#forgive me lord for i have sexualized an older man

[marilynshamu]

These make me so happy 🥰

[thedivineden]

Bible Study

pairing: tomura shigaraki x reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Fem!, Dubcon, religious themes, manipulation, sexual themes, age gap, no quirk, breeding, unprotected sex, dumbification

“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.” Matthew 6:24

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Over and over, you could hear the man in your ear. Whispers of the Lord’s Prayer embedded on your brain, you must think of something else, anything else. “Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” you could hardly contain yourself as you opened your eyes, the from the stained glass windows seem to illuminate the indiscernible halo perched on his head. “and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” He had you hooked, “Amen.”.

“Amen.”

You could hardly contain your excitement as you marched out the door towards your parents. Your session with Minister Shigaraki had you on cloud nine. Even if you couldn’t interact with him for more than 10 seconds before someone else is running up to him, being in his presence is a blessing. Despite the initial annoyance, you understand the effect he has on the congregation. Not only is he incredibly handsome, but his words have a way of touching people.

“Come on sweetheart, we need to get home. We can’t be late to dinner.” responding with a quiet yes ma’am you trail behind you family. Shuffling down the corridor and out the door you could feel the July heat swell around you. Even with the barge of people you still manage to catch a familiar smell of spice and soft sage. He’s nearby. Whipping your head around you see priest shigaraki a few feet behind you with that dazzling smile plastered on his face.

His movements are so smooth, the way he weaves through the crowd halts you. It felt like time was moving slow, In a few strides he was in front of you, smiling from eye to ear. It didn’t matter what it was, you were always available to talk to Father Tomura. In a few strides he was in front of you. It felt like time stopped for you two, there was an undeniable connection and you know he felt it too.

“I’m glad I caught you, it seems like you leave something every Sunday. It’s almost a routine” he says with a light chuckle, you knew he would come running after you. He’s the reason this doltish crush continues. If he allows it, then the lord is truly on your side. “Apologies minister, I am rather forgetful.” Laying your hand upon the scarf you brush his hand lightly pulling away. “I do have a rather important matter to discuss with you. Can you meet me in my office after Tuesday night bible study.” Immediately a smile stretches across your face replying with a sheepish yes, “I knew I could count on you, have a blessed darling and stay out of trouble!” The moment he turns from you the world seems dull.

Sunday dinner came and went as normal, it was nice to spend time with family but draining when it comes to your older cousins. They made it very evident that the Priest is only reason to attend church. “I bet you he’s never even fucked someone before, he screams virgin.” Your cousin jasmine says passing the phone to your cousin Brianna. “ No girl, he’s definitely fucked before. You should see what he looks like under the robe.”

That statement alone makes you ears hot. How the fuck does she know what he looks like under his robe. As if she knew you were looking at her, she whipped around to face you smirking. “What’s wrong cuz? Got something you want to ask?” Flustered wasn’t even the word for you right now, you wanted to know. “H-How do you know what he looks like under his robe?” Without another word, jasmine is closing her room door turning the lock. “You have to promise to keep this a secret, we didn’t know he was getting undressed.” They were watching him get undressed?

Would God punish you for this? The pure terror you felt is all the conformation you need but the heat swelling below beckoned for more. “I only want to see because I don’t believe you.” Eyes rolling jasmine pulls out her phone, scrolling through her photos she throws her phone across the room at you. Landing next to you is a photo of the man himself.

Minister Tomura in the back room of the church, cerulean hair pulled back with his robe draped around his waist revealing his large carven chest. Your eyes were glued to the screen. Looking up at your cousin, cheek hot, you ask “can you send this to me?” Giggles and laughs erupt from the two as your throw the phone back to her.

The moment you arrived home you set to finish your chores and participate in night prayer. “Sweetie, can you lead the prayer tonight?” A feeling of shame seem to wave over you and disappear once the intercession began. “Now I lay me down to sleep” you can hear a voice in the back of your head. “I pray the Lord my soul to keep” maybe it’s a spirit trying to send a message. “Watch and guard me through the night” the voice whispering how they will watch over you fills you with warmth. “And wake me with the morning light.” Implicitly wishing father tomura would bless you with his presence, the image of his rope hanging off his waist fresh in your mind. “Father, you know my worries and care for my troubles.” Opening your eyes you can see your mother in front of you, eyes closed reciting the word unaware of your sickly desires.“So I give these heavy concerns to you, Amen.”

“Amen. Thank you sweetie, I love you. Goodnight”

Your night was far from over. It seems as if your knees are bolted to the floor, your ill feeling can only compare to shame and guilt. What would mother say if she knew I was calling out to our pastor instead of the lord. When you heard a ding come from your phone all shame null in your mind, you knew what it was and your mind was racing.

Getting up from the floor you close your bedroom door triple checking the lock before running over to your desk. Phone in hand you make your way over to your bed climbing under the covers. Your heart is racing the sound of it thumping in your ears.

Opening your cousin message eyes landing on the fatal image you saw earlier. Just the thought of him made you immoral, sinful thoughts plague your mind asking the lord for forgiveness before you’re rolling up your nightgown. You swear you can smell spice and sage as you trace shallow small circles around your clit. God, please forgive me.

What would he think if he saw you like this? Your finger speed up whimpering for the man craving for release. Chest heaving you can imagine him over you, praising you, fondling you. The thought of it all sends you over an intense orgasm strikes through you. Sitting up in your bed throwing your legs to the side you slide down to the floor on your knees and pray for your transgression.

Waking up on Monday morning was dreadful for you. Your body felt heavy and your mind is racing, thoughts of last nights dallying has you shaking you head. I need to get it together. Minister Tomura was a background thought as you went to class. Your day is as normal as it can be taking your exams, thinking about priest tomura, attending office hours with your professors, masturbating in the bathroom to his picture again, volunteering at the homeless shelter, and begging god for forgiveness in your driveway.

Mentally you were falling apart. Laying back in the seat you recount your day. The photo of your very own priest has plagued your mind. You were beyond forgiveness, there is no way you’ll be able to look him in the eye on Sunday. He would call you a pervert. What if your mother found out? The buzzing in your ears seems to increase with every thought. Your chest felt tight breathing becoming ragged and shallow. How could you be so disgusting?

Before you have a chance to spiral again a knock on your window startles you. Reclining your seat forward you see an all familiar cerulean head of hair. The universe seems to be playing a practical joke on you, why would your pastor be in your driveway. “Why are you sitting in the car?” Nope, this is definitely him, and you could hardly stop the disgusting abstractions from popping up. Punishment is due soon for you.

After having a short and awkward conversation with Minister Tomura in the driveway, you both made your way through the front door and towards the dining room. You didn’t even have a chance to ask what he was doing here. What if he knows about the picture? “Oh! Minister! I’m so glad you were able to stop by! Go wash up sweetie, dinner is almost ready.”

Palms sweaty you head up the stairs to your room. Your stomach has a mix of butterflies and ill. After freshening up you put on some comfortable clothes and head downstairs. your ears were practically on fire trying to hear the conversation from the steps. Rounding around the corner met with the eyes of your mother, father, and pastor seated at the dining table. “Hope the party didn’t start without me” letting out a nervous chuckle you take a seat next to Tomura.

The smell of spice and sage dance at the tip of you nose, his smell is intoxicating sitting so close to him makes you want to pounce. Who cares if your parents see. You’d suffer through the embarrassment if it means you can having him buried inside of you. “Did you hear your mother?” snapped out of your daze your eyes dart across the table. “Aah apologies Minister, my child has a tendency to daydream.” you can hear a small chuckle come from the man. It sent chills down your spine.

“This is the first time I’ve seen her like this. She’s so vocal in study, I don’t know what I would do without her.” in that moment you felt like your heart would jump out your chest. There is no way Father Tomura hand is resting on your thigh. You immediately put your hand on top of his offering a small smile. This is the best night ever. Once dinner is over you start clearing the table retreating to the kitchen placing the plates and pots into the soapy water.

The sound of the clanging pots drowns out the sound of your parents and guest laughing. You didn’t even notice a presence behind you until you felt hands on your shoulders. Tilting your head up you’re greeted with a toothy smile. “H-Hello Minister, is there anything you need?” disappointment crashed on you when his hand left your shoulder. “I just wanted to know if you need any help? It would be rude of me not to help my favorite congregant.” You were his favorite? It fell so smooth out of his mouth it made your knees weak

“Of course Father, I would never deny your help. You’re a good man.” You can hardly think straight. Why is he so silent? What if he thinks you’re gross or trying to hit on him? You can feel his slender finger under your chin lifting your head up to meet his eyes. “You think I’m a good man?” small shocks flow through your body, you were hot under his touch. “I do! I think you’re a good man. I’ve seen how you connect with people it’s like you get them not only physically but spiritually an-“ his lips on yours send you into overdrive.

“Thank you for your hospitality and the lovely dinner. I’ll see you at tomorrow night bible study?” turning to you, offering him a small nod, he wishes you and your family a good night. Heading to your room you close and lock the door. You can still feel his lips on yours, you would give everything to him if he asked. Tuesday morning came faster than you thought soon you were out the bed and on your way to work. Tomura being the first and only thing on your mind. Was he thinking about you too? Of course not. He has better things to worry about than some kiss.

It wasn’t just some kiss to you, thoughts about how soft his lips were and how your tongues dances with each other. Recalling how his hand slid around your waist holding the small of your back. His finger no longer under your chin but sliding through your braids. You were on cloud nine. How could he not feel the spark between you two, you belong together. Once you arrived at work your mind shifts between holding meetings and filling complaints out you had no time for distractions.

Only when your workload is complete and you’re in the car the excitement hits you. You have to know what the kiss meant. Your unwavering devotion and desire for him expands beyond the holy gates. He’s all you can dream of, who you touch yourself to — he is truly deserving of worship and praise. Upon arriving to the church you sat in the parking lot for ten minutes asking and pleading with God to lead you on the right path to guide you with strength and compassion.

The horde of teens and kids comes into view once you lift your head up, you were going to need to head in at some point. Exiting the car you make your way to the double oak doors, the moment you step in you notice the empty pews making your way to the back room.

Past the open doorway you have a clear view of an angel. Everything about him is heaven sent, from his slender jawline to his scarred lips. Every inch of him is perfect. “Good evening Minister” it’s so sweet and natural in your mouth your excitement dissipates the moment he opens his mouth. “We’re holding independent group sessions, you have your own. Good luck.” he didn’t even give you a chance to respond leaving you stunned as he sits at the opposite end of the room.

He avoided you the whole night, it felt like your heart was shattering. It’s infuriating. You actually thought he would be interested in you? Now you’re watching him laugh with members of the church. The quicker you can leave the better. Making your way out you exchange pleasantries with familiar faces. Standing right by the door is tomura, greeting him with a smile you ask “Is there something I can help you with father?”

“I hope you’re not leaving we having had our discussion yet.” his unwavering smile made you feel delicate, you didn’t even notice how he stepped forward backing you away from the door. All you want is for him to hold you in his arms and never let go. “No, I was just stepping out for some fresh air.” with a reassuring smile he steps aside holding the door open for you. “Head into my office when you get back, I’ll be done soon.” softly nodding you make your way outside.

Your mind is reeling the only thing that keeps you sane is praying. ‘Heavenly Father, thank You for Your great faithfulness in my life. I choose to flee from lust, because I know You will empower me to follow righteousness, faith, love, and peace with all who call on you out of a pure heart. Amen.’ once your mind is at peace you head inside gunning for the ministers’ office.

You hear the large double doors slam shut and lock the sound of his footsteps down the corridor. The hair on the back of your neck is raising your hands bunching the ends of your dress out of nervousness. Once the door opens he’s apologizing “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Taking a seat in the leather brown chair his arms immediately crossover his chest. “What we did last night was inappropriate. I have to apologize for my transgression” your heart is thumping so hard, if you don’t say something now you’re going to lose him.

“I have a confession father.” lifting his head up to look at you made you neurotic, “I-I haven’t thought about anything else since last night, if I must be frank, I think about you a lot even in the most shameless ways.”. Eyes bouncing between the floor and his gaze, his expression is unreadable a sigh leaving his lips he says “Confess your sins child and I can set you free.” Patting his lap you get out of you seat circling around the amber desk swiveling the massive chair around you find purchase on his thighs. You can feel his slender fingers snaking around your waist palming at your sides breath hot on your ear he whispers “what thoughts have been tormenting your pretty little head?”

All confidence went out the window the moment he spoke those words into your ear, “It’s too embarrassing to say, I don’t want you to think less of me.” The grip he had around your waist tightened “my sweet flower, I could never think ill of you.” planting a kiss behind your ear you body involuntary jolts forward. The friction between his pants and your cotton panties made you melt. God has answered your prayers.

“I touch myself whenever I think about you.” No words left his mouth he only hummed bouncing you on his thigh. Small whines escape you lips, your bodies were so close. He sighed at your naivety “Is that all, those th-“. “Even now as I sit here I can only think about your touch.” your mind is blank the only thing you can focus on is grinding. release is your only concern. The grip he had around your waist tightened halting your climax.

Tears fall from your eyes “I’m so sorry father, I-I didn’t mean to!” overwhelmed with shame and arousal trying to squirm out of his grip. “Don’t be disobedient. Let me take care of you, get rid of impure thoughts” picking you up bridal style he sits you down on his desk. “Lay back for me sweetheart” obeying his command you lay back on the desk holding the end of your dress over your panties.

A low chuckle follows this action your hand jerked away from your dress. “Don’t get shy on me sweetheart. You were just riding my thigh, confessing your sins. You feel no shame.” His words were harsh, but he only spoke the truth. Father Tomura is never wrong. His words were harsh but you knew he would never steer you wrong. “Be a good girl and I’ll make sure these thoughts go away.” standing in between your thighs you can feel his hands sliding up your legs.

Slowly he trailed caressing and massaging every inch of you. His touch is so soft and soothing the butterflies in your stomach, it made you feel loved. Working his way up your panties sliding your underwear off. You don’t see him bundle them up in his pocket as he brings your legs to his shoulders. Tomura bent down swiping his tongue through your slit without warning. Your thighs snapped around his head — your hands attempt to push him off, as the grip he had around your legs tightened he forces your legs open.

“Tomura~ please.” your pleas were null to him. “It’s Father Tomura, if you can’t get it right you won’t get anything at all.” pouting you relax your legs allowing him to dive in between you legs. He was gentle and reassuring at first. Tracing small circle on your clit teasing your hole with his tongue. Whimpers and prayers fall off your tongue fingers tangled in his hair. Tomura could hardly contain himself sucking and pulling at your clit. Tomura wants to see how far you can go, how much he can make you cum.

You were so sensitive, his actions were beyond making you cum. He wants to feel you around his dick moaning and screaming his name. Deciding to speed up the process his finger ghost over your hole trying to get his fingers wet with your slick before easing his fingers into your sopping cunt. His eyes are zoomed on you — he’s watching the way you grab the desk, the spit spilling out the corner of your mouth “Ahh~ Tomura, slow down.”. Completely disregarding your request he continued to pump his finger curling them to hit your sweet spots.

The pressure in you stomach is unbearable you were practically begging him to slow down. Just looking at you made hard. He wants to fuck you into the table, tears rising in your eyes he takes this moment to slide is fingers out and unlatch from your clit. Eyes wide you try to make an escape before he slaps your clit hard. “No! Please!!” all of your tension and shame is washed away letting the pleasure surge through you. You were soaking, wetting the minister and his robe pathetically covering your face with your arms.

The best part about this is he has full view of your cunt clenching around nothing.You’re practically begging for it. Untying his robe let’s it fall to his ankles pulling you to the edge of the desk. His juice soaked hand came up to you face slightly caressing it as he teases your entrance with his tip. His movements were so smooth — one moment he’s leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead, next he’s bullying your cunt with his cock. “Repeat after me, Lord, forgive me for I have sinned before you. Wash away my sin, purify me, and help me to turn from this sin.”

