#even though I'm going to wear everything I have into the ground

[gemmahale]

I have a dress a friend picked up for me from one of Target's summer releases...a year or two ago? Two I think.

It's this BEAUTIFUL coral red with ultramarine blue and black tropical leaves, but it also makes me feel like I'm being incredibly loud. (The fabric rustles in a way I don't entirely vibe with?) I'm praying I can still fit into it, but that's a different conversation.

My solution: knit a solid colored vest. I've had that idea since the 1st week with it.

Note the tense in that last sentence. I've had this dress for 2 years and I haven't gotten around to ordering the yarn and making this damn vest.

I think I will next month. (Budget allowing.) I'm tired of waiting or getting distracted by other things.

I want to have a bunch of vests I can layer over different pieces. I want my wardrobe to be a big pile of mix-and-match; like a capsule wardrobe but more colorful, I suppose? (The dreams I have for my wardrobe, sigh.)

And sure, I'll probably only ever wear that dress with a black or a blue vest, but at least I'll wear it.

I want my aesthetic to be Ms. Frizzle meets Plant Nerd meets Pin-up/Vintage, but I have a stretch to go before I get there mentally and wardrobe-wise.

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Prompt: Who's Child Is This?

Inspired by an ICarly Clip. "Mr. Wayne, we have your son here."

Bruce blinked, then checked the number on the phone. It was from the police station. He then looked around the table which had fallen silent when Alfred had brought him the phone.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Damian were all accounted for. Even Jon was there so they couldn't have misidentified him as his kid.

"Which one?" Bruce chose to ask.

"Tim Drake."

Bruce looked at Tim specifically as he tilted his head confused. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, Mr. Wayne, we know your boys by now."

"Right... alright, I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Can I ask on why Tim has been taken into custody?"

Tim tilted his head even further while some of the others around the table started chuckling.

"He was found trespassing near the new Axion Labs at the edge of the city. The owner chose not to press charges so we're sending him home in your custody."

"I see, I'll be there soon. Thank you for the call."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne, we'll see you soon."

Bruce ended the call then looked at his kids. "Apparently, Tim has been arrested for trespassing near the Axion Labs construction site."

"And you didn't even invite me?" Dick chuckled at Tim, "We could have had so much fun together."

Tim scrunched his nose at the idea. "No way, that whole area is an OSHA violation. If I went there it wouldn't be out of costume, whoever that kid is was risking his life just walking within a block of it."

"Well, I'm going to go down there and see what 'Tim' was thinking." Bruce got out of his seat, "I'll be back soon."

"New brother?" Cass asked as Damian growled.

"We're going to assume no for now, but we may have another for dinner depending on what's going on."

"I will prepare another seat while you are gone, Master Bruce."

"Thanks, Alfred. I'll be back soon."

-

When Bruce walked into the police station he immediately noticed 'Tim' sitting in front of one of the officers desks. It was a newer officer and it was clear that neither Detective Montoya or Commissioner Gordon were in or somebody would have noticed that this kid definitely wasn't Tim.

Yes, the kid had black hair which was on the shorter side but his hair fell in front of his face more than Tim would wear it, and his eyes were unnaturally blue. He was pale in an old hoodie, blue jeans, and red shoes. The biggest difference though was that this kid looked like he was only pushing 15, not 17. Yes, he looked quite a bit like Tim but anybody who had spent more than five minutes with Tim Drake would know they weren't the same person.

"Mr. Wayne." The officer called as Bruce walked over, looking at the kid.

He was thin and pale, which a tired look on his face. He also shrunk away from Bruce when he walked over.

Bruce knew what a kid in trouble looked like. So he smiled down at the kid. "You know, Tim, when I said you could go to the lab to do your science homework I didn't expect you to go all the way to Axion Labs."

The kid looked at him, surprised then seemed to quickly catch on. "What can I say, I had to see what terrible science looked like. Sorry for making you come down here."

"It's fine, but are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, totally." He said, his hand subconsciously moving to his ribs as though he was hurt.

"Alright then you are grounded."

"What?!" 'Tim' squeaked, "Come on-"

"Nope. You are ground... for... 'til... college."

"FOR 'TIL COLLEGE?!"

"For 'til college!"

The officer cleared his throat then held out a clipboard. "If you sign the red x's you can take your son and leave, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce took the papers, quickly looking over it and signing it. It was strange to see that all of the handwriting on the paperwork was adult writing. Had they even asked this kid his name? Once everything was signed he passed it back over to the officer who nodded.

"Looks good. Thanks Mr. Wayne and you stay out of trouble. The whole city knows your face. You're just lucky Mr. Masters didn't want to press charges."

"Yeah, so lucky." The kid rolled his eyes, then stood up and looked up at Bruce. "Can we go now?"

"Sure thing, chum. Come on." Bruce said, leading the kid out of the station and to the car. The kid seemed hesitant as he looked around, his eyes narrowing when they landed on a gentlemen with silver hair in a ponytail, only when the man smiled at 'Tim' did the kid speak up again.

"Come on, Dad, let's get out of here before the stalkers find us." He said, climbing in the front seat and closing the door, much to the annoyance of the silver haired man.

Bruce climbed in the front seat, buckling in and driving away from the station. "So... 'not Tim' what's your name?"

"Danny. Just Danny... sorry about all of that Mr. Wayne. That guy took one look at me and started calling me 'Tim' and when I tried to explain that I wasn't 'Tim' hey called me a liar. But if I gave them my real name then... somebody else was going to come collect me and I didn't want that. So... I let them call me Tim. I'm sorry, I hope it didn't put you out..."

"Not at all. But... are you okay? Why were you at Axion Labs?"

Danny seemed hesitant, "I... it sounds crazy."

"It's Gotham, kid. Crazy things happen all the time..."

"Right... well um... I-I was kidnapped from my home and taken to Axion Labs. I-I escaped and when I was trying to leave the grounds the police saw me and thought I was trespassing. Since the cops were I decided to play along with it..."

Bruce frowned, "Kidnapped? Is... is there somebody I can call?"

Danny shook his head. "I have an older sister who is probably going crazy looking for me but other than her and a couple of friends there wouldn't be anybody. My parents... they were kind of involved. They... they found out something about me and tried to hurt me, I ran to somebody I knew I couldn't trust because I thought maybe he would get his head out of his ass but I was just being an idiot." Danny hugged himself. "You can drop me off anywhere though, you don't have to bother yourself with me or my shit."

Bruce pulled to a stoplight and reached over to the kid who flinched, Bruce waited until he relaxed before Bruce patted his head. "I'm not going to just leave you on the street. Besides, it's late and by now my butler has already dished you some dinner. So at least for tonight you're welcome to stay with me and my kids. We'll get some food in your belly, make sure you're not wounded, let you call your sister, and find a way to get you home. Sound good?" He asked, moving his hand away.

Danny looked at Bruce, seeming a bit untrusting for a moment before he glanced at something near Bruce and relaxed. There was nothing with Bruce, he wasn't carrying anything, but whatever Danny was seeing was enough to put his mind at ease. "Okay... but if anybody tries anything be warned, I bite."

Bruce chuckled, "So do most of the others. You'll fit right in."

'But just what the hell is going on with this kid? Does it have anything to do with that man outside the police station? I've got to get to the bottom of this before this kid leaves, especially if he's still a target.'

[rosenclaws]

unworthy || worst!Logan x reader

summary: Even though he's in a new universe his past continues to haunt him in the form of you. You're nothing but nice but Logan can't take it, not after you died by his hands in his own universe.

warnings: reader has she/her pronouns, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, flashbacks of blood and death. Logan gets brainwashed/manipulated in his past, emotionally unavailable Logan.

a/n: I saw that one tiktok prompt and decided to write this! I really like angst and low key might write a smutty part 2 but we will see! I hope you like it thank you!!!

It's another sleepless night for Logan. He's been having a lot of those lately. Wade's couch isn't exactly comfortable either. Everyone here treats him like a hero. Praising him for saving their universe. He scoffs at the idea. He wears the damn costume but he doesn't feel like a hero. Not after what he did.

Logan stands up from the couch, throwing off the blanket and deciding he needs some air. He grabs his jacket and leaves the apartment. The door closes loudly behind him but he can't seem to care. He fidgets with a cigar as he waits for the elevator to bring him to the ground floor.

When the cool outside air hits his face he relaxes. With a finally lit cigar, he walks around aimlessly. The sounds of his past haunt him with every passing second. Sure he may have saved this world but he is far from the hero they think he is.

"Logan? What are you doing?" He closes his eyes as he hears your voice from behind.

He glances over his shoulder to see you wrapped up in a blanket, a tired look on your face. It's early, the sun isn't even up yet and you're clearly exhausted. Yet here you are, out in the cold for him. He grunts in response, turning back around. He hears you sigh and it makes his stomach turn. He waits for you to turn around and go back inside but you don't. To his frustration you stay, you can't seem to take the damn hint.

You never have, he's tried to stay away from you. Ignore you. But you're so persistent. Stubborn. It doesn't matter how little he speaks to you or even looks at you, you don't give up. How he wishes you would. How he wishes you could understand that he needs you to stay far away from him. That just looking at you hurts. Hearing your voice is even worse. And being next to you is a knife through his heart.

It's not fair that you're here, haunting him in this universe as you did in his own. Though he thinks it might just be his punishment for everything he's done. How cruel.

"Go back to bed." He grumbles, his voice is slightly muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

"No." You say simply. Staying right next to him, looking up at the sky as the sun starts to peek out. He stares at you in disbelief. Wordlessly he stomps out his cigar and turns to leave.

"Logan, wait!" You call after him and he clenches his jaw. Why do you have to follow him? Why are you chasing him? His hurt builds until all he can feel is white hot rage.

"For fucks sake! Can't you just fuck off?" His growls. "I am sick and tired of seeing you everywhere I fucking go! So please, just take the fucking hint and leave. Me. Alone." Venom dripping with every word. He watches you shrink under his angry gaze.

Words dying on your lips as you tighten the blanket around yourself. His chest heaves as his anger starts to dissipate. He watches your eyes grow glassy and your lip quiver ever so slightly.

"I..I'm sorry." You mumble out an apology before running past him. Guilt creeps up inside of him but he doesn't let it show. It's better this way.  That's what he repeats over and over. Trying to convince himself it's true.

-

You don't understand what you've done to piss off Logan this much. To make him hate you the way he does. All you wanted was to befriend him, to help him. That's what you did with your Logan. His first friend in the X mansion all those years ago. Sure your Logan was just as untrusting and gruff at first but he learned to accept his family. He changed. Maybe it's your fault for thinking it would be the same. He's not your Logan. You have to remind yourself of that.

He looks just like him though. Talks like him, even smells like him. Your Logan yelled and had his moments but he always came back, pulling you tight and apologizing. But the anger in his eyes is something you'll never forget. He's not your Logan and he never will be. After that night you make a point to stay out of his way. Refusing Wade's dinner invitations and waiting until odd hours to leave your apartment, not wanting to even risk seeing him out in the hallways.

Eventually you ran out of excuses that Wade would accept and you were dragged back to his apartment for Mary Puppins' birthday party. At least the apartment was busy. You awkwardly stand in the corner of the room as they sing Happy Birthday. Logan and Wade are surrounded by everyone with Mary Puppins in Wade's arms. A little birthday hat on her head and somehow Wade got on on Logan's head.

As Wade gives a long, heartfelt speech about Mary and you grimace as she licks his face. Logan lets out a noise of disgust as stares at the two of them. You let out a little laugh, thinking you were being quiet enough but Logan's eyes snap to you. Nerves creeps over you as he refuses to look away. Without another word you set you cup down and leave.

Logan wanted space, so that's what you're giving him.

-

Logan watches you leave, a pang in his chest as he watches the joy fade from your face.

"God it's like watching a wet cat stare into the window of a loving home." Wade shakes his head disappointingly.

"Shut up." Logan growls.

"Hey don't get mad at me. I'm not the one who lashed out due to my inability to process my emotions." Logan raises his fist and unsheathes his claws.

Deep down he knows Wade is right, but he'll never admit it. Instead he puts his claws away and rips off the party hat. He weaves through the party guests to get to the door.

"Go get her Crocodile Dundee!" Wade shouts but Logan ignores him.

He knocks on your door but you don't answer. His heart begins to sink as he realizes that maybe he's pushed you too far. All he has to blame is himself. He's hurt you yet again. A part of him tells him to turn and leave. Just give up and accept his fate. But He waits and waits.

There's a small part of him keeping him rooted to the spot outside of your door, telling him that this time he can make it right. People trickle out of his apartment but he pays them no attention. Hours pass and still no sign of you. Still he remains determined. He closes his eyes and leans back. Ready to wait as long as it takes.

-

The morning after Wade's party sucks. You feel like shit, physically and mentally. You barely got enough sleep last night with your mind running all night. Sighing you decide the only thing that can salvage your morning is a donut. Though when you go to open your door, you're met with a very heavy resistance.

"What the?" You mumble as you push hard against the door. You hear someone swear before shuffling on the other side. When you can finally open your door all the way you see Logan standing in front of you. Was he out here all night?

"What do you want?" You ask tiredly. You're really not in the mood to deal with him right now.

"I..." Logan doesn't know where to start. How to even begin to apologize. Sighing you close your door but Logan sticks his arm out.

"Wait! Please, just, I need to say some things. You don't have to forgive me but I need to say them." Silently you open your door and let him in. He watches nervously as you make your way to your couch.

"You're dead in my world." He winces at his own bluntness.

"And I killed you." Logan paces back and forth as he tries to piece together his nightmares.

"It was supposed to be a simple mission. Recon. I don't even go on those kinds of missions but I didn't want you going alone." He squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers.

"Logan!" You scold lightly.

"Keep your hands to yourself." He smirks as he walks you up against the walls of the jet.

"You don't normally complain about where my hands go." Rolling your eyes playfully, you place a kiss on his cheek.

"Just wait till after the mission okay?" He winks and pulls you in for a kiss.

"Fine, but after this I get you all to myself."

"We walked in and everything went wrong."

Something was wrong and he knew it. Still you insisted on finishing your mission. The moment you stepped through the door he wanted to take you and run. He should have. But he acted too late. The things he saw, A wall separating the two of you. Hearing your screams for help as he couldn't get to you.

"Well well, aren't you an interesting one." He looks around for the voice but all he can see is darkness. His claws swipe at the wall as he hears your voice pleading for his help. Suddenly the wall lifted and all he could see was someone with a gun to your head. He doesn't hesitate to jump into action. Fighting with everything he's got.

"Logan!" Your scream sounds far away as he shoves his claws deep into the man's stomach.

To his confusion the world begins to melt around him. To his horror he sees you standing in front of him. Cuts and bruises on your face, not caused by the enemies, but by him.

"It's okay," You whisper. Your hands shake as you try to reach out for his face. He doesn't want to look down, knowing that if he does, he'll see his claws deep in your stomach. Slowly your body sinks to the ground. His claws retract and you cry as they leave your body. He wraps his arms around you as you grow weak in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He repeats over and over again. His hands press on your stomach and you groan in pain. There's too much blood but he doesn't care. He can fix this, he can save you.

"Logan, It's okay my love." You brush his face with your bloody hand.

"No! I can fix this! We just have to get you home yeah?" He tries to move you but you scream in pain. It's too late, you've accepted it but he can't seem to.

"Come on sweetheart, please." He pleads desperately as he brings your body closer to him.

"Please, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," It's getting harder to breathe but strangely you're completely at peace. Logan doesn't understand how you can be.

"I'm sorry, I love you." He doesn't let go of you, repeating that like a mantra as you die in his arms. 

"I killed you, I let whatever fucking asshole inside of my head and I killed you." He stops pacing and finally looks at you.

He blinks and it's like he's back in his nightmare. Blood on your face, a pitiful look on your face as you try and comfort him in your last moments. It makes him sick.

"I saw you everywhere I went, I let it ruin me. I became the monster you said I could never be." You reach out of him but he recoils from your touch.

"Then Wade found me and now I'm here thinking maybe I had changed but now you're fucking here. I see you every time I close my eyes and now I see you here." His claws come out in a fit of anger as he slams his hands against the arm of your couch.

"And you're so nice, too nice. You look at me just like she did and it kills me inside." His claws retract as he slowly approaches you.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, I don't deserve this. Any of this." Tears pool in your eyes as you watch the man break down right in front of you. Weighed down by the guilt of his past. Things begin to click together, why he's been so hostile towards you all this time.

"Logan, what happened isn't your fault." You say calmly. His breath hitches, you sound just like you did back then. Same tone and everything.

"If I was stronger, smarter..."

"You were tricked, it was an accident." You slowly move closer to him, worried that you'd scare him like a wounded animal.

"How can you be so kind about this?" He asks in disbelief.

"I killed you!"  His claws come out as he brings them dangerously close to your face.

"I put my claws through you, I watched you bleed out in my arms."  You gently touch his claws, moving them away from your face and bringing his hand to your chest. He resists, not wanting to touch you. Not wanting to hurt you

"I'm not her Logan. I'm here, I'm alive. You don't have to push me away." His eyes close as relents and places his hand on your heart. The steady beating grounds him back to reality. His memories slowly fade as he listens. Now only focused on you.

Ba bump Ba bump Ba bump 

"I know you think you deserve the worst. But you don't. Maybe, maybe this isn't the punishment you think it is. Maybe, the universe is giving you a do over.” You two know that you're different from the ones that you loved. That no matter how much you look like each other, its never going to be the same. But the same for both of you means death, loneliness. So maybe this is a good different.

“You’ve always been too good for me.” He says.

“No, I think I’ve always been what you needed.” Logan lets go of you but he stays close.

His thumb reaches out to brush away a stray tear. He cups your face and leans in slowly. He seems reluctant to take the final leap. To truly accept that he deserves good things so you meet him half way. Tugging at his shirt you bring your lips to his.

It's soft and sweet. Like a first kiss you share on the front steps of your porch after a first date. A first kiss, a fresh start. Logan deepens the kiss, guiding you gently to the couch. His lips travel down to your neck, nipping at your skin as he mumbles apologies.

"Logan," You squeak. He sits up, worry on his face.

"Too much?" He runs his hand over where he bit.

"No, but maybe we start slower. Breakfast?" Logan almost laughs at the idea of something so domestic but a fresh start is what he wanted. It's what he's gotten and he's not going to waste it.

"Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

[autumnalmoons]

Your late-night company (nsfw, mdni, +18 only)

It's smut bc I'm a horny bitch (lovingly), and because I want him to split me in half--I know he can, like c'mon

Viktor x fem!Reader | 2.1K

Notes: PWP, Established relationship, set kinda between act 1 and act 2, Vaginal Fingering, Innapropiate use of Viktor's cane (sorryyyy), Dom!Viktor if you squint, Cockwarming, Nipple play, English isn't my native language so lemme know if i messed up somewhere :)

Ever since he could hear the echo of your heels reverberate around the lab like a second heartbeat, Viktor knew you were onto something—and such rhythm makes his heart pick up speed too, though Viktor’s faster than each one of your carefree strides against the dark marble floor.

You go, smooching his cheek and surely leaving a pink mark on your lipstick. Not that he minds, of course, he's used to leaving his loving marks on you, too, and even now, he can see the now purplish hickey down your collarbone that you’ve been trying to veil with a silk scarf.

“What brings you here, my darling?” Viktor hums, unconsciously seeking your lips. Is that pink lipstick the one that tastes like cherry? He’s a man of science, he’s ought to investigate.

“Nothing much. I came to bring you home,” you say, hugging his slender frame from behind, your chin hooked in the crook of his shoulder, just over his back brace. “I miss my Vitya so, so much…”

Viktor shivers, trying to ground himself in the domestic, seemingly innocent gesture of a kiss over your temple. "I miss you, too, my jewel. Alas, Progress Day is in a couple of weeks, and we need to have everything ready in case a mishap happens.” He sighs, thick brows furrowing in focus. “As usually does.”

You nod. Of course, you understand that his work is a priority, but you also have a good memory; of those two past days when you went to sleep alone. There are those familiar purple bags under his eyes, only darker.

“Hmm, alright,” you say, massaging his scalp for a bit before wandering around the lab. “Then allow me to make you company. This place is filthy, handsome.”

“Chaos potentiates creativity.”

Your chuckle reverberates around the lab, which causes Viktor to lift his chin a little higher, how easily he can make you happy.

He turns back toward his desk, hearing you going toward the closet supply to get a feathery duster, mumbling a song under your breath as you hop around cleaning surfaces and wiping down machinery with a piece of cloth.

It's only a matter of time before your plan starts, and you have calculated it just as perfectly as Viktor's equations; using your knowledge of the man next to you, his existence is the most amazing creation you've seen—much to Viktor's attempts to surpass it with his machines.

You dust off the drawer next to his desk, ‘accidentally’ knocking off one of the pens tossed over the wooden surface, further down against the wall. "Oops!" you say in your best role of an actress, which isn't that good, only for him to look your way.

The floor is cold as you brush it with your fingers, a fine layer of dust and carbon covering it. One of the windows must be open because you can feel the cold autumn wind brushing under your mischievously short skirt, one of Viktor's favorites, right against your already wet folds that the underwear you chose today isn't meant to cover.

You want him to see. Swaying your hips playfully the moment you feel his gaze burn your back.

Over the purring of the machines, you hear his air leave in a sharp inhale.

Between not wearing panties at all, you choose ones made of black lace and cute, little black ribbons decorating the most… enticing areas. The cloth down your pussy was too small, and you had to choose or covering your clit, or covering your core—which of course, you choose the eager bundle of nerves, so Viktor could see you all wet and glistening for him.

Smiling, you push the pen further down his desk, a soft—very inappropriate—groan escaping your lips, copying my memory of one of the sounds you made every time his cock presses that special spot inside of you.

“I liked that pen a lot,” Viktor mutters, though you can hear the smirk in his voice.

By now, you have no idea where that damned pen had gone. “I’m sure I can make it up for you about that,” you say, knees bending slightly, so your pussy can open a little. Only if he ever tries to play the oblivious.

A chair squeaked, and it’s impossible not to start imagining Viktor’s lithe fingers caressing the curve of your ass. Instead, you got the cold metal of his cane’s handle.

“Ah!” He chuckled at hearing your surprised gasp.

“Is that disappointment I hear, my jewel? Or just cold?” He hums, dragging the handle along the folds of your pussy until it brushes your entrance, only the tip. “You’re all dressed up for me. And I wonder… why is that, hmm?” he says, the tip of the cane playing between your folds. “Is it because you’d like to ‘keep me company’?”

“I never told you how I planned to accompany you," You mutter, feeling your legs starting to shake as the cold metal meets your boiling core, thinking that you were about to melt.

“Use your words, darling. If you’re so eager.”

There is a certain edge to his words, the hoarse tone around his R replacing the usual soft tone he uses to whisper to you when you two aren’t in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I… I thought you may need… um…” you say, voice lost with each playful movement of his cane in and out your entrance; barely some inches in, but moving it just right thanks to the exhaustive research Viktor had conducted ever since he caught you with that vibrator. Little by little, your arousal warms the metal, and you wonder if Viktor can feel it, too. “Relaxing.”

“Relaxing? My, I’d say this is rather… distracting,” he chuckles, the wheels of his stool coming closer as you hold your hands against your burning thighs. “A pleasant one, of course, but still a distraction.”

“Oh? Then do I deserve a punishment?” You try your best to quip, though your voice quivers mid-sentence.

There’s barely a heartbeat of silence, and then:

“Bend over the desk,” he says, voice stern. You could almost picture him in one of the Academy’s auditoriums giving a lecture in that tone, absolute, bossy. He knows it, of course. He knows you, after all, just like any of inventions, he had spent several hours studying you. Loving you.

Your walls squeeze nothing at the words, but the light from the descending dusk is enough for him to see it.

“Hmm,” Viktor says. “I wonder how you’ve been pleasing yourself these days that I haven’t returned home, my jewel.”

You attempt to roll over—you want to see him, because he looked just so unfairly stunning with his brown hair stuck to his temples, beads of sweat running down his chest as he bit his lip as seeing you just so shamelessly needy for him, trying to contain himself just a little longer...

He pushes your back down the desk, pinching your butt once he catches you trying to turn your head to see him.

“Oh, no, no, my love. If you are going to distract me, then you must accept the consequences.” He bends down, biting your earlobe before nuzzling his nose down your neck, taking in the sweet essence of your clothes, of your hair, the same one he could always smell on his pillow. The mix of his shampoo makes his grasp on your hips tighten.

