughly until he got to his destination.

Pulling back, the saliva trailed between your lips as he watched with hooded eyes as yours barley fluttered open up to him. Rasping low and roughly, “It’s like you want me to take you where anyone can find us.”

Looking up at him, there was a lightness in your heart, but a breathlessness caused by him as you said it so genuinely. “Like you said, we’re married, and you’re King. You can take me anywhere you want, any time you want.” Eyes bleeding black, Jons gaze twisted looking over you as his hand roamed under your dress to the nothing in his way.

Suddenly his large hand covered you completely, a gasp letting out as he yanked you back to his lips. A biting roughness as he kissed you deep that had your hands tighten against him. The feeling of his fingers thick along your folds finding out all over again just how quickly his simple touch and kiss could make you wet. Toying with the idea of sinking two inside of you then and there until a rather loud clearing of a throat hit both of your ears.

There was no hiding it, Jons hand shoved up the skirt of your dress and the rough, possessive hold of your hair as he kissed you. You sitting on a high surface legs wide enough for Jon to even stand between them in the first place. But what was worse, was that the throat clearing was followed by the worst possible voice lecturing your name that could’ve been.

If your horrifically embarrassed jump and gasp spoke of one reaction, Jon somehow spoke of a whole other. Pulling from your lips, both his hands eased. One gentle as he ran it smooth down your leg once more before seeking the edge of your dress and pulling it back down modestly, before running it along your waist in a firm manner. The hand in your hair running down it smoothly as he nudged your nose with his gentle to say without words to let him speak for you.

Unable to stop the small grin bright on his handsome face as you nodded, heart racing too much to think. Gently grabbing both your hips to help you down, but Jon was subtle at least. One hand polite at your lower back, the other grabbing your injured, or more recently injured hand in his, running over the fresh wrappings. Moving your fingers in a way that it was clear that at least at some point in the encounter, did he dress a wound for you to distract.

Which your fathers gaze flickered down to it right away, noticing it with a small narrow before again sternly looking back to Jon. Ser Davos stood beside him, trying as hard as he could not to look thoroughly entertained by all of this thus far.

“I was hoping to speak to you alone on a matter.”

Addressing Jon specifically, he kept his calm as if nothing happened despite how flustered you stood beside him. “Of course.” Pulling you more into his side, Jon cupped the other side of your head to press a kiss to your hair, muttering just loud enough that they’d be able to hear it. “If you want to go get the baby, I’ll meet both of you when your father and I are done. Alright?” A nervous look was clear in your eyes as you nodded. The silence following as you made your way back into the room, praying to the Mother that neither of them would say anything to Jon and just let the embarrassment fade away.

Sam always busying with something, sat reading and scribbling away at something. Looking up with a genuine smile, his quill in hand pointing over to the other room. “The little Prince is still with Gilly, nothing to worry.”

Pausing in your step, you turned back with something of a troubled look that tried to act as if it were merely banter. “You know Sam, you don’t have to use titles with me or him. It’s alright to call us by our names the way you do with Jon.”

Nodding a bit, Sam was easy to talk too. Very little judgment came over him no matter how awkward you stood there, now wrapped hand fidgeting with the other. “Old habit, I suppose.”

Mustering what you hoped was even part of a smile. “I understand. I married Ned Stark’s eldest son and right up until he died, I never could shake the habit of calling him Lord Stark.”

For a moment it seemed as if words had passed, you hardly even moving to the other direction when Sam spoke. Something more serious in his voice, and eyes. “What was he like?” Turning back with wider eyes, he spoke with a respect but still trepidation. “Robb Stark, I only know what little Jon told me about him, but he was his brother. He was your husband, and King in the North. It’s odd hearing so much about someone who had that big of an impact on the people in your life but will never meet.” Lips opening and closing, your heart felt heavier in the thought which Sam picked up on right away. “You don’t have to, of course. I was only wondering.”

Shaking your head, you moved a bit more into the room without committing to sitting anywhere near where he was. A barrier you put up that Sam had detected, as if without Jon by your side, he had hardly ever seen you exist in a room with people and feel comfortable. “No, it’s fine. I- I suppose I’m just not much of a story teller, but, if there was anything you’d like to know specifically?”

The easy manner Sam laughed was relieving a bit, that it wasn’t directed at you. “I’m aware of that at least. Jon told me once that you never had a very good imagination.” That had you laugh lightly, Sam to join moreso as you muttered that he was correct. “What did it feel like? Learning you were to marry one Stark, but not the one you’d been with for years?”

Almost as if a nervous girl you glanced to the closed door, no doubt Jon having left with your father and Ser Davos already. Looking back to Sam, your brows furrowed a bit, hands still fidgeting. “It was confusing at first. My father told me there was no choice, that King Robert had ordered it. Only for me to speak to him myself, and he told me that my father had come to him, insisting on the match out of nowhere.” Asking why, you inhaled the nerves and attempted to exhale that feeling you had in the Black Cells realizing that very thing. “My father leaned the truth about Joffery, and he knew that made him Robert’s true heir. If he suspected war was coming, he knew marrying his eldest daughter to the heir of Winterfell would put the North in his pocket.”

The casualness which Sam would jest things, even with someone like you, made it easy to understand why Jon would’ve liked Sam so quickly. “So much for that plan.” You broke a small, silent smile in agreement. Letting him follow up in questions himself. “Now, I’m not asking to be rude, or question your time with Robb, again I’m only curious-”

Your tone gentle as it was a little amused. “Just ask it, Sam.”

“If Jon had come to you with that idea. If it were more then just a fantasy in his head, coming to you and bringing you far North to just be together instead, would you have done it?” Your eyes were wide, asking him where he heard about that. “Jon told me. Once he opened up about you, it was like I couldn’t get him to stop talking about you.”

Again your eyes drifted to the door where he wasn’t outside of it, drifting just slightly to the side where you knew your son with him was, but too did you feel the scar under your clothes and the question wasn’t as easy to answer as you thought. Perhaps it was more honest then it needed to be, perhaps it was the ease in which Jon had said in front of everyone, the future of a daughter you both didn’t even have yet as if it were without question to happen. The security of now, perhaps made the loss of before slip from your lips a bit more with honesty.

Not really looking at him, but just off to the side as if lost in memory. “Robb and I hardly had a chance to be husband and wife, and even less time to ever have a child together. Having that now with Jon, it means the world to me but...” You could still see him, brown curls always perfect in place and his bright blue eyes and warm soothing voice, not a single bit of him was gone from your memory. “Maybe there was someone out there better for him, a girl he’d love more or be happier with..but instead he had me. And no matter what, Robb deserved to be loved. And I don’t regret for one second being allowed to be the one to give that to him.”

The room was silent, nor did you have the strength to look at Sams reaction to such honesty from you of all people, but your head turned the very second a small sound was heard that you knew too well.

Muttering a mere, “Excuse me.” Not hearing what he said politely after as you gently opened the door. For only a moment did you have enough in you to not feel the lonely detachment as Gilly only referred to you as your grace, and no longer your name as bright green eyes sought yours, with arms holding themselves up.

Leaning down with a smile bright on you, the brightness too on little Eddard’s face grew as did the nonsensical sounds he gave you in return to your voice. “I missed you too, sweet boy.” Your fingers running along his front almost in a tickling motion, as he attempted to grasp at the loose strands of your hair in return. “Were you good for Gilly?” Just a babble, but your voice played right along with ease. “That better be the truth you’re telling me.”

“It is.” Your head turning somewhat to the side, Gilly with a more apprehensive look but life was more within them looking between you and the baby. “He’s very well behaved. You and Jon have done a good job.” You swallowed whatever that feeling was back down to interpret later, nodding with a thank you until your attention was forced back with that grasp of your hair.

“Alright, alright, come here, you.” Picking up the eager Eddard, as soon as he came close did the baby snuggle right into your front. Cupping the back of his head to press a kiss to the top of his you mumbled gently, “Let’s go get you fed, and if you’re lucky, grandfather will stop lecturing your father long enough that he might get back in time for your bath.” Turning more to her, you were more formal, and it was not lost on either of you how quickly it felt like whatever friendship had been brewing here was now lost. And neither of you were good enough at this to know how to mend it. “Thank you, Gilly.”

Luckily, the hall outside was empty save for two guards whom now never left your shadow. Thankfully for you, the two present didn’t feel the need to say much. But you knew with Ser Davos in the same walls as his son, it was only a matter of time before your embarrassment of getting caught by your own father would spread to Allard and Theon both, and gods protect you when they got hold of that kind of fodder to make fun of you with.