Your eyelids were heavy you reaching for something maybe some solace from his dick kissing you cervix. Eyes fluttering open you can see the furrow of his, the stern look he is giving you reminds you that silence wasn’t an option. His hand rose again coming down on your clit with force. A squeal erupts from you as your hips jolt forward, breathlessly you recite the prayer “Lord, f-forgive me for I have sinned before you. Aah~ wash away my sin, purify me, and help me to turn from this sin.”. The way your cunt is convulsing around his dick makes him feel invincible. The sounds you’re making alone sends him over. He’s only focused on release.

His dick jumped at the thought of desperate inexperienced girls opening their legs for him. You were the perfect vision of sin. “Father Tomura~ I can’t hand-“ you words cut off by his lips smashing onto yours. “Just push a little hard for me sweetheart, I know you can do it. Look at how easy you’re taking me right now” you response were incoherent and thats exactly how he wants you. His groans made the tensity in your womb crack. You wrap your arms around his shoulder and tighten your legs around his waist.

His kisses and stormed become messy and deep, it felt his smell is suffocating you. He wants to absorb everything you have. Feeling the way your cunt is fluttering and gushing around him it’s begging to be filled and defiled. “You’re such a good girl, I’m going give you a reward. A present from god.” Burying his head in the crook of your neck satisfaction is all you felt. Your orgasm takes a new form within you, nails digging into his back your hips are fucking into him chasing, pleading for relief.

His pace is brutal the thought of filling your lewd cunt made his mouth water. Drool coaxing the side of your neck a low growl causing your body to shake “cum f’me sweetheart~”. Fireworks exploded through your body, you can hardly formulate words as squirt cover both your abdomens. The corners of your eyes succumb to darkness as Father Tomura restlessly pounds into you. His teeth engrave your neck, praises and apologies fall off his tongue, “M’gonna fill you up. You’re such a good girl, squeezing my dick like this. M’gonna give you what you want”.

His grip is shaky the twitch of his dick is evident, he’s hooked your legs around his arms deepening the position. Tomura felt pure bliss being buried in you, his mind was hazy, the once relentless pace faltering as he fills you up. The only sounds in the room were shallow breaths, lifting his head you expecting pure joy across his face. Disgust. “You’re so disappointing. I thought you were better than this.” As he let your legs sliding out of you, he continued his verbal assault. “You seduced a holy man and allow a man who isn’t your husband taint you.”

The room feels cold. You rose quickly reaching out for him catching his arm. “I’m sorry father! I am disappointing! I-I can be better, I can do better! Snatching away from you he rounds his desk sitting in his chair, almost instinctively you were in front of him on your knees. One of his hands gently grasp the side of your face. Wiping the tears from your eyes. “Show me.”.

[cupidkenji]

Moment's Silence

Now playing: Moment's Silence - Hozier a moment's silence when my baby puts the mouth on me Pairing: dbf!Bucky Barns x college!reader CW: oral (receiving), reader is inexperienced but not infantilized, Bucky is reader's dad's friend, Bucky's name is never actually said so this could technically be anyone, reader hasn't had a first kiss, cursing, gn!reader (no genitalia is mentioned), sub!reader, pure pwp like there's no plot here at all, slight praise, older!bucky, not beta'd, softdom!bucky Summary: Having a slight crush on your dad's friend, you decide to ask him about his first times. When he learns you haven't had any, what kind of man would he be if he didn't help out? Disclaimer: Reader is fat! There are no physical descriptions here but my stories are always thought to have chubby/fat readers. WC: 2,565 Lord forgive me for all the times I denounced Sebastian Stan as not being attractive. I was so wrong, my life was changed.

The origins of the situation you were in had not been lost on you. You wouldn’t say your intentions had been sexual in nature, simply wanting to nurture the tiny crush you harbored for a companion your dad kept. You thought through inherently lewd but innocently curious questions about his past you could get some insight about the kind of lover he was. You’d followed him into your dad’s home, where you were staying while on break from uni, and began the minor interrogation. 

Through the discomfort of sitting on a kitchen counter came the newfound advantage of your legs having to be slightly parted in order to remain balanced. The room was dark, your previous conversation having taken place in the low light of invasive moonbeams sneaking in through the uncovered window. You hadn’t seen the dial being turned until he was walking closer, the room was very abruptly too hot, too muggy. The air seemed tangibly thicker, like it was licking up your skin and leaving a film over it - you’d never felt tension so heavy, and in such abundance that it had no choice but to sit on you. Despite your acutely spread legs, he placed his hands on your knees when he got close enough, pushing them just far enough apart so the space between could welcome his hips. He then removed them in favor of resting on parts of the counter you weren’t sitting on, effectively making a cage of his body and trapping you in it. The new position of his palms on the marble gave him the needed leverage to lean in even closer than he was, essentially hovering over your lips. The heat was clinging to you, permeating so deeply you felt like your spine had turned molten and was spilling an unbearable warmth into the pit of your stomach.

“What about you?” He questioned you so softly, barely any energy needed to speak. He was so close he could have mouthed the words and you would have been able to work them out based on how his lips moved. 

“What about me?” Your brain, at this point, was unable to recognize the obvious inquiry about your first times. You had to focus all your mental energy on the flick of your eyes between his lips and his stare that was so trained on you it felt like a punishment everytime you cast your eyes south for a moment and had to look away. Someone more experienced might have ceased the opportunity, perhaps he was even waiting for you to break first and give him the permission he needed, but you didn’t. You hadn’t had a first. No first kiss, first time, nothing like that. You’d had orgasms, you weren’t someone ignorant of how easy it was to get your hands on some variation of toy that could do the trick, but nobody had ever been close to you in this way. Not the way he was asking to be.

He smiled a little, a darker glint in his expression than the usual grins you couldn’t drag your eyes from. This was just a small uptick, his lips curling up. “Your firsts.” He reciprocated your gesture of looking down. You wondered if it was his way of hinting at what he was asking, but it seemed more like his subconscious piercing through the will of a yearning man. “Seems only fair I get to hear them.”

The bluntness of his explanation managed to clear the haze of your mind just a bit. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about it. You weren’t in a clear enough headspace to lie, not to him and certainly not when he was so close. You weren’t ashamed of the way you’d lived your life, but the thought of scaring him off with your lack of experience rattled through you. You could convince him, you thought. Bargain or plead with him or something - anything to get his hands back on you. “I haven’t-” You swear you physically saw his pupils dilate as you figured out the best way to word your predicament. The look on his face shifted so minutely, something about it letting you know what he was anticipating. He knew what you were going to say, but he let you struggle to choke the words out. “Nobody’s kissed me before.” You shook your head slightly as you spoke, still transfixed and unblinking as you stared at him.

A sharp, somewhat staggering inhale swept through him almost immediately as you said it. And as though that was the most devastating news he’d ever heard, trace amounts of confusion and what looked like despair mingled with the lust burning in his irises. “Nobody’s kissed you before.” He hadn’t exactly said it as a question, more like repeating it to fully comprehend the vulnerability of the confession. He sounded like he needed to hear it in his own voice, roll it between his teeth and verbalize it to ensure he’d heard properly. He breathed it out like vapor, some kind of brutal acceptance present in his tone.

You, being on territory so far out of your normal depth, were just begging to regain some type of knowledge of the ground you stood on. “Is that a turn off?” Your shoulders shook a little as you tried to laugh with your delivery, attempting to gage every jagged detail of what he could be feeling. You felt meek, like a deer in headlights waiting for the car to strike you.

“You’re surrounded by boys at that school of yours. They’re too young to know what they have.” His hands migrated from the counter to each side of your head, dissolving the walls of the cage but somehow reigning you in even closer to him. As if your eyes hadn’t been glued to his before, now he held you in place, stealing the option to look away from whatever was about to happen. “It’s good your first time’ll be with me. Save you the headache of some frat boy with wandering hands.” His thumbs were running up and down your cheeks, still speaking so lowly that it was barely audible. You felt the slow coil that had been winding in your stomach pick up it’s pace at the declaration that left him. Your first time was going to be with him, he’d said it like it was set in stone, predetermined. If there was anything that could make you believe in fate, it was the feeling of his thumb trailing your jaw. He was simply magnetic, the perfect opposition to whatever frequency you were buzzing at. If this wasn’t fate, what else could be? Your first time being on an old kitchen counter was as good as it got to your fuzzy brain. You’d have let him fuck you on the roof at this point. “You want this?”

Your lips parted and you nodded before you could even process the question, the way he was looking at you combined with the weight of his hands on your face made you nearly certain you wouldn’t survive this. You could barely handle the build up, you had no way to prepare for the inevitable crest of the mountain. He pulled you closer as he was leaning in, the proximity the two of you had held for the past few minutes had led you to believe the kiss would only be slightly above that. His lips had already been ghosting over yours, what was a little more? It was a ridiculously foolish notion to put your faith in, though. The pressure of your mouths sealing together was the most erotic sensation you think you’d ever felt. There was an urgent heat searing the lining of your stomach in response to him, everything he did just fanning the flames higher until you felt your eyes burn, well up with the sheer amount of want coursing through you. He eased his tongue into your mouth, it was slight, controlled - curious, even. It wasn’t the sloppy, eager mouths of impatient college men. This was personal, deliberate. The tiniest noise shot up your throat and fled your lips in favor of sticking to his, feeling his shoulders shake in a small laugh as your thighs moved quick to close around him. You hadn’t meant to do that, simply trying to seek refuge from the new and persistent throbbing that was becoming apparent between your legs.

He pulled away, barely detaching from your lips, but still the loss of him made you feel ready to cry. He moved down, grazing your jaw and nursing the skin of your neck until he happily noted how ‘marked up’ you’d look tomorrow. You swear you were making fun of guys who were so territorial not two days ago. You suppose you understood it now, though. Something about how fucking primal it was, how old fashioned. The intent behind the action was conservative, controversial - and you hated how much that added to the novelty of everything. You wanted to see the remnants of the approaching exchange engraved in your skin the next morning. The idea of teeth marks still holding a faint sting when you inevitably dug your fingers into them was enthralling beyond belief. You felt a plea slip from your lips, no direct purpose or goal in mind, just needing him to know the desperation you were hardly holding back

His grip left your face in favor of tugging your hips forward, pulling you off the counter with such ease that you could have mistook him for a god. You’re sure the people who have looked divinity in the face felt similarly to you in this moment. The urge to lower yourself before them and pledge your life - maybe all your lives - just for a taste of what they could make you feel. A feeling both of you were basking in apparently, as he sank to his knees on the cold kitchen tile before you could offer him the rest of your days. 

Bolts of nerves jolted through your stomach, widening your eyes and making your fingers tense up. “Wait - I can’t -” Your voice was so breathy you barely recognized it. You wondered briefly if he could even hear it with the newfound distance between the two of you. 

You felt his fingers tuck themselves under the waistband of your pants, the air sparking with the silent threat of removal. He looked up at you, “Trust me, yeah?” He started the slow pull of them down your legs, smiling slightly when you lifted each leg to help get them off completely, seemingly unaware of your actions. “It’ll feel good.”

He took his time once more of your skin was revealed. Making a canvas of your thighs, relishing the sight of the patches already bruising darker, the shine of his spit reflecting the limited light available in the room. Him pulling down your underwear sobered you up a bit, the feeling of his eyes being able to take you in fully swept the dust off your racing mind. It was uncomfortable in the best way, raw and slightly shameful. It made your stomach turn and sent a wave rushing south that made your skin tingle. It did feel good, and this hadn’t even been the part he was referring to.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, honey.” His words were slurring a little, his nose resting on your hip before he bit down just below the bone, making them jolt upwards a bit and forcing air sharply into your lungs. His hands were running up and down the planes of your thighs, the clashing sensations of chilling steel and warm humanity was dizzying. Again, a plea fled your lips, not knowing if you were truly ready for the feeling of him on you, but being certain any more anticipation would kill you. 

As he moved inward from your hip, his grip simultaneously tightened on the plush of your legs. He was holding you still, yes, but it seemed just as much for his restraint as it was your stability. There wasn’t a thing in the world that could have prepared you for his mouth on you. It was euphoria in every sense of the word; bathing in the foam of the holiest, warmest sea any being could hope to make. You could equate it to drinking down that divinity you were so ready to give your life to - like consuming it entirely. You were nearly positive the heat of it all would melt you down to your barest form. 

Your hands moved to his hair, a mission that was completely separate from any conscious command. Your thoughts were incoherent by now, forcing your subconscious to take the reins and find something to anchor on to. Murmurs of his name and other various noises clung to the air that was already too thick, sounding muffled by the time they reached your ears. Your head felt like it was underwater, your body on the precipice of letting the liquid flood your lungs - letting it flood your entire being. He was a man who knew what he was doing, pulling a move with his tongue that hit you just right, noting the bucking of your hips and the way your fists balled up in his hair, repeating it until you walked the most delectable edge you’d ever been on in your life. You bit the meat of your hand as you toppled over it, huffing heavy whimpers through the space of your parted teeth. Your heart pounded, and your hips ground against his mouth that was still lapping greedily at you. Your fingers hit his shoulder lightly in rapid succession, effectively tapping out of the oncoming overstimulation. 

Your chest was heaving as you leaned back against the counter. “Jesus Christ.”

He chuckled, standing up and licking any remaining moisture off his lips. Your eyes flicked over his face once, following the swipe of his tongue with a sniper-like focus. You felt a pull to him in every aspect of your body, deep in your bones all the way to the skin of your bitten lips. You needed to kiss him - so close to surging forward in search of the feeling when the blinding lights of a car interrupted the serene atmosphere. Your dad was home. You weren’t ashamed of what you’d just let happen, however you didn’t think your father would be too keen on witnessing his daughter being deflowered by his friend when he probably just wanted to go to bed. 

He hissed a quiet “shit” in response to the headlights, looking at you with a devastating amount of longing that you’re sure was mirrored in your own eyes. You rushed back into your underwear, wincing at the feeling of drenching the previously dry fabric. “Go upstairs. You’re meant to be sleeping by now.”

You smiled, picking your pants up off the ground and peeking at his dog tags before responding with a quick ‘aye aye’ before attempting to shuffle upstairs. You heard one thing be called after you before your father came into the house, front door opening just as your bedroom door was shut.

“We’re not done.”

[heartsofbeskar]

the red wolf

mockingbird

oberyn martell x named fem!reader

warnings — language, sexual content, 18+ only

words — 3.8K

a/n: yall remember this?? yes??? i hope so!!

series masterlist — writing masterlist

prev — next

“I am going to be most blunt with you, Lady Stark. Have you and the Prince been intimate?”

The entire room seemed to still; the inhale of a fire breathing dragon moments before it expelled its deadly barrage of heat and destruction. They waited. 

Count one. 

Count two.

An exhale.

The steady thrum of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Lord Tywin, I—” A glance spared to Oberyn. He sat, impassive, as if he were a portrait that had been painted long ago, left in place of the man of flesh and blood. “No! No, of course not, I am— I would never—”

An unexpected reprieve came in the form of Mace Tyrell. His face was blotchy red, as if an inexperienced young girl had applied rouge at random to his uneven skin.

“Is it really appropriate, my Lord, to so publicly question something so sacred as the young girl’s virtue—”

“It is no more or less appropriate than the murder of my grandson on his own wedding day!” Tywin’s voice was raised with what an onlooker may have described as unrestrained anger — but it was measured, carefully meted out, as all the words that had come before.

Your hands shook where they were clenched together under the rim of the dias— they may as well have been chained as Tyrion’s were. The smaller man looked at you now, and it felt like the weight of a great boulder crushed into your chest as you realized there was pity in his eyes. You didn’t want it, and it soured in your stomach the longer you felt it — as if it would rot you from the inside out, the contents of your soul spilling out for all to see.