You whine, pouted lips parting in a breathless moan when he introduces the handler of his cane inside of you, his thumb lazily rubbing circles on your clit, first clockwise, and then in the contrary direction once he feels your walls starting to contract, ushering your orgasm away.

The wet sounds of the handle coming in and out your soaked cunt fills the lab, Viktor’s stool creaking as he re-position. From the sound of his pants unbuckling, you think you know what he’s doing that needed such a good grip on his seat.

“I wonder if you’d take me as well,” he mumbles, your wet sounds mixed with a new one that could only be Viktor starting to jack off from the view of you. "All those toys and they can't replace me.” He uses his left knee to part your legs even wider, his free hand making a wrinkled mess of your skirt, just above your hips.

You huff, fingers white from grabbing the edge of the desk. “As if I’ve ever disappointed you.”

Viktor chuckles, pinching your clit slightly before letting go. The emptiness fills you when he withdraws his cane, though the narrow length is soon replaced by the thick head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

“Mmmm,” you hum, satisfied. Your hips buckle against him, trying to take him inside of you in one thrust.  Sadly, Viktor’s punishment for keeping him away from his duties was never.-ending teasing.

Viktor caresses the curve of your ass, his hands going to brush the outline of your hips and waist until his chest is against your back once again, his big length teasing through your folds without actually giving you what you want—and yet, you know you could finish off with only this. Would he be so cruel, though?

“Come here,” he mutters against your ear, sliding a hand around your waist, and pushing you down the seat with him.

You hiss, feeling the quick buckle of his hips as his cock burrows deep inside of you, twitching at the welcoming, wet warmth of your walls. His hands take you by the hips to stop you from starting to ride him.

“Shhh, shhh. Patience, my love,” Viktor coos, nuzzling his face in the side of your neck as he bites a trail of kisses toward your shoulder, fingers gently pulling down one end of the scarf, brushing slowly down your shoulders to reveal the quite generous cut in your neckline.

Humming, approbatory, Viktor returns to his desk, with a firm grip around your waist to keep you still.

He kisses your cheek, putting his cane against the wall. The metal glistens, soaked with your juices against the reddish hue of the dying sunlight.

His right hand pushes your legs open, tangling your legs against the desk to keep them open when his fingers slide down your stomach, fingers lazily rubbing your clit.

Closing your eyes, your head lolls against his shoulder, letting him take your lips in a kiss that lets you taste the bitterness of the coffee he has just drank to keep himself awake during the night.

His tongue passes along your bottom lip, and it’s indeed that cherry-flavored lipstick, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as the hand grabbing your hip raises to grab your breasts when he grows needy, too.

“Vitya…” you moan, voice muffled as he kisses you again.

“My favorite blouse,” Viktor says, tugging down the smock of the front so he could see your lacy black bra. “So easy to access.”

You smile, hips gently swaying side to side against his lap each time he strokes your clit.

Viktor’s fingers work masterfully inside your bra, rubbing your nipple as your hands frantically undo the clip of your top so he can push the bra away.

It’s too much. Between his playful nibbles down your neck, the slow circles drawn on your clit, his fingers pinching your nipples and rubbing them to make the little peaks soft again even his cock filling you, although still, is enough to push you through the edge of pleasure. Legs shiver as your mouth stutters a moan, letting out a cry that Viktor drowned with his mouth.

“We can’t let the guards know what we’re doing, don’t you think, my jewel?”

“Why… why not?” you pant, kissing the mole peeking above his shirt’s collar. “My boyfriend fucks me so good,” you giggle.

Viktor smiled, his cock twitching at your lewd words. Your walls keep squeezing him, greedily wanting to be soaked with his cum.

"I haven't yet today," Viktor hums, deep in thought, kissing your sweaty brow. “Let me finish revising this blueprint, and we’ll go home.”

You pout, but only another heated kiss is necessary to make you respond:

“Okay,” you say, all doe-eyed now that you’re satisfied. Momentarily, of course. And that you had convinced him to go home. “But only this one blueprint. Or I’ll bite you.” You try to stand up, Viktor’s hand yanking you back between his legs before his cock could sleep out from your pussy.

“I never said you could move, my love,” Viktor says, squeezing your hips playfully. “I’d take you can be a good girl while I finish my work?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Viktor chuckles, his free hand starts to rub your overstimulated clit once again. His other hand quickly drops his pen to reach the bottom drawer of his desk, where you can see the outline of the vibrator Viktor keeps there ‘just in case’. “I suppose I just have to tire you up, then.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || They're Sick

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

GN!Reader. I changed it a little just so they weren’t too similar to one another, I hope that’s alright. Please let me know and I can fix and rewrite it for you <3

Trigger warning: Mentions of throwing up as well as people being ill, please don’t read if it’s something that may upset you <3

CHAN:

As soon as you felt the weight in the bed shift you realised Chan was waking up but it wasn't his usual slow wake-up, he shot out of bed before the bathroom door slammed. You frowned sitting up in the bed and glancing over at the bedroom door that was left wide open. 

"Channie?" You called out, quickly making your way toward the bathroom and peeling the door open to reveal Chan huddled over the toilet with his head lying against the seat. 

"That's not hygienic." You teased softly, walking behind him and kneeling on the ground, carefully running your fingers through his hair and hissing when you felt just how hot his skin was to touch. Before Chan could say anything to you, a gag sounded and he threw up into the toilet again. 

"I'll be right back." You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder before making your way toward the kitchen and reaching for everything you were going to need for him.

You came book moments later holding a small kit that you'd prepared, Chan was slumped against the wall looking pale and slightly green, if that was even possible. 

"I'm sorry," He mumbled as you dropped in front of him, taking his temperature before handing him some tablets.

"Don't be, baby," You whispered, giving him a small bottle of water before cleaning the toilet as he took everything you gave to him.

"You don't have to do all of this," He grumbled, laying his head against the wall as he watched you clean up the mess he'd made, before sitting down in front of him once again.

"I know," You smiled warmly at him, "I want to. Did you take everything?" You noticed the tablets you'd given to him were all gone and he mumbled "yes" tiredly making you frown a little,

"Bed. Come on." You told him, gently helping him up from the floor and guiding him into the bedroom, even now he was unsteady on his feet and swaying a little. 

"I'll be fine, I just need to get some food and I can go to work."

"You're going to work over my dead body." You told him, laying him down on the bed before laying a cold cloth on his forehead, his eyes finding yours as a small pout played on his lips.

"But-"

"No buts, I'll call JYPE myself and force them to put you on strict bed rest," You warned him as his cheeks began to turn pink.

"You too warm?" Concern dripped from your voice as you noticed the pink on his cheeks and he smiled, shaking his head slowly.

"Just happy to have you be so caring to me," He whined out as you gently covered him with a thin blanket, kissing his cheek.

"Try and get some sleep, there's a bucket beside the bed just in case you feel ill again." You promised him, hoping the anti-sickness tablets would help him even a little. He whimpered a little but nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he was barely able to keep them open much longer.

MINHO:

Whenever Minho knew he was getting sick he was the type to sneak away and suffer in silence, he didn't want to be a burden to anyone else and he would hide as much as humanly possible. Only this time when he'd shown up to the dorms you were already standing in the kitchen and cooking something that smelled as though it unclogged his sinuses the second he took a bite.

"Good, you're back." You smiled warmly at him, running your hands over the apron you were wearing before making your way toward him. You took the overnight bag from his arms and placed it on the sofa,

"Go and jump in the bath I made for you," You ran your hands over his cheeks and felt how hot he was running despite it being below-freezing outside. 

"How did you know where I was?" He'd made sure to make the guy's promise not to tell you that he was coming to rest. They were under strict orders to tell you he was needed for practice a lot, he hated lying to you but he didn't want you to get sick and he didn't want to burden you.

"Minho, we've been together for a year, if you think I don't know where you slink off to whenever you're sick then we have a problem." You joked softly, placing a soft kiss on his jaw before making your way back to the kitchen.

As soon as he was done he was dressed in some PJs you'd laid out on the bed for him and the soup was waiting for him on the kitchen table,

"What did you make?" His voice was hoarse from how hard he'd been coughing lately,

"It's a soup, my grandmother used to make it whenever I got a cold, it's soft on your throat but it'll unclog your nose," You promised him as he sat down beside you, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"Thank you," He whispered,

"I know you hate it when people help you but I want to do this, baby, I want to help." You told him as you ran your hand over his, gently rubbing his skin as he nodded shyly at you. 

"I feel like a burden when I'm sick," He admitted begrudgingly.

"Don't. I enjoy getting to pamper you, usually, it's always you that pampers me," You laughed softly, giving him a spoon and starting to eat the soup together.

CHANGBIN:

A crash sounding from the living room made you jolt awake and reach for Changbin who wasn't beside you, your eyebrows knitted together as you stared down wondering where he was. It was almost two in the morning and it wasn't like him to get home so late from work, or even from parties whenever he and the boys were celebrating. 

"Shit," You heard a voice mumble before laughter sounded from the living room, followed by another crash making you head that way only to find Changbin bent down trying to clean something up from the floor. You flicked the light switch on only to find him trying to clean up glass.

"Binnie, what-"

"Shh! I can't wake Yn up," He laughed again, his body swaying slightly and you instantly knew what was wrong with him, he'd clearly been drinking too much that night.

"Lay down," You ordered, forcing him down onto the sofa and trying to get a good look at his hand, luckily he hadn't cut it on his gallant effort to clean up the broken vase that scattered the floors.

"Ynnnnn!" He yelled before he got that look on his face, his hands holding his stomach and you quickly darted to the kitchen, grabbing a bucket and running back to him, just in time before he barfed into the bucket you were holding. 

"Sorry," He grumbles, his head spinning as he held onto the bucket and kept his head inside, not daring to lift it in case he threw up again. You stared at him and shook your head, you knew that they were celebrating finishing their album tonight but you had no idea he'd come back to you like this. If you had, you would have prepared everything for him already.

"Don't move, okay?" You stared at him as he held up a thumb and you began to work your magic. Cleaning up the glass from the floor as good as you could before heading into the kitchen and grabbing some water, painkillers and orange juice. Adding everything onto a tray before making sure to grab him some plain bread to eat as soon as he was done throwing up. 

"You're the best," He told you as you placed the tray down on the coffee table and ran your fingers through his hair,

"I know," You teased, smirking down at him as he groaned, throwing up once again into the bucket in his hands, followed by a moan of disgust.

"I'm never drinking again," He told you, making you roll your eyes playfully,

"How many times have we been in this exact situation and you say that exact sentence?" You laughed, rubbing his back softly as he mumbled something about "meaning it this time."

HYUNJIN:

You pushed open the door to your shared apartment you had with Hyunjin and frowned a little, the usual welcoming scent of lavender you had burning was missing. Instead, a faint, unfamiliar mustiness hung in the air.

"Hyunjin?" You called out, walking further into the apartment and dropping off your bags, something was clearly wrong if there was no response from him. Hyunjin had been complaining about a headache the night before, but he brushed it off as a side effect of practising all day.  

"hyunnie?" You called out again, louder this time, as you made your way through the apartment toward the bedroom where you found the door slightly ajar.

There you found Hyunjin lying sprawled on the bed, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. A pillow over his head as he grumbled something about you being too loud. You hurried to his side, kneeling beside the bed and sighing a little, you slowly peeled back the pillow to find him screwing his eyes shut. The light hurt his eyes.

"Hey," You said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "You're burning up. Why didn't you call me?" You breathed out,

"I didn't want to worry you," he mumbled, his eyes closing again as you shook your head at him, you hated when he refused to ask for help.

"I'm going to take care of you," You promised, taking in the sight of him and the bed, he did not look comfortable at all. 

"Let's get you comfortable first." You carefully untangled the sheets from around him, helping him sit up enough to drink some water. He sipped gratefully, his parched lips parting for more. Next, you rushed to the windows, opening them slightly but pulling the blinds down so the light from the afternoon sun wouldn't bother him.

You spent the next few hours by his side. You changed the washcloth on his head regularly, fetched medicine, and coaxed him into drinking more fluids. You'd told the boys he wouldn't be going to work for a few days and made sure he was going to be on bed rest for a while, or at least until he was better.

"You're the best partner anyone could ever wish for." He mumbled, his voice hoarse as you carefully handed him some tea, smiling warmly at him.

"Just drink the tea, no flirting." You winked at him before he sipped on the warm drink you'd made for him.

JISUNG:

Jisung had been under a lot of stress lately at work which should have been your first hint at what sight was going to await you as you walked into the dorms one night after work. Jisung was sprawled out on the sofa, looking as though he'd been through a week of no sleep and hadn't eaten properly.

"What are you doing here?" He hadn't meant for it to come out the way it had but he hadn't expected to see you tonight, he'd been looking forward to rotting away on the sofa for the entire night. 

"It's date night," You reminded him, pointing down at your outside that you'd spent hours picking before laying your bag down and kneeling beside Jisung who looked heartbroken that he had forgotten the date. 

"Babe...I-I'm sorry." He stuttered out but you'd put your hand on his forehead and bit down on your lip, he was already spiking a fever and you hadn't been here to know how long or how bad he had been. 

"Shh, it's fine. We can have a cosy night in." You suggested, shrugging off your jacket and going to search their cabinets in look for anything other than food. They had to have some sort of medication for when they got sick, right?

"Sit up," You whispered as you sat in front of Jisung, holding a jar of vapour rub in your hand and waiting for your boyfriend to inch forward. As soon as he did you carefully began to rub the cream into his chest, making sure your hands were warm enough so you didn't shock him.

"Thank you," He groaned, his voice sounding as though he'd been swallowing sand paper all day.

"I'll make you some tea and we can watch Howl's moving castle." You suggested, gently running your fingers through his hair and smiling at him with a warm smile.

FELIX:

You'd woken up earlier than intended this morning, went and made breakfast and came back to the bedroom to find Felix sitting up in the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to calm himself down from the wave of dizziness that had met him when he woke up. 

"You look like shit," You offered as you saw the state of him, trying to tease him softly.

"Thanks, that's really nice to hear from the love of my life," He coughed out with a weak smile, his voice sounded like he'd been eating nails for days and you hated that he was getting sick. 

"You should have texted me," You mumbled, running your hand over his head and checking for a fever, he was already starting to burn up which only confirmed that he was getting sick. 

"I don't want to bother you," He mumbled, his body aching as he laid down in the sheets and snuggled against them. Felix hated this, he was normally the caring one in the relationship. He wanted to be the one to look after you and right now he felt as though he was failing that.

"You're never a bother, Lixie." You whined at him, his eyes struggling to stay open as he gave into the feeling of what his body was telling him.

When he woke up again, the smell of chamomile and honey filled the air and you were sitting at the edge of his bed with a tray on your lap.

"Drink." You ordered, holding up a small cup of steaming tea, Felix knew better than to fight you on it and he took a sip, the warm liquid soothing his throat,

"You didn't have to do this." He coughed out, sitting up slightly and leaning against the headboard,

"Of course I did," You smirked as you replied. "You're always taking care of me. Let me return the favour." Felix sighed at you, pouting a little as he looked down at himself, stuck in bed for god knows how long. 

"I just hate being useless." You hated that he was beating himself up so much so you ran your hand over his cheek,

 "You're not useless, Lix. You're just human. Everyone gets sick."

"Not you," he mumbled.

"Especially me," You corrected, scoffing a little as you remembered the last time you'd gotten so sick you couldn't leave your bed. 

"Remember last winter when I had the flu? You stayed up all night making sure I was okay. It's my turn now." Felix frowned, his stubbornness warring a little since he knew you were right.

 "I just want to be the one taking care of you. It makes me feel… I don’t know, like I’m doing something right." Your expression softened as you reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. 

"You do so much right, Lixie. You don't need to prove anything to me. Let me take care of you this time, okay?" He thought about it for a moment before nodding his head, relaxing against the pillows as you spent the night looking after him. Bringing him soup, fluffing his pillows, giving him everything he could ever need and more.

SEUNGMIN:

All week long Seungmin had been giving you the brush off whenever you tried to get him to go to yours or when you suggested going to spend time with him, you began to worry a little that something was really wrong and as you stepped into his apartment your fears were confirmed. 

"Kim Seungmin." You cried out seeing him lying on the sofa, sweat dripping down his forehead as he coughed into a tissue and whined at you for being too loud.

"Go home." He grumbled, a little harsher than he wanted but he couldn't risk you getting sick because of him, the last thing he wanted was for you to end up the way he was feeling right now. 

"No." You laughed, dropping your jacket onto the coat hook and making your way to the kitchen where you knew he had things he needed. 

"yn." He coughed up but you ignored him, preparing some tea before bringing it to him, laying it down on the coffee table and staring down at your boyfriend who appeared to be pouting at you.

"You're cute when you're pouting," You smirked, kissing his cheek softly before he moved away from you,

"You'll get sick," He moaned, shaking his head at you and covering his mouth with a tissue as if it was going to stop the germs from getting to you.

"I'll be fine, just let me take care of you." You stayed where you were standing and he sighed, knowing better than to argue with you about something since you were just as stubborn as him usually. 

"Go to bed, I'll clean up and make you some soup." He nodded, sluggishly making his way to his room and getting under the sheets, shutting his eyes for a few minutes.

A few days later Seungmin finally began to feel human again and you'd cleaned up the entire apartment, opening the windows for fresh air and bringing him hot soup for every meal so he would be nursed back to health. 

JEONGIN: 

You always said you had a sixth sense about when those you cared about were going to get sick which was probably why you'd walked into your home after work one night already carrying everything you were going to need to help Jeongin feel better.

"How did you know?" He mumbled as he saw the pharmacy bag in your hand as well as a grocery bag that seemed to be filled to the brim with ingredients. 

"Because I'm secretly magic," You smirked, hating to see him laid up on the sofa surrounded by tissues, his nose already red from blowing it so much and you smiled weakly. 

"Magcially good looking." He said, trying to pass the comment off as flirty but because he was sick it just didn't work and he coughed into his hands, whining a little at the pain in his chest.

"Come on, take these baby." You offered, handing him the box of flu tablets before opening a fresh bottle of water and taking away the one he had been using.

"From now on, a fresh bottle every time or let me wash the one you're using." You instructed him, taking some of the rubs you'd gotten from the doctors and gently massaging it into his bare chest, watching as he stared at you with love in his eyes. As much as Jeongin hated being sick he adored this caring side of you, getting to be pampered by you was one of his favourite things in the world.

"Are you going to make your famous soup?" He shouldn't have sounded as excited as he did but you only ever made it when someone was sick and refused to do it any other time.

"Yes. But only if you go and get in a warm bath, let your body soak." You kissed his cheek and watched as he practically raced to the bathroom.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[justporo]

I love to imagine that after everything is done, the city is saved, Astarion and Tav bought their house and settled down: they just stay in bed for a week.

Even though it might not be more than a mattress on the ground and there is barely anything else in the house.

Exhaustion just hits and they just want to feel cozy and comfortable 100% of the time, only going out to get some food for Tav and wine for them both. And they mostly just cozy up naked or at maximum wearing underwear or Tav just wears Astarion's shirt.

They just have sex whenever desire hits them because now they just can and for the moment there are no distractions, no worries, no fear. They can just hardcore hit the honeymoon phase where they can barely keep their hands off each other and a single look can be enough to start blazing flames.

But they also just lay there, cuddle, relax, talk - maybe Tav starts doing somersaults on the mattress because they were never able to do that as a kid and almost whack Astarion in the face while giggling like mad.

And they talk lots. Of course they did that before but it's different now because they have something they weren't sure of before: a future. And they plan their future, talk through all kinds of differents possible versions - even the most ridiculous ones. They talk about the most mundane things, like what colour curtains they want or what kind of wine glasses they'd like, what way bread should be stored and - "I have nerver ONCE in my life thought about duvet covers, Astarion - not even once." "Well, a nice point to start then, isn't it, my heart? Because silk looks amazing but I'm pretty sure you would like linen more..."

Or they joke until they're crying laughing, half hanging off the mattress or on each other and they can't breathe anymore because they both have never felt this light and safe in their life.

Maybe Astarion tries to teach Tav something: like how to let a coin wander over your knuckles or another language or he just talks about something like his favourite artworks and the history behind it and promises Tav to take them to a museum and show them more.

And even after the initial phase is over and they actually decide it's time to spend some time out of bed and finally get a real furniture, it becomes their little safe haven. The place where they always can be absolutely intimate in every kind of way and can be safe and comfortable - and at home.

[ckret2]

@marsupials-of-mars submitted:

I was planning to do maybe a fic and more doodles of this but now I'm busy with school so I might as well show what I did do!

Based on how the goldilocks fic seems to posit that Bill at his best is a silly professor who loves to teach his own way

Introducing Professor Locke!

Things about this idea:

-post redemption, however that will go. I'm calling it an AU because I imagine it is not your plan for what happens after lol, but currently canon-compliant.

-Bill is at first not very on board with the idea of working in the higher education system. It's a scam and it's dumb that they tell adult people how to think.

-He's eventually convinced to bless Backupsmore with his tutelage, on the grounds that they're less stuck up there, they seem to care about giving their students opportunities despite their backgrounds, and the kids there care about learning rather than going to college just because their parents said they should.

-Ford uses his academic connections to vouch for Bill even though he is very mysterious and has no academic records. This is another reason why they picked Backupsmore: i's a little more lax when presented with a shockingly smart mystery professor. Bill gets an interview and charms the pants off the university president.

-He teaches "astrophysics" in theory (that's the job description) but he ends up teaching a little bit of everything.

-He's one of those professors you either adore or despise. He's very loud, often outright mean, and if you're too shy to speak up in class he does not give a SHIT about you. You gotta want it!

-However, his class is notoriously easy. He thinks homework and tests are facist, but he's required to have a curriculum, so his "quizzes" are like a few true or false questions and then a short answer where he asks something he thinks would be funny or wants to hear about, like "what's the dumbest thing another student has said in class since the last test and why was it dumb" or "fashion advice: what's the coolest thing I wore this last week? Extra credit: draw something cooler I SHOULD wear."

-as a result, students who have completely unrelated majors will take his class. If they end up being interested, he deems them worthy. If they're just there to be lazy, he will bully them into dropping out.

-Mabel buys him stickers to put on people's tests when they pass, or to just hand out when they something he likes. He gets along most with the college kids who know how to appreciate a classic gold star.

-He really wanted a big pretty lecture hall, where his voice would echo and he could point at a big chalkboard. But all Backupsmore could provide was a cinderblock and linoleum basement classroom. The lights buzz very loudly and it smells musty. They have stools and folding tables. Bill finds he enjoys the more intimate environment where he can walk between the tables and also sneak up on people.

-He's broken multiple folding tables by trying to do the cool professor thing where you hop up onto your desk and cross your legs and talk all casual. He is able to do this on his own desk thankfully. It's aluminum.

-Ford gets a bit nervous if he did the right thing when bill tells his school stories at the dinner table, so he finds an excuse to accompany Bill to a campus event where he can meet some of his students.

-His fears are quickly assuaged when he sees how beloved Bill is and how well he gets along with the kids. When he eventually joins in on one of these conversations, one of the students asks if he's Sixer. The students are excited by this. Bill tries to shut them up, to partial success.

OK I guess I just ended up writing the fic more or less so enjoy I guess lol.

Aww, this is adorable! Thank you! (And the fact that you're imagining a future for Bill makes me so happy.) He's absolutely be the weirdest professor in the school and he'd ADORE having a crowd full of trusting impressional minds whose parents are paying him to change the way they think. Talk about playing to his strengths.

Your idea is so wholesome, meanwhile the moment I saw "Professor Bill" I went,

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Sleepless nights

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - you go on a routine mission which ends badly how will your girlfriend react

Warnings - gunshots, violence, bullet wounds, mention of stitches, likely medically incorrect, blood, hospital? Not proofread

word count - 1.5k

A/n - I dont know what happened while writing this its all a blackout. As always any feedback is rlly appreciated!!!

It was just supposed to be another simple routine mission. Over and done with in a matter of hours. But of course nothing was ever as easy as predicted.

It had all been going with relative ease until you and Clint were fighting off agents left and right. Something you were usually both good at. However where you'd found yourselves was very much enclosed meaning you couldn't run and you had no idea how many or where these agents were coming from. Your backs were against each other as you moved in circular motions around the room.