Jon tried not to think about it, the ease in which he relayed the details of that night with near as much anger as he felt in the moment, barley restrained beneath his words. The three of them stood in private, Jons anger across from the troubled look of Ser Davos and the withheld but perturbed expression of Stannis as the later considered his words carefully. “Littlefinger tried to have her killed before if the information you are telling me is correct. How can you be sure this wasn’t a leftover from a plan he previous had in place.”

His jaw was clenched roughly, the feeling of having to subtly let out the tense air from his lungs to even speak not lost on both men. “Their orders were to take her head, and bring it back to the person who ordered it. Littlefinger had been in Winterfell for weeks, and was dead for days by the time they showed up. If it was him, they’d have no one to bring it to, or even pay them.”

Ser Davos nodded in an agreement. “No use in trying to murder a Queen if they’re getting nothing out of it.”

Following up with what theories he had so far, Jon didn’t say anything for a moment. None of whom was involved had said anything about it, and Jon couldn’t be sure you’d want your father to know but here he was asking and he had to be honest. “It’s not a strong possibility, but there’s a chance Euron Greyjoy had something to do with it.”

“Greyjoy?”

He knew there was more personal of a history there. Stannis had been the one to defeat Euron and Victarion in battle at sea during the Greyjoy rebellion. His actions against their fleet were the reason Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon could get to Pyke to end it in the first place. So he nodded once, hands tense at his sides trying to explain it without reliving those hours all over again. “When we were north of the Wall, he sent men after us. Tried to kill me, and kidnap her to bring her to him.”

Much like you could be when holding back, Stannis had one word responses. “Why?”

There was a lot he left out, but there was no room in him to explain anything to do with your abilities, the facts were easier to work with in this scenario. “He wants the Iron Throne, and he wants her by his side when he gets it.”

Both older men gave the other a glance, Ser Davos himself knew about Euron from beyond the Greyjoy rebellion, and Jon could only wonder which would be more willing to give him that information. Ser Davos himself, or Allard, as the former spoke. “If he wants her by his side, why send assassins after her?”

Shrugging one shoulder, Jons voice was rough but even. “Maybe if he can’t have her, no one can, to a man like him. It might be a stretch, but I can’t rule it out.”

“I agree.” Nodding, Stannis had kept his calm more then Jon could’ve even pretended to do despite the information. “These assassins, they didn’t think to harm the boy?” Jon shook his head, affirming they never even tried to touch little Eddard, only making Stannis think more. “It would be someone then who doesn’t yet know you have a child together. Eventually most of the realm will hear it, some already have, but this was someone who didn’t have a clue. Otherwise they might have reconsidered their plan, or strategy at the least were they to know a child, an heir was in the picture.”

Voice more on an edge did Jon feel unable to hide it. “You’re saying they’d have gone after my son too if they knew about him?” Stannis only repeating what Jon had said previous, that he couldn’t rule it out.

Already the guard he had and the measures he had in place were as heavy as Jon could get without being overbearing towards everyone, but perhaps it helped that he knew he had most of it surrounding you, and normally the baby could be found with you or him, if not one close by. Back and forth they went, but Stannis changed the subject before Jon could even think to leave. “One more thing. You knew, about the one my daughter has been hiding here, the bastard boy.”

Jon tried very hard to ignore the smirk across Ser Davos’s face reacting to what came from his mouth next, with a bit of a jest in his eyes. “You might need to be more specific.” The two mens glances meeting just barley before Jon returned his attention to Stannis, whom was either not amused or didn’t pick up on the joke at all.

“One of Robert’s bastards, Gendry. She admitted to me that she brought him here and has been hiding his identity.” But the look in his eye too, was serious, as Jons was in the confidence he had in why you had made the choices regarding him in the first place.

“Aye.”

Hard to read, if the quick quirk raised in his brow was negative or positive with this man as his tone never changed once. “Am I correct to presume you knew about this?” Jon again nodded, with no shame nor anything to hide in him for it, if you had brought it up first it seemed. “If he is here, I would presume she told you of what happened. You don’t think it would be appropriate to inform me that you have someone here who was a prisoner of mine?”

“Gendry might have been your prisoner once, but he isn’t now.” Bringing up your name with more of a sternness, “She brought him here to protect him, because he is her blood and she doesn’t want to see any other members of her family dead more then she already has. Gendry may have been your prisoner once, but he’s also her family. And she’s my wife, my Queen. Which means he’s under my protection too. From anyone who might come looking for him.”

The stare between both men was difficult to read, neither knew the other well enough to determine the degree of possible hostility spoken amongst such words. But Stannis was at the least, a man who knew when to pick his battles, and when not too. “Very well. You’re roof, you’re decision.”

Jon could only watch as the man took his leave, Ser Davos not quite following as he turned halfway to watch until Stannis was out the door and back. “I think finally being a grandfather is making him soft.”

Were that not such a drastic image in his head compared to what soft meant to most men, Jon might have laughed instead of looking at Ser Davos incredulously. “That’s Stannis being soft?”

Tilting his head in an understanding amusement, he let the smirk come out more freely as well. “I’m the one who set Gendry free, you know. More then anyone else I knew how angry he was about it, and more then a few times did he bring it up as if I robbed him of a great opportunity.” Asking low of an opportunity for what, he appreciated how blunt Davos was. “The red woman put it in his head that she could perform her blood magic better with Kings Blood, and having him as a prisoner could mean she’d be able to use him for anything, including kill him in the name of her damned fire god.” Before Jon could say anything, he rounded himself back to the point. “I’d say his reaction to learning you let her hide Gendry here and not say anything, was basically nothing compared to how he’d feel just weeks ago.”

It wasn’t meant as a slight, Jon of all people understood that your family was as complicated as they came, but it was an awkward truth. “He’s been here for days, and he’s spent almost no time with the baby.”

The grimace was warranted from Ser Davos as he mentioned you by name. “During the war, the King went back and forth on the subject of if he wanted her as his heir or not. Now that they actually speak again, she’s all but told him she wants nothing to do with the Iron Throne, and now he watches her have a male heir of her own for a Kingdom that isn’t the one Stannis was fighting to rule. Not alone, at least.”

Jon made no comment on that, nor did Ser Davos say it for him to make any sort of point over it. But it was only honesty that came from Jon when he said it. “We didn’t have him because he would be my heir.” There was a narrowing in his grey eyes, but too something more raw. A confusion of why people kept looking at you three and assuming thats why he existed. “We had him because we wanted too, because I’ve always wanted a child with her. He’s not my heir he’s...just my son.”

A man of low birth and humble beginnings, as he put a comforting hand on his shoulder, Jon knew that Ser Davos of all people said it solely because he meant it in his heart too. “Most highborns in the south raise their oldest child like an heir. To some, Stannis included, they have a hard time looking at that child just as they are. He raised Shireen like a daughter.” Your name coming from his mouth with more of a grim truth. “But he didn’t raise her like one. Between you and me, I’d say he raised her with a bit of resentment. That she wasn’t born a boy. Having an heir would’ve been a lot easier for him if she had.”

A weight sat in Jons heart. You had said something similar, many months ago beyond the Wall. That you suspected your father always wished you were born a boy, but here a man so close to your fathers side echoed that very sentiment.

It didn’t help the feeling, but Jon suddenly could think of you and realize the problems always seemed to stem from much deeper inside you. How you think the people only ever look at you and see a Queen, how you still struggle to see past the fact that Jon looked at you as more then just a dutiful wife, and the simple fact that you were raised thinking that you were your fathers failed heir.

With everything in between, there was too much noise in your life. But you were more then that to Jon, more then all of that, you were everything to him. But you put nothing but title and duty and responsibility on your shoulders every time something happened, so maybe he thought, he needed to, just at least once, take all of that away from you.

And the wolf howling inside of Jon, had a dark and perverse way of knowing just how to do it.

You knew he heard you come inside, the door closing slowly behind you and the light footsteps approaching but Jon was content as he worked away it seemed, to just know you were there. Turned away, you could see his shoulders a bit tense, and were you to turn him to face you no doubt there would be a deep frown etched into his features which more then likely he had tried to run his hand exasperated over his face and failed to wipe the frustration off.

Laying happily against the fur before the fire, Ghost rose his head up as you approached. Hands and nails running freely over the fur by his ears. Leaning more and more into you, almost knocking you over with his sheer size with how he nudged his head more into your crouching front as if to cuddle. Were he standing no doubt he’d have done so. More of a huff left the direwolf, his eyes slipping closed as he lay back down against the fur much more content then he had been before.

Gently did you take off your heavier outer layers, fur cloak and warmer dress with just something lighter and soft underneath, watching Jon now, the whole time. For a moment did you stand by the cabinet wondering if he wished you to leave him in silence, when as if reading your mind did he speak with a tint of playfulness. “Will you come here already?”