Finally, Oberyn spoke. The tone of his voice was casual, but you could hear the underlying strain, that sense of unease that crept into it like a viper slithering through the bed of a garden.

“Forgive me — I fail to see the relevance of my relationship with the Lady Stark to your son’s trial.” He gestured with one ring-covered hand at the older man adjacent to him. “A relationship which, I assure you, is most platonic in nature. We have both known the great depths of grief and it is a comfort to speak about it with someone who understands such things.”

The crowd was uncharacteristically silent as the two men held each other’s gaze, elevated upon the judge’s platform, on full display. Their facades seemed to be stripping away, layer by convoluted layer, hurtling towards the exposure of the raw core that lay underneath this entire charade.

They ordered the butchery of my sister, and her infant children.

Oberyn’s words — it seemed like so many lifetimes ago that the two of you had sat in the shared sanctity of that abandoned section of the gardens — echoed through your head, forming a haunting rhythm that beat against the inside of your skull, and your muscles throbbed with the intensity.

He seemed larger now, a hulking dragon that Tywin was all too eager to attempt to slay, as he had slain a entire house of dragons in the years before. The latter’s eyes shone with the potential blood that could be spilled over the dark stone floor. His brow twitched up his forehead by a hair's breadth.

Oberyn seemed to speak without need to open his mouth. Go ahead, old man. I have no fear of the true heart of this matter. Do you?

For a moment, a dizzying beat of time, you thought Tywin Lannister would rise to the silent taunt, that his cold demeanour would crumble and crack and scatter debris about King’s Landing.

He drew in a slow breath, and he lowered.

“Very well.” His tone was jovial, but a hand remained closed in a tight fist at his side. “I only feared, Prince Oberyn, that the young Lady Stark presumed to use you for your vast knowledge on bodily poisons to better inform a plot to kill the King … since he was poisoned.”

The blood continued to rush through your ears, a steady charge that echoed the days you spent in the woods of Winterfell. It was the streams in high summer, which would flow with the same ferocity and vigour towards lower ground, a race they did not even know they had entered into against nature itself. You went there now, eyes squeezing shut with a pressure almost painful. 

Your feet would sit in the running water, the bottom of your skirts tinted dark where they had been splashed upon, the breeze kissing along the bare skin of your ankles. The image of your toes was rippled by the waves distorting their shapes and colours where they were submerged. Rays of sun would glint off the surface of the stream. You would stare up through the canopy of trees, hints of the sky beyond breaking through the thick overlay of their leaves, blue and bright as you’d always imagined the Summer Isles to be. Some days, you would lay on the gentle forest floor, the soft moss and mud providing a welcome respite from long afternoons in lessons with your young sisters.

Oberyn’s voice, warmth and honey, pulled you back, to your feet solid on the wooden dais, your breath sharp where it sat in your throat. It had been pulling you back for some time now.

“I am glad we were able to assuage your fears, my Lord.” He leaned back in the grand wood chair. You noticed, for the first time, the ornate carvings that adorned its edges, the grandeur of design in all the judges’ seats. It sat in stark contrast to the dirt and hatred of the accusations thrown across the room all day. “I hope you can rest in the knowledge that Lady Stark is as innocent in these matters as you are in them.”

You did not miss the double meaning to Oberyn’s words — and you knew Tywin did not either. They held gazes for another long moment.

“You are dismissed, Lady Stark,” he finally spoke. His voice was low, a lion crouched in the grass, prey helpless in its sights as he decided whether he should let it live or snap its neck. “I have no more questions for you.”

Numbness washed through you as you stood, and followed you as you approached the bench — Lord Varys looking on you with another set of sympathetic eyes you didn’t want — and you passed it entirely, the Gods themselves guiding your feet to take you out, out, out, until the warm air mercifully kissed your skin, and you swallowed it down in great volumes, though the sanded path before you swam in your vision.

The bushes lining the path swam, too, as you retched into them.

—

The stillness of your room unnerved you as you sat, sat and waited for a fate that wasn’t even yours, but felt heavy on you all the same. It was Tyrion Lannister who would lose his head if he was found guilty. Tyrion Lannister who would stare down the execution block, stained with the blood of all those who came before, including that of your own father. Tyrion Lannister who would be sentenced to death at the hands of his own family.

So why did it feel as if his fate would become your own?

You waited so long that the sun began its descent through the sky, cutting through clouds and painting them hues of violet and orange. Children who had played among the bushes, ducking and weaving as they exchanged the role of seeker and sought out their companion, were called in for their evening meal, the sound of their light footsteps fading as they rushed towards home. And you waited. For someone, anyone, to enter through the door and give you news that you weren’t even sure you wanted to hear.

Relief was a sweet drug in your veins when it was Oberyn.

Unabashed, uncaring how it appeared, you rushed to him, wrapping him in an embrace the moment the door closed securely behind him. You knew him — trusted him — to be clever enough to make his way here unnoticed.

You clung to him, hands fisted in the back of his robe, as if he were an anchor and you were in a storm at sea. One of his hands cupped the back of your head, warmth emanating from the point of contact.

“He’s demanded a trial by combat,” he said softly. His breath fanned over your hair. You pulled back, just an inch, to tilt your face toward his. You couldn’t read the expression in his dark eyes. “Tyrion. He knew men would never grant him a fair trial … but the Gods may.”

Your hands tightened in the fabric. You had never known the Gods to be so kind as to bestow proper justice.

“It is an ordeal for another day,” Oberyn murmured. He searched your face, pouring an intensity into you that made your head spin. “You must trust me. Do you?”

“You know that I do,” you breathed. You watched his throat bob, brows drawn together tightly.

As his hand descended down your back, the thumb making a soothing motion against the material of your bodice, you felt a weight drop through your chest, and you surged forward.

Your lips against his felt like coming home. His hand in your hair tightened, and he took half a step back in surprise before pressing back with just as much strength, moulding his mouth to yours in a comfortable and familiar pattern. They played well together, your mouth and his, and for the first time you admitted to yourself it was a game you never wanted to end.

It could have been a moment or it could have been a lifetime before you broke off from him, heavy breaths intermingling in the spare inch of space between your lips. Words seemed impossible to form, your mind filled with sweet syrup that dripped through your body where it pressed against his. You tugged, insistent, on the edges of his jacket, knuckles brushing against bare his skin underneath. 

His free hand, warm and strong, came to rest on your waist and put pressure there, and for a terrifying moment you thought he meant to push you away. But then he followed your backwards movement easily, not giving room for any additional air between your bodies, and relief was a palpable taste in your mouth. He wanted this too.

You cupped your hands over his jaw, thumbs tracing along the hair styled there. It was longer than you were used to seeing on him, it’s shape less clean cut and more unruly, indicating that he had not shaved for several days now. Your mouth followed the path of your hands, descending from the sharpness of his jawbone to the smooth column of his neck. He tasted of the golden rays of the sun, of the steady richness of the earth beneath your feet. His skin underneath your mouth was the ground, and you floated down from the stars to meet it.

At your ministrations, he groaned, the sound vibrating out from his throat into your very bones, settling there. His thumb rubbed circles on your hip, the fabric just barely starting to bunch there.

“Raya…” he rumbled. “Little wolf.” You preened at both of your names from his lush mouth, pressing a hand to his arm and squeezing. “You must stop this before we go some place you cannot come back from.”

You pulled back, further this time, your eyes meeting his. They seemed to pass an infinite set of words between them before you could form any from your lips instead.

“I wish to go there, Oberyn,” you breathed. Even in the silence of the room, it was a strain to hear your own voice. “They all believe it anyway. Let me … please, I—“

His brow furrowed, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “This is not a kiss, little wolf.”

“I know.” Your voice came sharped this time, honed by the blade of frustration and the dissolution of hope. “They have taken … everything from me. My home, my family, my future.” You choked on the words as they clawed their way through your throat, leaving wounds over the scars that had existed there. “I want this and I want … I want to know someone who is kind and gentle. I want that, and I want it to be you. Please. Do not condemn me to a life without it.”

His eyes seemed to soften, and you closed yours as a familiar burn built within them. You felt a hand — so soft you could almost believe it was the wind — brush back the hair that had fallen into your face.

“Then it would be my honour.”

Before your eyes could open again, his lips were on yours once more, this time with a softness that threatened to melt your body from the inside. A single tear slipped free from its reins, spilling over your skin, leaving a hot trail behind. Oberyn wiped it away with a slow stroke of his thumb. He began to walk, urging you backwards, your steps clumsy but unhurried as he continued his attentions upon your mouth.

You were feeling dizzy with it by the time your legs made contact with the bed behind you. With a sharp inhale, you broke off the kiss, your eyes blinking rapidly to adjust. His hands wasted not a single moment, moving down — your neck, your arms, circling your waist before settling behind you, where he deftly began to unstring the intricate laces of your bodice. You mentally cursed your own dressing decisions from that morning, but he seemed not to struggle, the fabric falling away from your body as it was an enemy he’d cut down on the field of battle without a second thought. The cool air rising from the bay kissed the bare skin of your shoulders, your back, you legs, as the dress pooled ever downwards, leaving you only in your light shift beneath.

A shiver crawled up your spine. Upon seeing it, Oberyn brushed a gentle hand down the bones. 

“Will it hurt?” you murmured. Your mother and Old Nan had imbued you with stories of the loss of maidenhood, a woman’s first battle, where she would adorn the sheets with blood not so dissimilar to her own flowering. 

He pushed you back further still, leaving you no choice but to climb onto the mattress behind you, gooseflesh rising where your bare skin met the silks of the bedding. The pillows gave way beneath you, a soft space to land as he hovered above you. Oberyn lowered his face into the crook of your neck, his breath pooling there.

“No, my little wolf,” he whispered into your skin. “It will, most assuredly, not hurt.”

Despite his words, you struggled to believe him, and you couldn’t help but feel your muscles tense slightly as his hand crept lower, running along your stomach, still covered by your shift, until he reached the tops of your thighs. His fingers played along the skin there, testing, as he propped himself up on his other elbow. His jacket had fallen open fully, exposing his chest underneath. It was smooth, golden, radiating a warmth that compensated for any chill entering the room from the open window.

His eyes poured into you as his hand slowly ran along the edge of your smallclothes, seeking permission at every step. You brought a hand up to the back of his head, running it through the close cropped but soft hair. You nodded almost imperceptibly, but he saw.

Drawing the last of your clothing down, pushing your shift up around your stomach, Oberyn touched you with reverence you had never imagined possible as he approached the place which no man had ever seen. You spared only a moment’s thought to the belief you’d had, once, that your husband would have been the first and only one to know you this way. He was faceless, nameless, some lord or knight whose face was soft and manner was kindly. Not yours to chose, but yours alone to have.

Oberyn was none of those things, but he was the one you wanted regardless.

Never breaking eye contact, his hand grazed along the apex of your thighs, light at first but increasing in pressure as you didn’t push it away. Your breath was caught in your throat, at first solely because it was cold — not because of the temperature of his skin but because of the sheer heat coming off of you in waves. You could feel it burn along the skin of your inner thighs. His hand was ice in comparison.

He continued to increase the pressure of his fingers on you, harder and harder still, but gently stroking all the while, and something began to build. You gasped into his mouth, hovering now above yours, eyes shutting unbidden against the sensation you struggled to make sense of for the first time in your life. His hand now worked masterfully on the very core of you, the blazing embers of a fire you had never imagined you possessed. 

Time seemed to slow to a syrupy crawl under his ministrations, and you began to feel suspended from it entirely. All that was, all that had ever existed, was the two of you in this bed, his hands on you, and yours on him where you grasped the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin whilst the pleasure built under yours.

“Howl for me, little wolf.” Oberyn’s voice was light and breathy, and his mouth descended onto your neck as his own body moved in rhythm with yours. You felt the hardness of him against your thigh, thinly veiled by the linen pants he still wore. You tried your best to oblige him, but all that passed your lips was an equally breathy moan. He laughed, not unkindly. The flow of it over your skin only heightened what you were feeling. “I suppose that’s close enough.”

You could not help but to laugh in return, but it was soon cut off by a gasp as he pressed one strong finger inside of you. 

It was fast becoming too much for you to bear, and you buried your face into the side of Oberyn’s, legs tightening of their own will around his forearm. He placed soft kisses onto the column of your throat, as if in encouragement. His finger crooked just so, his thumb pressing in succession, his lips searing hot against your skin, and the waves crashed upon the beach inside of you, your whole body tensing with an exquisite ache.

“You are beautiful,” Oberyn said. His eyes saw into your soul, into the essence of your being, and were full of nothing but admiration as he looked upon you. Gaze never straying from yours, he shifted, and with a few slow strokes pulled his hand away. 

He admired the remnants you’d left on his fingers, before bringing them back down to tend to his own garments. In a blur his pants were discarded, and you heard the soft sound of them landing somewhere undetermined on the stone floor. He came to settle between your legs, and you secured him there with your limbs in turn, but still — he hesitated.

You drew a hand along his jaw, cupping it in your palm, thumb gently tracing over his cheek. It felt as if your life hinged on this moment. All of the things your family had imagined for you fell to one side, with all that you wanted falling to the other. And, for once, you had a choice to tip the balance. With just three words, you did.

“I want this.”

It seemed that Oberyn needed not a word more. His mouth descended on yours, a kiss so reminiscent of the first one shared between you as he entered you. Instinctively your hands came up grasp his arms to either side of you as you processed the barrage of feelings coming over you.

As he continued to move within you — to make love to you, to take you, to fuck you — your mind spun. You could not believe that this was the woman’s duty as so many had spoken of it to you, from the time you were a young girl not yet flowered. A service to one’s husband, they had said. A responsibility most serious, to provide men with heirs at their behest.

But this… this was no duty, no sacrifice, no service you were to perform. This surely must be something different entirely, something sweeter than summerwine and immensely more intoxicating. With every movement of Oberyn’s hips, pleasure rippled through you, building impossibly high and crashing through every inch of your skin. You were on fire, you were submerged in ice. You were alive and you were dead. You were everywhere and you were nowhere, all in the same moment in time.

One of his hands explored your body at will, grazing against a breast, still hidden by the thin fabric of your shift, his thumb tracing around where you could see one nipple peaking a tent through it. Continuing its path, his hand descended between your thighs again, and this time you let out a stream of moans as the feelings layered within you, pooling in your centre.

“Oberyn. Oberyn.” Your voice came out as a whimper, saying his name like a prayer. He groaned, a long and low sound in the back of his throat, and his hips stuttered in their rhythm. Warmth grew within you, emanating from the point you were connected, settling in your limbs. His hand redoubled its efforts, and you followed him back into the waves, where they once again washed over your head, pulling you underneath to drown in the waters.

Moments later — you could not say how many or how you got there — he cradled you into his warm chest, his hand stroking along the bare skin of your upper back. You let yourself settle against him, your mind finally wiped free of kings and lords and wars and trials. It was only the two of you, and this room, and this bed. He had you, body and soul, and you him. And since the moment you’d left Winterfell, this felt like the only correct turn you’d been able to make.

You drew back for a moment to admire the planes of his face before pressing up with a gentle kiss against his lips, which were full with colour and swollen. You did not want to imagine what yours looked like.

“Raya,” he murmured against your lips. You smiled, only for a moment until the next words escaped him. “I’m going to volunteer as Tyrion’s champion.”

——

oh hello! im not sure if.. anyone still wants to be tagged in this but ill do everyone i tagged last chapter and if you dont want that lmk!

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @magpie-to-the-morning @heavenseed76 @dazedrhapsody @highsviolets @sherala007 @adancedivasmom @skeletoncowboys @xsadderdazeforeverx @iamskyereads @mswarriorbabe80 @prettylilhalforc @elinedjarin @spoopyredacted @frannyzooey @fan-of-encouragement @djarinsbeskar @fucktheforce @leannawithacapitala @starla1979

love u all mwuah

[acourtofthought]

Hello!