"You did this you know, everything was going just fine until you said 'wow this mission has been quite the breeze.'" You mimick Clints earlier words in a squeaky high pitched voice while taking out a couple agents. "Couldn't have just waited till we were on the quinjet could you?"

"Look I really thought it was over. At least I wasn't the one who knocked over the vase alerting everyone in the Tri-state area of our location." He pipes back as you both fall into the usual bickering banter you often did, squabbling like small children. You and Clint had always been close and worked well with each other despite the constant pecking at each other. You'd become even closer once you'd gotten together with his best friend Natasha. Well, after he stopped threatening you about breaking her heart that is.

"Okay well atleast I'm not stupid."

"Yeah real mature. What does that even mean?" He retorts back with a chuckle at how quickly you begin to lose an argument and just throw childish insults at him.

"I thought you'd be smart enough to understand a simple senten-.." You trail off as you see an agent aiming at Clint, one he hadn't noticed. Though you considered letting the agent hit him and getting to be considered the better fighter it wasn't worth letting your friend die just to one up him.

"Clint watch out." You yell frantically as you watch the agent take aim. Clint wasn't going to have time to move. You panicked and shoved him to the floor knocking him from the bullet.

You don't think much of it when you don't see the bullet land or even when you vision blurs. It's only you notice somethings up when you see a blood splattering on your hand. Instinctively you look for Clint worried something hit him but you find him staring right back at you. That's when you feel the searing pain from your hip. Placing a hand over it to find out what's wrong, you feel a cold and wet substance spilling from it.

Thats when everything starts spinning. Moving too quick but not fast enough at all. The pain feeling worse, like nothing you've ever felt before as the adrenaline wears off and the severity of the situation sets in.

"Y/n look at me." Clints voice is grounding and calm making you briefly feel better. "There's no agents left okay. We're going to walk together to the quinjet, don't rush yourself it's going to be okay." You nod along even though your unsure you'll be able to walk that far as your vision fades in and on like a flickering TV.

He moves over to you and presses your hand firmly over the wound. "Keep your hand there and apply as much pressure as you can." Despite the way you stumble around as you try to apply any pressure at all to the wound he still sounds calm like he believes you can do this.

His hand hooks around you helping hold you up as the two of you begin a slow walk back. Things aren't looking too bad at first I mean sure you can hardly see infront of you an everytime you open your mouth to speak the only thing that sounds is a groan of pain but your managing it, you feel yourself believe you'll be able to do this walk back.

That is all before you trip over a stone which sends you tumbling onto your front, directly where the bullet wound is is where you hit the hardest when you fall causing you to scream out in pain with a noise you never knew you'd make. Clint immediately tries to pull you back to your feet while telling you how close you are to getting home but it's no use as your body goes stiff, legs refusing to move.

"Natasha is gonna kill me." I mumble half heartedly as he holds me up and my vision fades for what I believe might be the final time.

"Not if she kills me first." He chuckles and that's the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

Two days. Two whole days they said you were out for. You missed two days. Two days where you didn't see Natasha but she saw you, she sat by you every minute she could and when she couldn't sit anymore she slept by you not leaving for a second. She wouldn't even leave your hospital room for food. Clint having to practically force food down her throat so she didn't end up in a hospital bed alongside you.

You blinked awake. You'd been awake about an hour prior but were too drugged up to process anything going on and had quickly fallen back into your slumber. This time you were much more determined to stay awake, that and your pain medication was wearing off and you could begin to feel a sharp pain replacing the previously dull one.

As you woke yourself up to the bright white fluorescent lights of the hospital, those lights which practically felt blinding. Giving you little time to adjust to being awake, Natasha started speaking.

"So what happened?" She sounded angry. A little rough maybe as the Russian tinged her accent slightly in a way you only heard few times. As you located where her voice had come from, a small chair just to the left of your bed. Now that you could see her she seemed more worn out or stressed out the angry. Dark circles lurked under her eyes as her forhead creased showing visible lines.

"Uh.. didn't uhm.. Clint... tell you." You slowly mumble out as you try to push myself into a sitting position but before you can Natasha is up and pushing you back down to lie down.

"The doctor said you can't sit up yet or you'll move the stitches. And no he hasn't explained anything, so you better." She lays your head back on the pillow with such a contrasting softness to the way she's speaking which is almost as if she's interrogating you.

You roll your head over the side to face her as you recount what you remember from the mission. "So basically me and Clint, well especially me are kicking ass knocking these agents to the ground. But then one aims at Clint and I push him out the way and now we're here." You explain the best you can but it's just so difficult when your heads all fuzzy and until five minutes ago you were convinced you were dead. "I thought I was gonna die 'Tasha."

"You shouldn't put yourself at risk like that baby." She says while brushing stray hairs away from your face and back behind your ears. "Things could have been a lot worse.." her voice trails off all usual roughness gone as she appears as if she may break down crying at any second. "I could have lost you."

That's all it takes for you to start crying as hot tears stream your face making it hard to see anything. Seeing your deteriorating emotional state Natasha makes the descion to crawl into the bed next to you. "Oh hush now, it's alright. I was just worried about you lyubov." she coos while leaning over to kiss your dampened cheek.

"I know I know.. I'm just really sorry... I dont ever want to lose you Natasha." Your tears keep falling despite her soft, reassuring words.

"Y/n, I don't want to lose you either. Which is why I think it could be time we retired before either of us do. Of course it's up to you though, I won't pressure you."

It takes you a minute to process her words but when you do your glad for them. You'd been considering at least cutting down your workload recently but hadn't considered Natasha would be open to retirement at such a young age. You can feel your face break out into a small smile as she suggests it herself. Her own face is one of nervous apprehension as she chews on her lip.

"Yes. Please I want nothing more than to retire and with you." You reach in to kiss her face eagerly. Your lips smothering hers in an almost desperate fashion as if you were worried it could be your last.

"If this is what retirement is like I cant wait." She whispers as she pulls away from your lips, nipping them gently first. She cups your face in her hands before leaning back in.

[xhoneygirlxx]

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

-

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

-

-

-

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 - 𝐣. 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist ! i hope you enjoy this

John Murphy - Dropship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You hated Murphy since you landed on the ground, you didn't expect for him to awaken something in you. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: shameless Murphy smut, plot, some violence, nsfw

Life on the ground was incredible.

It was like nothing I could've ever imagined, even though there were threats, such as the grounders and unstudied plants due to radiation- but none as big as John Murphy.

Everywhere I looked he'd be there; infecting everything with his toxins. The power Bellamy had given him went straight to his head, he truly believed he was better than everyone.

He seemed to know I hated him, and he gladly reciprocated that. His way of showing me? By humiliating me every chance he got.

I hadn't understood why he hated me, I had always tried to be nice to everyone around camp; even him at times, but he knew just how to wear my patience thin.

I had been peacefully minding my business skinning the newly fresh rabbit brought in by the hunting party. The game they brought was enough to feed everyone for the next two weeks. A deer, two bunnies, and a bird. One girl also brought in a few plants for me to work with for seasoning.

I was the camp butcher and cook, having sadly lost the previous ones. Everyone always adored my cooking and I tried to work with what we had.

Well, everyone except Murphy.

"What're you doing?"

The voice hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard, I didn't need to turn around to know who was about to pester me into a hole.

"What do you think I'm doing roach," I ask with heavy annoyance in my voice, still focused on skinning the rabbits while the water for the stew boiled.

"Poisoning the camp with your horrendous cooking," I could hear him walking closer to me, and my patience grew thin with every step.

"just go away-" I had been cut off by a loud crash.

He had kicked the pot of boiling water over into the dirt, drawing the attention of others.

This was my final straw.

Gripping the knife in my hand I swiftly grabbed Murphy, holding the bloodied knife to his throat.

"Fuck you, Murphy!" I shouted the blood from the rabbit was now on his neck.

Fear was masked behind ego in his eyes, I could tell he was scared by the way his hands defensively went up.

"I'm sorry, alright!" He spewed, something was relieving about hearing those words, seeing him so afraid of me. Though, anybody would be afraid.

Deep down I knew I wouldn't kill him, I knew the consequences of that. Killing Murphy wouldn't be worth getting tossed out of camp.

It had only been a few seconds before Bellamy was pulling me off of him. I didn't fight it, I just glanced around at everyone before picking up the pot and heading out to the river to collect more water while also clearing my mind.

There were never any final straws with Murphy around.

When I returned back to camp the air was thick with tension, and eyes were locked onto me as I prepped the broth for the rabbit meat.

I wasn't sure what Murphy could've told them, and I didn't care, if they chose to believe the cockroach then humanity was doomed.

It only took an hour to get the soup ready, everyone leaving me alone. I hadn't spotted Murphy yet, he wasn't terrorizing anyone, not making his presence known.

Was one threat really all it took to get rid of him?

Once I set up food for everyone I headed towards my shared ten with Raven, exhaustion quickly catching up with me. I had long forgotten about Murphy, the only thing on my mind was a peaceful night's rest.

Entering the tent I shrugged off my shirt, trying to change into a new one when I felt someone grab me from behind, making a yelp rupture from me.

I felt something cold and sharp press against my neck, fear instantly climbing up my spine as I thrashed around. The person's hand went to cover my mouth as he leaned in towards my ear.

"What're you gonna do now?" He whispered threateningly.

I instantly knew who it was, his scent invading my nose in a surprisingly good way. I tried to fight it, the thoughts of how his hands were on me felt good, this was no moment to think about Murphy like this.

He was holding a knife to my throat for fucks sake!

Knowing Murphy I thought he was really going to kill me, I soon felt regret for holding that knife to him.

I stopped thrashing around as it was no use, my breathing became wild as I prepared for the worst.

"Giving in to me so easily?" His hand uncovered my mouth, fingers still touching my lips.

"Suck," He demanded, his tone of voice was strong despite being hushed so nobody would hear.

This was the last thing I'd expect to happen with Murphy.

I couldn't help the lower sensation begin to rise throughout my entire body as I opened my mouth, Murphy's fingers instantly invaded the wet and warm place. I felt fuzzy and vulnerable all over, soon realizing I was enjoying this.

"Good girl," He said, making my thighs clench together, trying to get any type of friction to my clit.

Over time the blade on my neck didn't scare me, the fear turned to pleasure. My lower body became needy, the taste of his fingers being engraved into my mind as I was sucking wildly as if it was Murphy's cock and not just his fingers.

I could sense his smirk after I let out a soft moan, he was enjoying this too. Having me under his control, to do whatever he wanted with me. The thought could've made me cum then and there.

"Remember this next time," He whispered into my ear.

His knife trailed up and down my body, making me shiver at the coldness of the metal.

He suddenly retracted his hands to his sides, making me miss his fingers and the authority he held over me.

I turned around and he was leaving the tent, the taste of his fingers still vivid in my mouth.

I had debated running after him and demanding an explanation but I stood there, starstruck.

It didn't take long for me to snap back into reality, the thoughts I had about Murphy hit me like a train, embarrassment suddenly replacing the feeling before. I tried reminding myself I hated him, but despite everything I told myself, my body longed for his touch once again.

I wasn't sure what possessed me that night, I was sure it'd pass after a night's sleep. But I wasn't even safe in my dreams, his touch followed me everywhere.

Who knew weeks of hate could diminish with a few touches?

Though I still hated him.

I was sure of that.

But I couldn't stop my attraction.

I couldn't stop my mind from roaming in places it shouldn't.

I couldn't.

The only day I wish he annoyed me, he didn't. He would walk right past my butcher table, right by me. As if the previous night hadn't happened, as if his fingers didn't fill my mouth searching every crevice and crease.

Every so often Id catch him stealing glances at me- or at least I thought I did.

But I knew it was true when he was the first in line for breakfast, taking an extra long time to pick out his decision, forcing the tension between us to grow thicker. It was like he was torturing me like he knew just how bad I needed him.

The feeling had become too much for me, I quickly filled the bowls for dinner and rushed off to my tent once again, needing to relieve myself at least a little bit. I knew Raven was working with Monty in the dropship to figure out the wristbands so I had a bit of time to myself.

Rushing into my tent I dropped my pants and threw them onto a nearby chair. I climbed into the makeshift bed and began sucking on my own fingers, trying to mimic Murphy's movements the best I could.

I couldn't believe myself, getting off to the guy I despised with every ounce of my being. The way his middle part looked, how his nose was a bit too big for his face, how dark his blue eyes looked. I imagined every part of him, going back to that night in my mind.

My other hand snaked down to my clothed pussy, rubbing myself through the fabric while a series of moans escaped my occupied lips.

"Murphy..." I let out unrestrained, speeding up my movements.

"Yeah?" I heard someone ask.

My eyes instantly shot open as I scrambled up, staring at the one and only Murphy. How did he keep sneaking in her without me hearing?

He walked closer to me, "Don't let me stop you," He spoke, staring down at me.

I was frozen with shock, unable to process what just happened. How much had he seen? My face must've been a bright red by now.

"Too scared now? I said, Don't let me stop you." His hands found their way to my throat, giving it a light squeeze. I wasn't sure of his motives but I knew, in this moment, I was more turned on than ever.

The grip he had on my throat only turned me on more, now soaking through my panties.

I shakily began rubbing myself through my panties again, my nerves shooting through the roof. The man Id been having fantasies about was now watching me fuck myself.

Murphy swiftly unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper, bringing his hard cock out in front of my face, the sight had me drooling while he smirked down at me.

"Put that practice to good use," He spoke, tapping his tip on my lips, the hand on my throat now running to my hair, grabbing a fist full of it causing me to open my mouth just enough for him to thrust into it. He released a low groan at the initial feeling, the taste of his cock now invading my mouth.

I swirled my tongue around the shaft of his dick while he fucked mercilessly into my mouth, gripping my hair tighter every time to keep me still. With every thrust he hit the back of my throat, sending chills down my entire body.

"Thought you hated me," He said in between grunts, "Now you have my dick in your mouth," His familiar smirk was still planted on his face, he'd never let me live this down.

I felt his dick twitch in my mouth before he pulled out, tear snow streaming down my face.

"Fuck you," I said in between breaths, regaining my composure.

"Yeah, don't worry, you're about to." He took me by the arm and made me lay flat with my ass in the air.

His hands grabbed and slapped at my ass, making me squeak out pathetic moans. Grabbing the waistband of my panties he dragged them down, revealing my soaked pussy.

"You sure you hate me?"

Before I could reply he had already trusted into my pussy, giving me no warning. the sudden filling made my back arch. Murphy threw his head back, relishing the feeling of my tight pussy around his dick.

He didn't let me adjust before he was thrusting deep inside of me, unable to control his urges. The pleasure was unlike anything of felt before, his length made it so easy to hit every spot inside me, spots I'd never even known of.

"I hate you!" I moaned out, I wasn't sure if it was true or not anymore, I just didn't wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing I loved being fucked by him.

"Want me to stop?" He retorted. He knew I didn't want him to stop, so when I didn't answer he grabbed a fist full of my hair again, forcing me to prop my arms up to support myself. The grip on my hair only helped him pound into me further, not giving me any chance to think.

I wasn't just full of Murphy, I was full of hatred. I hated the fact I enjoyed this so much, hated the fact I never wanted it to end, hated the fact he could make me feel this good, hated how much I loved this.

"Fuck, Murphy!" I felt the familiar wave of my climax race up my body, making me shake with pleasure as I came around his dick. This didn't stop Murphy, in fact, it only fueled him more.

"Just let it out," He spoke breathily, my arms felt like they were gonna give out but before they could he pulled my hair, bringing my back to his chest as he held me up. "Let everyone in camp know how good you feel right now,"

His hands snaked up my body to my neck, giving it a tight squeeze, something I never thought I'd be into until Murphy.

"I hate you," I moaned out between cries and breaths, my sweet spot now becoming sensitive as he kept relentlessly fucking me.

"Sure looks like it," He smirked into my shoulder, now beginning to suck and bite as his own climax was nearing the edge.

The grip on my neck was enough to make me cum again, the tightening helping Murphy reach his own high.

Murphy quickly pulled out of me, shooting his load onto the ground of the tent, laying his head in the crook of my neck while he caught his breath. I leaned into his touch while his hands slid up and down my sides, tracing each curve with admiration.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asked muffled.

"Go fuck yourself,"

Despite my words, he knew I wanted it just as bad as he did.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[kaiser1ns]

#. SPEED DEMON

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. endo yamato, takiishi chika

fluff. your boyfriend lives for the adrenaline, or in other words, he loves it when you cling to him when he speeds up, or when you put stickers on his bike.

inspired by michael jackson's song "speed demon"

BIKER BOYFRIEND!ENDO YAMATO

A dark black leather jacket, with a large white print on the back that was the same as the tattoo on his left shoulder, paired with an obsidian-colored helmet with the addition of a few contrasting Hello Kitty stickers, boots tapping the cemented ground as he leaned back on his motorcycle waiting for his beloved girlfriend to get ready, with another helmet resting on the seat that was the same color as the clouds adorned with black snake and pink bow stickers.

He didn't mind waiting, even though it was late at night but when he got the "I'm hungry" message, he immediately dressed and came at full speed to wait for you in front of your home, and you didn’t even get a text back, because his engine is so loud you always know he is there. Endo wasn't going to lie, it was cold, but he was sure that the moment he saw you, his body would warm up again.

Leaning on his motorcycle, he has his usual laid-back smirk as he glances at the door focusing on the sound of your footsteps getting closer. When the door finally opened, revealing you in your cute outfit for the night, his eyes lit up. His first words, always teasing but you knew he was all bark, no bite. “Princesses sure take a lot of time to get ready, huh?” He pushed off the bike, walking over to greet you when gloved hands cup the side of your face as he pressed a sweet, quick kiss on the lips. It’s soft and delicate, but you know Endo well enough to tell there’s more behind it–more that he’s holding back for later.

“But don’t worry your prince will always wait for you.”

Before you can even reply, Endo drapes his jacket around your shoulders, despite the fact you already had the same, you’d grabbed the first one you found on the hanger. It smelled like him, motor oil and strong cologne. “You don’t need to–” you started, but he was already securing your helmet, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that was the complete opposite of his rugged exterior.

“I know,” he says, “but I want to.” he zips the jacket up, making sure the helmet is tight, but not so tight that it hurts. Once everything was set, you hopped onto the back of the bike, resting your head against him, and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body under your hands. “The best photos I take of us always happen at times like this,” you murmured when he revved the engine and you felt the powerful rumble beneath you as he sped off down the dark road.

The cool wind greeted you both, and you gripped him harder, letting out a scream when he made a sudden drift and he just laughed at your reaction as he pushed the bike faster down the empty road.

When you finally arrived at the fast-food joint, you stayed outside seated on the bike, scrolling through his phone and snapping pictures while he disappeared inside to grab food. A few minutes later, he came back, pulling his gloves with his teeth and tossing you the bag of food before noticing how your eyes were concerted on something. “Baby, you got another speeding ticket,” you said, holding up the screen for him to see. He glanced at it, then shrugged, his hand already digging into the fries.

“Is that so?” the way he replied told you everything–you both knew he didn’t care. To Endo, every ticket was just another excuse for you to hold onto him tighter, no law existed to him. A ticket also meant a free ride to the love island, is what he likes to say. But you as well paid no mind, not when the food you have been caring for was delivered by yours truly. 

“Aren’t you cold?” you were fully covered, with his jacket on top of yours and he was just wearing a black shirt that was clinging to his body, his tattoos on display. "Not when you light up my heart." Always the smooth talker, but if he catches a cold it's on him. Playfully rolling your eyes as you unwrapped the burger and took a bite then offered it as he took a bite as well. You loved moments like this with him the most, just the two of you in the middle of the night, on a cute little date and racing at full speed with the stars.

After both of you were done, getting up on the bike you clung to him again on the ride back. With each mile, you felt closer, the world slipping away as the two of you raced through the night together. He would send you to another dimension, you were sure about that, somehow he always did, and as much as you enjoyed these long rides with no direction in mind your bed was also calling you. 

"Can you stay for tonight?" you'd ask him, leather jackets still on you and how can he say no to you? He will always wait, he will always stay because he can speed up all he wants on the highway, but he will always take things slow with you.

BIKER BOYFRIEND!TAKIISHI CHIKA

Tools scattered everywhere, the sound of the rumbling engine drowning out the music you had put on while sitting at the table eating ice cream in your boyfriend's garage. A big part of his time involved maintaining his bike, and you spend hours in that same garage where you have learned a thing or two, but you preferred to watch while he worked on his own for once, without Endo's help. "You missed tightening that part." pointing your finger down on the machine when he gave you the 'don't tell me what to do' look but you were right. He forgot to apply part of the brake and, at the very least, he wouldn't like for something to happen. "And you tell me I don't understand anything... I just saved your life." Taking another bite of the ice cream as you watched him wiping his face with the hem of his tank top showing off his toned stomach suddenly the cone of sweetness fell to the ground making a mess, when he turned to see what was happening he saw how red you have gotten. “You are always making a mess…” raising his eyebrow when he went inside the house to get something to clean it up, well, for you to clean because Takiishi won't bother to. He had always been the calm type, as calm as he can be. So when he stepped outside, his usual indifference clouding his eyes, you saw the perfect opportunity to strike. His burgundy-colored bike stood there, gleaming in the light ready to be taken over. Looking behind your back, just to make sure he was gone, you pulled out a collection of stickers—Sanrio characters, kittens, candy, and the most important ‘I love my girlfriend’ sticker. You were about to press it onto the bike, and you felt a sudden yank on your wrist. 

You yelped as Takiishi's grip tightened, his serious stare making you shiver despite the hot temperature. Uh-oh. You were caught red-handed, with him having that serious stare that meant he wasn't in a good mood. 

"Ta-da!" is all you could have managed to say, voice nervously cracking as you stuck the girlfriend sticker on the bike anyway. The mission failed successfully. But despite that, you knew he was angry, mad even. You knew because his grip on your wrist was getting tighter, and it hurt. "Chika, I-I'm sorr–" you started, and the way his eyes told you he was trying to balance the lines between anger and indifference. Yet, to your surprise, he released you not before he glanced at the peeling sticker and calmly pressed it back on.

You were on the border between the people who stood in his way and those he had to eliminate. Just like a sticker, you had a beautiful design but you won't be peeling out soon from him.

"Ask next time." you blinked at his strange reaction, more so the way he calmly collected his tools and put them in the box. "Huh?" is all you could mutter when he was done and stood up in front of you, and you were slowly melting like the ice cream on the ground.

"Ask me next time." he put something on your cheek before he went back inside and you went to check yourself on his bike mirror. It was a pink heart sticker covered in flames. You were the one who always teased him and did whatever you wanted, and once again he beat you at your own game. Takiishi Chika always wins, no matter who he's up against, and he will do everything for you even if he doesn't voice it, he will prove it after you remove all the stickers of course.

"I removed everything," you muttered, disappointed that the bike was back to its plain burgundy state. You sighed, feeling a little defeated. This is what you get when trying to surprise someone like him with something like that. But much to his dismay he left only one sticker and it was ... 

"I love my boyfriend so much!" You couldn’t help but yell, kissing him on the cheek with an exaggerated and loud “mwah,” you jumped onto his back, wrapping your arms around him as he held your legs. He actually didn't care that you put stickers, he just didn't expect it to be that many. Takiishi showed he cared, even if he didn’t always say it out loud, but the glued label sure did.

taglist :: @kiurona @nyxypoo @17020 @stunies @maruflix @heartkaji @meidiary @slerixx @kazuhaiku

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[megamagimugi]

He's-a Gone

Luigi time! To suffer, that is.

(CW: character death)

This is obviously a sort of comlementary piece to I Was-a Too Late. But it's more than just that as it also illustrates a certain fun, dark what-if idea I had. Please keep reading if you're intrigued!

Lore:

Luigi's Mansion, the first game. Everything goes the same as in canon until the final boss fight, when Luigi defeats King Boo in his Bowser costume. After King Boo comes out and Luigi intends to suck him in, the villain laughs and reveals the truth: Mario's painting was an illusion, so was everything Madame Clairvoya saw. All just to mess with Luigi. Meanwhile the real Mario wasn't just captured by the Boos, he was immediately killed by them on their King's orders. The only physical thing that's left of him in this realm is the five items Luigi found - hidden by the Boos for Luigi to find, another part of King Boo's sick game.

Luigi is able to finish the fight despite his shock and grief, fueled by the anger King Boo never expected from him. After getting out of the painting the plumber discovers that it is indeed empty, no Mario or anyone else in the portrait.