A withheld smile came over you, coming up you let a hand come up to his hair, curls still up from the day and working to let them loose without really even considering it. Looking over his shoulder to him, your eyes naturally found their way to his work before quickly diverting back away. Only for Jon to chuckle, smirking as he didn’t even look up at you. “You’re allowed to read my letters.” Mumbling you didn’t want to invade his work, Jon only smirked more. “First you want to ease my workload by doing things like this for me, now you worry you’re not allowed to even know what I’m doing?”

The smile on you was soft, knowing the judgment in his tone was jesting far more then it was meaning. Still letting your fingers run through his curls, once again you wondered if in the next few days if he’d want the ends trimmed. Getting too long, was normally when Jon would tend to keep it up for much longer into the night not wishing to deal with it all. Your only response to his words as light in tone as he set it as. “I only want to do what’s best for you.”

Brows narrowing, Jon let the quill hover mid air before setting it down flat to look up at you. Not yet finding the words, he pushed back in his seat. Only as you went to give him room to stand, did Jon grab you by the arm, and yanked you down into his lap. A surprised yelp came along with a laughing scold of his name, Jon let his laugh out much more brightly and free as he turned you. Sitting across him with your arms around his shoulders and back of his neck, Jon grabbed your hips to make you face him more, your lower back now pressed against the wood of the desk.

One hand moving up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, Jon trailed down its length still, toying with it before slinking up to cup your cheek. Muttering with his eyes roaming gently over what he could see of you, despite how yours stayed on the wandering greys no matter where they went or why. “Eddard?”

Your fingertips toyed a little with his curls in return. “With Bran and your sisters, like you suggested.” Only muttering a simple good, Jon continued to just let his eyes wander you freely as his thumb gently ran back and forth over the soft skin it touched at your cheek. Other hand on your hip warm and steady to keep you there. “May I ask why?”

Jon was good at getting the point. “Because I wanted you all to myself, and having our son here means I’m always fighting him for your attention.” Instantly you laughed, Jon following in a way that always made him look so handsome, such bright eyes as he did so like a laugh on him was a rare beauty. “Do you think I’m exaggerating? How often does he get mad at me when I kiss you?”

Leaning more towards him, Jon followed, the sides of your head resting against the other, Jon now able to run his hand freely down the hair along your back. “He’s just protective. Which he gets from you, you know.”

You felt his chuckle more then you could see it that time, but it was there all the same. “Which is why he’s not here. Our son would be very upset if he knew what I was planning on doing to his mother tonight.” A shiver ran down your spine, swallowing something devious as it only filled your blood and travelled to every corner of your veins, asking what that plan was exactly. Jon remained calm, not giving away at all what was in his mind, hand still smoothing down your hair. “It’s something I’ve mentioned before, but it’s alright if you don’t remember it.”

Pulling back, you looked at him more confused. “What are you talking about?”

Nudging you closer, Jon let his nose gently nudge at yours with a whispering rasp. “We’ll get there, don’t worry.” His lips meeting with yours before you had a chance to ask anything further, melting into his kiss and touch in an instant.

Your hands wrapping more firmly around the back of his neck, you felt Jon sift his fingers through the locks of your hair at the back of your head. Guiding you to follow, he didn’t yet deepen the kiss but refused you any air to move. Hands tightening where you held at him, and Jons hand on your hip too tightened as he bit at your bottom lip.

Only as you gasped, such an instinct to allow his tongue to slide inside your mouth did Jon not continue, but coax you slow back to something more chaste. Small nibbles did he bite as if teasing what he had done before, the sounds between you barley managing to include your small needs to breath until he bit at you once more, but harder. Were it any harder, it may have even drawn blood but pushed right to that edge with his kiss without ever letting you fall off of it.

Suddenly yanking you from his lips, Jon leaned forward as he turned your head slightly to the side. That rough need found the sensitive skin of your neck. Deep bites of his teeth followed by a sucking feeling as it to bruise along with the sharp marks made. Gasping out into the open air, a charged tingling ran from your neck down to your chest. From there a desire flooded your bloodstream only to increase as Jon further moved along, further marked your neck with a viciousness.

Only a brief gentle brush of his tongue and lips before he’d move on as a tiny soothe to his roughness, but still did he work you over harsher then even your nails dug into the skin of the back of his neck you held him at. You felt yourself leaning enough to give him more room, but with Jons grip on your hair you could barley move.

Shifting you by your hip did Jon move with you. Hidden beneath the layers, still could you feel a growing pressure that had Jon bite down rather harshly the moment he too moved you he could grind you down onto his growing length. The gasp from you sharp, as Jon pulled away from your neck but not at all ceasing his other movements. Cupping your cheek, he turned you to him with gentle shushes on his lips. “I’m sorry, darling, I know.”

Not even granting you the protest he knew you’d give for his rough treatment, he captured you in a kiss once more. That time it was much slower, guiding your lips to mould with his as he deepened it without the urgency of before. His hands though, both now were at your hips, subtle as he moved you down onto his covered cock.

Pulling back enough to rasp low, “Come on.” His hold moving you to stand up with him, steadying you on your feet with you grabbing more to his shoulders. Wide eyes looking up at him, Jon cupped both your cheeks. Bright his face shined but with something that one could mistaken as sad, if not the tighter hold he took of you, standing close enough you could feel his breath hot dance across your skin. “I need to take all this off you.”

Gesturing down to your dress, Jon kissed you once more to steal away your breath. Sliding down your neck on one side, the other where his teeth had sunk into you did he trace along your hair instead before seeking your dress. Hands quick as he let go of your kiss to grab at the skirt and instantly move to pull it up and off of you. Wasting not a second, as if in a hurry did he follow with your shift leaving you bare in the cold of his chambers.

Swallowing, Jon held at your waist looking down with black bleeding into the grey of his wandering eyes. Smooth his palm was running from your waist up and down to your hip once more, before your voice soft and a bit unsure seemed to break the spell. “Jon?” Eyes peering up at you, you hoped he could see the nerves flowing through you at his silence. Your hands grasped lightly at the belt strapped across his person still.

As if once he had gotten in, he removed his weapons and had not the mind to do a single other thing to get comfortable. Instead of letting him wash you over with a fluster of a comment he could make, you made a point to look down and back to his eyes. He only nodded a yes.

Cold and bare you stood there, taking the time and care you always did undressing him, and not even sparing how much you were respectful of his clothes when Jon had simply tossed your own to the side when he had it off your skin. Kneeling down to his boots, you exhaled with hope it was silent as you felt his hand run along your hair.

Truthfully, you had thought nothing of it. Reaching for the laces of his breeches, only to have your hands snatched by his. “Don’t.” You couldn’t grasp how much you had made his cock throb, the wide innocence as you peered up at him while bare on your knees, an ask in your eyes as if wondering what you did wrong. Shaking his head, his rasp came strained. “We’re not doing that. I don’t know if I can even trust you with that again.”

Waving through your heart was something full of an immense guilt right away, Jon only pulled you to your feet. Tilting you by your chin to look at up at him right as you spoke. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I promise, I am.”

Leaning to brush his nose down yours, he sounded just as strained but with that tenderness which came you warm still in your heart. “I know you are, but..it’ll take time. It’s not easy trying to make sure you’re alright when you do that, and last time I completely missed that you weren’t.” Trying to protest that wasn’t his fault, Jon again cupped your cheeks. “You didn’t want me to notice, but that’s on me. I should’ve known better. That I struggle to go easy on you. You were hoping that would happen, but I never should’ve let it get that far.”

Your hands held at his shoulders, muscles tense from trying not to fidget so openly despite how you had to bite down on your lip just to stop it from a quiver. “Are..will you never want me to..”

Brushing his lips to yours, it was barley what you could call a kiss as he mumbled against them. “Until I can trust you with you’re own well being, I’m taking care of you from now on. Not the other way around, and that’s final.” You once more, couldn’t know how much Jons cock begged to be released from their restraints at how you had obediently nodded in agreement.

Everytime it was an order he gave you, you never questioned it and it drove Jon mad. Especially when it had to do with this.

Nudging you backwards as he told you to lay back on the bed, Jon only watched with darkening eyes as you slowly did so. The fur against your back was soft and comforting, the opposite of the darkness watching you. Until you were laid back, propped up with your palms behind you did Jon reach for the laces of his breeches.

He never blinked as he undid them, not as he slowly dragged them off his person. No words, and barley a blink before Jon suddenly moved up onto the bed hovering over you so close it pushed you down onto your back once more. Grasping at your jaw, Jon kissed you with an urgency. All but shoving his tongue into your mouth, your hands flew up grasping at his shoulders desperately.

His curls acting as a curtain, hiding your kiss from any of the no one watching. Kneeling more to the bed, Jon wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you more up to press your front to his. The urge in his own mind to forego his plan, and yank you up onto his lap right there and sink deep inside of you, but he had to contain himself. He had a plan.