I need to vent how horrible the acotar fandom is.

This ship war has become hell. I can't stand to see how much they chase the girls (Elain and Gwyn) and exempt Azriel's contradictory actions.

Male chauvinist is very dominant as always, especially among such young girls.

Another one who suffers a lot from this is Lucien. The disrespect in theories is absurd, I doubt that Elain would like to be talked about the way they say about Lucien. Remembering that she defended Lucien from the love of her life Greyson in Acowar.

Absurd theories that Lucien is someone like Tamlin's father, Rhys' father or like Beron himself.

They say that acotar5 will be forbidden romance. Where they'll do it all behind Lucien's back like he deserves to be tricked or manipulated.

They place him as an aggressor and harasser, and he is a sexually and psychologically abused character.

They say the bond of mates is fake like Rowan, but they forget that the bond never existed. Rowan didn't feel that thread, and yet he loved Lirya and their child.

Aelin has great respect for Rowan's history, just as he does for her past and romances, unlike Azriel who sees Lucien as a nuisance and shows gratuitous disrespect.

Elriel stan are sometimes racist and make fun of the violence he suffered and even make fun of his disability.

I as Lucien Stan get sick of these things. How do you handle this fandom? Do you have any tips on how not to fall into the desperate Elriel's traps?

How do you think Elain would react to hearing the dismissive way Azriel says of Lucien? How do you think she would handle it if she heard about the Blood Duel idea?

Vent Away!! I understand your frustration because people have blown way past reason and logic and have entered into Mean Girl territory all in the name of fictional characters.

And pitting Elain and Gwyn against one another while treating Az like a poor baby who just needs to be "wuved" is disturbing.

This man TORTURES people. He starts fights in important political meetings because he can't control himself. He disobeys orders from his High Lord and High Lady.

Yes, what happened to Azriel is terrible and it's completely understandable why he's got issues. But constantly making excuses for him and giving him repeated forgiveness for his actions / behaviors while acting like two females under the age of 30 who very recently experienced major traumas and have not yet discovered who they're meant to be are the problem is crazy.

Elain and Gwyn are extremely parallel characters right now.

Both had older sisters who protected them. We know it's a fact for Elain and Gwyn tells us:

"Catrin was always the strong one" "After our mother died, she took care of me. Looked out for me."

Catrin was Gwyn's Nesta.

Both have shown moments of extreme bravery (Elain while saving Briar and when she stabbed the King and Gwyn during the attack on Sangravah and the Rite).

But despite that, they are both still hesitant to fully embrace their futures. Elain by sort of hiding in the NC telling herself everything is fine and Gwyn (despite her proclamation that she was tired of living in the library and didn't want to take the safe road anymore) returned to living in the library and wasn't sure she would attend Nesta's ceremony after the Rite.

Again, lots of similarities between them.

One of the only reasons E/riels have a problem with Gwyn is because Az is being set up as her possible LI. No, she doesn't need to be your favorite character but it's a near impossibility to hate a character whose major role in SF was to be Nesta's support system. To have created so many slanderous things to say about her. How can you have so much hate for a character who has not been written to be antagonistic in any way right now?

And the Elain hate is also extreme. I've seen some Gwynriels (this is a very select few as most Gwynriels I talk to are awesome) say that Elain should be killed off or SA because she's worthless. This is a girl who had a special cake made for her sister because she wanted her to know how much she's always appreciated her. Elain stood up to Nesta to allow Feyre to use their home as a meeting spot for the Human Queens regardless of what that might mean for her own engagement. This is a girl who has always shown the members of Feyre's new family with respect. She doesn't have to be anyones favorite but Geeez. Saying she'd be better dead or assaulted is way out there. Of course people have things they dislike about her, that tends to happen when a character is more fleshed out. SJM has given her good and bad (especially when we are witnessing sister squabbles on page) but acting like she's a more terrible person than Az is 🤔

And Lucien, my god. His entire journey so far has been filled with impossible decisions. Constantly being put in the middle of his friend and High Lord (a High Lord who gave him a job and home) and Feyre, a friend he had just met. Always between a rock and a hard place on what she needed versus what Tamlin and the Spring Court needed. Being accused of not doing enough when, whenever he tried to do anything he was threatened and eventually abused by Tamlin. Having to reign in any emotions he may have had for Rhys and the IC, people he was led to believe were the bad guys for centuries and who really didn't show Lucien much respect in the beginning, because they were allowed to dictate when and how he was allowed to see his own Mate. He's never threatened ANYONE or brought harm to anyone Elain cared for. He freely works with Az even though Az treats him like garbage He's always tried to find balance between respecting Elain's need for space while also letting her know he'd still like to interact with her. All while he can't return to his home as his father keeps trying to kill him and Feyre ruined his name in Spring.

What tough decisions has Az made as of late? What impossible situations has he really been placed in? Az is a bit of an asshole right now for no real reason at all besides his desperate need for love while Lucien has legitimate problems and is faced with difficult decisions. Az starts fights, has anger issues, refuses to communicate, and doesn't listen to authority. Yet Az gets more respect because.......? Because he said something poetic about Illyrians and the wind and acts like a perfect gentleman around Elain?

I do think SJM will restore Azriel's character but anyone holding him in higher regard at the moment than Lucien, Elain or Gwyn is a very interesting person indeed.

To answer your last question, Elain would dislike everything about the Az that exists when she's not around. From how he talks about Lucien to his casual disregard for he and Graysen's lives. To the real thoughts he has about her, that she's the "third sister" and that's why he wonders why he didn't get a bond, that his thoughts for her really only amount to sexual fantasies. That he doesn't think she can handle something dangerous.

It's ironic because the front Az puts up around Elain is how Lucien actually is yet she's so stubborn against getting to know him that she hasn't realized it yet.

I think the reason I don't fall into the E/riel traps and bullying is because, after looking through the series over and over and OVER again, I finally feel like it's all clicked. I came up with a lot of different thoughts, even trying to prove an E/riel endgame possibility at one point but some of those things didn't feel right. I'd have an idea and start running with it but after asking other questions, the idea fell apart under my own scrutiny.

A year ago, I would have probably been uncertain on my stances and wondered if I missed something but now I do feel very confident that I'm just as versed as any of them might be (at least on the Elucien / Elriel / Gwynriel debate) and that makes it easy to ignore or argue back. That's not to say SJM can't turn around and completely change the direction of her story but as far as things stand right now, I do feel that I've grasped the hidden messages she's left us about those ships. And that in order for E/riel to ever be a possibility, she would have to go in a completely different direction and decide what's she's written so far didn't matter because what there is does not point to E/riel.

So for others out there that struggle dealing with them I think really looking back through the series and trying to disprove their arguments can help because it builds the confidence that you understand the material as well as the next person. Or, you can find blogs that resonate with you, that their logic also makes sense to yours, and use that to build up your knowledge.

But even if it's a blog you usually agree with, it's ok to question their take on it too. If I or anyone else says anything that makes you go "wait a minute", then going back to the books can again help. See if you can disprove (or even find additional supporting proof) of what they're saying.

In the end, regardless of how much effort you want to put in when it comes the series, remember that anyone who resorts to threats is not anyone you should be paying attention to anyway. They are obviously not someone you should respect and allow to dictate how you feel about yourself or your enjoyment of something.

I am sorry for the stressful nature of the fandom though. It does suck the life out of me from time to time and it makes me desperate for answers from SJM.

[lassie-farce]

lord forgive me for i have sexualized yet another older man

Gravity Balls

[gayhoediaz]

Daddy Issues Anon 🙋🏽‍♀️ (I'm here, I would never abandon you ❤️)

2 things:

1) your daddy scale should be put on urban dictionary. none of this "he's got a bit of grey in his beard and he's over 40" shite. you clearly only want someone who has to watch his cholesterol. he's got eyes like his daddy who lived through ww2. you are the only person with daddy rights.

2) no explanation WAS needed because I do not believe in my heart anyone thinks they'd have the filthiest sex of their life with bobby. Chimney's Friend (I can't remember his name forgive me) gives off an aura like he'd fuck you bareback in a alley and you'd get scratches on your back that could give you tetanus.

which brings me to my next question - ideal location for peak daddy times...

(ideal = hottest. what's practicality or legality we do not perceive)

heads up to followers and mutuals: i’m too lazy to add read more links into all of these, but i will always tag them as #nie’s daddy issues so if you don’t want to see me explicitly talking about my own sexual preferences, just mute that tag ❤️

nooo anon the way i’ve thought about the fact that if i fall in love and end up with a man i am going to have to be a that annoying wife that’s like “you’re gonna die before me no matter what, please don’t make it sooner, you eat too much bacon 😭” dear lord.

and hell yeah you get it. bobby is like. too nice. eli is very nice but he gives off the vibe that’s like. as long as you let him fix you up afterwards, he’d do anything you asked him to. like he very much has that vibe that i was talking about in the first post that’s like everything’s gonna be okay. ok so stab me while you’re tugging my hair and telling me you’re about to fill me up, then. you’re a paramedic you know how to do it without killing me, get to it 🔪💦👅🍆

and ohhhh, this is such an intriguing question. i’m absolutely not opposed to “forbidden places” like elevators, cars, alleyways, etc, but i think my absolute ultimate situation is a “boring” place but the situation is forbidden. a couch or an armchair, with someone who is like my boss, or someone’s boss, or somehow connected to someone’s family. just for some reason, we really shouldn’t be. yknow. i will never tire of straddling an older man’s lap for an innocent reason and then giving a little grind and they’re like “yeah, you have to stop that” or whatever and i’m like “stop what? i’m not doing anything? 🥺” and they laugh like yeah right and yeah that’s the good shit. taking it even further and popping a titty out while still playing innocent, that’s fun too. (if we’re starting to get into it and i’m like “you’re getting off on this? perv.” and they hit me with the “whore”???? that’s the good good shit omg.) he can have friends around, too, that’s fine, if i make the choice they can join in, but most of the time i’m just an exhibitionist and like being a trophy no one else can have. 💫

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Forgive Me Father | Dean Winchester x Slutty Reader x Sam Winchester

Summary: While looking for clues on their newest case, Sam and Dean pose as priests to get into the house that seems to be at the center of the occurrences. While there they encounter a man who has an... Interest... In Dean. Lord have mercy on his soul.

Request: Yes / No

Warnings: talk of religions, talk of death, groping, sexual jokes, language, sexual actions, implied sex, slut shaming

Dean adjusted the collar he was wearing as he and Sam walked up to the house. The town of h/t has had reports of strange occurances, bugs appearing from no where, people having heart attacks despite being healthy as a horse, it only raining at one house, or everywhere but one house. All the reports seem to surround this house the most, so they came to investigate. The word is that the old woman who lived here died recently, and she was strict Christian. So the brothers were here to offer their condolences and blessings.

Sam knocked on the door, Dean forgetting his bible in the car. The man who opened the door was just about the same height as Sam, staring at him with e/c eyes that just radiated electricity, his s/c skin was glowing in the sunlight, and the wind ruffled through his hair as he stepped outside the house, making him look magical. "Hmm, another one. Listen, thank you for your condolences but... Good Lord." The man bit his lip when Dean walked up to the door, holding his Bible in hand. "Forgive me father for I have sinned." He muttered, looking Dean up and down. "Yes, hi, were here about the death of M/n l/n." Sam said, trying to get the man's attention back, but his eyes wete glued on Dean. "Yeah, uh uh, come inside so we can talk." He looked away from Dean long enough to open the door and walk inside. When they went in, the man leaned against the door and fanned his face while looking at Deans butt. "Can I get your jackets, Fathers?" He asked, holding his hands up. Sam shook his head and smiled, but Dean shrugged his off and handed it to him, revealing that he was wearing a short sleeve button up, the sleeves were tight aroumd his shoulder and the man bit his lip even harder. "Are you a priest or a stripper, either way I'll give you $50 to flex those arms." He said, placing the jacket on a hook rack without looking away. "Y/n! These are men of God! You can't just throw yourself at them like a heathen whore!" A woman yelled, hitting him with a washcloth. She was only a few inches shorter than y/n, but looked just like him, but more feminine in some places. "Excuse him, he can't tell the difference between a confession booth and a glory hole. I'm s/n, please sit." She said, rolling her eyes and guiding the brothers to the living room. "She's exaggerating." Y/n said, sitting on the arm of the couch, right next to Dean. "So, Fathers, what can we do for you?" S/n asked, sitting in a chair and smacking y/n's arm. "We had some questions about the recent death in your home. We've heard rumors of some strange things happening." Sam said, leaning forward, Dean to distracted by Y/n squeezing his arms. "I don't doubt it. It started 3 years ago, when our older brother died. It hit the family very hard, y/n more than any of us. Thats when he turned from the good light of God and started opening his legs for a quarter of a nickel." S/n smacked y/n again, causing him to snatch his hand away from Deans chest. "Oh come on! I'm not a prostitute! I do it for free." Y/n purred the last part, holding eye contact with Dean. "So, you were saying?" Sam asked s/n, smacking Deans knee when he started to squeeze y/n's thigh. "Yes, it started about a month after b/n's death. It started small, things going missing. His favorite hoodie, his favorite spice from the cabinet. Then it got worse. Candles lighting themselves, cicadas and flies just appearing from no where. Then there was the hail incident." Both y/n and s/n shivered when she mentioned it. "Mother thought the house was haunted, so she had an exorcism done, but it didn't help." S/n shook her head sadly. "I swear to you fathers, thats why she died. The thing, the demon, thats in this house killed her for trying to get rid of it." Sam nodded and squeezed her hand, smacking Deans knee and standing up. "Well, our condolences for your mother, and know our prayers are with you." S/n closed her eyes and nodded, squeezing Sam's hand. The 4 of them walked to the door, Dean handing Y/n a note before grabbing his jacket and leaving. Before they left, they heard S/n yelling at y/n about how he has no shame and knows no boundaries.

Dean laid on his bed, staring at the motels ceiling, his mind wandering to Y/n. Would he come, or was he just toying with Dean because he was there? He began to rub his chest while thinking about him, then he heard three light knocks on the door. Dean looked over at Sam, who was knocked out cold, then got up and unlocked the door. Y/n stood there in sweat pants and a flannel shirt that had 4 buttons undone. "Hello father." Y/n smirked, staring at Dean, who was only wearing very tight boxer briefs which didn't hide anything, especially not his very excited friend. "So i was right and this wasn't just you trying to get me to shun my sinful ways." Y/n smirked, unbuttoning the rest of his flannel and wrapping his arms around Deans neck. Dean stepped back, closing the door and pointing to a sleepimg Sam, who was wearing the same amount of clothes as Dean. "Wow, if I'd known he looked like that underneath, I would have flirted with both of you." Y/n whistled at him,.but Dean squeezed his ass, cutting him off and inciting a moan. "I don't think he swings that way, though I'm not sure." Dean said and pulled you over to the bathroom. "Lets do it in the shower so he doesn't wake up. I don't want my brother seeing me balls deep inside you." Dean growled into y/n's ear, and he could feel the shiver goimg down his spine. Dean turned the shower on and dropped his briefs and turned to y/n, who was drooling. "Forgive me father for I have sinned. Oh sorry, I guess i should say, Sorry daddy, I've been a bad boy." Y/n purred and stripped too, pouncing on Dean.

The next morning, Sam woke up to find the lump in Deans bedd bigger than usual. When he sat up and looked over, he saw both his brother and the flirty boy from yesterday completely naked and spooning. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head while exclaiming in disgust. He could have gone his entire life without seeing Dean's dick and he would be all the happier for it. Y/n wasn't too bad though, he wouldn't mind having a go with him.