Heartbroken and guit-ridden, Luigi goes back to Professor E. Gadd's lab and gives him back the Poltergust 3000. He doesn't even want to stay long enough to see what is going to happen to the ghosts. Of course the Professor tries to offer some semblance of comfort, but we all know it's not his forte.

So Luigi leaves, only taking Mario's five items with him. He notices that the mansion has disapeared without a trace. The reality of it all finally hits him, and he practically collapses onto a nearby tree's large root protruding from the ground, putting down the precious items around himself, only leaving the matching red hat and the letter in his hands. He should have known something was off. After all, the Mario he saw in the painting was wearing his hat and both gloves.

Looking at all these items, to his growing horror he can't help but imagine what exactly might have happened to his brother and what his last moments might have been like. He hugs the hat to his chest and rereads Mario's note several times, knowing that the brief warning was his brother's last words to him.

Luigi can do nothing but cry for the beloved brother he couldn't save, desperately wishing it was his warm, living and breathing body pressed to his chest rather than just a couple of his belongings.

But Mario is truly gone, apparently having met such a horrific fate that not even a single part of his body is left in the physical world.

[Good night]

…I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;) Sorry if I got carried away with my description. Occasionally even I enjoy being a little dramatic, though I'm no writer whatsoever.

Yeah, I'm not apologizing for making this one - I was nicer to Luigi than to his bro, at least here the Mushroom Kingdom and everyone in it (except for Mario lol) is still okay!

But alas,

You can no longer play as Mario

Rest in spaghetti, funny wahoo man.

@federthenotsogreat I'm tagging you because you said you wanted more Mario art like I Was-a Too Late, thought you might like this one too!

@drones-of-innocence Also tagging you because you were interested in my idea.

Edit: Tagging a few more mutuals who might want to see this based on their reaction to my previous angsty work just in case, feel free to ignore. Or ask me to remove the tag if you want, no problem.

@silenzahra (remember, no rush) @c-lavanda @jell-o101 @stripetkattelalala54-gf

@luigixfanxayjay @itsavee4117

And you @giddlygoat just because you have a Luigi's Mansion AU and I thought you might appreciate this... Also because I'm a fan 👉👈

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Beauty is Pain

|| Regina George x female reader

|| Warnings: gossip talk, hookup mention, Regina's got an attitude, light swearing, y/n use

|| Sumary: Regina's high heels have been hurting her all day. Reader notices and offers that they switch shoes.

Requests open!

~~~~

Regina would never admit it out loud, but she was exhausted. Walking around school all day in heels was never easy. Sometimes she might sneak a break in the bathroom and take them off for a few minutes. But she hasn't had the chance to do that yet. Well, beauty is pain. Isn't that what they say?

At the sound of last period bell, Regina headed for the cafeteria. Her and the rest of the plastics (including you) had planned on skipping and going shopping. Karen, Gretchen and Y/N were already seated at their usual table. Talking about any and all things gossip related as they waited for Regina.

"Oh my God! Did you hear that a jock hooked up with an art freak?" Gretchen asks, grinning as she talks about the latest gossip.

"Ew, seriously?" Regina makes her presence known as she joins them at the table, taking a seat next to Y/N who smiles and gives the blonde's cheek a kiss.

"Yes! Oh my God! It's been like all over snapchat private stories." Gretchen nods, taking out her phone to show Regina the stories," seriously not fetch."

"Gretchen! Stop trying to make fetch happen." Regina rolled her eyes, Y/N would raise an eyebrow at the blonde. Noticing how she seemed to be in a mood. Not wanting to ask out right with the girls there, she takes out her phone to text Regina.

Y/N: 'Are you okay?'

Regina glanced down at her phone in her hands when she felt it buzz. Looking back at Y/N who was watching her with a concerned gaze. The blonde scoffed and texted back.

Regina: 'Fine. Obviously 🙄 shut up'

Y/N read the text and sighed. She knew Regina well enough to know she wasn't actually fine and that her attitude was the result of something. She just didn't know what; Regina's attitude was not going to scare her away from finding out.

After chatting a little more, the girls all got up and started heading towards the front doors of the school to go shopping. That's when Y/N noticed Regina was walking slightly different. Almost like she had a slight limp? Everything fell into place and made sense.

Without warning, Y/N grabbed Regina by her arm and pulled her off to the side as Gretchen and Karen went to Regina's jeep. Too busy chatting with each other to notice Y/N and Regina stopped following.

"The hell are you doing?" Regina snapped, looking at her with a look mixed with frustration and confusion.

"Switch shoes." Y/N replied, in a tone that wasn't quite asking or demanding. It was somewhere between the two.

"Excuse me? No, I'm not wearing your sneakers." Regina folded her arms as she stared down Y/N. Y/N, however, wasn't intimidated. Something Regina found awfully annoying." Plus, you can't even fucking walk in heels. You'll just embarrass both of us."

"I wasn't asking, Gina." Y/N replied, standing her ground on this. She wasn't going to let the blonde torture herself just to make a fashion statement.

Regina was taken aback. She wasn't used to being talked back to. Who in their right mind would dare talk back to Regina George? Clearly, Y/N would. Whether it was stupid or brave, Regina didn't know. Part of her couldn't help but feel impressed by her girlfriend's stubbornness with this. Usually she would argue with her, but the blonde wasn't in the mood. So (very reluctantly) she agreed. Not without groaning and rolling her eyes first, though. Obviously.

Regina reached down, one hand on Y/N's shoulder as she took off her heels. Y/N smirked, feeling pretty proud of herself for getting Regina to agree. She places her heels in Y/N's hands.

"Thank you." Y/N takes off her own shoes and hands them to Regina, the two then put on the shoes. Y/N struggling more than Regina as she nearly falls over once both feet were on the ground. Instinctively, Regina caught her before she could and scoffs. Though she makes no effort to let go of her. Even going out of her way to link their arms together so she could support her girlfriend. Y/N raises an eyebrow at Regina when she does this.

"Don't even. I'm just making sure you don't embarrass us both." Regina mutters, glaring at Y/N. Though her tone didn't come out as harsh as she wanted it to. She wasn't exactly truthful in her statement. She refuses to admit the real reason, but Y/N can tell.

With Regina's help, the two get to the jeep where Karen and Gretchen are waiting for them.

~~~

feedback and requests are welcomed :)

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Mine, Always and Forever ~ Ramsay Bolton x Stark!Reader

Small disclaimer: It's Ramsay we're talking about; The story will have heavy dark themes and scenes that might make you uncomfortable.

Summary: Ramsay's obsession has always been Lady Y/N Stark, since the very moment they were children, and up into their adulthood. Everything he does, he does for her. He would burn the whole world to see her in his arms again, desperately needing him again. Ramsay Snow was going to trample over every noble house known to Westeros, just to gain the right to claim the little she-wolf that encaptured him in her spell.

Y/N was looking down at Sandor Clegane, wearing a conflicted yet highly determined look on her face; He, however, was smirking, he was amused to the point of barking a laugh in her face. His large hands kept a strong grip on her hips to keep her comfortably on his lap.

"Anyone told you you're one crazy lady, little fox?" the disfigured man teased the red haired Stark lady; Her long nails were digging harshly into his shoulders.

"Yes." she said deadpan. "Let them say whatever. As long as I get out of here, I don't care."

"You want me to risk my neck, to get you out of King's Landing. That's bold, even for you." his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. "And you think giving me your maidenhood's gonna sweeten me into losing my life, is that it?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Sandor. I'm only here because you're the only trust-worthy person in this pit of vipers." she hissed at him. "My maidenhood is not yours to take, nor am I giving it away to anyone except the man I've been in love with since I was eleven winters old."

"Sentimentalism won't get you anywhere, girl." he scoffed, finally pushing you off him to tumble on the hard ground. "And neither will you fleeing. Everything is surveilled by the Lions."

"Robb is at the Twins. If I get there, I can return home to Winterfell. I am the oldest - Someone must take care of our home." Y/N got up, her long red hair a beautiful mess all around her. "Sandor, I need you. Please. What do you need me to do? Beg you? I will beg you, if that's what you want."

"Tell me who's that poor bastard." Y/N looked at him confused, but dragged a chair by the bed and sat down.

"Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay Snow." her voice was serene and casual. "You know, that crazy guy who gets off on flaying living people."

"I'm beginning to think someone slammed your head against a wall. Girl, you're deranged." she shrugged her shoulders, as if to say she doesn't care much. "Does anyone know about him?"

"My dad used to know I had a thing for Ramsay - Obviously, we didn't speak much about it. If mother found out I was head over heels over a lowly bastard from a disgusting family like the Boltons... Well, I wouldn't hear the end of it." she laughed dryly. "Mother would be very disappointed to know that all of her girls have terrible taste in men - Take Sansa for example, falling for an old dog like you... And, to be fair, I don't think Arya even has a taste for men at all, if you catch my drift."

"The little bird won't sing me sweet thrills." he huffed under his breath. "Convince me, and I'll think about helping you get out of your cage."

"Let's see... It all began many years ago, when I had just passed my eleventh year alive, and my father took me to the Dreadfort for business with Roose Bolton..."

The Stark party arrived on horse-back after many hours of uncomfortable riding through the snow and cold; Eddard was afraid his little girl would get ill - Cat had told him many times not to take her - But he couldn't refuse Y/N's pleading. She was eleven years of age, and behaving very much like how Lyanna used to. Y/N might favour her Tully side, with scarlet hair shining like red copper in the Sun, and light eyes that peered deep into your soul - But at heart, she was a valiant and loyal Wolf.

The forest hiding the Dreadfort was thick, yet beautiful, though in no way could it compare to the woods around Winterfell. It was a warm Spring afternoon, with the flowers in bloom; the sky was blue and embellished with a few lazy clouds, and the breeze was gently rustling through Y/N's long scarlet locks.

Lord Bolton was awaiting the Stark retinue; He took Ned aside to guide him into his council room to speak business; The servants were guided into the Fort to be houses; And Y/N remained trugging behind, looking around and exploring with the curiosity of a little fox.

It was then that she spotted that brunet runt with eyes like crystal icicles; He was staring intently at her from behind a tree. Y/N knew who that was - Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Roose Bolton. Her dad mentioned him, and told her to be nice to him. Of course she was gonna be nice to him - She loves Jon and treats him just like her younger brother, because that's what he is!

With a bow and quiver attached to her back, Y/N stepped towards the boy, extending her hand towards him. "You are Ramsay Snow, aren't you?" the boy looked at her, soulless, but grumbled affirmatively. "I'm Y/N. Want to come help me out with my archery?" he looked at her as if she was crazy; Y/N let out an impatient sigh, and turned on her heel. "You know the woods better than I do - I am sure you will find me once you remember how to move your feet. Left foot, right foot, and repeat."

She thus wandered into the forest, looking for a place to practice her archery; It didn't take long before she heard the noise of rapid footsteps approaching. Ramsay stood right behind her, his demeanour guarded, cold and wary - Typical for that of a mistreated bastard.

"See? I told you you'd find me easily." she let out a soft chuckle, turning her back to him and fidgeting with her bow.

The boy didn't answer immediately, unsure of how to respond to the noble girl. He’d been taught to keep his distance from highborns, especially someone like her, the daughter of the Warden of the North... But there’s something different about her, something that doesn’t seem to care about the invisible lines that separate them, about ranks or blood.

"How did you know who I am?" he asked in a low voice.

"What, Bolton's bastard son?" Ramsay flinched slightly at the word, but Katrina’s tone is curious rather than cruel. She steps closer, studying him with those sharp, Stark eyes. He nods, unsure of what to expect from her. "Dad told me to be as nice to you as I am with my own bastard younger brother. Jon is a delight to have around, truly - Too bad mother can't see that." she shrugged her shoulders lazily. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"I don't know how to speak to noble ladies... My Lady." he admitted begrudgingly. "Nobles aren't supposed to see a bastard like me."

"Well, you can start by calling me by my name - Y/N - And then, you can continue by coming with me and helping me out with my archery." she grinned, and before Ramsay could react, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, her energy infectious. Ramsay stumbled slightly, caught off guard by her boldness, but he didn’t resist. For once, he didn't protest to being dragged around - He enjoyed the physical touch from her.

"Where are you taking me?" the boy found himself speaking a little louder.

"Deeper into the forest! I need someone to help me practice. I can't hit anything if I don't have someone to fetch the arrows."

Ramsay blinked, bewildered by how casually she dismissed the divide between them. He’d never been treated like this before — Like he’s just another boy, not the bastard son of Roose Bolton. And yet, there’s something exciting about the way she was pulling him along, like he was a part of her adventure rather than an outsider.

They reached a small clearing in the woods. Katrina lets go of his wrist and unslinged her bow, not wasting any time. She lines up an arrow, but her aim is slightly off. The arrow flies past the tree trunk she was aiming at and disappears into the underbrush.

"Damn it!" Y/N stomped her foot impatiently. "This is all Robb's fault! If he hadn't told on me, I would have been able to train with Theon!" she whined so cutely, the bastard thought with amusement, watching her look around aimlessly for that arrow. "Great, it's lost. Only four left I guess." she grumbled to herself with resentment.

Ramsay hesitated for a moment, before rushing toward the underbrush. He found the arrow easily enough and returned it to her, watching as her eyes widened in awe.

"You found it - And so easily! How cool!" no one had ever praised him before - It felt really good. "You know how to shoot?" he nodded his head. "Can you teach me?"

The boy stepped to her side, raising her arms up and placing her in position. Without even realising, his hands lingered on her body; He was enjoying touching her so much, and she wasn't protesting, too focused on holding the bow and arrow properly with those small, delicate hands of hers. She was so very cute, he thought to himself, as he positioned himself in a way that almost engulfed her whole.

"You’re holding it wrong." he muttered into her ear. "Follow the trajectory of my finger - Focus on the target and hold the tip of the arrow a little above the spot you want to hit. Draw the string with an inhale, and release with an exhale." he then fixed the angle of her drawing arm. "Boys won't tell you this, but girls have this small curvature of the arm - To aim properly, you'd have to arch your arm like this... And it will improve your accuracy." he then kicked a little at her feet, getting them in position. "Posture is half the work; Stand straight... And release."

With all points ticked, Y/N released the arrow, and lodged itself close to where it was supposed to reach; It hit the tree trunk, which was all that mattered for a beginner. "Wow! Robb will be so jealous when I beat him at archery next time!" her voice went up cutely as she chirped with excitement, almost bouncing on the spot with glee. "Thank you, Ramsay, thank you!" huh... She thanked him. What a peculiar girl.

"Don't thank me until you win." he teased her. "Try again - Without my help this time." that comment stopped her in her little joy party. Right, Ramsay won't be there to help her. Damn.

Regaining posture, Y/N drew the bowstring back, feeling the difference in her stance. She released the arrow, and this time it hit the tree trunk with a satisfying thud. She did that, all by herself! She grinned, turning to Ramsay with a look of triumph and victory.

"Was that cool?!" was she asking for validation - From him?!

"Yes, My Lady, you did well." she didn't seem to notice the way he called her; She was far too absorbed into her success and practice.

Ramsay smiled for the first time in his life; a small, hesitant smile that Y/N almost missed - But she caught it, and something about that moment made her feel like she’d cracked through a layer of ice.

For once, the boy felt at ease around another human being, even if that person was an eleven year old brazen noble lady who tried to best her younger brothers at silly things like archery and swordsmanship. Wasn't she supposed to learn embroidery and other girly things? Well, now that he thought it over, Ramsay was sure most noble Lords wouldn't take their daughters with them on delegations; They'd take their sons, right? It only meant Lord Stark loved his daughter very much, he noted. Not that he'd know what that was - Surely, the little haughty thing was going to forget all about him.

As the sun began to set, Ramsay realised he had to escort the young lady back, before either her father worries, or his father thinks he murdered her. That bloody monster - He hated his father more than he hated anyone alive. He was going to get the most miserable death there is.

For dinner, however, Ramsay wasn't allowed to sit at the table with the nobles; Y/N's mother also didn't want Jon to sit with the rest of the children... So in that regard, she could understand the miserable, spiteful look on Ramsay's face. It was Y/N and Robb who begged their dad to allow Jon and Theon to eat with them... But Y/N was afraid of Roose Bolton and his terrifying icy glare - He was empty, and ruthless, just like a harsh blizzard.

In a way, Y/N was glad they'll only be staying one more night in this awful place... But she would dearly miss her new friend. She wonders if she'll ever see him again - Hopefully, yes!

The night settled swiftly over the cold stone halls of the Dreadfort - The place was deathly silent, save for the scary howling wind and the occasional flicker of torchlight casting long, terrifying shadows all around.

Ramsay was lying on the bed, half-asleep, and thinking over the events of the day - His mind was obsessively settled on the young noble lady who treated him so well, who smiled so sweetly at him... Who felt so good in his arms. He loved how she dragged him all around, and grinned so enthusiastically; How she thanked him for helping her with archery... In his perverse mind, he wanted to bury his hands in that gorgeous mess of long red hair and pull her into his arms, never to let go ever again; He wanted to squish her in his arms until she explode, that's how cute she was; He wanted to slam his lips against hers and kiss her until she had no more air in her lungs, and her body was bruised and imprinted with his hands all over.

Not once did he expect to hear the heavy door of his sparsely furnished cold room creaking open, revealing the very girl he was fantasising over, wearing a thick nightgown and holding tightly a fur-lined cloaked draped over her small shoulders; Her wild hair was even more tousled than before.

The air is cold, a reminder of the unforgiving northern weather. Ramsay’s small, sparsely furnished room is dimly lit by a single candle on the bedside table. She waited for a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, before walking in - The boy, already on edge, bolted right up, startled by the sudden intrusion. His first thought was that an assassin was trying to get him, or his father wanted to beat him half to death -

But no. It was the object of his obsessions. Y/N stepped forward, letting the dim light of the fireplace reveal her nervous face. The boy's stiffness melted away, and he leaned forward to look at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice as cold as that of his father.

Y/N offered a small, sheepish smile, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders as she moved closer to his bed. "I don't like sleeping alone. It's cold and scary here." she said, moving her bare feet closer to the bed. "Can I sleep in your room... Please?"

Ramsay blinked in shock, still processing her presence. It was not every day that a noble’s daughter sneaked into his room in the middle of the night, asking to spend the night. He shifted, making space on the bed as Y/N climbed on... The sheep walked right into the wolf's den.

"I thought noble ladies weren't allowed alone in a room with a boy - A lowly bastard, no less. Who knows what I'll do to you." she looked at him all confused and innocent - Of course she had no idea what he was talking about; No one tells noble ladies what men want to do to them... How they want to ravage them...

"No one has to know I am here." she smiled sweetly. "Besides - I had something for you." all of his wicked thoughts dispersed on the spot, thinking what it could be that she brought - For him! He felt a weird warmth spread through his chest - And much below also; He watched attentively as Y/N revealed a small tray filled with desserts from inside her cloak - All the sweet desserts a bastard son like him wasn't allowed to eat, from the dinner he wasn't allowed to attend.

"I am sorry... Your father scared me too much... I was too much of a coward to ask him to let you dine with us." she said in a tender, guilty voice, placing the plate on the bed for him to try out the cakes. "At home, mother doesn't want to see Jon and Theon, our ward, eat with us... So I and Robb begged dad to let them eat with us, and he agreed." she messed up her already rousled hair. "Forgive me."

Ramsay looked deep into her eyes, making her look away with a blush; She didn't seem to like holding eye-contact, he realised; He was intimidating her with his usually cold and empty expression - Just like his father. She was afraid of his father - And rightfully so; But he didn't want her to be afraid of him too; He wanted Lady Y/N to like him, to love him, to want him and only him.

"It's a man's job to protect his woman, Y/N, not the other way around." he let out a small, sardonic chuckle. "I can't blame you for being scared of my Lord Father. I know he can look rather... Intimidating."

"But... It's not right... And regardless of the circumstances of your birth, you should not be treated any less. You deserve better than this." Ramsay's body grew ever hotter the more she spoke, and were it not for his self-control, who knows what he would have done to this little fox girl. She was far too cute for her own good... Far too nice... And nice girls always end up the worst, because of monsters like him.

But it was fine. He was a monster, but he would protect her. His mind was settled - Y/N was his, and only his.

"Are you not cold?" she asked all of a sudden; He had forgotten he was wearing no shirt, and his body was in full view. She was worried about him, how cute of her.

"I am a man of the North, Y/N. This is how I sleep every night." he let himself fall back on the bed, casually eating some of those little cakes. "You're just cold because you're a girl, and you're all frail and mellow. You need a man's heat to keep you warm through the night." he ended with a cocky smirk addressed her way.

"Is that so?" she hummed softly. "Prove to me that you are right, then." how cheeky she was, Ramsay thought to himself, watching with shock as the little vixen laid herself so carefree in his arms; Her hand was placed comfortably on his shoulder, and she nestled herself on his side. "Keep me warm."

"What a playful little minx." he scoffed, watching her so cutely clinging to his body. He reveled in the silence broken only by him enjoying the cakes she brought over, and soon enough, in her rhythmic slow breathing - She had fallen asleep so easily, he was truly mesmerised. She was so cute and little compared to him, he realised once again.

As the candle flickered and the night deepened, Ramsay stood awake for a little while longer, his mind racing with wild thoughts and feeling he's never experienced before. Eventually, however, the warmth of her presence lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep, yet holding a small smile of triumph on his face.

The very next day, early in the morning, Lady Y/N sneaked out of Ramsay's room and went back into her own so no one would suspect a thing. She received breakfast in bed and her maid helped her dressed and get ready for another exciting day spent with Ramsay.

This time, the bastard thought he'd show off - He brought her to the kennels to his the hounds. It was his idea to raise dogs to hunt and guard the place and what not; The kennel master was a middle-aged man full of experience... But his daughter was an annoying little girl around his age. She wanted to appear strong and rough around him... To show off. Why, he couldn't quite understand - He was pretty sure girls this age weren't so interested in boys and their bodies - Unlike boys wanting desperately to see girls naked.

Lady Y/N was cheeky, yes, but she was gracious also; Myranda, on the other hand, was a disgrace... A disgrace that Ramsay loved to humiliate. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that she also enjoyed that kind of treatment in a rather profound way.

The kennels were dark and chilly, filled with low rumbles and growls, and the smell of straw and wet dog fur. The light filtered through narrow, creaked windows... Y/N didn't think it was a nice place for dogs to stay at, but at least they were protected from the snow, wind and cold outside.

Much to Ramsay's dismay, Myranda was there, tending to the dogs and snapping at them every once in a while; She wasn't stern - She was harsh and cruel; The exact opposite of Lady Stark, who had a natural affinity for animals, and the gift of warmth and compassion to all living beings.

With a protective arm holding Y/N firm into his chest, he showed off his dogs; Most of them were females, large, with long fur, and highly aggressive. "What do you think about my bitches, Y/N? They make the best hunters, not the mutts." he spoke cockily. "And they know to obey only their master."

Y/N's visage was tender and soft; With no fear, she approached one of the dogs who had just given birth, and her puppies were sucking at her teats. She knelt by her side; The dog's menacing growls all but dissipated once she sniffed the lady's hand, allowing her to pet her head.

"What a gorgeous mommy you are, darling! Oh, but you must be cold - Your little ones too!" Y/N took off her cloak, draping her mother dog nicely in it. "There - Isn't it better? Nice and toasty!"

Ramsay watched the interaction with a mix of shock and fascination - He was so used to commanding the dogs through fear and dominance, that he hadn't expected the dogs to listen so quickly to a gentle word. Was it the Wolf's blood coursing through her veins that made her a canine whisperer? Or was it simply that sweet voice of her that bewitched even him? "I’ve never seen them act like that. They usually tear anyone apart who gets too close."

Y/N smiled sweetly, scratching the dog behind her ears, completely at ease. "They’re just like people, but trust-worthy and reliable. If you show them kindness, they’ll return it. They’re not so different from us, really."

Before Ramsay can respond, a harsh voice cut through the air. Myranda, holding a leash, stood at the other end of the kennel, glaring at Y/n with undisguised jealousy. She tugged on the leash, yanking a dog that was already straining against her rough grip. "They’re not pets, they’re beasts. You can’t trust them with soft words, or they’ll turn on you. That one already bit me once."

The dog on the leash cowered, her tail between her legs as Myranda yanked it towards her. Y/N frowned, rising to her feet. The bastard didn't think even a small, little girl like her could hold such an undeniable presence and imposing aura. "Maybe if you weren’t so harsh, they wouldn’t bite. They’re only reacting to how you treat them."