Your legs shifted on either side of him, one thigh resting up by his hip as the other somewhat wrapped around his calm. Jons tongue deep as he brushed against yours, pulling back only to mock you with the temptation of giving you air then not ever allowing it. He controlled it all. Your nails dug into his skin as you felt his cock hard brush between your legs. Not paying any mind to it, Jon held a skill in ignoring his burning need as long as he was entangled with you in one way or another.

Slowly, did he move. Grabbing a hand from his shoulder, Jon pressed it into the bed, intertwining your fingers before slowly doing the same to the other. Pushed down into the fur, his own lips more red and swollen from how roughly he treated you, and gasps from your own looking no doubt more abused. Without you even noticing, occupying your mind blind with his kiss rough and deep, gentle brushes of his tongue against yours before refusing you more, you hadn’t at all noticed.

Until suddenly did Jons hands and fingers intertwined with yours, did you feel he was moving until he suddenly pulled them high. Crossing one wrist against the other as one large hand kept a firm grip of it. Pulling back to look down at you, your chest heaving almost as if mocking him with how little he’d been able to touch them to his greed and pleasure. His voice was a rough rasp as he sought your eyes, black staring back at you enough to nearly stop your lungs.

“Tell me no at anytime, do you understand?” Taken back by how intense he suddenly felt over top of you, Jon much more sternly called your name. “Tell me you understand, that you say no at any moment, and I stop right away.” But you didn’t say that, with something nervous and meek on your mind did you only ask Jon what he was about to do, but his head tilted slightly with a narrowing disapproval, he needed you to just say it.

“I understand.”

Barley muttering a good, Jon pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling back, mumbling into them, “Don’t move.” You read the unspoken second command, don’t watch so blatantly what he was about to do. Eyes forcing themselves to the stone ceiling, your hands itched to reach down and grasp at something to ground the nerves and want between your legs. Only as Jon returned, you felt him put something onto the bed without looking up to see.

Coming back to you, now sitting more at your side did Jon run a hand down the side of your face, touch gentle as he looked down at you. With a hesitation, his brows furrowed in what you could see was a self doubt. “Jon?”

Flying up to meet your gaze, something innocent within them once more made Jons blood run hot. Rasping as he traced along your jaw, “I need you to trust me, alright?”

Your words did not help how hard he was, “I always trust you.”

You couldn’t grasp what he was doing at first, almost thinking he was going to kiss you again until you felt something drape along your skin, and then nothing. A soft material shielding your eyes, your heart begun to race more instantly. Muttering his name, almost a brief panic at how little you could feel he was there, but the moment he seemed to tie the knot behind your head, you felt his warmth. One palm braced on the other side of your body as he leaned down to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. “We don’t have to-”

“No, don’t stop.” Almost wondering if your phrasing may have confused him, your mind muddled with trying to put together the mystery of what he was doing, the blindfold only ever being done once before in a drastically different setting. So you stammered through a breathlessness trying to rephrase. “I mean, keep going. Please..”

Without you seeing, he nodded before remembering you couldn’t see. What part of Jon that still felt a man, reminding himself to take care of you. That you will need his touch and voice significantly more then usual, not being able to see him. “Two more things, alright?” You nodded, and suddenly you felt a softer material across your wrists.

Tying your raised arms to the headboard, you stuttered a breath as your heart pounded. He said two, what more could he possible do? What more could people do with one another that you-

Only you figured it out, as you felt something at your ankle, rougher material. Not scratching or even tight. In fact the tie on your wrists was tight enough they couldn’t move, but whatever he tied around your ankle was slack a bit. Until you felt him pull, moving your leg to something wide open, a fluster coming over you almost instantly. Because then Jon did the same but the other.

Experimenting, you tried moving your leg, able enough to somewhat bend it at the knee, but nowhere near enough to close them, or even slightly. Jon did do three more things, tie every part of you that could move after taking your sight away. One again he draped over your top half, a hand running down your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts and gently caressing over your scar as he rasped so close to your ear. “Tonight, you aren’t doing anything. I’ll do all the work, you just lay right there, okay?”

You could feel his other hand run down your hair more as you bit your lip with a nod. Only to be prompted to use your words. Mustering through your nerves and racing heart only, “Okay..” Before Jon pressed his lips to yours.

The hand on your stomach rising up to cup your cheek, his soft lips were slow. Almost methodical as he kissed you again and again, the hand on your cheek sliding down to your neck, tracing along your collarbones once more. But this time, just as his tongue brushed your lip, did his hand gently grasp at your breast, pulling a high pitched gasp.

Lips pressing to yours once, then your cheek as he leaned down to murmur in your ear, “I know they’re still sensitive. I won’t do anything else.” Hardly a grope, just a gentle squeeze of what he had in his hand, he knew to be careful. The shiver down your spine made your core awaken with a startle. wetness already between your legs, the need to hide it by pressing your thighs together now taken from you so completely that it made his gentle touch to your breasts even more overwhelming.

Pressing his lips down the marked side of your neck, you could hear him muffled with something of a growl in his voice. “You shouldn’t look so beautiful like this.” Never his teeth, but your lips fell parted open as he allowed his kiss down each bruised mark to be sloppy to soothe the leftover sting. “Makes me want to never let them heal.”

Along your skin he trailed them without failure, a hand running along your side as he moved. Your breath held as his lips reached your breasts, but only a lingering kiss to the skin there before moving along down your sternum as his voice softened. “Why you ever want to be on your knees for me, when it’s nowhere near as good for you as what you give me..”

Trying to sound confident, but it only came out with a heavy need being muttered out. “I want you to feel good too..”

You couldn’t be sure how he had moved, but you felt both hands now on your legs stretched wide, pushing up ever so slightly to the little amount you could bend them. Before Jons lips kissed a path along your scar and paused the moment he reached your mound. “You can live without that, but I could never give this up. I’d go mad without being able to taste you, darling.”

A sound wanted to come from you, but biting down on your lip trying to prevent it despite Jons breath so hot between your legs. Closer his lips had gotten, before he hovered right over your clit. Being forced to wait there, not a clue that Jons eyes were overtaken with a darkness, his hands braced on your thighs as he could stare at the wetness between your legs with greed.

Tighter and tighter his grip got until without a shred of mercy did he move. Tongue running flat against your clit, sparking something burning inside of you as you wished you could jump away from it, but his lips only followed. Sucking at the bundle of nerves in a way that felt as if he was making up for what sparing your breasts he had. He could be content without one, if he could have this.

A rough hand sliding to your hip by your ass, did the other follow before Jon kept you steady from even writhing against the burning need. Tongue running over your clit in whatever way had forced that cry from your chest out into the world with a startling beg. His name your only words, but it pleaded into the air as he dragged you to an orgasm with a stinging pleasure to your clit.

Barley letting his teeth scrape against it before his tongue soothed the feeling, your mind felt foggy at how quick it came. Hands tense against the headboard your toes curled in as your head fell back as much as it could. A wave washing over, being drawn in and out of the shore again and again as your orgasm flowed. Jons tongue soaking your clit, letting it burn as he treated you almost as if a kiss.

Again and again did Jon draw you to your end from that alone, only to feel him move you what felt like shoving you higher against the bed before his mouth found it’s true desire. The wetness between you in amounts Jon could drink for days, parched with a thirst and you were the one thing he needed to keep him going. A greed in how much he ran his tongue along you, how much he refused to let a drop escape him no matter how much he had to pull you into his mouth closer.

A growl left, as his hands gripped your plush skin with a force that would leave bruises of his fingerprints. Vibrating against your soaking walls, and twisting the core within you faster, but truly it never unwound properly. He kept you slipping from one orgasm to the next, his mouth there to taste every single bit it would give. The taste so addictive against his tongue, Jon could feel even with his eyes closed, them rolling into the back of his head.

Your back trying to arch as he guided you to another end, no idea who had caused you to have so much of a wetness, you from his mouth or just his mouth alone against you without ever drawing up for so much as air. Begging his name, your head felt light and far away, only Jons touch between you existing.

Neither of you held a clue how long he kept you there, hands trapping you against his mouth as the only sounds in the room beyond your breathless begs was his greeding, merciless tasting.

Small you spoke out, barley able to speak through each cry for him. “Jon, it’s so much..I- I-” Cutting yourself off both times, you feared the nonsensical beg that you couldn’t take it but you could not fathom a world beyond Jons touch. But your very words brought that into existence with your heart racing, hands clenching tight unable to move as he pulled from you.