Sam got out of bed, walking into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door fully out of habit as he stripped down for his shower. When his boxers touched the floor, he heard a wolf whistle from behind him. Y/n was leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face. "Morning father. I see god has blessed you with many, many, many gifts. And some very big gifts too." Y/n had his eyes planted of Sam's cock and licked his lips. Instead of covering up like his instincts told him to do, he walked over to y/n, grabbed him by tge wrist an pulled him in, shutti g and locking the door. "I guess you do swing for my team, well, make sure to put your bat to good use." Yn whispered in Sam's ear, causing the younger Winchester to growl a little before dragging him into the shower.

When Dean wole up, y/n wasn't in his bed. Makes sense, he probably wanted to be home before his sister realized he was gone and would start shaming him for his... Hobby. Dean got off the bed and knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey Sammy, you almost done?" Dean heard shuffling and muffled sounds, then the door opened a crack, but instead of Sammy, it was y/n covered in water, panting, and Dean could tell he was bent over and being plowed into. "Just a few more minutes, Daddy Dean." Y/n breathed out and closed the door. Guess Sammy did swing that way.

When Sam and y/n were done, y/n just walked out of the bathroom still naked. "If either of you are in the area again, be sure to hit me up. I'd love to go for a ride on you guys again." Y/n winked at them both as he pulled his pants on and lazily threw his flannel on, not bothering to button it before leaving the room.

[jackoshadows]

There is a strain of thought in the Asoiaf fandom that because Jon and Arya love each other as brother and sister, that it’s impossible for these cousins to fall in romantic love when they are older.

There is plenty of classic romance out there between close friends, cousins and step siblings who grow up together as children and where a platonic attachment turns romantic later on. As anyone who has read Austen could tell you, it’s a rather bizarre supposition that it’s impossible for the platonic love and strong emotional bonds between two characters ever turning romantic.

Mansfield Park has first cousins falling in love despite Edmund and Fanny growing up together and being good friends. In Emma, the protagonists have a 16 year age difference and Emma grows up treating Mr. Knightley as family (She calls him ‘brother’) and we see that slowly change over the course of the novel.

There’s Austen’s satirical short story Frederic and Elfrida, where these characters who end up marrying each other are thus described:

The Uncle of Elfrida was the Father of Frederic; in other words, they were first cousins by the Father's side. Being both born in one day & both brought up at one school, it was not wonderful that they should look on each other with something more than bare politeness.  They loved with mutual sincerity, but were both determined not to transgress the rules of Propriety by owning their attachment, either to the object beloved, or to any one else.

Others have mentioned the parallels between Jon/Arya and Heathcliff and Catherine from Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. Earnshaw being fond of Heathcliff and bringing him up with his children. Heathcliff and Catherine being fond of each other, their passionate love and ultimately their tragic end.

Friends to lovers is a popular trope for a reason, where platonic love gradually turns to romance and sexual attraction.

Arya will be more forgiving ... until she realizes, with terror, that she has fallen in love with Jon, who is not only her half-brother but a man of the Night's Watch, sworn to celibacy. Their passion will continue to torment Jon and Arya throughout the trilogy, until the secret of Jon's true parentage is finally revealed in the last book.  - Original Outline, GRRM, 1993

More importantly, ASoIaF is set in a world where some of what GRRM considers to be ‘great love stories’ happens between two close siblings. This is a fantasy, made up world by the author and applying real world norms and science to this fictional world makes no sense.

Some examples of note. There’s Alysanne and Jaehaerys who grew up very close siblings, were in love with each other, married each other and described as such by GRRM:

There’s the tragic love story of Prince Aemon the Dragon Knight and Naerys Targaryen, again, close siblings growing up.

Aemon was inseparable from his sister Naerys when they were young. Stories speak of Aemon's doomed love for his sister. Aemon and Naerys supposedly loved each other.According to the singers, both Aemon and Naerys cried the day Naerys married Aegon

There’s Alyssa and Baelon Targaryen.

“Alyssa is for Baelon,” she declared. “She has been following him around since she could walk. They are as close as you and I were at their age.” (The Long Reign - Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy, Progeny, and Pain, Fire and Blood)

In ASoIaF itself, we have the Lannister twins Jaime and Cersei who grew up together and who are sexually attracted towards each other. It’s telling that GRRM textually writes Jon and Arya as clear foils to Jaime and Cersei.

Qyburn’s words were terse and to the point, Cersei’s fevered and fervent. Come at once, she said. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

Vyman was hovering by the door, waiting, and Jaime sensed that Peck was watching too. “Does my lord wish to answer?” the maester asked, after a long silence.

A snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.” - Jaime, AFfC

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night’s Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon’s breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird’s nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

“I think we had best change the plan,” Jon Snow said. - Jon, ADwD

Essentially, the incestual attraction and love that happens in the world of asoiaf is between close siblings who grow up together. That’s the trend in this world.  Arguing this or that incest makes more sense because the characters are not close or have never met might sound logical when we apply real world scientific norms to this fictional setting or might even help make the relationship more palatable for some readers put off by incest. However, in GRRM’s fictional world it’s the close siblings who fall in romantic love and end up marrying each other.

If we apply the trends and patterns of incestual romance (happy or sad, good or bad) in the world of ASoIaF, then there’s simply more chance of Jon and Arya happening than any other incestual pairing for Jon Snow. And the original outline is enough proof of this. Jon and Arya falling in love was where GRRM was headed and where he still could be headed considering the current books are still hitting some of the same story beats and plot points mentioned in the original outline.

[m0rbidgh0ul]

forgive me lord for i have sexualized an older man

L.S. Dunes | GREY VEINS | Garden Amp Pinkston Films

[wayward-persephone]

I made this for John but I haven’t watched The Good Lord bird so this is purely my brain being horny and not at all canon.

Basically you’re on the run from your abusive household- be it your mother and father or your husband. You’ve been travelling on hourseback for weeks, and finally came to this lush river that called to you. You knew the closest town was two days ride, so the chances of getting caught nude in the water were slim. You stripped down and waded into the cool water, and moaned at the feeling if it’s freshness.

Perhaps you could finally wear that new cotton dress you’d stuffed into your bag before you fled. Hell that one you had been wearing scared even the flies away with the smell.

So you swim and wash yourself as best as you can, then as you’re basking in the water, you start to hear these gruff gasps. You look up to the riverside and see just beyond the trees a man with his head tipped back ever so slightly, his hand bracing himself on a tree, and his other hand stroking-

You gasped to yourself.

Stroking a very sizeable cock.

You know you should chastise him and be embarrassed, but the only heat that fills you is a want. How long had it been since you even saw anything like that? And by Hof was he a sight to behold. He was certainly an older man, but you could see his proper clothes, and the desperation on his face even from a distance. You wondered if it had been just as long for him to have seen a nude woman as it had been for you to see a nude man- sexually or not.

You swam slowly to the shore and once you eased yourself up onto a rock, you noticed he had stopped what he was doing at stared at you like a man caught in a great sin.

Neither of you spoke- there were no words in your mouth. But when you didn’t yell at him or run for the hills, he took a few steps forward- already tucked away.

You watched him, and he very slowly approached you until you had to look up at him. He seemed to have a thunderous cloud of conflict in his mind. Like he wanted to reach out and grab you, but also wrap a blanket around your shoulders to help you dry as he handed you your clothes.

“Afternoon, mister.” You finally said gently. Your legs were crossed and your arms over your breasts, but it was like he could see through you.

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and before you could even gasp, he took your arm and yanked you onto the soft grass. Your breath hitched as he positioned you on your hands and knees and before you could form a question, you felt his cock-head slip inside you.

“You want this girl?” He rasped to you- his voice alone made you quiver.

You nodded and rocked back against him, slipping him inside you another inch. It seemed to be enough for him to take your hips in a bruising grasp and force himself inside you entirely until the fabric of his pants scratched against the backs of your thighs.

“May god forgive me of my sins,” he rasped, pulling out before pushing all the way back in, “Lead me not to temptation but to salvation…let this be my salvation.” He completely growled out the last part as he continued his delicious assault on your pussy.

This time, you cried out. You had to admit that never in your life had you been filled so much- you were certain you could feel him in your stomach and he began a slow, deep rock against you.

“This little sweet cunt was made for me wasnt it, little one?” He ground out, snapping his hips more and more aggressively until you were jumping with each thrust, “You’re barely a woman aren’t you? Bet you weren’t even born when I was your age were you, dove?”

Again, you couldnt even think let alone answer as the sound of his cock punishing you echoed through the woods. The brief image of someone walking past and seeing you getting pounded inti like this be such an older man make your clench around him, and he seemed to take notice.

He quickened his pace until your arms gave out and you collapsed to the grass with your ass in the air. “That’s it lil’ one. Come on. “ he rasped, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, and just like that, the heat inside your snapped to a scorching flame that licked your insides like a devils tongue. Your cum soaked his cock as you tightened impossibly around him. It seemed to be all he needed to release inside you as well, because all you could feel were the pronounced pulses of his cock as he pumped you full of his thick, hot cum. You felt it leak down your thighs, but he still didn’t stop fucking it into you. “Take it…that’s a good girl…god almighty such a good girl…” he gasped.

The man finally slowed when you felt his cock soften inside you. As he pulled away, you felt cold, but just as you started to feel the after-pains, there was a well-worn blanket being draped over you.

You sat up slowly, but hissed at the discomfort. Then, you felt arms around you as you were lifted into the air and taken away. You let your head lull onto his shoulder, and nestled into his neck. “What’s your name mister?” You asked once he set you down by what must have been his own camp that you had missed.

He was quiet for a moment as he lit a fire- you hadn’t been noticed it had grown dark. “John Brown, ma’am…” came his gruff voice in a whisper. He almost sounded scared.

You nodded and watched the flames. You didn’t ask many questions, not even when he left you there with his horse and weapons, only to return with your own. He tied the horses up next to one another, and came back to sit beside you.

“Well John Brown…I think I can say it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You said sleepily. His arm wrapped around you and pulled you into his lap. He was so warm, and you liked how rough he was around the edges. You never would have thought in a million years that a man like that would have you on your hands and knees buried balls deep inside you…hell any man for that matter.

You smiled to yourself as he held you. It seemed he did both- had had grabbed you and wrapped a blanket around you.

I...I am just...

THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!!! 🤯🤯🥵🥵

' “May god forgive me of my sins,” he rasped, pulling out before pushing all the way back in, “Lead me not to temptation but to salvation…let this be my salvation.” He completely growled out the last part as he continued his delicious assault on your pussy. '

This entire part was pure poetry! And sooo in character that I literally had to take a minute and just compose myself 😩👌

My dear friend you constantly amaze me with your brain and I LOVE it 😤💙

I honestly don't know what else to say other than this was utter *chef's kiss* perfection 💙💙💙💙

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), Steve being a dink, attempted sexual assault, emotions.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself caught between the machinations of men.

Note: Updates might not stay consistent but doing my best. If I can finish this series, I want to focus after on continuing the original stuff I have going.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

The day wore on, Barnes taking the brunt of it as his temper was poked and prodded by his fellow lords. You could see his impatience bulging in his forehead as he approached and his lips drew into a tight line. The winner was declared and the audience streamed down the stands to ready for another night of feasting. The duke did not seem as eager.

“I would away for a short time,” he said stiffly as you stood, “they require final fittings for my saddle and as much as I’d rather stay at your side, they mean well. I cannot slip from my steed during competition or anything worse.”

“You will be long, my lord?” you asked out of courtesy more than concern. You found if you said what he expected, it pleased him enough to deter his displeasure.

“Not very, Lord Rogers will see you to the feast and I will meet you there,” he explained, “be wary in my absence.”

“I will,” you promised as he took your hand.

“Sweeting,” he doted and let go of you reluctantly, “take care.” He looked over your head and his face hardened again, “Stark, let’s be quick.”

You turned as he went and found yourself faced with Lord Rogers. His delight at the unusual pairing troubled you. He offered his arm as the other women trailed out with their escorts and you reticently slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. He walked slowly, deliberately back from the rest.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” he asked.

“The games were very entertaining,” you said brusquely, “and you, my lord?”

“Oh, I enjoyed the sights,” he hummed and you felt him looking at you. You swallowed as he led you across the castle grounds, the distance between you and the rest of the party growing, “that colour is complementary on you… and the cut.”

"Thank you, my lord," you responded as you approached the steps of the castle.

He was quiet as you ascended and as you entered, the rest of the nobles had dispersed. He waited until you were at the winding stair well before he spoke again. "Do you not think I look dashing?"

You peered over at him, unsure of how to answer in a way that would neither encourage or offend him. "That coat is finely made," you said.

He chuckled to himself as he kept on but as you followed the curl of the steps, he spun you so that your feet slid down several stairs and you slammed against the wall. He was quick to keep you from falling entirely as his hands went to your waist. He was close as he leered at you and his mouth slanted.

"You are careless, girl, and you would fall and hurt yourself were I not here," he taunted, "you might break something…" he ran his knuckles along your cheek softly, "like your pretty little face."

"My lord," you pushed against his chest, "we will be late for the feast--"

"I did keep you from a terrible accident and you wouldn't even offer me your gratitude for such a deed," his expression darkened. He pressed closer and lowered his voice, "I recall how your mouth made me quake and yet I do wonder if your cunt should feel the same or perhaps it would be even better."

"Get off," you beat on his overcoat, "I would report your intimidations to Lord Barnes and he would be most unhappy."

"And what shall he do? If it was he believed a whore like you?" Rogers snickered, "I can be quick."

He pulled at your skirts as you squirmed, your tenuous stance on the stairs only made him seem even stronger than he was. His hand snaked along the top of your stockings and you yelped as you grabbed his wrist in shock.

"Stop! Please--"

"Lord Rogers," the lilted voice frightened you and shame heated your cheeks as Rogers retracted his hand. He grasped your arm and cleared his throat, "lady, you should be more careful on these stairs."

"Perilous, are they not?" Baron Zemo's brows rose coyly.

"Very," Rogers answered curtly, "we were only progressing on to the feast."

"Ah yes, the games did awaken my appetite," Zemo remarked, "you do seem ravenous, my lord."

Rogers sneered and his throat bobbed, "Baron, you should be mindful not to overstay your welcome here, the kingdom does not forget the war so swiftly."

"Oh, let us not play at machismo, you have shown no courtesy to this gentlewoman," he bowed to you and smirked, "my lady, my name is Helmut Zemo and I hope you forgive me my oversight. A pity I hadn't the chance to introduce myself at our first encounter."

You returned your name but said nothing else as Rogers presence and avid attention worried you. You had no concern that Barnes would be suspicious of you and his lascivious friend but Zemo was a sore spot you dared not touch.

"And since we all seem to be headed to the same end, it would not be unexpected for us to continue on as one," he said, "my lady," he offered his hand, "as your companion did warn, you would not want to fall."

You glanced at Rogers who wore a scowl. He stepped aside and you nervously accepted Zemo's hand. You did not expect it and it was just as surprising to realise it but he was your saviour. You turned as he drew you along as Rogers led the way, his shoulders straight and squared. The frustration of being caught roiled around him and thickened the air as he said nothing.

"I understand you are closely acquainted with Duke Barnes. You likely know of our… past but I assure you what I did was only in the heat of battle. I am a man of fine discipline and not the same brute I am with blade in hand," he said.

"You would be best to be brief and be away shortly," Rogers warned, "Barnes does not bide you nor will he bide you close to her."

You reached the corridor and Zemo released you kindly. "Forgive me, I am ignorant of many of your people's practices but does Lord Barnes thus tolerate your intimate proximity to this lady? I did understand her to be his."

"He would tolerate me better than you," Rogers growled as he turned to bear down on the foreign noble, "and if he should hear any word from you he would be a fool to believe it."