Myranda’s face flushed with anger, her grip tightening on the leash. She sneered at Y/N, her eyes dark with resentment and spite. "What would you know about it? You’re just a spoiled little brat who doesn’t understand anything about the real world." How dare that obnoxious slut speak like that to his darling little fox? She was his - His only - And no one was allowed to treat her like this. Ramsay, sensing the tension, steps forward. His expression shifts, a cold smirk curling his lips as he looked at Myranda, enjoying the sudden shift in her demeanour; Immediately meek and pathetic. It was time to put her back in her place.

"Watch your tongue, Myranda. What's the filthy peasant daughter of the kennel master, compared to the Wolf Lady herself?" he hissed at the girl who immediately went quiet; She flinched at his harsh tone, her eyes were wide and hurt. She was used to his cruel streak, but it still stung in the sweetest way... But to be scolded like that in front of that little whore...

"I... I didn’t mean anything by it, Ramsay. I just—" she was at a loss for words; Her mind was empty as always, the boy remarked spitefully.

"Didn't mean anything, you say - Any other noble would have your tongue for speaking ill of Lady Y/N Stark; You should fall on your knees and seek forgiveness. She is graceful, don't you think? If it were me, well... We both know what I like to do with disobedient cunts like you, don't you, Myranda?" his gargoyle eyes stared emptily into her own tearful eyes; Somewhere lower, she noticed the subtle way the bastard showed off a small knife that she knew very well was used to flay. She gulped, hanging her head low, and trembling pathetically. "I'm waiting, Myranda - Where is that apology?"

As Myranda bit her lip, holding back the tears of her weakness, Y/N sighed, walking in front of her; Though Y/N was smaller than her, she still placed her hand gently on her hand. "It's fine - She's not wrong. I couldn't possibly be knowledgeable in dogs than someone who was raised in the arts of dog-raising. The only difference is the approach - I have a different approach in caring for my animals, and it has proven far more reliable than ruling with an iron fist." her voice was soft and tender. "Raise your head. No need to ask for forgiveness. Just make sure they are all well taken care of." with a graceful twirl, Y/N turned to her friend and hooked her arm to his, guiding him out into the forest.

"If I was in her place, I'd have shot you when you turned your back at me." he grumbled harshly under his breath.

"She wouldn't have dared, and neither would you - Not for as long as I am Lady Stark, and mine own Lord Father is here, on the very premises... Not unless you want to meet a fate worse than death." oh, that wicked smirk of her, so different than anything sweet and tender she embodied thus far; The twisted grin of a rabid fox, not the sweet smile of a flower.

"What would you know, the little flower knows how to play to her political strength. How adorable." he huffed, pulling her into his side harshly. "Politics aside, you are still just a frail little thing that can break so easily... It would be a pity if anyone did anything to hurt you..."

"So what, you are saying you want to protect me?" she scoffed at him; Though her question was genuine, and his answer even more so.

"Yes." once they were deep into the forest, he held her in a painfully tight embrace, his face buried in the crook of her neck; She smelled sweet, like honey and flowers... It only made him want to taste her even more. "Always, and forever."

Just like the previous night, Y/N had snuck out of her room again, her small feet padding silently across the cold stone floor. The Dreadfort, with its bleak atmosphere, had never bothered her, not with Ramsay nearby. Tonight, though, was different. It was her last night here, and the thought of leaving him behind made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t quite understand. Ramsay was her friend, and though the Dreadfort wasn't too far away from Winterfell, it was unbecoming of a young Lady to go out of her way to visit a bastard... She wouldn't be allowed to.

She slipped into Ramsay’s room, finding him lying on his bed, shirtless, his dark eyes gleaming as he watched her approach, just like a predator seeing delicious prey walk willingly inside his lair.

“You’re not supposed to be here, little fox.” he drawled, the nickname slipping from his lips with ease.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a small pout formed on her lips as she climbed in bed next to him. “I don’t care. It’s too cold in my room, and I don’t want to be alone.”

Ramsay smirked, propping himself up on one elbow. He was shirtless again. “Afraid of the dark, are we?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes held an intensity that belied his playful words.

She stuck her tongue out at him but nodded nonetheless, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am used to sleeping with my siblings."

"Fine, fine, little rose, I won't tease you about it - After all, you've come to seek my protection; How can I tease a lovely little lady such as yourself." she blushed softly at her new nickname, looking away but said nothing. “You know, sweetling..." Ramsay began, his voice dripping with mischief. “Did you know there are things that boys and girls do together when they’re older. Things you wouldn’t even imagine.” he leaned closer to her body, his bare chest against her back; His hand found itself playing with a velvety lock of red hair - It was quite addicting. SHE was addicting.

Y/N turned her head a little to look at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, Ramsay?”

His grin widened, enjoying the way her innocent mind struggled to grasp the meaning behind his words... His intentions. “Oh, nothing you’d understand now...” he said, his tone teasing. “But one day, when you’re older… I could teach you.”

Y/N tilted her head, still perplexed. “Teach me what?”

Ramsay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What boys and girls do together when they’re alone. It’s something… Special.”

She blinked at him, her confusion deepening. “Like playing games?”

He chuckled, a dark sound that made her shiver despite the warmth of his presence. "I suppose... A game only for grown-ups.”

Katrina pouted, feeling as though he was making fun of her. “I’m not that young, Ramsay. Mother said I am old enough to flower soon - That makes me an adult in the eyes of the noble families.”

He reached out, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, his touch lingering a little too long. “And when that time comes, sweetling, I’ll make sure you know everything.”

The thought of Y/N flowering soon... The thought of making her his own... It made his body all hot and greedy. Some day, when she becomes a woman, he wanted to be the one to claim her; Her one and only; The only man she ever looks at. But he was a bastard, and she was the eldest daughter of the Stark Family... How the hell could he make her his, forever?

It was a maddening thought... That his bastard label would keep him away from her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. There was no way any man would be capable of taking care of her the way only HE could. No one could make her as happy as he can. No one can understand her the way he does.

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was something in his tone, something she didn’t quite understand, but it made her feel uneasy... But also, enticed. Curious. Addicted. Still, she trusted him. He was her friend, after all... And will forever be her friend... Whether he wants to or not. What Lady Y/N Stark wanted, she got, even if she had to force the hands of fate to achieve her goals.

Ramsay, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes, decided to push her just a little further. “You should just enjoy being a little girl, for now, all innocent and pure like a dove. Don’t worry about what happens when you’re older.” he hummed, his low, husky voice, whispering in her ear, making her shudder and blush. "I'll take care of everything."

Katrina huffed, turning her face away from him. “You’re always saying things I don’t understand.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a strange thrill through him. He sneaked his arms around her body, pulling her into his chest; One hand was holding strongly onto her small body, while the other held her jaw, firm but gentle. “Noble men don't know horseshite about these things - They're all stupid, but have the pride of lions and cockiness like no other. They think they know the game well, but they are shamefully bad... And without an experienced man to teach them, you, noble ladies, are all cute and confused, losing the game...” ah, tsk tsk, bad Ramsay, he was talking too much when he shouldn't... Not now.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “You’re just trying to confuse me.” she huffed, quite like a brat, getting out of his clutches and drawing the blanket over her.

Ramsay watched her for a moment, his smirk fading as he realized she was serious about ignoring him. She couldn't ignore her. She wasn't allowed to. She was supposed to look at him with those beautiful eyes of hers - To look at him, and only him.

The silence stretched on, and something dark and possessive flared up inside him. He hated being ignored, especially by her. Desperate for her attention, he threw the blanket off of her, pinning her down on the bed before she could react. He straddled her waist, his hands holding her wrists above her head as he loomed over her.

Y/N gasped in surprise, her wide eyes locking with his - Finally, she was looking at him. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with something neither could name.

Ramsay’s smirk returned - He enjoyed looking down at her like that, her face all innocent and confused, so damn precious. "Ramsay...?" don't talk to him in that sweet voice... Don't... He'll lose control... He will...

To stop his own wicked thoughts and urges, he started tickling her sides mercilessly. Y/N squealed, her laughter filling the room as she squirmed beneath him, trying in vain to escape his grasp. This wasn't any better, he noted; It only made him more desperate to touch her, to hold her... To...

“Ramsay, stop!” she begged, her voice breathless with laughter - He only tickled her harder, delighting in her helplessness. There was something so special about ignoring such lovely pleas.

In her desperate attempts to defend herself, Y/N’s nails raked across his arm, deep enough to draw blood. Ramsay hissed at the sharp sting, letting out a surprising sound of pleasure... Surprising even for him... but he didn’t stop tickling her until she was breathless and teary-eyed from laughing and her body aching for freedom and mercy.

Finally, he relented, looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and something darker... Victory, triumph... Y/N panted, her chest heaving as she caught her breath - Yet her eyes widened when she saw the red lines on his arm, painting his pale arm a lovely shade of crimson red.

“Ramsay...! I’m sorry - I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” she shot up, her voice small as she reached out to touch the scratch she had left.

Ramsay caught her hand, his grip firm but not painful. He looked at the blood, then at her, a strange expression on his face. “It’s nothing.” he said, though the intensity in his gaze made her heart flutter with unease. “Just a mark... A precious little reminder.”

“A reminder? Of what?” she asked, confused, watching him lick the blood leaking down his skin.

His smirk returned, though there was something almost possessive in his eyes. “That you, little Kitten, are all mine, and only mine; Even when you leave, you’ll still be mine." he wiped some of the blood his his thumb, and unexpectedly, he pressed it gently against her bottom lip - Pink turning red - Then a little inside, touching her tongue. "You want us to be together, don't you, My Lady?" he got closer to her face, now both hands cupping her small face carefully. "Always and forever."

"Yes... I want us to be friends... Forever." he wanted to kiss those plump dewy lips so bad, but he couldn't; Not not. She was driving him crazy... A twisted child with nefarious cravings and desires... And all his obsessions channeled into a single being... A precious little kitten who loves to scratch him. "Always and forever." he kissed her forehead gently, almost as if he was sealing an unspoken vow between them.

The bastard of Dreadfort wasn't happy to see his cute little kitten leave; But he couldn't do anything about it - Not yet. He lingered in the back, far away, and watched as her horse disappeared into the horizon. He knew it was going to be an awful day for him. He just knew.

The atmosphere was terrible all around the fort, heavy with the chill of winter and the unspoken tension that has settled over the castle. Ramsay remained in his small room, reflecting on the recent visit, the fleeting moments of warmth with Lady Y/N still fresh in his mind.

Every time his mind lingered back on their closeness, his body grew all hot and restless; He felt himself going crazy, needing to touch himself to relieve the pressure building inside his stomach; His core was all knots and ache.

He couldn't though... He couldn't... He had to hold on... It wasn't night yet, and he risked anyone barging inside his room... But he needed her so badly... Her scorching touch on his ice-cold skin... Those sweet, soft rose petal lips on his rough, chapped ones... Her small body, all cute and frail under his own... At his mercy...

His rapid thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching his room. His heart quickened even more, a sense of dread creeping in. He knew what was going to happen, and he dreaded every second of it.

The door opened, and Roose Bolton stepped inside, his expression as unreadable as ever... But Ramsay knew better than to trust the calm before the storm.

"Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Ramsay?" those harsh eyes bore silently into him, carving his heart out.

"No... Father." he muttered under his breath, getting off the bed and standing in front of his father, his head hung, but jaw clenched in anger and humiliation.

"Is that so?" the boy remained quiet. "I’ve heard... Things, Ramsay. Things I don’t like."

Ramsay tensed, his eyes meeting his father’s cold, manipulative gaze. He knew what was coming, and though he’s experienced his father’s wrath before, the dread never really faded. He tried to stand taller, to show no weakness, but the apprehension was clear in his voice.

"Lady Y/N wanted to talk to me. She was bored with no child her age around, so she dragged me to be her companion. I couldn't refuse the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark..." he couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to; He was desperate for her attention, after all. It was only by luck that he captured her attention so easily - And by fate, he will continue aligning with her, no matter what obstacles jump in his way.

Roose’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. He stepped closer, his presence looming over the subject of his deepest disappointments and shame, who instinctively took a step back. "In case you've forgotten - You’re a lowly bastard, Ramsay. You might be my son by blood, but you will never be a Bolton in the eyes of the world." he spat at his son who flinched habitually. "Your place is not with the likes of her. You forget yourself too easily. We are lucky Lord Stark didn't have your head for tainting his precious daughter's air."

The words cut deep into his heart, a reminder of the bitter truth Ramsay always tried to ignore... But this time, they stung more than usual, because for a moment, Y/N made him believe he could be something more.

"Lady Y/N said Lord Stark agreed to allow the bastard and the ward to dine at the same table as his legitimate children. They treat them like their own flesh and blood..." the words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted his impertinence. Roose’s expression darkened further, his patience wearing thin.

"You fool - How dare you fall in love with a noblewoman?! You think Lord Stark would ever allow his eldest daughter to marry some filthy low-life like you and take his riches? His noble name? Have you lost your mind, child? This is not how I raised you." his voice boomed painfully through the echoing empty stone walls of his room. "Love and foolishness are weakness, Ramsay, and I will not tolerate either in my son."

Before Ramsay could react, Roose’s hand struck him, delivering a sharp backhand across Ramsay’s face - The force of the blow sent him stumbling, crashing into the bedside table, the candle tumbling to the floor. Pain spread across his cheek, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed as Roose grabbed him by the neck, dragging him back to his feet.

"You are my son, Ramsay, and you will do as I say. I will not have you ruin yourself over foolish maiden dreams of love and marriage . You are a tool, nothing more - And I will carve you into something useful, no matter how much you resist." Ramsay tried to fight back, to push against his father’s grip, but he was no match for Roose’s strength and iron grip.

The beating that followed was brutal, each strike a lesson in obedience, in submission, a reminder of the cruelty that defines his existence. He tried not to cry out, to show no weakness - And he did just that. Ramsay utter no sound through it all.

When Roose finally released him, Ramsay crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, his body battered and bruised. Roose looked down at him, his expression harsh and unforgiving.

"Remember this, Ramsay - You are nothing but my bastard son, and you will learn your place, or I will teach it to you until you understand."

Roose left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Ramsay was left alone, the echoes of his father’s words ringing in his ears, the pain throbbing through his body. He remained there, motionless on the ground and growling like a rabid animal.

Hours passed before Ramsay finally moved, dragging himself back onto the bed, wincing with every motion. He stares at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of emotions — Anger, shame, dread.

He thought of Y/N, of her kindness, of the way she treated him like he was worth something. That memory was a lifeline, something to hold onto in the darkness, but it was also a source of pain, a reminder of what he can never have...

He clenched his fists, the pain in his body overshadowed by the rage building inside him. He hated his father, hated the world that condemned him to this life, hated the fact that he was born a bastard - But most of all, he hated that he cared — That he yearned for something more, something better.

"I will make them pay." the words were whispered into the darkness, a promise to himself. "I will kill them all." he punched the ground with his fist until it became a bloody mess - Yet he felt no pain at all, only wrath.

He knew he couldn't change the circumstances of his birth, but he could at least take control of his life. He could become what his father wanted — A lethal weapon - But he will do so on his terms; And one day, when he has the power to make sure no one ever hurts him again, he will walk forward to force all of his wishes to come true...

Even if that meant kidnapping Lady Y/N Stark and marrying her in secret.

Three years down the line, Y/N was now 14 years of age, and putting her brothers to shame when it came to archery and hunting; Thus, they all agreed they would have a hunting competition, to which, albeit reticently, their father agreed.

Three whole days spent in the Wolfswood; The one who brings the most game wins the contest - Thus, Theon, Y/N, Robb and Jon rode confidently into the forest.

The Wolfswood was a dense, ancient forest stretching between Winterfell and the Dreadfort - She felt so close, yet so far from her best friend; Alas, she couldn't afford to think of him. She had to win. The woods were thick, the towering trees created a canopy that blocked out much of the sky, leaving only slivers of light to pierce the darkness. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and distant cries of creatures every now and again.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the clearing where Y/N had set up her camp. She’d done well so far, managing to bring down two deer, a boar and a few smaller game, which were now tied securely to a tree. Her brothers were likely doing just as well, but she was determined to win. She had to. If she won, she would forever get rid of her brothers' teasing, or them telling her to return to embroidering. How bothersome.

After finishing her meal, she moved cautiously around the perimeter of her camp, checking the traps she’d set earlier; They were simple, designed more to alert her to danger than to catch anything significant. As she returned to the fire, she couldn't help but shiver slightly. It wasn't the cold that bothered her, but the darkness pressing in around her.

Taking a deep breath and calming her nerves, she settled down by a large tree, its sturdy trunk at her back. The fire crackled, offering some comfort, but the night was still intimidating. She tried to focus on her goal — Winning the competition, proving she was just as capable as her brothers - But the fear of being alone in the dark was still there, lurking at the edges of her mind.

Just as she began to relax, the snap of a trap echoed through the clearing, followed by a loud, furious string of curses. Y/N’s heart leaped into her throat, and she instinctively grabbed her bow, an arrow quickly nocked. Her eyes darted around the shadows until she spotted the source of the commotion.

Hanging upside down by his leg, thrashing and cursing loudly, was Ramsay Snow.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, her grip on the bow loosening as she lowered the weapon. “Ramsay?!” she muttered, barely believing her eyes.

Ramsay twisted around, his face a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Who else would be stupid enough to get caught in one of your traps, Kitten?”

Finally getting over her shock, Y/N dropped her bow and rushed over, pulling out her knife to cut the rope. Ramsay landed with a thud, groaning as he rubbed his ankle. She knelt beside him, worry etched on her face.

“Are you alright?!” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Ramsay looked up at her, a mischievous grin spreading across his face despite the pain. “I’ve had worse - But really, trapping people now? I didn’t know you’d gotten so ruthless.”

She blushed, embarrassed that she’d caught him of all people. “It wasn’t meant for you! I just didn’t want anything sneaking up on me.”

Ramsay chuckled, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. “And you did a fine job of that." he stepped towards her, and lazily rested his arms on her shoulders, leaning on her body to the point of making her stumble over her feet from his weight. "You could have just asked for help instead of trying to do all this alone.”

Y/N looked at him, his face so close to her own that she could feel her breath. "I genuinely didn't think I would meet you again - Not like this, at least." her voice was so tender and soft; Oh, how he missed her voice.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her. "Yes, I was sad not getting a visit for three whole years... Though now that I look at you, all sadness magically vanished." he smirked at her, his expression confident and cocky. "You still look like a child compared to me."

"You will always be older than me, Ramsay - What exactly do you want me to do about it?" she breathed out, slowly analysing him; He grew up so much in three years... He looked gorgeous. Gorgeous, and deranged. Those crystal clear eyes were swimming with craziness, only highlighted by the peeking moonlight caressing his already pale face.

"Grow up!" with a swift power move, he grabbed her body and lifted her in the air, reveling in the cutesy squeals of her surprise, and the strong grip she held on his shoulders. Little kitten loved to dig her nails in his flesh, how exciting.

"How about you help me win, instead?!" she cried out. "Now please, put me down - And help me out, please!" begrudgingly, he did just that, dragging her to the fire, where she explained the premise of their contest... And how adorable she was, admitting to still feeling afraid of the dark, clinging onto him so adorably.

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased with her bagging for his help so sweetly. “Of course, Kitten. I’ll make sure you have a little… advantage.”

"Meow." she meowed! She... Meowed, of all things! How was he supposed to keep his hands to himself when she was being so adorable?! It had been three whole years since they last saw each other; She grew even more beautiful than he expected, than he imagined - And now, he can't even touch her! How unnerving.

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in Ramsay’s presence. Though he teased her mercilessly, there was something reassuring about having him by her side - And though she didn’t realize it yet, Ramsay was just as glad to be there with her, the thrill of the hunt only heightened by the prospect of spending the night together in the wild - In the shadows of the Wolfswood, their bond deepened, forged in the darkness and sealed by the blood they would spill together.

Since then, every fortnight, until she would turn 17 years of age, they would meet in their special spot in the Wolfswood. Eddard and Cat sometimes spotted her sneaking away, but they could never get her to say a thing - She was praying in the Godswood or something - No one would believe her.

It was a fortnight after the hunting competition when Y/N first returned to the Wolfswood alone. The memory of Ramsay helping her secure that precious victory over her brothers still lingered in her mind, and she found herself drawn back to the forest, eager to see him again. As she rode into the familiar clearing, she noticed the way the trees seemed to close in around her, the shadows long and deep. She dismounted, tying her horse to a nearby tree, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close before she could react. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she struggled instinctively, but then she heard his familiar chuckle in her ear.

“Miss me, Kitten?” Ramsay’s voice was a low, teasing murmur.

Y/N relaxed slightly, though she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Ramsay, you scared me!” she whined, trying and failing to push him away from her.

“That was the point.” he replied, his arms still holding her securely. “It’s no fun if you see me coming.”

She turned in his arms to face him, her expression both annoyed and amused. “One of these days, I’ll get the jump on you.”

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased by her challenge. “I’d like to see you try.”

Each meeting after that became a game — A test of wits and skill - For the bastard, that is. Ramsay would always arrive first, hiding in the shadows of the forest, waiting impatiently for the perfect moment to strike. Sometimes he would leap out from behind a tree, causing Y/N to yelp in surprise; Other times, he would sneak up silently, wrapping his arms around her waist or pinning her against a tree before she even realized he was there.

With each encounter, Ramsay’s touches grew bolder. He would linger behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, or let his fingers brush against her hair as they walked together through the forest. Y/N, now 16, was aware of his increasing boldness, but she couldn’t deny the thrill it brought her. She was beginning to understand all those suspicious things he would tell her as children - To think he would be so bold and knowledgeable since so long ago... His advances were teasing, playful and straight-forward, and she felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension each time he touched her.

Ramsay seemed to revel in her reactions, his smirk ever-present as he found new ways to surprise and corner her. He would pin her to the ground during their mock fights, holding her down as she struggled and laughed, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite understand. Other times, he would push her against a tree, their faces inches apart, his breath warm against her skin as he teased her mercilessly.

As the years passed, their meetings became a constant in their lives. No matter what happened between Winterfell and the Dreadfort, they always returned to the Wolfswood, where the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

She began bringing her pets— A red wolf named Meleys after the Red Dragon Queen, and a fox named Jade to match her eyes; Meleys, with her fiery fur and fierce loyalty, would growl softly at Ramsay whenever he got too close, while Jade, more curious than cautious, would dart around their feet, sniffing at Ramsay with mild interest, yapping to play with him, or to garner his affections.

One night, after a rather intense wrestling onto the ground that left Y/N pinned beneath Ramsay, her wrists above her head, unable to move and breathing hard, struggling to break free, she managed scratched him, again, drawing blood - This time, it was his neck instead. The sight of the single scarlet line against his pale skin made her freeze, her eyes wide with shock.

"Oh no, not again!" she got naturally worried. "I told you not to tease me so much - Now I hurt you! I'm so sorry!"

Ramsay, however, only laughed, his eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive. He grabbed her in his arms, holding her chin. “Looks like you’ve marked me again, Kitten.” he said, his voice a low purr. “Afraid I forgot who you belonged to?”

Katrina flushed, unsure of what to say. She didn’t fully understand the weight of his words, but the way he looked at her made her heart race in a way she couldn’t quite explain. "Let me wipe the blood... I should put some snow on it to stop the bleeding..."

"Or you could be a good little Kitten and lick the blood away." his affirmation shocked the girl so much that she almost didn't realise she was pulled into his lap, her chest flush against his own. "Or... My Lady doesn't want to take accountability for her actions~?"

"That's... That's weird, I can't... I'm not..." he grabbed her face, fixing it to look deep into her eyes.

"What a naughty, naughty Kitten you've been... You wouldn't want me to punish you... Or... Mayhaps that is exactly what you wish for~?" the blush on her cheeks was as beautifully red as her hair; She was so precious and shy, how sweet... And how hard to resist.

"F-Fine... Stay still..." with reticence, she carefully held onto him, one hand holding his jaw up, and the other keeping herself steady by holding onto his shoulder.

The feeling of her hot, wet tongue trailing the small scratch line along his neck garnered a strong shiver from the young man, and a shameless groan of pleasure; Such a sound, so primal, so masculine, it made Y/N feel even more timid... And intrigued. She wanted to hear more... To make him react more.