The soaking between you was cold in the air, but his words breathed hot so close that Jon interrupted his own words between sentences to run his tongue along you more. “I know it’s a lot..but you need to be good for me.” You nodded, but Jon growled with what sounded akin to anger of your name. “That’s not a suggestion, darling. Just lay there, and be good.”

You nearly begged out, “I promise,” more the once before he finally sunk back to drenching your cunt with his mouth.

In Jons own mind, it was just like when you let him sit you on top of his mouth. He knew you had no idea that this was dangerous. How much Jon could stay there and refuse to let you go. Taste you until you were crying begs and pleading for him to stop, but even if you did, he still would slide inside of you before it was over. Jon had soaked you so much that he groaned into your cunt with the thought, that not even his size would hurt with how wet you were for him.

And even so, you never begged anything more. You cried, and moaned, and let out high pitched whines at the burning inside of you each time he dragged his tongue inside of you. Sweat built to a sheen over your skin and dampened your hair before he stopped.

Sucking roughly at your clit once more before moving from your cunt. Not sending where he was, Jon all but leaped up to grab at your jaw. His kiss rough and bruising as he bit once more at your lips, that time, he was the one certain he might have drawn blood. But he ignored it, beyond the whine you gave him that had his cock throb. His tongue deep inside your mouth, making you taste what you gifted him.

Never would you understand his desire, but he tried every single time to make you understand what you had caused him to be endlessly, helplessly addicted too.

But then he muttered into your lips, his hands on your thighs suddenly sunk two thick fingers deep inside of you at the same instance. “That’s my girl.” Your heart felt it was bursting out of your chest, how he spoke to you and yet how little you considered that he had tied you and blinded you to his complete control. Thrusting them deep, he pulled them close to leaving your warmth before a third joined as his rasp was as thick as his accent was rough. “You are perfect for me, it doesn’t matter what I do, you were meant to take me.”

Nodding, Jon rewarded your agreement with a deep, lingering kiss before your legs shook in place as another orgasm was dragged through you with each deep thrust of his fingers in and out of you. Only dragging them out as long as it took for them utterly soaked to cup you.

You could feel Jon moving, but not a clue how or what but you laid there not even the thought in your head to question him. Without any warning, the moment his soaking hand grasped at your hip, did he replace the feeling with his length. Sliding deep inside you, soaked not even with as tight as you were around him, did you give a single bit of resistance. His cock so thick that it always stung but he had done every bit of work to ensure it wouldn’t this time.

Jon knelt on his knees before you, lips parted as he could barley catch his breath, let his other hand run tight against your clit and with that and but a single thrust did you ruin him. Walls clenching around his cock did he nearly hold you down against the bed. “Fuck, darling.. you can’t do this to me right away..”

He could see your hands desperately trying to grasp something to no avail, and the question truly burned in his mind if he was willing to give that to you. From where he knelt, so slowly did he drag his cock along your sensitive walls, that high pitched cry from your lips so beautiful to him that he sunk back just as deep, just as slow.

When he planned this, Jon hadn’t thought he’d take this pace. He thought he’d fuck you, truly fuck you like a wolf does his mate but something about taking you this slow and gentle had his heart burst from his chest with a loving need. Truthfully, he didn’t imagine many men enjoyed this. That many men ever would tolerate going this slow, but smoothly sinking his cock in and out of your soaking cut Jon looked down to the sight.

His hands tight on your hips, but otherwise his eyes were wide. Mouth somewhat agape as he watched his length sink inside you again and again. Your mind had become such a fog of pleasure, Jon wondered if it even registered in your head how obscenely wet it sounded each time he sunk deep back inside of you.

Jon did this because he needed you to trust he could take care of you exactly as you needed, but it wasn’t until his cock was surrounded by your warm tight walls, did Jon realize that you needed him to be slow and gentle as much as he needed it too.

Carefully, without ever stopping did Jon move himself to hover over top of you. One palm braced into the furs, sinking almost deeper each time from this angle as your legs couldn’t even think to close on him. Capturing your lips in a kiss, it was as slow as his pace.

Tongue brushing against yours with a patience, not to overwhelm you the way he knew you felt being filled with him. Pulling back, the saliva between you both not even severed as he rasped, “I’ve got you, darling. I’ve always had you.” Begging his name with a weakness in your throat, Jon kissed you once more.

His hips thrusting again and again inside of you with an excruciating pace to the wolf within his chest, but Jon again pulled back to look down at you, not even seeing your eyes and past that darkness his heart a man almost tore at him. You trusted him with everything that he took all of your control away and never once did you assume he’d take advantage of that.

He couldn’t. Again and again his cock filled you, but never could Jon consider doing anything but making love to you with every way he could prove how deep that ran. How much you had always meant to him. Resting his forehead against yours, not any part of him cared at how needing it sounded as he fucked you. “You have no idea how much I love you.” Hips moving perhaps a bit faster, enough that a cry left you once more which he had to soothe with a kiss. “I need you, darling. I’ve always needed you..”

Not even allowing you to answer, he pressed his lips to yours. Your cunt clenching around him and Jon knew you were so close he could taste it. Keeping that pace, again and again his cock thrusted deep, pulling only halfway before he had to feel you completely once more. “It doesn’t matter whats coming our way, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

As your orgasm burned and blazed around you, Jon was so relieved did he too find his end right with you. As deep as he could did Jon spill inside of you. His seed thick and hot as he let his hips grind into you, his kiss not sparing you the treatment.

Shaking around as each wave after wave you came, Jon let his hand fly up. Grasping tightly at both of yours as much as you both could hold at the other. Even when Jon filled you as much as he could, he didn’t stop. Not the slow pace, not how much he refused to pull out of you in any amount before he needed his cock as deep as you could take him again.

Once more, neither of you knew how long he kept you there, feeling as if it was a never ending moment refusing to change a single thing about how he fucked you. Easing you into him stopping, Jon could tell your mind was a fog.

Suddenly did you feel as if he left you with no warning, despite how long Jon eased out of you, but your mind couldn’t grasp it. Lifting off of you, a weak beg of his name did Jon kiss you again, his hand running along your hair caressingly. “I’m right here, I just need to untie you.” Before he did so, did he allow the blindfold to free your sight once more.

Fuzzy the world felt, but his grey eyes all you needed to feel calm once more. Arms, then legs were you free as Jon turned you into his front. Laying you both on your sides, he carefully placed your legs apart enough that it wouldn’t overwhelm you with what he knew would be sensitive as soon as the rest of your mind returned.

Your hands draped along his chest, scars somehow comforting under your palms as he hid you in his chest, and his own face in your hair with presses of his lips and murmuring words to bring you down back to him.

It was possible you fell asleep, as when a knock came to the door, you felt as if you had been startled awake. Running his hand over your hair, Jon muttered into your ear. “It’s alright, they’re bringing the baby.” Nodding, Jon whispered once more when you looked up with something filling your nerves as he pulled away. “Hey, come on now.” Pulling the furs over top of you, Jon kissed your forehead before meeting your eyes. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll bring Eddard with me.”

His breeches tossed on but lose, and a soft shirt of a grey dark enough it matched his eyes did he return to you with. Senses more awake, the sound of a little noise of nonsense pulled a gentle smile on you. Keeping the fur pulled high did Jon slink down onto the bed beside you with a playful glint in his eye. “It appears our son doesn’t want my attention.”

A laugh left both of you, as he carefully let little Eddard into your arms. Much like how you awoke that morning, Jon let his arm wrap around your back under the fur, pulling you close as he rested his head somewhat atop yours. The quiet and the baby all you both needed before a weight made itself known on Jons side of the bed.

Before you could even look, did you hear him louder try and protest, “Ghost-” But coming to your feet was the presence of the large direwolf. So large that his head lay down on the furs atop one of your legs and Jons. His own eyes narrowed but playful, as both white wolves pretended they were frustrated with the other to no convincing. Jons free hand now preoccupied with Ghost, did someone else too try.

Eddards little arms tried reaching out to Ghost, whom when he lifted his head did you and Jon subtly shift forward so he could actually reach. The scene was all Jon needed. No matter what was outside those doors, the Long Night could come and rage beyond control but as he sat there, his direwolf, his son and his girl, the little pack he always wanted, he could pretend for now that this was perfect.

And maybe it was, as long as you and Jon both could ignore that ever since coming back from the far North, did it feel as if the nightmares came each and every night to haunt you for it. For going that far north in the first place, or for leaving it, that was what neither of you could figure out.

Each night Jon had been trying to let that nightmare go further and further, he knew what each dream showed him until the battle leaving him dead in a field of green. It wasn’t a vision of the future he knew, but maybe if he let the nightmares fester a little while longer he may figure that out.

That was until his eyes slipped closed that night, you tucked firmly back into his arms, did Jons dream finally show him purple eyes, hair of silver.