"Perhaps," Zemo grinned and shrugged, "you think I fear this man but let me remind you I am the one who did take his arm. If anything, I believe it is I in his nightmares and not the reverse," he taunted, "my lady, I hope you do enjoy the feast and find yourself well at the end of the night."

"Thank you, my lord," you said, "you as well."

He left you and shot a final glance at Rogers who huffed in turn. When the Baron was gone, Rogers shook his head and gripped his hips. He bit his lower lip and sighed. "Come on then, the feast awaits."

🏰

You sat next to Barnes but he felt miles away. Even when his hand found yours or lingered on your skirts. You couldn't be disturbed by his antics as you stared across the hall at nothing in particular. You were tired. So tired. Around every corner was another villain ready to pounce.

You ate and drank but said little more than you needed to. You still felt Steve's hand tugging at your gown, his body against yours, the suffocating entrapment. And you heard Zemo's voice and saw the twinkle in his eyes, the curve of his thin lips. Then there was Barnes, incessant and insistent, who could be provoked in just a breath.

"What is the matter?" He asked, again. He'd asked several times.

"Nothing, it has only been a tiring day," you recited the lie.

"No, it is not that," he prodded as he clung to your hand, "you… seem grey."

"Nothing, I am very well. The food is plenty and I am privileged to have all that I do. By your hand, my lord."

"You lie to me but I cannot be angry for I worry more," he fidgeted with your hand, "please, tell so that I might be at peace."

"As I have said, I am exhausted," you uttered and pushed your fingers between his, "I promise, my lord."

"Shall we depart for the evening? I am due early for the joust," he kept his voice low, "and truly there is none but you who keep me here."

You looked at him. You were worn by him and the sight of him made your insides curdle. You felt this way because of him, all had transpired because of him… or because of you. Because you dared deny him. Because you could not give a noble what they demanded. Was that not your duty? Perhaps, you were wrong. Or you were going mad.

"I wouldn't not refuse," you said.

He nodded and looked around. He stood subtly, much of the hall engaged on the boards before the band. He drew you along the dais and down the steps to the floor. As he made along the east wall, he stopped suddenly at the impact of another body. You winced as Peter righted himself after his clumsy collision.

"Pardon me, Lord Barnes, I did not mean to… Ned! Get back here with--" he was caught by the older lord before he could dash away.

"What are you? A viscount's son, I hear," Barnes snarled, "hardly a title at all."

"I am the viscount," Peter wiggled free of his grasp, "my father's title is my own since his death. I manage my lands and see to my taxes. As much a lord as you, sir."

"You are brazen for your bearing," Barnes spat, "and childish for your age."

"Sir, I did apologize for my indiscretion but I will not be abused by you," he glanced at you and swallowed, "I am not one of your puppets." You flinched and saw the remorse in his eyes. He shook his head, "what I mean is… my lord, I do not know why you hold me in such disregard. We met as competitors and you took it as more. I was kind to this woman and again you took it as a slight. I have given you no reason to be spiteful and if I am just a viscount you needn't be so offended by my being."

Barnes lifted his chin and let out a long breath. He gritted his teeth and pushed back a strand of hair as he stepped closer to Peter and glared down at him, "you sound a sorer loser than I. I told you what this woman is but you persist--"

"I have not pursued her nor have I seen her since last I did you," Peter argued as he held his posture, "I suspect however this is less about my want and more of hers. Whether we get along or not it hardly affects her feelings for you and I have seen little reason why she should hold any warmth for someone as cold as you."

Barnes' nose flared and his hand balled to a fist. He was trembling like a kettle ready to boil over.

"You best watch your tongue and your gull, viscount," Barnes growled, "if you cherish those who remain to you." Lord Barnes turned and searched the crowd and smirked as his eyes followed the elder couple amid the sea, "your aunt and uncle? They seem happy…"

"My lord, you do incite me," Peter snipped.

"As you do incite me," Barnes barked, "so you keep away from what is mine and I will keep away from that which is yours."

"I always thought a duke would have better manners but I suppose that you make yourself plain and your meaning is noted, my lord," Peter spoke evenly, "be away with her then. She is of no concern of mine. She never was."

Barnes shouldered past the younger noble and pulled you along with him. As you passed Peter, you looked at him grimly, cut to the bone by his dismissal. He kept his eyes averted and stony. You turned to follow the duke and caught stride with him as you forced down your dismay.

You were stupid, so stupid. What did you think? You hardly knew Peter. He had only humoured you, out of propriety, out of decency. But now he knew you were nothing and were owed neither. 

How could you mean anything to anyone? Even this man who dragged you away saw you as nothing more than another of his possessions.

[phoenixrising0308]

The Promise: What they stole from us (g)

Books: The Royal Romance 1

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Pairing: Liam & Jessica (MC)

This week’s wackydrabbles takes a serious turn with this miniseries that complements my ongoing series  The Promise. The prompt is “You’re gonna get us busted”

Triggers: ✋️🛑  Drug and alcohol misuse, gun violence, OC death mention of gambling and double con (trying to be a little generous in trigger warnings and filters to cover bases)

Series Playlist

Detailed disclaimer

Catch me here

Chapter summary: The scandal conspiracy explained

A/N #1: Applewood revisited in the Agent Phoenix: Forged In Fire A/U canon divergent series.

Word Count: 2,000 *As always, forgive my typos and grammatical errors.*

Reading time: 8 minutes

*I suppose you can read this on its own but the story below is related to the promise as a whole. Once completed part four will pick up. This story is central to the plot *also this story has been in my drafts for two years so I wanted to give it its own moment so consider this a story within a story*

He had a long night and he helped orchestrate an egregious violation. In the past, as a young guard, he made mistakes and compromised his morals for money one act caused the death of a guard. He looked after his family as his penance. However, at one point he hoped to take the man's place. He was approached for misdeeds from time to time but nothing as serious as what was asked of him all those years before until this. This misdeed was a reminder of how far he had sunk he tried to justify it by saying no matter what happened she would be alive and she would just have to move on from what happened in that room and no one would once again be killed to clear up this new gambling debt.

He was directed to remove the lock from her door and look out the window in the hallway. As he passed her room, he noticed she was dancing with the Crown Prince, and it didn't take a Nikon long-range lens to know they were in love, but it would take a good enough picture to cast doubts that she was loyal to the council that needed to approve her. Later that evening, he was called upon again; this time, he was to drive Tariq to the royal hangar with unknown flight plans.

As he drove, Tariq snickered at him from the back of the SUV, reminding him his hands were just as dirty as theirs. Tariq spared no detail in telling him what he had said and done to Jessica and Drake, who he considered a son. To Bastien, the incident sounded like it was thirty minutes of pure hell. He returned to his room and called his bookie from the Cordonian Derby to let him know he could pay his debt in full and with interest. Then he drank half a bottle of vodka and took a few Klonopin before passing out to numb the little part of his conscience that remained.

He held an envelope in his hands, and Madeleine curtly said, “Well, hand it over.” It snapped him out of his thoughts. A husky voice added, “Bastien, hand it to her. What’s done is done. There is no moral high road to take here. It was an order, that you were compensated for after all. If it helps, you did worse. Let's not forget Jackson.”

His grip on the envelope weakened, and Madeleine snatched it, “Bastien if you think I don’t carry a grudge for Leo’s little escape, you are wrong. Don’t cross me again; it’s clear I have friends in high places.”

She smirked over at the older man that helped make this possible. She used her manicured nails to open the envelope; a wicked smile curved her lips as she flipped through the pictures in her hand. The trump card would be saved for just the right time.

“Perfect.” She purred to herself.

A man’s voice sounded behind her, “May I?”

She handed the envelope to him, his signet ring reflected off the silver tea service tray in the dimly lit room. He scanned the pictures, “Well, these certainly look compromising… No way the people or press would want her now.”

Another snatched them with scrutiny, “I will be the judge.”

He raised a brow, “Lord Tariq? That’s all you could get?”

Madeleine glared at his nitpicking. “Believe me, if I could use his brother or the commoner friend, I would have.” She continued, “My ex-fiance is meddling, and Liam holds him in high regards despite being a complete deserter. Liam would never believe Leo or Walker would be involved with her.”

The man said, “All that matters is the council the press will do the rest.”

The older man said, “It would be nice if he wiped his hands clean of her. For that, a bigger name was needed.”

A woman said, “A bigger name?” she snickered then continued “Bigger impossible. His friends and his brother are loyal. They cannot be bought. So, she got a fool that could be.”

The other man chimed in, “She has a point. Leo is a fool, and I’m quite frankly ashamed of him and his actions, but Liam holds him close to his heart. Drake is unshakable as well. ANY man in these photos would have satisfied the hungry media.”

He sighed but nodded, “Lackluster choice but the execution is adequate enough. This House would fall apart without me. Make sure you don’t get caught because I will go against you to the press if you do. I will not have our House tarnished because you were sloppy.”

Madeleine frowned, “Of course. It’s the strategic choice. But I assure you, I will not fail our House name.”

The woman said “Offer him a Cordonian arrangement at the very last possible minute. They love each other we can't risk another abdication. He will ascend the throne and be able to keep her just not as a wife then ultimately they will part. I can't imagine someone so in love would want to be a mistress forever especially when you are carrying an heir.”

The older gentleman glared at the photo in hand and addressed the other man, “It’s positively ridiculous she has gotten this far. She is becoming more and more popular. Everyone loves this little love story. I will not leave this to chance. Madeleine is incapable of winning without assistance, so I needed to ensure there is an ace up our sleeve.”

Madeleine rolled her eyes at the apparent dig, but she knew it was true. To win Liam’s hand in marriage, she would have to find a way to tarnish the reputation of his choice, who was now favored by members of the council and at the very last minute so that he would have no choice but to name her as the next Queen Regent.

She looked at her bare left hand and said, “I have my eye on Liam’s mother’s engagement. It would be great in all the pictures. Who doesn’t like a good piece of heirloom jewelry?”

The man smiled at the trio with certainty, “Once he is married, he is buried in the law. Everything is as it should be. I’m sure Liam will come to his senses.” He felt the grooves and curves of his signet he wore for years, and soon he would remove it. He would no longer be the King, but he found comfort in knowing that the Rys line of succession remained intact. Constantine always believed it was a duty to the crown above all else, even if it meant betraying his youngest son in one of his final acts as King by stealing his happiness alongside the woman he loved and who loved in return.

Two Weeks later…

Bahia Blanca, Argentina

Tariq laughed as put his arm around the waist of his female companion for the evening. “I hope you have no further commitments for the evening.”

“You can have me for the night you just need to pay me upfront.”

“I am good for it.” Tariq laughed as slapped her ass.

“Business before pleasure.” Angelina laughed out loud as she put her handout.

“Angelina, not so loud you're gonna get us busted and it's completely unbecoming. I am but a guest; I wouldn't want to wake my seafaring companions on this yacht.”

“Just pay me.”

“I will but maybe I can-”

Angelina curled her lips “Back door is extra.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Tariq took out a stack of bills and handed it to Angelina who counted them. And said, “This is business.”

As the door opened he was surprised to see her there, her lapel pin shining against the crystal wine glass she pressed to her lips.

“Is this a threesome because you didn’t include this in what you paid me.”

The woman said, “Darling, I can assure you that if I wanted a ménage à trois I wouldn’t need to pay.” She walked to a table and said, “My husband and I are swingers we just had a party, not too long ago.” She sat down at the table and crossed her legs then looked at them as she said, “Tariq, I thought we should talk in person. I really don't like threats, especially when there is so much at stake.”

“Well, it seems that I made a deal not reflective of my value. I underestimated how important my role would be and I want to renegotiate with each party individually. My silence and discretion are now more valuable.”

“I see, let's discuss...have a seat and please bring your friend.” gesturing to the chairs in front of them.

Tariq sat down in front of the woman with Angelina by his side.

The woman poured them each a glass of wine. “It's delicious, I promise. Argentina's Malbec is the best.”

Tariq picked up the glass and swirled it taking in its scent, surprised that Angelina was not doing the same but rather gulped down the wine and smacked her lips and said, “Ahhh.”

The woman quirked her brow at the obnoxious sound.

Tariq smiled at the woman and said, “I apologize for Angelia's tacky display. She isn't used to the finer things in life.”

“Tariq, I wouldn't be so concerned with that.”

Angelina rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.” She took Tariq’s wine glass and mockingly swirled it and said, “Fruity notes… ah screw it you are worried about me while you pay for sex.” Angelina gulped the wine down again, smacked her lips, and loudly said, “AHHHHHHHH.”

The woman looked at her watch and looked at Angelina.

Tariq gave the woman a smug look and said, “You are on my time. You need to make a deal with me, so let's start with what I would like from you.”

The woman smiled and said, “You don’t know how to negotiate.”

Tariq said, “Perhaps and maybe that is because I should be demanding. I could destroy you with the information I know. Not only will you be a social pariah but a royal one and we can't have that now can we?”

The woman said, “Continue.”

“Now let's start with you giving me this yacht, apartments in France, Rio de Janeiro, Spain, part of your fine art collection and I don't mean the forged ones you specialize in. I always knew the Caravaggio in your dining room hall was a fake. You should pay your staff more, the dowdy folk here are restless and a drunken sailor always tells the truth.”

The woman drummed her nails on the table in annoyance.

“I want to also acquire some controlling shares of a few companies I'm rather impressed with this quarter and  - ”

Angelina began to convulse violently at the table, bloody foam forming at her lips.

“What the fuck?!” Tariq shouted as he stood up and stared at her as fell to the ground. All the while the woman in front of him is calm at the table.

“Sit down.” the woman urged in a cold and direct manner as Angelina continued to seizure on the floor in front of a panicked Tariq. Her head hit the floor continuously as she convulsed the vibration causing the table to shake and still the woman in front of Tariq didn't flinch and said, “Why pay for your silence when I can have your silence indefinitely.” She stood up and looked at Angelina's body and sighed “What a mess she urinated on herself. Don't worry, I have a cleaning crew for these things.” She smiled at Tariq then shouted to the door “εισαγω”(Enter)

Just then a man with a gun and silencer walked into the room and said, “ναι, σπαθί” (Yes, Sword)

[suchalonelysunflower]

Babylon (l.h)

End Up Here -Part 5

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x 5sos! Fem! Reader

Summary: A lot has happened and too many things were left unsaid. Even after a month they still find ways to be in each others mind.

Warnings: Angst and smut. Mentions of vioence, physical abuse, mental abuse, sexual abuse, harassment, cheating, fighting, sexism, frustrations, alcohol. Language and some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count : 10.1 k

Author’s Note: I cried a lot writing this, so I’m sorry. Final Part coming up March 16th! Remember that Reblogs, Feedback, Comments and Likes are very important! You have no idea how much they help me ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My Materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Series Materialist || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

Liked by banksmadden, 5soslover55 and 1,750,316 others

yn5sos how did I end up here?

View all 55,432 comments

ashtonirwin who’s there with you?

hater7 pathetic

ynfan2 LEAVE HER ALONE PLEASE

5sosfan9 this is so irresponsible. I thought you were better.

���️ yn5sos me too

*

“OUT OF CONTROL: Singer Y/N L/N seeing partying once again after the concert. L/N was last seen with a crowd of people, none of which were her bandmates” 

“Sensitive, are we? On their last concert, Y/N L/N from the band 5 Seconds of Summer was caught running away from the stage mid-show, leaving her poor bandmates Calum Hood and Michael Clifford to finish the song for her. L/N came back minutes later to finish the show. Videos show the singer crying along to the love songs” 

“5SOS BREAKING UP? SINGER Y/N L/N GOING M.I.A ON BAND’S SOCIAL MEDIA LEAVES FANS CONFUSED AND WORRIED” 

*

“Y/N?!” Ashton kept banging at the door. His patience ran thin as the girl refused to answer “Y/N! C’mon!” 