She continued in her conquest, using instead her lips, kissing at his skin until there was no more blood leaking down... Each kiss made his grip on her body get stronger to the point of pain... But she loved it. She loved how feral Ramsay could get, so strong, so unchained... So arousing. And then, once she held onto him tighter, and her kisses turned bolder, nipping away at his skin, sucking on it, he was desperate... So desperate, in fact, that he had to roughly push her away and place snow on his neck to cool down his scorching body, or he was sure to burst and make a mess of his breeches... Or worse, force her down and claim her. It wasn't how he wanted her to look at him... But it wasn't easy to hold back around her.

"Never do that again, sweetling - Not to anyone, except me."

As the time approached for Y/N to turn 17, their meetings in the Wolfswood took on a new tension. Ramsay’s touches became more lingering, his teasing words more loaded with meaning. He would hold her closer, his hands sliding down to her waist, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered things that made her cheeks burn. He wanted her so desperately, but there was no way he would destroy the way she craves him so, by taking her against the tree in the forest.

During their last meeting before her birthday, Ramsay surprised her by sneaking up behind her as she sat by a stream, lost in thought. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him as he nuzzled her neck.

“You’ve gotten better at sneaking up on me.” Katrina admitted, her voice betraying the mix of emotions she felt.

Ramsay smirked, his breath warm against her skin. “I love seeing you squeal for me, My Lady."

She tried to pull away, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her, but he held her fast, his hands firm on her waist. “What do boys and girls do together when they’re old enough?” he had teased her many times before, always with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/N had never fully understood the implications, but she knew enough to feel a flutter of something in her chest — Something that made her both curious and uneasy - The same wicked thing she felt, kissing his neck, and witnessing his raw reactions. That was what happened to young people whose parents never told them how babies were made... And, worse... Parents who never knew how pleasure was made.

“When you’re old enough, I’ll show you.” Ramsay had once promised, his voice dark and mischievous. "I will show you something even better than the games boys and girls do when they're alone." Unfortunately, he wouldn't have the opportunity to show her the hedonistic world of pleasure he succumbed himself into... The world in which he wanted to drown together... For she was forced to join the retinue to King's Landing and search for a proper marriage prospect... Fit for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.

Y/N was always looking forward to the routine her and Ramsay created for themselves, meeting at the same spot once every two weeks, and catching up, havin fun... She was always the happiest when around him... And yet, this time, Y/N was troubled... Desperate, frustrated, angry, betrayed...

She dismounted from her horse with a heavy heart, her hands trembling as she tied the reins to a nearby tree. Meleys, her red wolf, and Jade, her pet fox, followed closely behind her, sensing the tension that hung in the air. She had come to the clearing many times over the years, but this time felt different... The finality of an ephemeral bliss hung over her neck like a guillotine.

Ramsay was already there, leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, as always, filled with playful malice and mischief, ready to torment his sweet flower - Though, as she approached him, he straightened, his posture tense, as though bracing himself for the bad news brought by a black raven. In the past three years, not once had he seen her this miserable... This... Sorrowful.

“What's gotten my naughty little Kitten so pissed? No more drapes to scratch? Or human flesh is the only thing that can satisfy you now?” he spoke in his usual dark, taunting voice, but for once, his teasing didn't seem to have the intended effect - Or any at all, for what matters.

Y/N didn't even look at him, or acknowledge his presence. H he greeted her, his voice rougher than usual. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes were puffy pink and glazed with tears, her brows were furrowed in a deep frown, and her mind lost in thought. He couldn't stand this look on her. She was supposed to be sweet and smile, to be energetic and filled with vitality, to jump on his and scratch him, to cuddle into his arms and purr so lovingly;

She did none of that.

"What's the matter? Daddy found us out?" he scoffed a question, but she merely shook her head. "So?" she said nothing. "Go on. Speak." still nothing. "I do not appreciate this, Y/N."

She nodded in response, unable to find her voice at first. The words she had rehearsed so many times in her mind now seemed hollow, insufficient for the gravity of the moment. In his rage and frustration, Ramsay roughly grabbed the girl by the furs of her dress, wrestling her to the ground into the soothingly cold snow; His hands were holding tightly onto her shoulders, his face twisted into a malicious sneer - Yet one look into her devastated eyes... Her hopelessness... And he was immediately simmered down.

"The King came over a few days ago." she stammered pitifully over her words. "Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King died... And he wants daddy to become the next Hand..." with great difficulty, she managed to utter some words.

"What's that got to do with you?" he hissed under his breath, his eyes not even once flickering away from her own.

"My daddy was forced to accept... Thus, he has to stay in King's Landing." he slowly nodded his head, as if to urge her to continue. "Sansa fell in love with the King's son, Joffrey... I told her he's a real cunt, that he's not the gallant prince she dreams of, from 'The Ballad of Florian and Jonquil'... But she wouldn't listen... She wants to marry him..." she gulped, tears streaming down her face. "She is barely eleven... Hasn't even flowered yet..."

"You were eleven when I met you." Ramsay noted, earning a nod from her. "You are seventeen now, and still an unwed maiden. The eldest Lady Stark." she cringed softly at the affirmation. "They want to trade you to some rich old fuck, like a piece of meat." she nodded again. "How miserable."

"I don't want to go, Ramsay." she whimpered so pitifully, that the young man found his body growing hot. "I want to stay with you - Forever. The North is my home... I-I can't stay there... I can't..."

"A flower of the North, uprooted and forced to wilt in the stench and stifling heat of the South." he muttered under his breath.

"Mother has been furious for a while that daddy let me unmarried for so long... He wanted me to fall in love and marry someone I wanted... But my mother, married out of duty, also wanted me to do the same... Just like the Tully word - Family, Duty, Honour - ... Marry, have many heirs, do your duties..." he had never seen her cry before, but now, she clinged onto him, sobbing into the crook of her neck, so desperately and pitifully that he almost couldn't understand her. "I don't want to marry some pathetic lordling! I don't want to give birth! I don't want it - Any of it!" she whined and mewled like that some more; Ramsay's grip tightened around her protectively... Possessively... And then... "I want you, Ramsay! I want only you! I want to be you friend, I want to have fun with you, I want to marry you - I want to stay with you forever - Forever and Always!"

His breathing was heavy, picking up a little; He dragged her on his lap, and held her so tightly to his chest that she almost got lost inside his strong embrace. "That's right, little Kitten. You are mine, and only mine. No one can have you. No one but me." he grumbled in her ear, his hand burying into her hair, holding her firmly. "Did they find some shit lord yet?" annoyingly enough, she nodded her head.

"Tyrion Lannister... The Imp." she whimpered lowly. "He is a witty and respectful man... I would have a content life with him... He wouldn't force me to do anything I didn't want..." she hiccuped from sobbing. "But he isn't you. No one is you. And I want only you."

The thought of losing her — Of her being taken away to a place where he couldn’t reach her—stoked the fire of his rage once more. “And you brought your pets over to let me take care of them, then?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I don't want your pets, Y/N. I want you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She had known for years that Ramsay’s feelings for her were intense, even possessive, but this was the first time he had spoken so plainly. She felt more tears slip down her cheek as she looked up at him, her vision blurred by the emotion she had tried so hard to contain.

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re mine, Y/N.” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a dark promise. “You’ve always been mine, and you always will be.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, wanting to believe him— To believe that they could find a way to be together, despite the forces of the universe pulling them apart. She knew how difficult it would be - Escaping King's Landing was close to blasphemy; She knew the expectations placed upon her as a Stark, and the dangers of being tied to a man like Ramsay... A bastard...

She cared for nothing, except for her happiness. She wanted to be selfish, in spite of how much she loved her family. “I’ll find a way back to you.” she promised, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll escape King’s Landing, I swear it.”

Ramsay’s expression darkened, his grip on her face tightening. “You’d better.” he growled. “Because if you don’t, I’ll come for you. I’ll burn that wretched city to the ground if I have to.”

His words, though terrifying, were also a twisted comfort to her. She knew Ramsay meant every word — He would stop at nothing to claim what he believed was his. But as much as she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t ignore the fear that gripped her heart, the fear that she might not be able to return, that she might be trapped in the South forever. That she would wilt before she got the chance to liberate herself.

Ramsay pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’ll take care of Meleys and Jade.” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “But don't forget who you belong to, Y/N."

Y/N nodded, her tears mingling with his breath. She wanted to say something, to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a silent promise that she would return to him, no matter the cost.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to hold back another sob that threatened to escape. She couldn’t bear to leave him like this, but she had no choice - She wasn't a wild wolf anymore, but a collared dog on a leash, and the handler was a slut like Myranda.

With one last glance at him, she forced herself out of his protective arms, turned around and mounted her horse, her heart heavy with sorrow. "I cannot say farewell... But I can try and say... I will see you again... Soon."

As she rode away, she heard Ramsay’s voice call out to her, filled with a desperation that shook her to her core. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

Y/N didn’t look back, tears streaming down her face as she urged her horse forward, the forest closing in around her. She knew this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Ramsay, but the thought of the long, uncertain road ahead filled her with dread... And determination to break free from her shackles... A ferocious, feral instinct broke inside of her, and she was ready to transform into the she-wolf she was born to be...

The cold, dimly lit chamber of the Dreadfort, where the stone walls seem to absorb any warmth that might exist felt now even colder than before, Ramsay noted unconsciously, once he realised it had already been over a year since he hasn't seen Y/N... Since she'd been mercilessly snatched away from his grasp.

Roose Bolton sat at his desk, his expression as impassive as ever, while Ramsay stood before him; The tension between father and son was as harshly palpable as always. The air was thick with the scent of burning torches and the ever-present dampness of the castle, a stark reminder of the harshness of the North, didn't bother him anymore; A man of the North would never be bothered by such trivialities.

Fueled by a mixture of fury and frustration, Ramsay is seething inside at the thought of losing Y/N, but his father’s presence was forcing him to maintain a veneer of calm... For as long as humanly possible for him.

Ramsay paced the length of the chamber, his hands clenched behind his back, his mind a storm of rage and dark thoughts - He was restless - Restless as never before, and that restlessness usually brought with it a storm of torture, hedonism and quite a lot of erratic flaying.

The room felt too small, too suffocating; His father’s cold gaze on him felt like a blade pressed to his throat. He wanted nothing more than to unleash his fury, to tear the room apart, and his father with it, but he knew better. Roose Bolton did not tolerate outbursts, and Ramsay knew he had to keep his emotions in check... As long as he was a bastard, his father was still useful... Afterwards, well...

“You are going to dig a dam if you keep pacing.” Roose’s voice broke through his thoughts, a calm, controlled tone that belied the gravity of their discussion. "Don't tell me you're thinking of that Stark girl again."

Ramsay forced himself to stop pacing, turning to face his father. He knew Roose saw everything, knew everything, and any attempt to hide his feelings would be futile. Still, he had to be careful. His voice was tight with barely suppressed anger. “She’s in King’s Landing.” he grumbled. "For over a year."

Roose arched an eyebrow, his expression giving nothing away. “And this concerns you... How, exactly?" his father's words cut as deep as the cold Valyrian steel. "Have you forgotten you place again?"

Ramsay’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. "No... Father." he licked his lips, looking down for a few seconds. "But she's a Stark - The daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and now, Hand of the King. Marrying her - Politically, of course - Would help our House regain power and wealth again."

"MY House." his father's words felt like whips against his skin. "Not yours. You are a Snow, not a Bolton." he continued with a painfully strong word. "Yet." Roose leaned back in his chair, studying his son with those cold, calculating eyes. “You’ve grown attached to the girl, haven’t you?” he said, a faint hint of amusement in his voice. “You don't care about politics - You only care about yourself." he scoffed, sneering at his son with disgust. "It’s only natural for a bastard to crave what he can’t have.” he continued to belittle him even more. "If you got tired of Tansy's cunt, just move to Kyra - And if even she bores you, you have Myranda. There's plenty women in here - Stop wasting time thinking of the one you can never have. You're wasting your time - And mine."

Ramsay’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He hated the way his father spoke, the way he dismissed him, the way he thought him incompetent and lesser, just because he was born out of wedlock. "She's mine. I claimed her - And I will make sure I get what I want."

Roose’s amusement faded, replaced by a steely resolve. “If you want to make her yours in more than just your mind, you’ll have to do more than just ruining the floor of my study chamber.” he said, his voice as cold as the North itself. “Listen clearly to me, Ramsay. We have a new ally - Far more powerful than the Starks.”

Ramsay narrowed his eyes, his anger simmering just below the surface. “What do you mean?” it was the first time he heard his father speaking about aiding someone other than the Starks - Knowing full well the Bolton army was aiding the Young Wolf win against the Lannister - And that his father, also, had to return to the battlefield soon enough.

Roose leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “The Stark boy, Robb, is a threat to the Crown. Naturally, the self-proclaimed 'King In The North' has a huge bounty on his head - And there is a way to remove him from the board, permanently.”

Ramsay’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard whispers of the plot, rumors of a grand betrayal that would see the Young Wolf brought to his knees, but hearing it from his father’s lips made it real, tangible. He had allied with the Lannisters. “The Red Wedding.” he said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Lord Bolton nodded, his expression unreadable. “The army is going to reach the Twins, and Lord Frey demands a groom. Alas, Robb Stark has the same dangerous sense of loyalty that his own father had - The same loyalty that got him killed." he let out a sardonic laugh. "He married the woman he slept with, out of duty - He cannot be the groom; He's sending his uncle, a lowly, incompetent Tully Fish. Of course Walder Frey would feel betrayed... And will act accordingly." his peering eyes stabbed his own, and his voice was threatening and alarming. "If you want to secure your claim to Winterfell, you must act soon. After Robb Stark dies, the next-in-line heirs are merely children of 7 and 3. The heir is clear - Your darling Y/N Stark." Roose smirked ironically, seeing his bastard's interest piqued, for once. "Everyone wants to fuck an heir in her womb, Ramsay. She is every Noble House's target." his jaw clenched in anger, in rage, in madness. "But only you must claim her maidenhood, make her your woman and have her bare your heirs. It is the only way to secure your position as the next Lord Bolton."

Ramsay’s mind raced. The idea of Robb Stark dead, of Winterfell ripe for the taking, filled him with a dark excitement. But it was Y/N’s face that haunted his thoughts, her tearful promise to return to him, to escape the South and come back to the North. The thought of losing her, of her being out of his reach, drove him to the brink of madness. Then, he remembered the tears painting her face, her distraught, her agony - How loudly she yelled that she didn't want to be a tool to create heirs? That she didn't want to give birth, because she was terrified of the pain, terrified of death, of motherhood - Of everything? And he was on the same wavelength as her - No way he wanted to be a father - Not while his mind still works properly. But Roose continued, his voice like ice, waking him up from his excruciating inner conflict. “Do something useful for once in your pathetic, miserable life and marry that Stark wench you kept sneaking out to meet for three years." he spat at his son. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Ramsay. You may be stealthy, but I know everything.”

Ramsay’s blood ran cold. His father knew—of course, he knew. Roose Bolton knew every secret, every move his son made. There was no hiding from him. But what Roose didn’t understand, what he couldn’t comprehend, was the depth of Ramsay’s obsession with Katrina. She was not just a means to an end, not just a stepping stone to power. She was his, in a way that went beyond any rational thought or ambition.

The bastard didn’t respond; He didn’t trust himself to speak. He left the chamber, his heart and mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. As he stepped into the cold corridors of the Dreadfort, his thoughts returned to Y/N, to her promise to return, to the way she had looked at him in the Wolfswood. He would make sure she kept that promise. She would be his, no matter the cost.

As he walked through the dimly lit halls, all the way outside of the Fort, and into the forest, his mind churned with plans and possibilities. The Red Wedding would be the first step, yes... His father's betrayal... But Y/N… She was his obsession, his desire, the one thing that mattered more than anything else. He would marry her, claim Winterfell, and make sure that she never left his side again m- All on his own accord, not the traditional way the old fucks want to force upon them. He needed her happy; He needed her to want him, to need him, to desire him the same way he wants, needs and desires her.

No one, not even his father, would stand in his way to get his little Kitten back in his arms.

Lost in his mind, the young bastard found himself by the running river - He always wanted to take Y/N here, his special spot to get away from the world. Once, she admitted to him that, although her personality is very much that of a wolf, she still find a good portion of her peace by the river-run, just like her Tully mother.

The icy wind blew through the trees along the riverbank, but Ramsay barely felt it. His dark mood had numbed him to the cold of the North. He stood by the rushing waters of the river, his fists clenched, chest heaving with barely suppressed rage.

He couldn't believe over a year had passed since his sweetling had been taken to King’s Landing, and in that time, Ramsay had fallen into a restless spiral. His hunts no longer thrilled him, and even the cruel games he played with his prisoners brought him no joy. No one could satisfy him anymore, and every woman he took to his bed only made the ache for Y/N grow worse. With an empty chuckle, he remembered the hurt in Myranda's eyes, and the protest she chirped, once he called her by Y/N's name instead of her own. Hilarious how either of them thought themselves important in his life. Dumb cunts, all of them.

He cursed under his breath, pacing along the riverbank, his thoughts tangled in frustration and agony. The image of her haunted him - Her eyes, her smile, the playful way she used to tease him. It wasn't just her beauty that lingered in his mind; it was the feeling she invoked in him. A need deeper than any he'd known before. She had marked him, claimed him, and he hated her for it, almost as much as he longed for her, needed her, just like he needed air to breathe.

His breath came in harsh gasps as he leaned against a tree, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. He slammed his fist against the bark, the roughness biting into his skin, but the pain brought him no relief. His mind kept returning to her, to the day she left, to her cries, her tears, her screams, to the promise she'd made, the way she'd looked back at him with those desperate, pleading eyes, almost as if she was begging him to kidnap her and tie her up in the dungeons, away from the harsh world that would hurt her... That would take her away from him.

"Where the hell are you?" he snarled, his voice echoing through the wind, as he continued punching at the tree, an unfortunate bad habit he got since childhood; Punching until his fist was a bloody mess... Punching until he didn't want to claw his own body out, as if he needed to escape this cage of flesh and sinew.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Ramsay caught movement; He tensed, instinctively reaching for the dagger at his side - Instead of danger, he saw the familiar forms of Meleys and Jade that approached him. The red wolf padded silently through the trees, her light coloured eyes gleaming with intelligence and caution, while the fox moved with graceful playfulness. Ramsay lowered his guard, watching as they approached him.

The wolf nuzzled his hand, the softness of her fur a stark contrast to his cold rage... Her red-coppery fur was as velvety soft as Y/N's hair, he remembered. His muscles relaxed, if only slightly, and he knelt down, letting his fingers run through Meleys' fur. Jade, ever loving, kept her green eyes fixed on him, before she yapped for his attention.

"You're missing her too, aren’t you?" Ramsay muttered, his voice softening for a moment. He scratched Meleys behind the ears, feeling the animal’s warmth against his skin. It was strange — He’d never cared for animals like Y/N did, but these two were different. Sure, he preferred the company of dogs over that of people, and for good reason...

When he looked Meleys in the eyes, she looked straight back at him; She climbed on his lap and gently licked at his face. He didn't stop her. He remembered those times when he'd meet Y/N, and she'd show him how she learnt to warg into Meleys, to see life through her, to control her... To live through her. He often wondered if Y/N was warged into Meleys, and she was trying to comfort him... To show him her love... To give him hope...

Jade, too, jumped on him, nudging her small wet truffle-snout against his palm, licking at his bloody wounds; Ramsay found some strange solace in their presence, though he would never admit it. Meleys and Jade missed her too — He could see it in the way they searched for her, the way they lingered near places where she used to be. They were as restless as he was, as hungry for her return.

"She promised." Ramsay whispered, more to himself than to the animals. "She swore she'd come back."

Meleys whimpered softly, nudging Ramsay's hand, as though offering comfort in her own way, then gently placed her head on his shoulder. Jade blinked up at him with her bright eyes, her tail flicking slightly. They were loyal creatures, just as Y/N had been loyal to him - That loyalty, that bond they all shared — It was the one thing he could cling to when the loneliness clawed at his insides.

"I will flay everyone who gets in her way." his hand gripped the hilt of his dagger, his jaw tightening with renewed resolve. Y/N would return to him. She had to. And when she did, he would never let her go again. Not to anyone. Not to anything. She was his, marked by him, claimed by him; He wore her mark, that haughty little kitten.

He sat there in the snow for a while longer, the quiet of the forest and the gentle presence of Meleys and Jade soothing his maddening thoughts. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Ramsay allowed himself to relax just a little; Though beneath his calm exterior, the storm still brewed.

"See, Sandor?!" Y/N desperately tried to shake him into agreeing with her plan; Though her lack of strength managed to move him not even by a fraction of an inch. "You must help me! Please - You must!"

"You're just as fucked in the head as he is, little fox." the Hound barked a sarcastic laugh. "What of the little bird?"

Y/N hesitated, looking down. "She..." Y/N gulped, her voice wavering. "The Lannisters have her in their clutches. She won't listen to me... Not anymore. She's forgotten herself, who she is... Since father died." she bit her lip painfully hard. "I cannot save her anymore, Sandor; And I can save our family even less if I am trapped here, in this hell." she looked up into his eyes, strength and determination surprising even him "I trust only you with her safety. Whatever happens of that... A wolf must always return to the North. I hope, one day, you will escape also - And bring her with you to our home." she continued in a more tender home. "You will always be welcomed in the North, Sandor."

"You've lost your mind, girl. I am welcomed nowhere - Especially not given my reputation." he rolled his eyes, pushing her away from him. "Fine. I'll take care of the little song bird - But don't expect me to die for her. That damned lousy cunt who calls himself the King is unpredictable, and I am still just a dog."

"A loyal dog who's earned the trust of the Queen In The North."

The night of the wildfire siege at Blackwater Bay was a chaos of screams and roaring flames that lit the sky with an eerie green glow. The city was in disarray, and amidst the flames, the terrified Sandor Clegane dragged the two Stark sisters out of their rooms and fled the blasted Crown city for good, never to look back or miss the damned stench.

At first, they didn't know where to go, except North - Always into the North - Yet during one silent camping stop where their fear calmed down the littlest bit, they agreed on a temporary strategy - Reunite with the Young Wolf who was currently hosted at the Twins.

Unfortunately the reunion was bitter, and that night they didn't meet Robb Stark nor Catelyn Stark or Grey Wind... They met death staring right at them. Sansa fell into the Hound's arms, sobbing, wailing, almost waiting at the grotesque sight... Almost as bad as seeing her father beheaded... Y/N remained silent, her mind all but blank and filled with rage and revenge. What once was her proud brother, the beautiful Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell, the King in the North... Was now reduced to a headless corpse mounted on a horse... With his precious Grey Wind's head sewn on his shoulders. No doubt, their mother also met a similarly humiliating and grotesque fate.

"Y/N. I found your rat runt of a sister." Sandor spoke, out of nowhere, holding Arya by the back of her shirt as she was trying to escape his grasp and run head-first into the Bolton and Frey army to kill them all.

"Let me go! Now! I'll kill you, you stupid mutt! Y/N, tell him!" the little sister tried to struggle, but it was Sansa who slapped her face.

"Arya, can't you see?! Robb is dead! Mother is dead! If you go there, we will lose you too! Stop being a brat for once, and listen to us!" poor Sansa's heartbroken cries made even the wild little sister stare at her with wide eyes, and teared up too.

"They... They killed them... Slaughtered... Like livestock... Why..." came her little, trembling voice. "It's not fair..."

"Life ain't fair, girl." the dog grunted under his breath, taking them away from there. They suffered enough, no need to see the enemy making a mockery of their beloved family anymore.

"The North remembers... And we will have their skins..." though Arya was emboldened by that fearsome threat, Sansa shuddered a little at her cold, hars voice. It was only Sandor who noticed the malice and vendetta behind her words... And the ally hidden in the North, ready to flay anyone alive. What a deranged bastard. Gulping away her sorrow, Y/N finally found the words and strength to speak. "Let's go to aunt Lysa for now, and we'll see what we do from there."

The road to the Eyrie was filled with danger, but Sandor, Arya and Y/N knew how to fight away the assailants; They pushed forward relentlessly, despite their exhaustion and heartbreak. The girls needed a place to recover — Somewhere far from the reach of the Lannisters and the Freys. The only safe place they had left.