The nightmare, a memory that certainly did not belong to him.

[starvingnarcissistmusic]

I've had this drafted forever and I'm not entirely sure why I didn't post it. Oh well, better late than never!

MAL DU PAYS (the song) fun facts:

(Like the original post, spoilers for Act 5 ((and also 2hats)))

- Originally, after finishing the game, I wanted to write a song about Loop. They're one of my favorite parts of the game and I really loved their character, but I ended up scrapping that idea very early on, as I couldn’t really find a personal tie to anchor the song to me. While I did want to write a song about the game, I didn’t want to write something that didn’t resonate with me and my musical “mythos” in some way. It's a fan song, but it's also a Starving Narcissist song, and I felt it was important to strike that balance. MAL DU PAYS (Monophobia) only got released because I felt that it was something that fit into the larger body of my works even without the context of the game. So in the end, I chose to write about Siffrin, as I found them a lot more personally relatable. The final version, lyrically, is almost like I’m using Siffrin as a vehicle to write about my own feelings. Some lyrics are his, some are mine, a few are both of us, it’s a weird sort of style I’ve never really written in before.

I do have some leftover lyrics from the scrapped Loop version, though!

“There’s a you you’ll never be, across the cosmic sea / Who has everything you wanted, now it’s everything you need; is it over yet?”

- I think originally the song had a lot more of an exhausted vibe, but with most of the stuff I write, the tempo usually gets faster the more I play it. At some point in the writing process the song channeled more of a manic energy than I had originally intended it to. Loud and shouty is kinda just my default lol.

(The first ever demo for the song, recorded September 15, 2024. Features some slightly altered lyrics!)

- The title was also subject to change! I think for a while I was going back and forth on just calling it Homesickness, mostly because I was a little nervous that my song’s name was technically a late game spoiler. Half the reason I wanted to even write the song was because I thought MAL DU PAYS would make a great song title though, so in the end I just sucked it up and went with my gut. The alternate title was also not set in stone, I think originally I was considering just calling it Mania or Paranoia, but I thought those would be a bit generic. Eventually, I settled on Monophobia, because I felt it was apt in describing the song as a whole. I write a lot about loneliness, and Siffrin is afraid of being alone, so it felt fitting to name the song after the fear of it. (And also, a bit more superficially, I thought Monophobia made a better song title.)

- The song is the only Starving Narcissist song on a nylon string guitar, and it's also the second song in a completely non-standard tuning (third if you count ITWYW?, but that's just a half step down from standard). MAL DU PAYS (Monophobia) in DADF#BD, with a capo on 1.

- THIS SONG HAD SO MANY REVISIONS. I don't think I've ever had this many versions to a song ever. It got so bad that I made a specific folder just to hold all the different variations I had for the song. They're not all too different from each other, and they're all built on the same take of the song, but I was playing around with mixing and structuring and vocal layering and its a whole mess. Honestly, the fact that it's a song about a timeloop makes it probably the funniest song this could have happened to.

- And that's about it! To end off this little fun fact post, here's a little something I wrote for Genius (where lyrics for this song and all my others are posted! plus annotations I write! <3) about the song. The response to MAL DU PAYS (Monophobia) has been pretty wild, and I'm glad it managed to resonate with people, even some who don't even know the game it's about.

That's all. While I guarantee this year will probably be slower for Starving Narcissist, rest assured that I am working on stuff, just very slowly. There's a very low chance I'll ever do something as flagrantly self indulgent as this song, but whatever I do end up doing, I hope you're around to see it.

In the meantime, stream the song on spotify! or buy it on bandcamp! or even just go watch the lyric video i made for it (please i spent like a week on this)!

Thanks for everything, see you later <333

Happy one year anniversary to In Stars And Time! tldr; i wrote a song about it. if you wanna skip all the gushing and just listen to it, click here. (spoilers for act 5) If not, behold this big rambly mess of a thing i wrote:

So funny story, I kind of wasn’t planning on releasing anything for the rest of the year. The album wore me out, and the only other idea I had sort of fell through, so I was content on just letting the album be the only thing of note I would make in 2024.

… and then, in September, I played a little RPG called In Stars And Time. beat the whole thing over the course of three days, then spent the next couple weeks ravenously consuming all the fan content I could get my hands on. my friends have been forced to stare at my siffrin pfp every day for two months straight at this point and frankly i think they are tired of me talking about it.

i love the art, i love the story, i love the music, i love the characters, i love the world. siffrin sort of immediately became one of my favorite protagonists like,, ever. and it definitely did not help that i am also a scrawny forgetful person who has to regularly fight off the part of my brain that convinces myself that All My Friends Secretly Hate Me.

I’ve never really been so called out by a character before. The spiraling, the deflection, and the agony of being a stranger to yourself. the yearning for something you cant even name, because how could you? you cant even find the words on your tongue. not being able to tell anyone how you feel because its just easier to live with it, easier to let it eat you from the inside out then to bother anybody else. its easier to keep the mask on, stick to your lines, let the show go on.

all that hit just a bit too close to home. so i did what I usually do When Things Hit and wrote about it.

(like i said, spoilers for Act 5; It’s pretty devoid of context but they’re spoilers nonetheless)

MAL DU PAYS (Monophobia) is a song about cyclical burnout, self-estrangement, and homesickness. It’s half about Siffrin, half about me, but mostly it’s a rumination on loneliness and the hell that is the self.

Out now wherever you listen to music.

“How can you be homesick if nowhere is home?"

[pinkcutiepiee]

Sirius Black Confessing his Feelings💌

Day 1 of 5 day of my Valentines Writing Event💌 || Masterlist 🍓

Sirius confesses his feelings for you. But you don’t believe him straight away💌

Hogwarts Uni AU. All characters are written as 20+. Not a house-specific reader.

Word count: 796

[A/N]: I'm seeing Ben Barnes live tonight so it only seemed fitting to start the Valentine's event with Sirius<3

Maybe gonna write a part 2<3

You watch from across the courtyard as Sirius and his friends are, you assume, planning yet another one of their infamous pranks. It was hard to tell, but that guess was the most likely. The pranks could be an inconvenience and frustrating, to say the least. It was true that none of their pranks affected you directly, but the way they indirectly affected you, when you were trying to study, hang out with your friends, or even concentrate in class, annoyed you.

Which is why you hated the way you found yourself becoming more and more attracted to Sirius. He was charming, undoubtedly so, and attractive. You often found yourself seeking him out, purposely studying somewhere close to him just to catch a glimpse. It almost made the pranks tolerable. He was way out of your league, you weren’t even sure that he knew you existed.

Which is why, when he approached you, you were more than certain that it was some sort of mistake, or (the more probable reason for his sudden approach) a prank. Quickly returning to your book, you hope that he didn’t see you staring. In attempt to slow your racing heart, you take a deep breath and try harder to focus on the words in front of you.

“Hey…” he started when he finally reached you. If you weren't so focused on how nervous you felt in that current moment, your rapid heart rate, or sweaty palms, you typically would have picked up on the hint of nervousness in his own voice. Or the way he anxiously played with his fingers, and the way he ran his fingers through his raven hair.

“What is it, Black?” All you wanted was for this whole interaction to be over. The last thing you wanted was for the one person you’re interested in romantically to use you for one of his pranks; to be laughed at by him and his friends. The thought hurt more than the idea of him simply just not knowing of your existence.

He takes a deep breath: “I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out with me sometime… kinda like a date because I think I’m in love with you and I think you’re really pretty, and I’m really nervous to ask…” he rambles. If you wasn’t convinced that this was a prank, you would have found the nervous rambling cute. But there was no way.

“You’re in love with me? You’re expecting me to believe that?” It broke your heart, to say the least, that this was the prank the Marauders decided to pull on you. it was just another cruel reminder of this never being a relationship that could work. No matter how much you craved it.

The look of disappointment and confusion on his face when he hears your words look very real, though. Feeling almost guilty, you look away, mentally reminding yourself why he’s actually here. None of his words were true. The way his friends watch the interaction tells you that much. They aren’t laughing, though. In fact, it looks almost as if they are watching with a sense of hope.

“Yes… it is true, please you need to believe me,” he now sits next to you - your breath hitching at the sudden close proximity. You noticed by the way he stiffened slightly when your knees touched slightly that it affected him too. Not being able to look at him, you take a deep breath, as he rakes his fingers through his hair yet again. An anxious tell.

“Why would it be?” He responds when you ask him if this is a prank, finally looking into his dark eyes. Watching him closely, you start to believe him.

After taking a moment figure out what exactly you wanted to say, you a deep breath, you start to speak; “I just never thought that… someone like you would find someone like me…”

“Perfect? But that’s what you are,” Sirius says when you don’t continue, as he grabs your hand gently. By the look on his face when he does, you know it wasn’t his intention, but you like it. So you hold onto his hand before he can pull away. You smile softly at his compliment.