“She’s still not answering?” A voice called behind him. 

Calum and Michael were already dressed up, ready for another day of interviews in a foreign language. Ashton assumed that the girls were already downstairs waiting for them. 

The older man shook his head, frustration clear on his face as he kept banging on the door like it was his drums. 

“Y/N, I will break down the door if you don’t open it!” 

It wasn’t an empty promise. They could pay the hotel after but he’d be damned if something happens to Y/N. 

She hasn’t been herself since Luke left. When they came back from doing promo that day they were met with the news of him leaving. Y/N didn’t leave her room that whole day. 

They were mad, furious even, with Luke. All the things they warned him about were thrown down the drain. They told them not to believe the media and to talk to Y/N but he did none of those things, he only made it worse for all of them, especially the girl who was now spending half the tour absent-minded over heartbreak. 

She told them several times that she was fine “I asked him to leave” She would say. But they know better than to believe her right away when she says those stuff, not after that night when she told them the truth about Madden. They swore never to make that mistake again, but history was repeating itself! Only this time it was ten times worse. 

Y/N would go out every night after the show, no matter in which part of the world they found themselves in. She was determined to drown herself in alcohol rather than self-pity. They tried to spot her several times but she wouldn’t listen, so they agreed that at least one of them would accompany her whenever she went out just to make sure that she is safe and that she doesn’t go too far. 

Last night, however, it was Michael’s turn but Beth felt sick so he couldn't go. He texted Calum, but he was already asleep so he didn’t see the message. Ashton was out with Dani for a date night and when he came back he found Michael in the lobby asking for some medicine for Beth’s stomach and when Calum answered their call with a sleepy voice they realized that Y/N was alone. 

And now she wouldn’t answer the door. 

“Y/N, I swear to God!”

“Why do you gotta bring the lord into this?” 

The three men turned around and found Y/N standing next to them. Her hair was messy and her makeup was smudged, but his eyes remained empty as she looked at them quizzically. 

“Were you already downstairs this whole time?!” Ashton asked, raising his voice. Y/N cringed as she shushed him.

“Ugh, could you talk any louder? My head is killing me”

Calum looked at his friend up and down, realizing what was happening “You just came back, didn’t you?”

All three of them turned their heads to her, unable to believe what was in front of them. This wasn’t the Y/N they knew. She was never like this, ever. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at the sad, angry, and pitiful looks of her friends. She didn’t need to answer what was obvious. 

“Where were you all this time?” Michael asked “We were worried sick” 

“Wow, thanks dad,” She said with sarcasm, walking towards her door as she tried to find her key somewhere along with her pockets “I was at the bar. Did you know they open 24 hs? There’s no such thing as the last call here! I love this country” 

She let out a little squeal of joy when she finally found her key, pushing Ashton out of the way with the side of her body as she inserted it on the lock. 

“We have an interview in 30 minutes!” He reminded her.

“Yeah, your girl told me that downstairs” She answered before she started to close the door “Have fun with that” 

But before she could close it completely, Ashton’s foot got in the way.

“You can’t keep doing this, Y/N,” He said with a serious tone, ignoring the pain of the door hitting his foot, still trying to close on him. 

Y/N pushed a little harder “I want to sleep, Ashton. Good night” 

“No! Goddammit, Y/N. This has gone too far!” 

She opened the door, making Ashton trip, and almost fell to the floor in front of her. She was beyond pissed as she began to talk.

“No! Everything has already gone too far, I’m just catching up!” She spat loudly, making the boys look at her in surprise “Madden went too far, the media went too far, the industry went too far and Luke went too far. And I let them crash into me like I’m just a bystander, waiting to pick up the pieces they left of me! So excuse me for finally doing whatever they thought I did. Forgive me for catching up to this fucked up world and finally live up to their false expectations! But I’m not allowed to break down, not right now and probably not ever! So I will keep running. Maybe that way, if I catch up, they’ll leave me the fuck alone” Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, but she will not cry in front of them. Not anymore “So, good fucking night” 

Ashton closed his eyes when he felt the wind of the door slamming inches away from his face. He raised his hand to knock again, but soon he let it fall with a sigh. 

He turned around to face the guys and they all had the same hurt expression, not because she hurt them, but because she was hurting herself. They all thought she was doing it unconsciously, but now it was rather obvious that she knew exactly what she was doing. 

Y/N is destroying herself because there’s almost nothing left of her. So she’s speeding up the process. 

“We can’t leave her like that” Michael said in a whisper, none of them were looking at the door right now, all their eyes were set on the floor as they contemplated their options.

“Well, she doesn’t want to see us. That’s for fucking sure” Calum murmured. 

The three men stood in silence in the hallway. Breathing heavily from time to time as their minds tried to find a way to reach out to Y/N before it was too late. 

“We have to do something” Michael broke the silence again, fidgeting with his fingers as he met the worried eyes of his two best friends “The fans are already saying that she’s going to leave the band and-“

“No,” Ashton interrupted him, clenching his jaw as the headlines of the articles ran through his mind “We are not letting that happen” 

“But what if she wants to?”

“Then that’s not our Y/N/N,” He said “And I refuse to lose her this way or in any way, for that matter”

After a few minutes, it was clear that Y/N was not coming out of her room any time soon. So the boys had to get downstairs to get to the interviews, already thinking about excuses to justify her absence once again. 

They wanted to stay with her, but management was already being too hard on them as it is, and they didn’t want Y/N to pay the consequences if they didn’t show up to at least one promo interview. So they had no choice but to leave her alone in her room. 

Once the elevator doors opened, the three of them were met with the worried eyes of their girlfriends who quickly met up with them halfway. 

“How is she doing? She didn’t speak to us when she came through the doors” Bethany explained as she stood next to Michael, grabbing his hand in comfort.

Ashton just shook his head.

“We talked,” Kat said with a sigh “We decided that we are staying here with her” 

“What?”

“You’ll be fine in the interviews without us, but she needs someone. Even if we just wait for her in the lobby all day. Someone needs to check up on her” Kat continued. 

“She’s lonely,” Danielle followed, “Even if she doesn’t want to admit it. She’s hurting too much for words to even describe” 

The boys knew they were right. Even if Y/N doesn’t want to, they will still be there for her every step of the way. They were not going to leave her to drown. 

“Thank you,” Ashton said, truthfully “But there’s gotta be something else we could do for her… just standing by and keeping an eye on her while she wastes away is just…” 

He couldn’t finish the sentence, he didn’t need to. They all knew what he was referring to; that damn feeling of helplessness and hopelessness. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Calum said confidently “We are not going to give up on her”

*

There was nothing much to do back in L.A. as Luke found out when he stepped out of the plane almost a month ago. His life has completely changed since he met her and now… Now she was gone and he was left with nothing.

It was his own fault, that’s what he reminded himself every single day since the morning Y/N asked him to leave. He acted on emotions rather than with reason, angry with the world that allowed him to get close to her just to rip her out of his hands the moment he realized his mistakes. He should’ve listened, should’ve fought, should’ve stayed. He should’ve done a lot of things and now he doesn’t even have the chance to fix it. 

He hasn’t checked anything about Y/N since he came back. No articles, no tweets, no posts… nothing. He feels as if he didn’t have the right anymore. He never had the right to do it from the beginning, not without letting them fill his brains with lies that eventually left him in pieces.

How could he? How could he let all those things get to him? Everyone told him to ignore them, not to believe the lies that were written for the clicks and the gossip. He knew the truth, he lived with it, and yet, he had turned on her the second it had become too much. 

Y/N was a private person and Luke could never understand why. Why if she was so private with her life did every news article write about her? They were all lies. And if he had at least an ounce of decency he would’ve realized that sooner and stand by her side instead of siding with the media. Yet, those thoughts were sticking with him at the back of his head, haunting him even in his sleep. 

How easy it was for him to turn away from her. How easy it was for him to leave her. But how hard it was to ignore the love he feels for her, knowing that she won’t take him back and with good reason. Y/N deserves better, in every way, shape, or form. She was such a bright light in such a dark world, and he just hopes she will be strong enough to see it someday, even if he’s not by her side anymore.

God, he was just a fucking idiot. 

And now, as he walked past the coffee shop where they first met while he fought the urge to cry again, he was willing to beat himself up for it. For losing the only person he cared about just because he wasn’t brave enough to fight for her as he should’ve. There wasn’t anything that didn’t remind him of Y/N, nothing he could do to shake the self-inflicted pain he caused, so he thought better than to let it consume him. 

Luke sat on an empty bench near the campus, his classes didn’t start until a month from today but he longed for some kind of distraction. Once he settled, he took out his notebook and started writing. He doesn’t write about love anymore, rather he wrote about the loss of it while still mourning it fresh on the flesh. Finally understanding what Ashton meant when he said that heartbreak breaks you, and, for a moment, he thought about how she might feel at this moment; if she, at least once, thought of him with something wasn’t hate.

He spent hours sitting outdoors, writing as if his time were to end at any moment. He wrote letters of forgiveness, poems of grief, and free thoughts of the guilt he was feeling. He didn’t mention her, but they were all about and for her. For his Y/N who was now a world away and who he will not call his ever again. 

It must’ve been late when his phone started to ring; the streetlights were starting to lit up the pavement as the sun started to set, leaving soft shades of pink and purple to cover up the sky. He didn’t know the number, so he let it ring thinking it might be just one company trying to sell him something he didn’t need. 

But the unknown caller was relentless; calling and calling until Luke decided to answer after the fourth time. 

“Hello?” He said, annoyed by the interruption. He didn’t want to talk to anyone; not like he had anyone to talk to, after all. 

“You fucker” The voice at the other end said. Luke froze when he recognized it. 

“A-Ashton?” 

“Were you expecting the fucking queen?” He sounded angry and even through the phone he left Luke completely intimidated as he sunk into his seat. 

“How - Whose number is this?” Luke asked, knowing he had all their numbers saved in his phone. 

“Would you have answered if you saw my name on the screen?” He wouldn’t, they both know it. But at the same time…

“Why are you calling me?” He finally muttered, his head wrapped around the only reason Ashton, out of all people, would be calling him. He knew it was not to catch up “Is Y/N okay?! Did something happen to her?!” 

Something must be terribly wrong if Ashton was calling him. That man was very protective over his best friend and Luke was sure he would’ve killed him if he found him the day where he yelled at her, knowing that Y/N must’ve told him everything. He knew Y/N was not going to forgive him and neither will the boys for that matter. That day he lost more than just his girl. 

Ashton laughed without any kind of humor “No, she’s not. Of course, she’s not! You happened to her, mate. I don’t know what the fuck you did but she hasn’t been the same since you left.” 

Luke’s eyes widened “She didn’t tell you?” 

If he thought about it, it really wasn’t that surprising. Y/N never talked about her problems with him, but the boys always knew everything, them being the only people she knew she could trust with her whole heart. Luke had always been jealous of that, but once he found out the truth of why she kept some things for herself he understood why she could only trust her bandmates with it. He immediately thought that she would tell them everything, every word he said and the hateful words he wrote, but she didn’t and that could not mean anything good. 

“She told us enough. That you believed the lies of her and Madden and didn’t let her explain before you lashed out and she asked you to leave. Not a single detail about it, only that you were gone and were not coming back. I guess she didn’t want us to kick your ass, but Luke, you better be certain that-”

“I know!” Luke said with a sigh “I deserve it” 

“Dude, what the fuck did you do to her?” 

How could he tell him? How could he mutter the courage to tell one of his best friends how he absolutely fucked up? Ashton would hate him, with every reason in the world he should hate him. Luke just hoped that he didn’t. 

He, Calum, and Michael were the only friends he knew since he met Y/N. They took him in, welcomed him into the group with gritted teeth with the only condition to never hurt their friend. And after a year of being friends, he broke not only Y/N’s trust but theirs as well. And the fact that Y/N didn’t tell them what he’d done seemed cruel because now he had to. Breaking more hearts than their own. 

“I fucked up, Ash” Luke muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips as he crouched forward on the bench and placing his elbows on the top of his thighs, getting ready to face the consequences of his actions “I fucked up badly. I was just- You saw those articles, you saw those tweets and those photos. She never talked about him so I thought… What was I supposed to think? She had a reputation, and with the way, she acted the night before it all made sense to me. So I snapped”

“Luke, I swear to GOD if you touched her-”

“NO! God no, I would never!” Luke quickly stated, horrified at the thought of ever hitting her. He was not like that. He would never be like that “But the things I said to her… fuck, Ash. I threw everything in her face, called her a whore and a cheater without giving her a chance to explain herself. I was so fucking angry and she didn’t say a word. She took all of it in silence and I kept going, even when she begged me to stop I kept going... I didn’t know. You must know that I didn’t know what happened to her or her past with Madden. If I knew then I would’ve never-” 

“But you did” 

Ashton's words were simple, but they cut deeper than a knife through Luke’s heart. He never heard him sound so disappointed and angry. It reminded him of her and the last words she said to him.

“Luke, this girl has been through so much and you still went and dragged her through the mud just to hurt her”

“I didn’t want to-”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me” Ashton barked into the phone “You did. She gave you everything she could give and you threw it on her face like it was nothing without a chance to explain herself. And it’s not like she could run off, turn off her comments and go back to a normal life! I have never seen Y/N so broken since-” He stopped “What did she tell you?” 

Luke knew he was referring to Madden. He remembers her face covered in tears, lips trembling and body shaking as she told him what happened in that relationship. He finally saw the hurt and scars that covered her soul. 

“She told me what she could” 

Ashton sighed “Then you must know that she would never go back to him,” He said, Luke could tell by his voice that he was hurting, too “He met her at a concert in our second world tour as a solo act. He is the son of a very famous producer and they hit it off right away. We didn’t know exactly when things turned for the worse, but we knew something was happening. She would cover herself more, never hanging out with us unless he was present, she wouldn’t eat in front of him or talk to any of us directly unless it was something about work and that still pissed him off. We all heard the rumors of him cheating on her, but she always dismissed them saying that he loved her and he would never do that. I still wonder what other things we didn’t know that she’s still processing.

It wasn’t until the night he almost killed her that we understood the severity of it. She came by my house while I and the others were hanging out. She was bleeding all over herself, her face was covered in blood just as her shirt and pants. It was terrifying; I don’t remember ever driving that far to the hospital, paying the nurses to keep quiet because she kept asking to keep it a secret. That bastard broke her nose and one of her ribs. She had bruises on her arms, stomach, eye, inner thighs, and legs and a cut over her eyebrow. She lost a lot of blood on her way to my house so Calum had to donate some of his because she needed a transfusion. She stayed in the hospital overnight; the next morning we filed a restraining order against Madden and she moved in with me that same day, promising herself and to us that she would never let someone do that again to her. We promise we would never let anything happen to her from that moment on” 

Luke was shedding silent tears at Ashton’s story, all the things he imagined happened to her didn’t compare to the reality she suffered. And he only made it worse. 

“She was never the same after that” Ashton continued “Until you came into the picture” 

Ashton could hear Luke crying over the phone, his sniffs had given him away. But he knew he needed to hear this; he needed to know. 

“We didn’t want you to get close to her, afraid you might hurt her the same way Madden did, but she insisted that you were different, that you were a good guy. And against our better judgment, we believed her. We never expected that little by little, we would get our Y/N/N back. She was smiling again, laughing and singing songs about the love we never thought she’d be able to sing again. It was so obvious that she loved you that we couldn't do anything about it but be happy for her, you brought her back to us. 

I guess Madden saw that and didn’t like it, that’s why he came to see her that night. We don’t know much about what happened there or what he said to her, but she was shaking when she came back. All she said was that he cornered her, threatened her and called the paparazzi that worked for his father to take pictures of them, and since we were not in America, there was nothing the restraining order to do to help her”

“He did what?!” Luke shouted at the phone, fuming over the fact that that fucker decided to get close to her when she was vulnerable. He promised that if he ever saw him he’d kill him. 