The eerie mountain fortress became their temporary sanctuary, though they knew they couldn't stay forever. Surprisingly even to himself, Sandor guarded over the Stark girls with the fierce loyalty of a dog - Though not for long. The girls had to divide and conquer, to make a plan and gain enough support and a proper army to regain what was lost through the Red Wedding, and the loss of Robb and Catelyn Stark.

Sansa, ever the diplomat, remained at the Eyrie to deal with aunt Lysa and young Robert; Arya had escaped into the night, ready to take on the unknown and learn how to properly fight and fend for herself, a little girl against the endless world; Y/N was going to reclaim their home and name herself the heir and Lady of Winterfell - Bran and Rickon were far too little to lead, even with the Maesters aiding them. Maester Luwin might have been as intelligent and loving as their second father, but even he couldn't rule the way a true Stark would.

Leaving Sansa in the care of Sandor, Y/N began her lonely ride northward. She hadn’t heard of what had befallen Winterfell — Only whispers of its burning and rumors of her brothers’ deaths. Her heart told her it was lies, but her mind feared the worst.

The North was desolate, colder than she remembered, and the haunting loneliness echoed in every step she took toward her home. Winterfell had once been a place of safety, but now, the foreboding silence filled her with dread.

When she finally arrived at Winterfell, the place she called home was but a shell of what it had been. The castle stood lonely and bleak, with the Greyjoy banner flapping mockingly above the walls. Panic surged through her veins as she noticed two small bodies, covered in tar, burnt and hanged above the gate as display for all to see. They couldn't be... No way those were Bran and Rickon... Theon Greyjoy would never...

She stormed inside, desperately searching for answers, only to be greeted by the sight of Theon, standing in her father’s hall, playing at being Lord of Winterfell.

Fury like she had never known surged through her - Theon had betrayed them, his only family that accepted him after is own father renounced him in favour of his sister, Asha, who was a far better leader than he would ever be.

Her anger overwhelmed her to the point of irrationality; The words were ripping from her throat with all the venom she could muster. Theon was no longer the boy she once knew. He was brittle, broken, and deluded with false power. The arrogant power-trip that the weak get once given the chance to hold a fickle grain of power.

"You... You pathetic, loathsome, disgusting, arrogant little cockroach!" the voice of a Stark roared loudly through the castle walls, calling forth all of its original inhabitants - They all marveled in joy and horror at seeing Lady Stark return home. "Theon Greyjoy, who in the Seven Hells do you think you are?!" she lunged at him, wrestling him to the ground in his state of confusion and panic.

"You—!" her voice was a guttural snarl, thick with disbelief and outrage. "You traitorous bastard!" she screamed as her fists slammed into him, each strike landing with the weight of her anger and heartbreak. The hall fell into shocked silence, with the few guards present too stunned to react immediately - Though none of them had any respect for the poor excuse of a Kraken playing the leader role. "How dare you sit there! That seat belongs to my father! My family! You are nothing!"

Theon, momentarily caught off guard, could only try to shield himself from the onslaught; Y/N’s blows came hard and fast, her nails scratching at his face and her fists thudding against his chest. For a brief moment, she was relentless, every ounce of betrayal and rage from months of being away from her home, from seeing her family butchered, pouring out of her.

Theon groaned in pain and surprise as she clawed at him, her anger consuming every fiber of her being. “Stop—!” he tried to shout over her furious attacks, but his voice was drowned out by her curses - Just like his useless God.

"How could you?!" she cried, voice cracking with the raw emotion of betrayal. "After everything we've done for you! After we treated you like one of us! You were my brother, Theon! And now this?! You betray your best friend who trusted you above all else, take over my home, declare yourself the Lord and even kill my brothers!" her fists slammed into him again, the intensity of her emotions seeping into every word. "You disgust me! You, vile, evil, pathetic worm!"

The old citizens of Winterfell, those who had remained loyal to the Starks, rushed forward in an attempt to hold her back. A few guards hesitated at first, unsure whether or not to protect Theon from the girl’s wrath or to stand aside. One of the older men, who had known Y/N since she was a child, wrapped his arms around her from behind, gently restraining her despite her thrashing.

"Lady Y/N, please!" the man pleaded, his voice filled with sorrow. "You'll only get yourself hurt - Your precious hands should not be damaged against a lowly peasant such as him." truly, no one feared him, nor respected him. He was a wretch everywhere he went. Even his own family was praying for him never to return.

Y/N was panting, her wild eyes still fixed on Theon, who now stood from the ground, wiping at his bleeding face, his eyes a mix of embarrassment and growing rage. Her chest heaved as she struggled against the arms holding her back, her voice hoarse with the weight of everything she had bottled up for too long, a dark, malicious murder intent growing ever stronger.

"You don't belong here!" she spat, trying to wrench herself free. "This is my home!"

Theon’s pride, wounded by both her words and her successful attack, twisted his expression into something unknown. His initial shock and shame from being attacked by a woman was quickly replaced by a cruel sneer, the only way he knew to hide the guilt and shame gnawing at his insides.

“Shut up, you worthless mewling quim!” he snapped, straightening himself and brushing off his tunic as though her blows were nothing but an inconvenience. “The past doesn't matter. Winterfell is mine - The House of Theon Greyjoy, Lord of Winterfell, Warden in the North." unexpectedly, Y/N managed to land another harsh slap against his gaunt face, then spat him in the eyes.

"You may call yourself whatever you wish, but you will never earn the respect or aid of anyone! You’re nothing but a coward playing at being king in a castle that’s not yours! Do you really think this charade will last? You think you can be anything more than the Greyjoy runt, pathetic and spineless?!” she screeched at him even as he dug his hand into her hair and tugged harshly at it. "You don't know what happens to traitors, do you, Theon? Everyone hates a traitor."

Theon’s face flushed red as Y/N's words pierced through the thin veil of arrogance he had built around himself. For a moment, he wavered, the reality of the situation crashing into him - But his desperation to hold on to his fleeting power won out, and he grabbed her from the man's arms, slapping her face hard with his gloved hand; She simply grinned with defiance - No once could hit harder than Meryn Trant and his metal gauntlet. "You even hit like a cunt, Theon. You could never best me at anything."

Theon looked around at the gathered faces—faces of the people he had known for years, people who had served the Starks faithfully. They were not looking at him with fear or respect, but with contempt and disgust. His eyes flickered back to Y/N, who was still breathing heavily, her eyes filled with loathing and burning rage. Something shifted in him. For a moment, guilt seemed to seep into his features, but he masked it quickly with a cold glare.

“Lock her in her room.” he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand, his voice trembling slightly. “I will teach some proper discipline into her later - And you will learn to scream my name from the top of your lungs - Lord Theon Greyjoy."

The old man holding Katrina hesitated, clearly torn between his loyalty to her and his fear of what Theon might do if defied. Y/N, however, stopped struggling, her fury replaced by a dangerous calm. "You don't have a big enough cock to fuck me, nor the balls to dare even approach me. That's why you could only get women through coin - You are everyone's laughing-stock, and that's what you will remain forever." she said, her voice low but venomous. “And mark my words — You will regret ever stepping foot in this castle.”

Theon flinched slightly at the threat, but he quickly turned away, trying to maintain an air of control as Y/N was swiftly led away by the remaining Stark loyalists who were afraid to see their Lady get in even more trouble. His grip on power was tenuous at best, and deep down, he knew it. Anarchy was approaching.

Y/N’s parting words echoed in his mind, and for a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He had lost his only true family in the Starks, and now even Y/N, the girl who had treated him like a brother for years, despised him, and rightfully so. Despite his stolen throne, Theon felt more alone than ever before.

She was supposed to become a prisoner in her own bedroom chambers, but Y/N Stark was no prisoner — At least, not for long. That night, before Theon could instill his faux sense of discipline and power on her, she escaped through the old tunnels she had explored as a child, her heart set on freedom and revenge. She fled back into the Wolfswood, where the wolves of her ancestors watched over her and awaited the Stark she-wolf to reclaim her home. Yes, the initial plan failed, but there was one last thing she could do -

Return to Ramsay Snow and get the Bolton army on her side.

Once she reached the forest edge close to the Dreadfort, Y/N dismounted and stumbled through the underbrush of the Wolfswood, her clothes torn and her face streaked with tears and dirt. Once she saw the fort in her sight, she took a deep breath and let out a long, haunting howl, the sound echoing through the trees like a wolf’s cry — A cry of both pain and a call for her true brethren to reunite as one once more.

She felt her voice tearing at her throat as she called out into the cold, sharp air. Her fury was boundless. It was the Boltons who had betrayed her family's trust, Roose Bolton who teamed up with Tywin Lannister and orchestrated the Red Wedding, the massacre that took her mother and her brother from her. He was going to pay for betraying her trust. They all will. She will have their skins.

Before long, the silence of the woods was broken. Meleys, her loyal Red Queen, sprinted through the undergrowth, her frozen eyes gleaming in the low light. Behind her, padding quietly, came Jade, her beloved fokin - But it was not just her darling animal-sisters who emerged from the darkness.

As she expected, Ramsay followed shortly after, his black hair wild and messy, his expression one of uncharacteristic joy at the sight of her. For a moment, a flicker of something softer passed through his icy blue eyes, a twinkle of hope. She had come back to him, the only living being he had ever truly wanted - She returned to him, just as she promised.

Y/N’s greeting was, however, far from warm and heartfelt; She snarled at him, her hand instinctively going for her bow. In one swift motion, she nocked an arrow and aimed it at his chest. “Y/N…” Ramsay began, his voice low, almost tender. "You've come back to—"

"Stop right there, you traitorous bastard!" she growled, her voice dripping with venom. She didn't care about the small smile that briefly flashed on his face, or the way his hands slowly rose as if in surrender. She loosed a warning arrow, purposefully missing him by inches, letting it thud dangerously into the trunk of a nearby tree. “Don’t you dare say my name!” she screamed, her voice shaking. Another arrow flew, this one even closer to him, landing in the snow at his feet. “You... you monster! How could you let this happen? How could you betray us? How could you betray me?”

Ramsay's smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion, then anger. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t step forward. Not yet. How dare she accuse him?! And of what, he didn't even know - How dare she?! How DARE she?!

"Betray you?" Ramsay's voice was bubbling and sneering but laced with an undercurrent of fury. He finally realised - It was all about his father's betrayal of the Stark family. Of course. Of - fucking - course. He knew his father was going to ruin everything he ever did in his life - That blasted worm... "You think I had something to do with that?!”

"You’re a Bolton!" Katrina shouted, another arrow notched and ready. “Your father slaughtered my family! My mother, my brother! They were all butchered! Tortured! And for what? For Theon fucking Greyjoy to burn my little brothers alive and take Winterfell for himself?” her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. "You knew! You had to have known!"

“I didn’t!” Ramsay spat, his voice growing desperate as her accusations cut into him. “I had nothing to do with it!” his tone was raising with every bit of defense he had to shout to be heard.

"LIAR!" Y/N screamed, and her voice broke as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “You’re no different than him! You’re just like your father, Ramsay! You’re—”

In that moment, Ramsay snapped, something inside him, probably his sanity, shattered. The frustration, the rage, the desperation to make her understand, to stop her from hating him - They all boiled over. With a savage growl, he moved faster than she could react, lunging forward and knocking the bow from her hands.

He slammed her back against a nearby tree, his hands gripping her shoulders with a bruising force; She gasped, her breath coming in ragged pants as she stared up at him, wide-eyed like a fawn and trembling, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

“Shut up!” Ramsay growled through gritted teeth, his face inches from hers. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to blame me for what he did!” he snarled at her like a rabid beast.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, she was silenced — Bot by fear, but by the intensity of Ramsay’s gaze on her. It burned into her, wild, petrifying and unhinged, filled with emotions she couldn’t quite decipher. Her tears streamed down her face in endless waterfalls, and she tried to shove him away, but he only pressed her harder against the tree, their bodies closer than ever before.

“I have nothing to do with that.” Ramsay snarled, his breath hot against her face. “Nothing - Yet you… You came back, just to accuse me like this?”

She opened her mouth to protest, to explain herself, but before she could speak, Ramsay’s lips crashed against hers in a violent, desperate kiss. Her entire body tensed, shocked by the suddenness of it, by the raw hunger in the way his mouth moved against hers. She tried pushing against him, her mind going crazy, but Ramsay was relentless, strong, and his hands were gripping her tighter as if he was trying to claim her once again, to force her back into submission.

For a moment, her mind blanked, overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss, her very first kiss; The way his lips devoured hers with a desperation she had never seen in him before. When she finally managed to shove him off, they both stood there, breathing heavily, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

“What…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “What did you—”

Ramsay’s eyes softened for just a moment. “I didn't betray you.” he said, his voice quieter now, like a threatening low whisper. “Don't ever do that to me ever again. Not even the Old Gods could stop me from tearing you apart if you accuse me of such horse shite ever again. You hear me?!"

She glared at him through her tears, still uncertain, still struggling with the whirlwind of emotions tearing her apart. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that Ramsay wasn’t involved in the betrayal of her family, but the bitterness of grief and the sting of betrayal ran deep.

“I will kill him.” Ramsay promised, his voice turning dark again as he took a step closer, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “Once he legitimises me, I will kill him. He deserves it for everything he did to me - To us." he hissed softly, his lips almost touching her again. "I will flay him alive for you."

Y/N looked up at him, her expression torn. She was still angry, still grieving, but the conviction in his voice made her pause; She believed him. “I heard what that worthless cockroach did to your home.” Ramsay continued, his voice dripping with venom. “I will gift you Winterfell back, and Theon Greyjoy's skin made into a flag."

Y/N’s lips trembled, her heart torn between hatred and hope. She stared up at Ramsay, her thoughts swirling. She had seen so much darkness, so much death - And yet, through all the horrors of the world, Ramsay Snow remained the only person she fully trusted... The one person who might be twisted and screwed in the head enough to give her the vengeance she craved.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them heavy with tension. Finally, she nodded, her voice a soft, broken whisper. “Bring me Winterfell… And bring me Theon Greyjoy. Alive, but not for long.”

Ramsay’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he leaned down, his forehead brushing against hers. “It’s yours.” he whispered. “All of it.” his lips trailed down to her ear, whispering sultry. "All of me."

For the first time in a long time in may painful years, Y/N felt a gleaming of something resembling hope — Dark, twisted, insane hope, but hope nonetheless. They would take Winterfell back, and they would make sure that every betrayal was paid for in blood - That's what he promised her; She kept her promise to him, and it was time for him to reciprocate.

Winterfell will be reclaimed by the shocking wit of the bastard of the Dreadfort - Truly, not only did Y/N never imagine he would be so witty, but also such a fantastic actor; He would play the role of a half-wit peasant called Reek, bring her to Theon as a prize, and gain his trust - Trust which will be oh-so-satisfyingly shattered once Reek betrays him and becomes Ramsay once more... And he will learn his place, that pesky little filth.

The frigid winds howled through the corridors of Winterfell, but within the walls, tension simmered hotter than any hearth. The once-proud castle of Winterfell was shadowed by the Kraken banners of House Greyjoy, their sigil hanging where the direwolf of Stark once stood tall and proud for generations.

Ramsay had donned the rags of a peasant, dirtying himself with soot and mud until he was nothing more than a shadow of the handsome yet brutal man he truly was.

He became "Reek", it rhymes with "Meek", it rhymes with "Leek", it rhymes with "Weak" - a pathetic and broken figure, eager to please and loyal only to Lord Theon Greyjoy. Y/N, playing along, allowed herself to be dragged in as his prisoner, bound and silent, though her eyes burned with cold fury and thirst for a torturous revenge.

Theon, still drunk on his fleeting power-trip, was easily fooled by their flawless charade; He sneered at Y/N, mocked her, and paraded her around like a trophy in front of her people. "Lookie here, Lady Stark came back home!" he struck her face so hard she fell to the ground. Each word, each cruel jest, was like a knife twisted in Y/N’s heart repeatedly, and added salt and cyanide - But she held herself together, knowing that it was only temporary.

She could feel the storming wrath in Ramsay's eyes - The humiliation won't last long, before he snaps and goes berserk. Theon had fallen too far to see the trap being laid for him. Even as he and "Reek" bonded over Y/N’s torment, the bastard’s true self remained hidden, seething beneath the surface, watching and waiting impatiently to destroy this worthless cunt who thinks himself a King.

One of Greyjoy's favourite ways of tormenting the she-wolf was to degrade her in front of his Ironborn; He'd force her to kneel before him, his foot on her shoulder, and would belittle her. "You like kneeling for men, don't you, Y/N? Is that what you did in King's Landing? Whore yourself for any man who gave you attention?" he laughed mockingly at her, looking at Reek for validation, to see if his joke was funny. "The proud Lady Stark, sucking cock like a greedy slut!" he wanted to go further, to take out his dick and dangle it in her face - But something in him couldn't go that far; Was it their previous sibling bond, or the fact that he practically froze under the harsh blizzard-like glare of her eyes - He kicked her to the ground, having his people drag her back to her room, before he took Reek away from there.

Reek kept his eyes downcast and his hands clenched into fists whenever Theon mistreated his sweet little thorny rose. He would swallow down his rage, pretending to be the loyal, cowardly "Reek" who would never dare to defy his master. His nails would dig into his palms until they drew blood, the pain a reminder to keep his cover intact, no matter how badly he wanted to rip Theon apart with his bare hands. He will pay with his skin, and not only. The more he saw Theon mistreating his darling, the more he wanted to make him feel eternal pain. He will lose his cock, his finger nails, toe nails, and more...

He would shove her around, slap her, hit her, insult her and more; So many threats of him fucking a bastard into her womb, and that he will beat her pregnant belly until she loses the babe; Each word he addressed her way became a new way of Ramsay to torture him.

But one night he went to far... Too far, even for Ramsay to accept. Theon had dragged him into Lady Stark's chambers; He buried his hand into her hair, throwing her onto the bed, his hands gripping at her slender body. "Don't you fucking dare..." came a low, guttural rumble, a threat, a warning... But the Kraken was deaf and blind; He ripped the bodice of her dress and with a weirdly strong grip, he tried to spread her legs apart for him to get to her honeyed core. "I will tear you apart, Theon Greyjoy."

"Shut up, you greedy little whore, I know you're desperate for me... You've always looked at me, since we were little..." with a strike to her face, he slumped over her body, rendering her unable to struggle away. "Don't play coy with me - I know you're not pure anymore - You cannot be."

"Listen to me, Theon Greyjoy - I am not yours to claim." she smirked with wicked defiance; She knew her wait was over, and she could rise up and riot. "The only man allowed to claim me is Ramsay Bolton."

"Then I'll make sure to tell him how tight your cunt is." his hand was fumbling with his breeches, ready to take his cock out and fulfill his promise, until...

"I'd like to see you try." Theon was fell limp over Y/N's body, knocked unconscious by an iron poker struck onto his head. "You don't get to touch her - Filth." THE Theon Greyjoy crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, his body lifeless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, as Ramsay had to restrain himself to jump on him and punch him to death - He deserved far, far worse for even daring to touch his precious Kitten's skin... Let alone think he can CLAIM her.

"Took you long enough." Y/N found herself panting for air, regaining her senses.

"Be glad I'm not claiming you right now." he was trembling with anger as he hissed under his breath.

"You can claim me in front of him." her bold, teasing voice made him snap at her, his eyes wide, tormented. "Down in the dungeons, when you've had your way torturing him... After you cut that useless prick off... Tormented him..."

"Shut up." he growled at her. "Get your people back, raise your flag - Just get away from me." his warning made a shiver go down her spine, and she scurried away from her chambers. She'd never seen Ramsay so pissed that he couldn't control himself even around her. She will let him have his fun for a while, let him cool down on his own, before she returns to check on him.

She moved to the court where the few remaining people of Winterfell— Those who had not yet been driven away or killed — Waited in tense silence. They had seen the Starks fall, seen the banners torn down and replaced with the Kraken of the Ironborn. But now, standing before them, was their last glimmer of hope — The rightful heir to Winterfell. The Queen in the North.

Y/N looked out at the faces of her people, her voice ringing out clear and strong, despite the bruise forming on her cheek. “Theon Greyjoy is no more. Winterfell is our home once more!" there was no mistaking the fierce determination that burned within her - The Scarlet She-Wolf of the Stark House. Once she cupped her hands to her mouth, she let out a loud howl, haunting, booming, alert; Meleys joined in, and from the forest, many more were heard.

The Stark Wolves howled under the Northern Moon once again.

After the bastard finished tying up the naked, unconscious Theon Greyjoy on a wooden X-cross in the dungeons, he went out, watching his Kitten's loud meowing from the shadows, and he held a satisfied smirk on his face. That was his girl, he thought to herself, feeling power brewing in his chest as the people cheered loudly on her - Queen in the North, Lady Y/N Stark - With all the strength and fury of the North.

He slipped away, heading toward the gates where his own forces waited in the cover of night. He signaled them, and like a tidal wave, the Bastard's Boys stormed the premises, decimating any Ironborn still alive. Of course, Y/N wasn't happy to see foreign armies in her home - Alas, she had to accept it for a while.

Back in the dungeons, Theon awoke to the cold, damp darkness, his head throbbing and his wrists bound tightly with burning ropes. He could hear the distant sounds of battle above, the faint screams of his men as they were cut down one by one. Panic surged through him, but before he could cry out, the door to his cell creaked open, and Ramsay stepped inside, carrying the Greyjoy flag in his hands.

With a cruel grin, Ramsay unfolded the Kraken banner before Theon’s wide, terrified eyes. “You’ve made quite a mess of this place, haven’t you, Theon?” Ramsay drawled, his voice mocking. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to clean it up.”

With a twisted grin, Ramsay unceremoniously pissed on the Greyjoy flag, defiling it just as Theon had defiled Winterfell. The stench filled the air, and Theon recoiled in horror, but Ramsay only laughed — A dark, mirthless sound that echoed through the dungeon like a death knell.

Ramsay approached him slowly, his leather gloves creaking as he flexed his fingers. His expression was calm, almost serene, but the fire in his pale blue eyes told a different story. He was eager, too eager to start, but he reined himself in, savoring the anticipation. He wanted to make Theon fully aware of what was coming before he even laid a hand on him.

"Reek?! What - How did I get here?! Go on, get me out of here! What are you waiting for?!" but Theon was horrified to see the empty grin of Reek growing ever wider... Twisted, cruel, malicious. "Reek...?! I order you, as Lord Theon Greyjoy, to get me the hell out of here!"

"Y/N was right, you are as stupid as it gets." the bastard scoffed. "I am not 'Reek' - You are! You are Reek." he got close to his face. "And I - I am Ramsay Bolton." Theon's eyes widened with shock and horror, realising he tried to rape this psychopath's woman in front of him; He threatened and tormented her - In front of him.

“You thought you could have her...” Ramsay said, his voice soft, almost conversational, as he circled Theon like a wolf preparing to strike. “Y/N - MY Y/N." he hummed softly. "The Red She-Wolf Queen in the North, Y/N Stark, The Lady of Winterfell... Otherwise known as my precious little Kitten.” He smiled darkly as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against Theon's ear. “You thought you could take what’s mine?”

Theon’s eyes widened with terror, but he couldn’t respond with words that weren't protests or pleas. in his mouth. “Please… Ramsay…” Theon stammered, his voice trembling with fear. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh…” Ramsay placed a gloved finger to Theon’s lips, cutting him off. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Greyjoy. I’m interested in watching you suffer.”

Without another word, Ramsay picked up a small, sharp blade from his table of tools. He held it up for Theon to see, letting the dim light from the torches glint off the steel. He then moved toward Theon's hand, grabbing it roughly. Ramsay pressed the blade to Theon's fingers, drawing shallow cuts along the tips—just enough to sting, just enough to let Theon feel the sharpness of the pain before the real suffering began.

He gasped and grunted, squirming, trying to pull his hand away, but Ramsay held him firm, his grip painful and firm. “This is only the foreplay.” Ramsay whispered, his voice dark and dangerous. “You’ll feel every inch of what I’m about to do to you - And I’ll enjoy every second.”

The bastard had chosen a small patch of skin on Theon's chest located where he knew the pain would radiate and linger. He peeled back the flesh slowly, deliberately, relishing in the sight of Theon's blood as it oozed from the wound, along with his screams; His body was convulsing with excruciating agony, but Ramsay remained unfazed - In fact, his nether regions grow hot with desire and lust; He always got aroused when torturing people. His hands worked expertly, and every cry from Theon only seemed to spur him on.