“Well, for the record, I think you’re pretty perfect too… and in response to your question, I would love to go out with you… just tell your friends they need to be a little more subtle,” you joke, seeing the way that James, Remus, and Peter are staring at Sirius and you, hand in hand.

Sirius laughs softly, agreeing, as he squeezes your hand softly, running his thumb across your knuckle. Maybe this could be the start of a beautiful love story.

[seumyo]

TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE ✰ 8:34

PROMPT. Tokoyami with his girlfriend, who’s taller, dresses in decora fashion, and has way too much energy + third year!school dance trope.

Tokoyami stood in front of the mirror, his crimson eyes taking in his reflection. His usual attire was dark, minimal, and brooding—perfectly in line with his aesthetic. But tonight was different. Tonight, he was doing something unprecedented.

Something that he himself never expected to be done.

A pink dress shirt peeked out from under his impeccably tailored black suit, its soft hue a stark contrast to the somber tones he usually wore. It felt strange, foreign even. But it was for you, and for you, Tokoyami was willing to step outside his comfort zone.

Hell, if you asked Tokoyami to buy an entire luxury clothing line of your choice, he probably would.

His feathers ruffled slightly as he adjusted the cuffs. Was this too much? Too out of character? He wasn’t one to care about appearances beyond practicality and comfort, but the thought of your reaction made his heart race.

Pink wasn’t his color. But black goes well with pink, no?

Dark Shadow peeked out from behind him. “You look dashing as ever, boss. [Name]’s gonna love it!”

Tokoyami exhaled slowly. It’s like his nervous system can’t differentiate between being held at gunpoint and wanting to impress his girlfriend.

“It is a deviation from my usual attire, but... it is fitting for the occasion.”

“You’re whipped,” Dark Shadow teased, snickering. His companion never failed to try and be all cheeky with him, more so now than ever because you always encouraged Dark Shadow, much to Tokoyami’s dismay.

“I am devoted,” Tokoyami corrected, his tone firm but faintly embarrassed.

“You’re gonna knock her sparkly socks off.”

Satisfied with his appearance—or as satisfied as he could be—he grabbed the bouquet of blush pink roses he had painstakingly picked out earlier. He’d never been one for floral symbolism, but these flowers reminded him of your warmth and radiance—soft, vibrant, and enchanting. He made his way to your dorm room; each step reminded him of what’s to come.

When he reached her dorm room, his heart thrummed against his ribs. Tokoyami held himself in high regard when it came to being composed, but the anticipation gnawed at him. He raised his fist to knock, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts.

When the door opened, all coherent thoughts fled his mind.

Your gown sparkled like a field of stars under the dim lights of your room, every pink sequin catching the light with an ethereal glow. The fabric flowed around you, elegantly so, perfectly capturing your signature style. Your signature colorful accessories were noticeably absent tonight, replaced by delicate, glittering jewelry that only enhanced your beauty.

Tokoyami, usually eloquent even in darkness, found himself utterly speechless.

“Fumi,” you greeted happily, your eyes widening as you took in his appearance. “You’re wearing pink...?”

He shifted slightly, his feathers bristling.

“I thought it appropriate to match you."

Your face lit up with a radiant smile, and you clapped your hands together in delight. “You look amazing! Oh my gosh, I love it!”

Tokoyami felt warmth bloom in his chest at your reaction. His nerves dissipated, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction. All his doubts about the pink dress shirt evaporated in that instant.

“You look... breathtaking,” he said softly, offering you the bouquet.

“Fumi, you didn’t have to—these are beautiful!” You smiled again, nodding. “Thank you. You’re such a gentleman.”

He extended his arm to you. “Shall we?”

“Wait! I need help putting on the necklace you gave me.”

“Right,” he carefully took the jewelry from your hands and even had to go a bit on his tippy toes as you crouched to make it a bit easier for him.

Some men may find it embarrassing for their lovers to be taller than them, but he’s fully embraced it at this point, plus there’s something about you being taller that just makes his knees weak. He might be absolutely helplessly in love at this point in your relationship.

And it’s mostly your fault (and his, because you may have fallen first, but he fell absolutely harder).

Clasping the shimmering necklace, he nodded proudly to himself. “Divine,” he murmurs.

“Alrighty! I’m good to go.”

-

Kaminari nearly tripped over himself in shock when he saw his friend. Such a sight to see.

“Tokoyami’s wearing something that isn’t neutral? And pink—at that?” he gawked. “I didn’t think that was physically possible!”

“[Name]’s got him wrapped around her finger,” Mina teased, grinning. “It’s adorable.”

Even Bakugou, who rarely commented on things that didn’t interest or concern him, snorted. “The damn bird actually cleaned up well. Guess miracles do happen.”

You laughed, leaning closer to Tokoyami. “I think we’re making headlines, Fumi. Well, you mostly.”

“I anticipated some attention,” he admitted, “though perhaps not to this extent.”

When you stepped into the dance hall, the atmosphere shifted. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, casting a dreamy glow over the room. Students, friends, and couples swayed to the rhythm of soft music, laughter mingling with the melody.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful! The innovation committee really went all out this year.”

Tokoyami, despite his usual preference for subdued environments, found himself appreciating the ambiance—perhaps because your joy was infectious—it made everything better for him.

As the music transitioned to a slower song, Tokoyami turned to you and offered his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Your breath hitched, and you took his hand gracefully. “You may, my prince.”

His heart thudded at the nickname, but he maintained his composure as he guided you to the dance floor. Your movements were tentative at first but soon fell into a steady rhythm.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you tease.

“I have observed and practiced,” he tells you. “Preparation is key.”

“You’re amazing, Fumi.”

He adjusted his hold on your waist, his voice low but sincere. “Only because you inspire me.”

“I love you,” you whisper, meeting his gaze.

The words hit him with a force stronger—faster than any villain’s attack. “And I love you,” he murmured, the admission coming naturally despite his usual reserved nature.

Tokoyami realized that tonight was more than just a dance—it was a testament to how much he had grown, how much he could go to show his love for you. And he’ll gladly embrace these changes wholeheartedly.

For chivalry and genuine love will never die as long as Tokoyami is breathing.

[monvirtu]

What about quackity and reader doing a wine stream ( they get drunk ) by the end of the stream they confess there felling for each other. It kindly reminds me of a the Spanish song of (no me mires con esos ojos )

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

⋆ precis ~ while it wasn't shocking you and quackity got drunk during a wine stream, the only thing that was surprising was when you both started talking about your feelings for each other.

⋆ tags ~ alcohol, kissing, use of quackity's real name, romance, and drunk fluff.

⋆ notes ~ thank you for the request, and i hope you enjoy!

to your viewers, it was never surprising to see quackity's name in your stream titles.

'PLAYING MINECRAFT WITH QUACKITY'

'IT TAKES TWO WITH QUACKITY'

'COOKING STREAM WITH QUACKITY'

it got to the point where it was a shock to not see his name pasted on their screens whenever you started a stream.

and just like all the other times, today was no exception.

laughter filled your office as you and quackity held wine glasses in your hands—the crimson liquid swirling in your cups while you both answered questions that filled the chat.

most of them were harmless. it was just people questioning you both about your lives, what things you liked, and what future plans you had for streaming. some were stupid, like asking what your favourite type of cheese was or what lego movie character you were.

but as the stream went on, and the wine bottle slowly grew empty, you stared to notice your chat getting more curious.

ilovemen3423: why are you and quackity always together? are you both dating?

BITEOF87KID: ARE YOU AND Q DATING???

sillybillies: do you and quackity have a romantic interest in one another?? perhaps a little relationship or a 'kiss the homies goodnight' fellow type of thing?

"alexis..." your words were mumbled as you drank from your glass, and his small hum rang out in question. "chat wants to know if we're dating."

"i wish."

"WHAT!?" quackity let out a loud laugh as you grinned widely—narrowing your eyes at him. "you're lying!"

"NO!? i actually wish that—like, every time i hear your name, i wonder what it would be like if we dated."

"what do you think it would be like if we dated?" you questioned, and you watched as quackity shrugged. "i mean, we could find out—"

you both fell silent before bursting into a fit of laughter—the alcohol hitting your mind a bit harder than it usually did. though, you didn't understand why you thought it was funny. it wasn't. he just admitted to liking you, but maybe you just thought it was funny because you didn't believe it. he was drunk.

but even if he was drunk, it had you questioning what it would be like if you both dated.

you stared at him as you leaned against your armrest—examining him.

it's not like you hadn't noticed him before, but now that you looked more deeply at him, he was fairly cute. his eyes were a deep brown—just like his hair. speaking of his hair, it looked good in a beanie, but you liked it better when he didn't have a hat on.

he was also sweet, and funny. you both had a lot in common.

you both had been friends for a while.

would it hurt to give it a shot?

your thoughts were cut off as you heard quackity let out a breathy chuckle, and you could only stare at him in confusion before he spoke.

"stop staring at me with those eyes, amor..." his words were slightly slurred as he took another sip from his glasses—his eyes never leaving yours.

you didn't understand why he was commenting on how you were staring at him when he couldn't even look away from you. his eyes were coated in a gleam of admiration, and he peered at you as if you had just given him the world on a silver platter.

"with what eyes?" your sarcastic remark only earned a drunken smile from him as he placed his glass down on your desk, and he leaned towards you in his chair before tilting his head.

"like you wanna kiss me..." his taunting words trailed as his lazy smile slightly faded—his eyes falling into a lidded gaze before they flickered to your lips. "do you wanna kiss me, amor?"

yes.

no.

definitely.

maybe.

you didn't know.

you stared at him for a minute before you placed your glass next to his—the glasses clinking together as you hummed. "i don't know..."

"well, i know. i want to kiss you, and you should kiss me."

"you're only eager to kiss me because you're drunk, alexis." you words earned a frown from him—though, it looked more like a pout as you slightly smiled.

"drunk words, sober thoughts."

a laugh left your throat at his statement, and while you thought he was joking, the serious expression on his face shut down that thought.

"please, amor? if you're okay with it..." his words seemed so saddened as he asked to make sure you were content with his words, and you could only let out a quiet sigh. "you do realize this is going to get clipped, right?"

"i don't care." he mumbled while you shifted your chair closer to his, and his eyes lit up while one of your hands cupped his cheek.

"you say that now—"

"and i'll say it until the day i die. can you just kiss me now?" you smiled at his question before you placed your lips against his, and you could practically feel quackity melt into the kiss while one of his hands placed itself on the back of your head. the other one grabbed your free hand as he gently squeezed it.

the taste of wine on his lips was evident as you eventually pulled away, and your eyes glanced at his tinted lips due to the alcohol.

"does this mean that you like me back?" quackity blurted out the question while you let out a snicker, and he frowned at you as he gently squeezed your hand. he wanted an answer.

"yes, it does, alexis."

a wide smile replaced his frown as he pulled you closer—your chairs being pressed against the other while quackity wrapped his arms around you.

"can i stay over here tonight?"

"only if you help me clean up after stream."

quackity fell silent for a moment as he slowly turned to look at the camera. "i forgot about that—"

but he surely wouldn't forget it tomorrow when you and quackity's name were trending on almost every social media platform.

©𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

writings are to not be reposted, translated, or plagiarized. if you wish to show your love for my work, feel free to reblog, comment, or like.

[starberriemilk]

ok. ok. i hope you understand how much sinclair being transgender fits in with his character. you probably do better than me, but i want to rant about how good of an idea it is.

like, first. his symbol. a cracked egg. for a long time, eggs have been used to symbolize those strugling with gender disphoria without any way to identify it as something outside the norm. (child sinclair probably struggled with that a lot.)

his entire motif is "between two worlds" from his splashscreen, to his base EGO art, to even kromer's boss theme literally being called "between two worlds"

of course it's referring to his transitory state between coward and hero, but this major theme of change passes through the entirety of sinclair's life. i would not be surprised if he actually is canonically transgender.

like... everything about him seems to SCREAM transgender.

if you have more, please rant it to me as well!

YES I fully understand it and IM SO HAPPY THERE'S ANOTHER PERSON WHO GETS IT TOO! YES! I AGREE WITH YOU SO MUCH! I really want to make a BIG BIG post that'd be transgender analysis of Sinclair, and the only reason why I'm not doing it is because I'm 1. nervous that people would be upset I didn't mention a possibility of him being transfem (sorry I don't like that hc/interpretation :( it makes me kinda uncomfy since I see him 100% as a trans man!) 2. HOW DO I WORDS (im so bad at wording stuff and putting thoughts into text)

But either way I AGREE SO MUCH WITH YOU! I like to think that the reason why his symbol is a cracked egg specifically is because he is starting to figure himself out and presents as masculine because he realized he's comfortable with it much more, so its a start! AND OF COURSE YES YES I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT HOW BETWEEN TWO WORLDS CAN REFER TO HIM BEING TRANS TOO... But then I look back at the book and I realize how much sense it makes. The whole point of between two worlds in the book is that nothing truly is black and white and that includes Demian's gender identity (it's said so many times how he resembles both a man and a woman and clearly. transgender too), and I like to think Sinclair finds himself in that "between two worlds" state of gender identity too, seeing that he's different, between the world of cis women and cis men - transgender. If that makes any sense!

I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS FOR DAYS I SWEAR! Because you're right, everything about him screams transgender and it makes me incredibly happy. I genuinely think that Sinclair is transcoded, with how much feminity he shows in his character. And I know people will say "but feminine cis men exist" but I don't care because one way to show a character is transgender, is to make them have traits of their opposite gender... And obviously PM can't make it more obvious with queerness because we all know what Korea is like, but this? What we already have? It means a lot to me

Since I want to make a post about this one day, I want to say something from myself too:

Sinclair is the only male sinner who has a soft, feminine face, one that is usually drawn on women in PM games. Even other more feminine/twinkish characters like Yi Sang and Hong Lu have more sharp features, but Sinclair's are completely soft. And I think this includes his body too, like you can't really see it in his LCB sprite because he wears an oversized coat but in other identities he clearly has small shoulders and more of a.. feminine figure, I think, which again to me feels like he's a trans man that binds to hide his chest (if anyone asks about Boatworks- he had top surgery and his scars faded, and there's probably tech in the City that lets you have get rid of your boobs without any scars left)

[teletraantwo]

Ok so fair warning a lot of this idea is pretty vague. It was a smaller piece of something bigger and significantly more self indulgent so I didn’t exactly worry on HOW it would happen in a way that makes logical sense. (Also this got very long whoops)

But like, I’m sure in Earthspark Mandroid was not the only one feeling some kind of way about the Transformers. So I can see a company like KSI taking root with the opposite goal of Mandroid, instead of getting rid of all transformers finding out how to make NEW ones who will obey humans. Lofty goals of “protecting the world” with these machines. And for their crowning achievement they decide a bot based on Megatron is the best way to go. After all, he’s on their side now. And he’s already shown himself to be a killer, he’d be useful against whatever KSI deems to be a threat.

There’s a couple different ways I could maybe see them getting access to Megatron, possibly offering their services because if humans can learn more about Cybertronians, then maybe Wheeljack won’t have to be the entirety of their medical team. Megs maybe being put under to get a full scan of all his systems, because one idea I had was the humans needing an authentic power source for at least their primary bot and taking a part of his spark while he’s under, enough he absolutely notices but doesn’t do too much damage. Though he’s not sure that what it is and figures hes just feeling weird about trusting humans like that. Or he’s awake the whole time and KSI manage to make a fully sapient robot with no spark at all truly Bayverse-style. And perhaps something far darker is involved, I never really got that far.

But from the first time this copy, Galvatron, comes online something is wrong. He has his own goals. His own motives. And he’s more than willing to take control of the rest of the KSI drones to accomplish those.

Anyways imagine the Autobots waking up to a disaster on the news. A large chunk of a city in ruins. And the culprit? Megatron. But not Megatron. For one, he had been there with them the whole night. Also Megatron may be a a bit smoother in some areas and his chest curves in a way fitting for his alt mode, but he’s not that sleek. He’s still boxy in the way most all cybertronians are. This warped version of him seems to have had all the edges sanded down in a way that seems Wrong, but it’s undeniable just how much it looks like him.

Megatron having to watch this manmade copy of himself and his mindless drones absolutely destroy large areas. Coming towards them, slowly but surely. There’s only room for one of them. And Galvatron is built specifically to go up against Optimus and Megatron, of not something bigger and stronger. Megatron having to wonder if this ice cold fear in his spark is how bots and humans alike saw him for so long. Finally being on the other end of that brutality and it’s an approximation of his own face looking back.

Sorry this is so long I just really enjoy a character having to face down the worst possible version of themself and get brutalized by them.

The more I think of it, the idea of Megatron dying and being reborn as a manmade Galvatron is fascinating as Hell and I wish we could explore it more

[cloudinal]

WHERE IS THE LUNCHMEAT

[arsenicflame]

Bootblacking is my favourite kink to give Izzy, because of course this guy would get his rocks off doing precise, repetitive, manual labour. OF COURSE he gets off on what is essentially just another chore on his list.

[hawkinasock]

how drip marketing's gonna look in 5.4