“You should have known better - You have only yourself to blame, Reek.” Ramsay said with an almost casual tone as he continued his work. “You think you’re a lord, you think you’re in control, but you’re not. You never were. Y/N could never belong to a filthy wretch like you. You’re nothing. Nothing but an urchin pretending to be a lord.”

As Theon’s screams grew louder, Ramsay only leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. “This is what happens when you try to steal what belongs to me.”

Once Ramsay was satisfied with the patch of flayed skin, he moved on to Theon’s fingers again, this time bending them back slowly until he heard the satisfying crack of bones breaking. Theon’s howls echoed through the dungeon - Utterly powerless, utterly broken.

“What’s wrong, Reek?” Ramsay mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. “These fingers tried to touch my woman. I either remove them, or kill you, you see? You have to get purified if you want to remain alive."

Theon, shaking from both pain and terror, could only whimper in response - He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to continue living or not, the pain was unbearable. His body was drenched in sweat, his skin pale, and his breath came in ragged gasps, and Ramsay wasn’t done. He wanted more. He needed to hear Theon beg, to hear him plead for the mercy that would never come.

Ramsay brought out a thin iron rod, heated in the fire until it glowed red-hot. He held it up, letting Theon see it, letting him anticipate the pain to come. “It's getting rather cold in here, don't you think? And you're all naked... Let me heat you up a little!” Ramsay exclaimed with a wicked grin.

“Please… Please, no more!” Theon sobbed, his voice barely audible through the tears. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Ramsay’s grin only widened as he pressed the hot iron against Theon’s thigh. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as Theon screamed louder than ever, his entire body shaking with agony. Ramsay watched with dark satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight as Theon writhed in pain beneath him.

But then... The bastard went on to remove that worthless little prick of his... And Theon Greyjoy lost consciousness from the agony.

With Winterfell reclaimed once more, Roose Bolton had reason to celebrate, and so did the Crown, who not only appointed him Warden of the North; but offered his bastard son the legitimisation every bastard dreamt of; Ramsay Snow was no more - Ramsay Bolton finally took over - And Roose was going to make a special trip to tell him just that.

The grand hall of Winterfell had been transformed for the feast. Lord Bolton, as imposing as ever, entered, met with a display of power and wealth. Y/N had spared no expense in preparing a lavish meal - His last meal. The long table was covered with roasted meats, warm bread, and jugs of dark wine. The hall glowed with the light of torches and hearths, and a low hum of music filled the air.

Ramsay stood at the head of the table, his face a mask of restraint, as his father entered. Katrina was seated beside him, regal and defiant, her eyes never leaving Roose's cold figure.

Roose barely acknowledged her at first, his eyes fixed on Ramsay. "You've done well, Ramsay." Roose remarked, his tone devoid of warmth as he took his seat. "Winterfell is yours. You’ve managed not to disgrace the name I gave you, for once." as harsh as ever. "Now, you are truly Ramsay Bolton." with that, he threw the letter at his son.

That letter had arrived from King's Landing just that day - Ramsay Snow truly was no more. He had been legitimized by the King's royal decree. He was now Ramsay Bolton, the only living true son of Lord Bolton, no longer the Bastard of Bolton. This was everything Ramsay had ever desired — Power, status, and legitimacy.

This was it - He had the Dreadfort, he had the Bolton name, and he had Y/N. He had everything he ever wanted in his grasp.

It was time to take one step further; He will be the son of Lord Bolton no more - He will be Lord Bolton.

Ramsay smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, father.”

But as the feast began, Roose turned his attention to Katrina, eyeing her in a manner that made Ramsay’s blood boil. The cold Lord of the Dreadfort spoke of her as though she were little more than a breeding sow, not even present in the room.

“She’s a Stark.” Roose said dismissively between bites of food. “Strong bloodline - But don’t let her think she has power of Winterfell, Ramsay - She’s just a woman after all. Her worth is in her womb, in the heirs she can give you. Many heirs... Strong boys to continue our line.”

Y/N’s face twisted with fury at the crude comment, and Ramsay’s fist clenched beneath the table. He had never been a man to hide his anger well, but for a moment, he restrained himself. His eyes flickered toward his sweetling, and he could see her seething. Roose's words had wounded her pride, and that was something Ramsay would never allow. He spoke ill of her far too many times - But he will speak no more.

After a few more tense exchanges that he hadn't even heard, Ramsay stood and moved toward his father, his expression darkening. “You’ve always been so wise, father.” Ramsay said in a soft voice, though the undercurrent of malice was undeniable. “And I have always sought your approval.”

Roose raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of the sudden shift in his son's demeanor, but before he could react, Ramsay pulled him into an embrace, feigning affection. "But I’m afraid it’s time for you to step aside." Ramsay whispered into his father's ear. "I am Lord Bolton now."

In one swift motion, Ramsay plunged a dagger deep into Roose’s gut. The older man gasped in shock and the sharp pain of the twist, eyes wide with disbelief. He tried to pull away, but Ramsay held him close, continuing to twist the blade cruelly, to make him feel the same pain he always did. The hall fell into stunned silence as the Lord of the Dreadfort staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound.

“Goodbye, father.” Ramsay sneered as Roose collapsed to the ground, his hands desperately clutching at the bleeding wound. Ramsay’s eyes shifted to Meleys, the red wolf that had been protectively waiting at Y/N’s side. “Meleys.” he called, his voice cold as winter’s night. The wolf moved with deadly grace, approaching Roose with glowing, hungry eyes. With one swift leap, Meleys tore into Roose's already weakened form, ripping flesh from bone as blood pooled on the stone floor, her red fur mingling with his red blood.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with a dark satisfaction in her eyes, not even realising she was grinning. There was no remorse, no sorrow— Only cold justice and triumph. She had grown ruthless, just as life had molded her to be. And now, her tormentor was dead. She felt no pity for Roose Bolton. He had betrayed her family, destroyed everything she once held dear. His death was a small payment for the suffering he had caused.

As the last breath escaped Roose’s lips, Y/N turned to Ramsay. “He deserved worse.” she said softly.

Ramsay smiled. “I thought so too, but I wanted to give you a special gift."

Katrina’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. “Truth is - While I was in King’s Landing, I took a potion - Something to ensure I would never bear children. I almost died, and the pain was excruciating, but it paid off. As a prisoner, I couldn’t allow anyone to use me for my bloodline - As their political pawn and breeding-stock." she let out an empty chuckle. "I never wanted heirs anyway - And neither did you."

Ramsay stared at her for a moment, processing the words. Slowly, his smile returned, but this time it was something different — Almost relieved. “You clever, clever kitten.” he murmured, stroking her cheek, painting her skin with the blood of his father. “No babes, no risk of you dying in childbirth, no squalling brats to annoy me. You’ve just made everything so much easier for the both of us.” he grinned all sultry and enticing. "I never could resist you."

Katrina chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. “I am yours, Ramsay. Yours and yours alone. No one will ever take that from you.”

Ramsay’s hand trailed down to her throat, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “Good.” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “Because I’ve never wanted to share you with anyone.”

Katrina looked into his eyes, seeing the madness, the obsession, but also the devotion that lurked beneath. She knew she had tamed the beast within him, at least enough to keep him by her side. Ramsay had given her everything — Her home, her revenge, and even himself — And in return, she had given him herself, Always and Forever.

"I've got something to show you." the man dragged her back into her chamber, and showed her the beautiful Stark flag gently swaying with the wind. "Perfect view." he stood behind her, his arms around her waist holding her in a tight embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder. "How do you feel being back home, Lady Stark?" the closeness was intoxicating him, suffocating him - And he was craving more.

"Perfect, now that you're here with me." her innocently genuine comment made the man instinctively tighten his grip on her; He wanted desperately to get lost in her heat.

She could feel his heat against her back, the possessiveness in the way his hands lingered at her hips. There was a tension in his touch, a dark hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. But she wasn’t afraid - She never was afraid of him. Instead, there was something else building inside her, something that had been growing for some time now. She was craving his touch more than she needed air to breathe.

Y/N turned slowly to face him, her eyes locking with his. There was a storm in those gorgeous icy blue eyes of his, one that both excited and thrilled her. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, the tension between them palpable, suffocating.

"Ramsay." she spoke in a tender whisper, filled with curiosity and desire. "What do boys and girls do together when they grow up?"

His breath hitched as he remembered the many times he had teased her about that when they were younger; He loved toying with her innocence. The way Ramsay looked at her, the way his fingers brushed along her waist, set her heart racing in a way she didn’t fully understand.

"Show me." she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation and need.

Ramsay’s smirk widened, and without warning, he pushed her back against the bed, his hands gripping her waist firmly. His touch was rough, possessive, and it sent a wave of heat coursing through her veins. His lips hovered inches from hers, teasing, taunting, as he held her there, trapped between him and the comfortable bed underneath her.

"You want it, don’t you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "My sweet, greedy kitten… You’ve wanted this all along... You've been craving my touch for so long..."

Y/N’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as his words sent a flush of heat and arousal through her body. She didn't know what he was doing to her, but she wanted this... The way his mere words stirred her insides... She was nervous and excited to see what else she could feel... With his breath warm against her lips, and his body pressed against hers.

"Yes." she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her pride crumbling beneath the weight of her desire for him

"Have you been touching yourself, thinking of me, sweetling?" Ramsay’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing hers in the lightest of kisses before pulling back again, teasing her mercilessly. "So greedy." he murmured, his voice full of dark amusement, watching that precious blush of hers. "I’ve barely touched you, and already you’re begging for more."

She let out a soft whimper of frustration, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer, but he held her firmly in place, refusing to give in just yet. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and she could feel the heat pooling in her belly, the need for him growing stronger with every passing second. "Ramsay..." she whined out his name, her voice thick with need. "Stop teasing me... You're so cruel..."

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "But where’s the fun in that, my little naughty kitty-cat?" his hands slid lower, teasing her waist, his touch light and maddeningly slow. She could feel her pulse quickening, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the anticipation built to an unbearable crescendo. He knew exactly what he was doing to her — Knew how much she wanted him, how much she needed him — And he reveled in it and the power he held over her.

"You’re mine, Y/N. Forever and Always." Ramsay growled softly, his voice thick with possessiveness. "And I will make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He finally gave in to her silent pleas, his lips crashing down on hers with a fierce, demanding intensity. Y/N moaned sweetly into the kiss, her hands tangling in his dark hair as she pulled him closer, desperate for more. The scorching heat between them was electric, a wildfire that had been building for far too long, and now that it had been unleashed, there was no stopping it.

Ramsay’s hands roamed her body with a possessive hunger, his touch rough and insistent, but she didn’t care — She wanted this, needed this. She had been denying herself for too long, and now, in the darkness of her home, with the snow falling outside and the fire crackling behind them, she finally let go and embraced his hedonism.

When he pulled back, his breath heavy, Ramsay smirked down at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. She looked so kissable, so needy, so innocent and in need of corruption.

"Such a greedy little kitten... All for me..." he teased, his voice low and full of dark amusement. "Just as I always knew you would be." his whisper was husky and sultry. "Insatiable, greedy, needy... Only for me."

Y/N glared weakly at him, blushing through the timidness of a demure maiden in all her glory, purer than the Maiden, and far more beautiful than the Moon herself - And she was burning with desire that was not even close to being satisfied. "And whose fault is that?" she shot back, her voice breathless.

Ramsay chuckled darkly, leaning in to nip at her lower lip, sending another shiver down her spine. "Mine, of course. I love spoiling my haughty little sweetling." he admitted, his voice full of dark pride and impure thought. "The night is not long enough for all the things I want to do to you..."

In the aftermath of countless betrayals and bloodshed, the North was finally restored to its rightful rulers - House Stark. Y/N Stark, with the aid of her Lord Husband, Ramsay Bolton, had reclaimed Winterfell - She united the world once more with a claim as strong as that of the previous King in the North, her dear brother, the Young Wolf, Robb Stark; She became Queen in the North, ruling with a wisdom and wit, aided by the ruthless strategies of her beloved Ramsay - And even more surprisingly, the aid of her little brothers, who had survived Theon's siege - They were brought back by Meera and Jojen Reed.

Theon Greyjoy, now a broken man, lived as "Reek" — A forever shattered reflection of the once-proud yet pathetic Ironborn prince. He became Ramsay's pitiful plaything, his mind too far gone to remember even his own true name.

Far away in the Eyrie, Sansa Stark took over the Vale after Sandor had to throw her Lady aunt, Lysa Arryn, through the Moon Door after she dared attack his beloved songbird out of sheer jealousy - Sansa was far more beautiful than Lysa ever was. The she-wolf willingly married Sandor Clegane out of love, feeling safe and sound in his strong, protective embrace for the first time since she left home. Sansa became Warden in the East, and Y/N's eternal ally, just as their Catelyn and Lysa used to be... As Ned and Jon used to be...

The direwolves returned to the North as well, filling the halls of Winterfell with the howl of 'home' once more. Though Grey Wind was dead, and Ghost was loyally protective Jon at Castle Black, everyone else replaced the Stark siblings for Y/N, whenever she missed her sweet brothers and sisters a little too much. The family was sort-of reunited... The pack survived... But at what cost?

Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys Targaryen, the true Heir to the Crown, laid her claim over King's Landing, with the aid of her dragons and Tyrion Lannister as her Hand; Cersei Lannister and her devil-spawn child were no more; Myrcella had married the Prince of Dorne and happily remained there, whilst Tommen was more than willing to go to his bride, Margaery Tyrell, and live in the peace and prosperity of Highgarden. No doubt, the happiest was Jaime Lannister, who happily married Brienne of Tarth and returned to Casterly Rock as the Warden of the West, enjoying, for once, a normal life, away from the drama of the Crown, and all that his father and sister brought along.

With peace finally settling over Westeros, Daenerys married Jon - Who found out was actually Aegon Targaryen, the only living son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell;

Together they united in A Song of Ice and Fire.

And what became of the little rat of Winterfell? Arya hadn't stepped in Westeros of ages - She was living her best life, traveling West of Westeros, discovering what was never discovered, venturing into the unknown, and exploring to her heart's content. She was the happiest she could ever be. Perhaps, some day, she would return, homesick - Until then, she will become Nymeria of the Rhoynar and sail into the vast horizon.

The terrible Winds of Winter had dissipated, and the Dream of Spring nurtured blooming hope and joy into the people of Westeros once more.

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 6

max Verstappen x single mom!reader (with logan sargeant)

{masterlist}{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, minimally proofread, implied sexual situations Summary: you can start a family who will always show you love, you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own word count: 1927 auth.note: made the executive decision to not have actual smut in this fic due to multiple reasons (the main one being the thought of having smut then a scene involving a kid gives me the ick) spotify: i made a playlist

Logan was gentle. She appreciated that so much and told him so in the breathless moments spent in his arms.

He hummed, fingers tracing her back. "What do you mean?"

Y/n shifted so she could look up at him. "I don't know if I can explain it. Like… It was intense, but…"

He kept silent, fingers still tracing random patterns along her spine.

She sighed, trying to find the right words. "I just… Thank you for treating me like you care."

Logan frowned, his fingers going still. "I do care, though."

"Lo—"

"Did you think I didn't?" He sighed when she began to pull away. "Wait, no, don't."

She stopped, turning back to him at the touch of his hand to her shoulder.

"I'm not…" He let out a mirthless chuckle, his cheeks staining pink. "I'm not good at talking about my feelings. I usually prefer to just… Show it."

She closed her eyes and her mind flashed with him being nothing but kind and caring. It was what had drawn her to him, had made her want to be around him more, and had her wanting to invite him into her life. "I'm sorry," she murmured, opening her eyes.

He was smiling, that crooked half-smile that sent her heart into a silly tumble. "I care, y/n."

"I know you do. I'm sorry, Logan." She sighed, shaking her head. "I ruined pillow talk, huh?"

"You're just in your head, I get it." He was still holding her shoulder and trailed his hand down to hers. "C'mon."

Within seconds she was curled at his side, his arm around her again. His fingers resumed their earlier tracings, and she hummed, feeling content.

Cared for.

She liked that he didn't mind lying together in silence. Liked that he seemed just as content as she. Liked the quiet, the peacefulness she felt with him after that initial rush of butterflies.

His fingers danced over her back then smoothed her hair, and he hummed softly, letting out a sigh that was a balm to her weary soul.

"I care," he whispered.

"I care, too," she whispered back.

"Do you have to get back?" he asked after several moments had passed.

She thought of the texts she'd exchanged with Ellie, who'd insisted she enjoy herself. She was pretty sure her friend was more excited about the prospect of her having sex than *she* was. "No… I can stay a little longer."

"How about 'til morning?" Logan suggested.

She heard the underlying suggestion and smiled. "I'd like that."

There wasn't awkwardness. Well, a little, but he made it so easy to laugh it off. It was one reason she liked him so much, his ability to make her feel at ease. He didn't mind that she had to check in with Ellie, who reassured her that everything was fine and to enjoy herself. He didn't mind that she wanted to take a quick shower. When she stood there in his bedroom, feeling exposed and weird in a towel, he got her a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to wear.

And when they were falling asleep and she tentatively moved close, he smiled against her forehead and held her close.

She tried to sleep, tired and content as she was. But it avoided her, even after he'd drifted off, his gentle breathing warm and soft in her hair. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Something was missing. Some tiny piece that would make everything perfect.

Shifting, she tried to find a comfortable position, frowning in the darkness. Her night had been so close to perfect. He cared for her, she cared for him. He made her laugh, made her feel light and happy. He adored her son, and she knew her son worshipped the ground Logan walked on.

What, then, was missing?

*Casual* day at the factory. Max had rolled his eyes when it had been announced, thinking at the time that he wouldn't be around anyway.

But here he was, wondering what, exactly, made the day casual. Everyone was dressed as they normally were. Everyone was working. Everyone was acting as they usually did. Everyone—

"Max!"

Oh, that was something different. Grinning as Kevin ran up to him, he swept the boy up and hugged him, carrying him back towards his mother. "You helping mum work?"

Kevin giggled. "No! Here waiting."

Y/n smiled affectionately. "Ellie's picking him up in a little bit, she had a doctor's appointment."

"Everything okay?" he asked, setting Kevin down and steering him to y/n's office before he could wander off. Taking the backpack from her so she could open the door, he slung it over his shoulder.

"She's finally seeing someone about her migraines." Y/n held up her hand, showing her crossed fingers.

"I hope they can help," Max sighed, knowing her friend suffered from migraines frequently.

"Me too. I—" She cut off, glancing at the phone in her hand when it began to ring. "Gotta get this, it's about something I'm planning for Barcelona."

"Mama…"

Max recognized the tone. "I'll take him."

She smiled her thanks, answering the call and stepping further into her office.

Kevin was squirming by the time they got to the restroom. Max turned to give him privacy, frowning when he heard nothing.

"Uh-oh."

He turned, heart clenching at the heartbrokenness in the boy's voice. "Kleine maate?"

Kevin looked down and began twisting his hands anxiously. "Didn't make it."

Max's frown deepened, feeling a wave of sympathy when he saw the small puddle on the floor and heard the boy's fretful sigh. "It's alright, mate."

"Wanna be a big boy," Kevin mumbled.

Max squatted down, setting the backpack next to him and opening it to find the spare clothes he knew y/n kept for times like this. "I know, but accidents happen, yeah?"

Kevin sniffled. "Yeah."

Lifting his head, he met a pair of teary eyes and felt his throat close.

Stupid boy. I taught you better.

He swallowed, wondering how he could ever be expected to yell at a child. Especially for something like this. "Maate, listen to me."

Kevin sniffled harder, nodding.

"It's fine. You're still learning, yeah?" He spoke gently, wanting – needing – the boy to know he wasn't upset with him. And he had to know for sure. He already knew, but he had to be certain. "Your mum doesn't get mad when you have an accident does she?"

"No." Kevin rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "But I don't like it."

"Accidents happen. Nobody likes them, but we just clean up the mess and try to do better, yeah? You think I always do things right when I'm racing?" As he spoke he mopped up the puddle then helped Kevin change out of his wet shorts.

"Yeah?" Kevin looked at him as though it were a stupid question.

"I don't. I mess up a lot. But you can't let accidents or mess ups keep you from trying."

Kevin sniffed and nodded. "Okay."

"I know you're upset with yourself, but remember that it's okay, yeah?" Max gestured to him. "It's fixed now."

Nodding again, Kevin flung his arms around Max's neck.

Max sighed, wrapping the boy in a hug and holding him close. "You're alright, hm? No harm done."

"Sorry Daddy," Kevin mumbled against his shoulder.

He froze, throat closing with emotion again. Daddy. The term, the affection needed to be called that… He closed his eyes, tightening his hold on the boy. "It's okay, kleine maate. Let's get our hands washed then back to mum, yeah?"

Daddy.

I don't have a daddy.

He helped Kevin was his hands, somehow keeping his voice normal as they chatted about the upcoming race week, even promising to pick up something Spanish for him. They made their way back to y/n's office and Max couldn't help the fond smile on his face as Kevin told his mother he'd had an accident.

"But Daddy helped," the boy finished with a bright smile.

His heart lurched up to his throat then fell to his feet as she raised her eyes to him.

"Thank you," she managed after twelve long seconds.

He knew the exact time, because he counted them. And he was sure his heart beat only four times as he waited for her words.

"No problem," he murmured, setting Kevin's backpack down.

She turned her attention back to Kevin, her tone gentle as she reassured him and promised it was okay, kissing the boy's forehead before telling him to play with his cars until Ellie got there.

Max's heart gave a weak thump as she straightened. "Y/n…"

"Later," she said, her throat working as she swallowed hard.

Later was a lot later than he'd imagined it would be. Standing outside the door of her apartment, he huffed, rubbing his hand through his hair as he hesitated. He should be on the way back to Monaco, should be focusing on the upcoming days in Barcelona, but all he could think about was the look of horror and surprise when her son had called him Daddy.

He knocked softly, knowing Kevin was probably asleep, and Ellie probably was too, and maybe even—

"Max?" Y/n's voice was incredulous as she opened the door. "What are—"

"I didn't tell him to call me that," he said in a rush.

She blinked, realization finally lighting in her eyes. "Oh. It's okay."

Okay? Okay?! It was all he'd been able to think about all evening and all she could say was it's okay?

"But it can't happen again," she was saying.

Two words fell out of his mouth without even the slightest hesitation. "Why not?"

She stared at him, eyes widening. "You're not his father, Max."

"I know that—"

"God, you're not even my—" she pressed her lips together tightly. "You're just a coworker."

If she'd pushed a blade into his heart it would have hurt less. "Y/n, please, just listen—"

"No, you listen! I can't do this back and forth anymore. One day you want to be 'professional' and the next you're inviting us into your life." Her voice wavered and he felt his breath catch in his throat. "You can't have it both ways, Max."

"It's not that simple—"

"Not everything is a giant problem that you have to analyze," she whispered.

He dragged his hand over his face. "You know what would happen if I chose…"

Light. Laughter. Little moments of joy.

He wanted to choose that. But she would hate him for doing it. For the darkness he harbored, that would eventually taint every beautiful corner of her life.

"Don't invite us in anymore," she said. And though she was looking down he knew there were tears in her eyes. Could hear them in her voice, feel them in his chest. "It's not fair to Kevin. Or to me."

"Please—" Don't go. Don't pull the only happiness I have away from me.

Except it wasn't his happiness to hold. Unless…

"Max, let me go."

He blinked and saw his hand on her arm. "Y/n…" His hand moved, and he felt her turn as he cupped her shoulder. He couldn't let her go. Not now. Not with tears in her eyes and pain in her voice. Letting her go would break something in her, and he'd never forgive himself. Releasing a shaky breath, he felt the silk of her cheek beneath his fingertips, then the velvet of her hair. "I…"

Her lips, trembling satin against his. She gasped and he tasted heaven.

Taglist:

@d3kstar | @leodette | @driverlando | @maxlarens | @forzalando | @landinhoe | @trisharee | @littlegrapejuice | @lilypat | @manicpixiemom | @spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris | @kravitzwhore | @younxii | @silentreader128 | @samantha-chicago | @mrsbrxkkxr | @cmleitora | @jasons-little-princess | @toldyouitwasamelodrama | @aundercoverosh | @kiwi43-81 | @awritingtree | @voidsfics | @misartymis | @goldenchemistry | @colmathgames2 | @elliotts1one | @lovin-fangirl | @czennieszn | @a-beaverhausen | @vicurious28 | (if you'd like to be added to this or any of my taglists please fill out this form thx)