“Now you care about what happened?” Ashton asked in return, frustration lacing his voice at Luke’s sudden feeling of protection “Luke, she called you over ten times that day as she was breaking down in the green room. She asked us all if we could get ahold of you because the driver came back without you. She was so fucking scared and you weren’t there when she needed you by her side. So don’t you fucking dare get offended right now. It already happened and you weren’t there” 

Ashton was right. Luke had no right to be furious at the moment, given that he was the one who abandoned her deliberately when he saw the pictures of her and her abuser. He had the excuse of ignorance, but that wasn’t enough. It never has, not it ever will be, because his girlfriend needed him at the time and he left her alone. 

He cried into the phone, not caring if Ashton could listen or not. He was so fucking angry at himself, at Madden, at the world… He was supposed to protect her, he said he would and then he gave the final punch. He failed her because of his insecurities. 

“I’m sorry” He cried, but Ashton was having none of that. 

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing for”

“She doesn’t want to-”

“Listen to me you shit” Ashton hissed into the phone “I don’t care what you think she wants. She is destroying herself over the fact that the last person she thought would hurt her left her because he chose to believe the lies of the media over his own girlfriend”

Luke’s heart broke all over again “She’s what?” 

“Oh my god, how dense are you, dude? Now you decide to ignore the gossip?! She’s been going out all night, drinking herself to death and refusing help from any of us. She is slowly killing herself by killing her soul” He sounded worried, scared even, as he muttered the last words “We are losing her” 

“Wh-what can I do?” Luke asked helplessly. Not being able to bear the thought of Y/N being gone. 

“We booked you a flight. Figure it out and don’t make us regret it” 

*

“Forgetting the lyrics again? Y/N L/N surely knows how to displease an audience”

“Y/N L/N MISSES YET ANOTHER INTERVIEW AFTER PAPARAZZI CAUGHT HER AT A PARTY THE NIGHT BEFORE”

“What is going on with YN?” 

*

He arrived late to the hotel, having his flight delayed for a few hours, and the boys were already waiting for him in the lobby. Luke took a deep breath as he spotted them from afar, they were talking among them, concerned looks covering their expressions as they looked through their phone. 

Luke walked up to them, mustering enough courage to say “Hi,” 

The three men turned towards the blonde, Calum quickly walking up to him and punching him in the face, caught Luke by surprise as he backed up holding his nose and looking at Calum with widened, surprised eyes. 

“That’s for hurting my best friend, you asshole!” He said, making the other guests look in their direction. 

Luke hissed as he made sure he wasn’t bleeding “Thank you. I deserved that” He said, blinking twice “But to be honest I was expecting Ashton to deliver the blow” 

“Calum won at rock, paper, scissors” Ashton shrugged “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. We still need to have a serious talk and I might punch you there” 

Luke nodded, understanding that he did not only fail Y/N, but he also failed them. He promised them that he would take care of their best friend and they believed him. They even helped them get together and served as trust advisers for Luke about what it means to date a celebrity and yet he ignored every single one of them. 

He might never get their trust back, but now they needed to focus on other things more important than that.

“Where is she?” He asked. 

“Out,” Michael answered “The girls went with her. We don’t want her to be alone when she’s drunk” 

They started walking towards the door, getting into the car that would take them to Y/N and the rest of the girls. “Do you know what you will say to her when you see her?” Calum asked. 

“No,” Luke answered honestly “I guess I’ll know then”

“And you better not fuck it up again, Hemmings, or I swear it’s going to be the last thing you do” 

*

The dance floor was crowded. People were dancing one against the other as the beats of the songs reverberated all over their bodies and started the flame of having just one night of fun. Among them it was Y/N, dancing in the corner with her friends and ignoring their concerned eyes as she moved freely thanks to the alcohol that was cursing through her veins. She knew she had to wake up soon, but she just wanted to keep living this dream every night instead of facing the nightmares that would come in the morning.

She missed how easy everything was before that night when the nightmare started. When she couldn’t find Luke in the crowd of their concert nor their bedroom late at night. Now she doesn’t even want to go to sleep, knowing that she won’t find him there ever again, all because she asked him to leave. 

But he wanted to leave, even before she asked him he was already getting his stuff to leave her “cheating ass”, writing words that describe their relationship as toxic. Is that what it was? Were they toxic or just scared? She couldn’t tell the difference anymore, not after spending night after night trying to erase those words out of her mind, but they were already scared forever in her skin. She promised herself she would carry them as a battle wound, as proof that no matter what you do, you could never win when the whole world seems against you even when you have done nothing wrong… Unlike now. 

She knew what she was doing, she knew she was disappointing a lot of people. She was disappointed in herself, too, but she couldn’t stop. The world was finally telling truths about her and it felt nice to at least have that. They denied her the truths for so long, feeding everyone lies that they would believe without hesitation or her explanation, just like Luke did, and now she was finally acting like people supposed she had. Now, at least she had control over that. 

She wondered if Luke ever thinks about her. If he’s forgiven her for whatever he thinks she’s done or if he continues to read the articles and rejoice in the fact that he was right, even when he wasn’t, he was right. Maybe he’d be proud? 

“Darling, are you alright?” She heard Bethany shout over the music. All the girls were looking at her. She didn’t realize she stopped dancing. 

However, she just nodded “I’m going to get more drinks!” She said, faking a smile even though the girls could tell that she was crying. But she was so far out she couldn’t even feel the tears that rolled down her cheek.

Y/N gripped the marble countertop of the bar, trying to hold herself steady. She was thinking again, she didn’t want to think anymore. She ordered two shots of tequila and drowned them down before asking for two more. But before she could drown the fourth one, someone snatches the drink out of her hand.

“Heeey” She slurred “Don’t get between me and my- oh, hello!” She smiled happily at the stranger who took her drink from her “You look a lot like my ex-boyfriend” 

Luke’s eyes widened at the word. She has never called him her boyfriend in front of people before. He glanced behind her and saw Michael, Ashton, and Calum already standing next to their girls, nodding encouragingly at him. 

“Ex-boyfriend?” He asked, eyes meeting hers and noticing the glimmer of tears in them. But she kept on smiling and nodding before she started to pout.

“But shhhhh,” She said, laying her head on the counter, almost like she wanted to take a nap “It’s a secret. No one knows we’re together… or were together. They will never leave him alone if they find out”

“Who?” 

Y/N looked to the sides, almost as if making sure no one was listening before she leaned into him and whispered “The media,” Then she started to giggle “If they found out I have a boyfriend then they will want to know everything about him! And poor Luke wouldn’t be able to handle that, he shouldn’t go through that” 

Luke’s heart broke at the sight of the drunk girl sighing in the bar, holding her empty shot glass and sniffing every other word to stop the tears from falling.

“He doesn’t deserve that, the hate. He’s a good guy, a little shy and awkward, but he’s nice. But the media is cruel and a liar, and I don’t want him to feel baaaaad. How stupid it is that because I love someone they should get hated on, right? Hahaha, I just wanted to protect hiiiim, cause I love him sooo so much. I even protected him from my friends! You know?! I never told them what he did to me in case they wanted to keep their friendship going, Luke is a very shy guy and he loved them very muchhh, I couldn't take that from him"

“Even if he hurt you?” Luke’s words were careful and filled with pain. When the boys told him that she was getting drunk each night he never imagined her this far gone. He never imagined her this sad. 

Y/N shook his head “I deserved to get, hic, hurt” She said between hiccups “He said I was a cheating whore monster liar, b-b-but I don’t blame himmmm. I’m sad but at least he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore and this BULLSHIT” She yelled, throwing her hands up to the sky. But then she started crying, sobbing as she tumbled backward before Luke caught her.

Luke was trying to contain his own tears as she sobbed into his embrace “I just want to tell him that I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him from myself” She cried “I wanted to be happy with him but we are both sad and toxic for each other. That’s what he said in his poem. I-I-I just w-want him to be ha-happy” 

Luke cried as he held her, burying his face into her hair as both of their bodies trembled. Even when she had every right to hate him, she still wants to protect him. Something he should’ve done. 

“I’m so sorry, my love” He cried, making Y/N look at him with worried, tearful eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry, stranger,” She said as she cupped his face and wiped his tears “I’m sad but you should be happy!” 

“Why?” 

“C-cause you’re not me” 

Luke stared into her eyes, she was smiling while the tears kept falling. Even at her lowest, she tried to be strong for everyone around her, even the stranger she thought he was. He pressed his lips on a thin line and nodded, hugging her tighter as if he was trying to hold on to the last piece of her that didn’t show coldness to him before she remembers everything in the morning. At least he would hold her one more time. 

Y/N didn’t understand much of what was happening but she returned the hug with the same energy, letting the stranger cry into her shoulder as she rubbed his back with her fingertips, wondering what Luke was doing right now. She decided that she didn’t want to know. 

“I want to sleep,” She said after a minute of holding the man. 

Luke pulled away from her, wiping his tears as he nodded “Then let’s get you to bed, my love” 

She shook his head, pulling on his hand as he tried to walk them out of the club “But Luke won’t be there when I wake up” 

All the wind was knocked out of his lungs, did she want him there? “I’ll be there,” He said. 

“What?” 

“He’ll be there. I promise”

Luke gave one last look at the group. They were all staring at him with worried and hopeful eyes, actually surprised that this didn’t end badly just yet. Luke nodded at them and pulled Y/N with him, the rest of the guys followed him into the car as they made their way back to the hotel. 

Y/N slept all the way back, her head was placed in Luke’s shoulder as the blond kept staring at her, silent tears still dying on his cheek. The guilt was eating him alive; it was painful to see her this way, but at the same time he knew that she was at peace as she slept, letting the world fade for at least a few minutes before reality came crashing down.

When they reached the hotel, Luke carried her back into her room. He sat her down on the bed and started to take off her shoes as she lazily rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, suddenly waking up for a moment.

“Luke?” She asked. Luke raised his head and was met with her eyes already locked with his, a glaze of new tears adorned her pupils as she whispered “Am I dreaming right now?” 

“No,” He answered, voice as soft as hers as he got up and placed a kiss on the top of her head “No, you’re not, darling”

“Good. I always hate to wake up without you there” She said, looking over her shoulder to the empty side where Luke used to sleep. 

They both stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Luke took off her silk shirt and leather pants and helped her put on one of the big shirts she’s used to sleeping in. He wiped the makeup off her face and followed her nighttime routine without missing a step. When she was done, she curled up to her side and quickly fell into a deep slumber. 

Luke stared at the girl, his heart aching for her as he saw how fragile she looked while she slept. He thought about all the things she said that night, how he never considered her side of the story before. How he just assumed that she was hiding him because she didn’t want people to find out she was taken when in reality she didn’t want people to hurt him the way they hurt her. The way he hurt her.

Tears started to pick up in his eyes again. He hated to cry but there was nothing else he could do at the moment. Everything became too much too fast and he didn’t know if he could fix it. So all he could do was cry for the girl he loves and the girl he lost, not knowing if she would ever come back to him. 

“I’m sorry” He whispered in a quiet sob, getting into bed with her and holding her close “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry, my love” He kept murmuring into her hair until sleep claimed him as well. 

*

The next morning Y/N wakes up in her hotel bed but she doesn’t know how she got there. She looks to her side but the bed is empty, yet she finds an aspirin and a bottle of water in her nightstand. She wonders who was the poor soul that had to go with her last night to make sure she doesn't end up drunk in a ditch, at least they succeeded. 

Then she hears water running up in the bathroom and her heart sinks. Did she bring someone here last night? No, she wouldn’t do that. But she was very drunk… Oh my god, what did she do? 

Luke could hear her shuffling in the bed as he brushed his teeth. “It is now or never,” He thought, but he didn’t know what he would find behind the door. She didn’t know him yesterday, but today was another story and Luke’s heart shrank at the thought of Y/N hating him for coming back, even if it was to apologize to her. He was terrified, but he was tired of running away. 

As soon as he opened the door he was met with Y/N’s surprised gaze. The girl was quick to cover herself up, cheeks tinted red at the sight of her ex-boyfriend in her hotel room. She didn’t miss the flash of hurt that ran through his face when she did that. 

“Luke…” She said in one breath, suddenly feeling self-conscious by his presence “What are you- Did we-?” 

“No,” He answered quickly, stepping closer to the bed “No, we didn��t. You were drunk and I- You know I would never do that to you” 

“I thought we didn’t know each other…” 

Her words lingered in the air between them, creating a tension that could be cut with a knife. How fast did they become strangers when they used to know every single cardinal point of their bodies, every breath they took and what they meant, every sigh, every look… Now they were just two people in a room with so much to say but with no words coming out of either of their mouths.

Luke noticed how her eyes changed. While they were no longer filled with tears, they now laid emotionless in front of him, dull and empty as she stared at him. 

“I did this to her,” He thought “I took the light of her eyes. It’s my fault” 

She cleared her throat, breaking the silence as she spoke “Well, thank you for bringing me here last night. You can go now” She said, tearing her eyes away from him as she sat on her edge of the bed. 

Luke stood still “No,” 

“I’m asking you to leave” Y/N clarified, her voice growing stronger but still a bit sore. 

“And I’m telling you I’m not going” He responded, taking tentative steps towards her “Something I should’ve done all those weeks ago” 

He was standing in front of her in a matter of seconds; he crouched to meet her eyes but she quickly turned her face away “Y/N, please” He begged, his hand coming to rest on her cheek as his knuckles caressed her skin while the other one was placed on top of her hands, both intertwined with each other on top of her thighs “You could look at me yesterday, please don’t deny me at least that. Let me see you, my love” 

But Y/N didn’t move, her face stayed turned to the side with her hair covering most of it. She couldn’t look at him, she just couldn’t. It was too hard, too painful. Luke sighed.

“Okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to, but at least listen to me, yeah? I just- I need you to listen, Y/N, please” He pleaded, placing both hands on top of hers “Y/N, I love you” 

The knot in his throat became tighter as he noticed how the veins of her neck tensed and she started to grip her hands tighter. But she needed to hear this, and even though it hurt to see her like that, he continued. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you” He said, voice breaking at the end, impossible to fight that choking feeling in his throat “I loved you since the moment I saw you. You were all dressed up in Calum‘s clothes and you had a pen in your hair, and I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, but you were so nervous about trying to clean the coffee you spilled that you didn’t even notice I fell for you without knowing your name” He let out a tearful chuckle “I started to fall that day and I haven’t stopped, not even for a second. Y/N you are- You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I was an idiot for not seeing that. I don’t know what I have to do for you to forgive me, but I’ll do anything, my love. Anything to make it better. Cause I followed you blindly from the start, and I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m so, so fucking sorry that I let my insecurities come in our way. I love you, even then I never stopped loving you”

He could see how her chin started to tremble, she was trying to hold off the tears as much as him “I - I wish I could go back in time. I would’ve never said the things I said, I would’ve never doubted you or left without listening to what you had to say. I should’ve fought harder for you, but I was a coward. I still am, if I’m being honest, but I will not run away, Y/N. Not anymore. I know I will never deserve you, but I’ll do my best and try. Because you, my love, are the love of my life, the greatest love I have and - and I can’t -“ 

It became too much for him. He couldn’t say anything else without breaking down. But he wanted her to know how much she meant for him, how much he is willing to fight for her if she lets him. She needed to know how sorry he was and how much he still loves her. But the words got stuck in his throat. The poet was left speechless.

“Y/N you are so strong,” He finally said “So strong, my love. And I’m so fucking proud of everything you do, I always have and always will be” He brought her hands to his lips and started pressing kisses all over it while wetting them with his tears “I wish I could take back everything I said. All those words were said out of anger and jealousy, that is not how I see you at all. You are so beautiful, Y/N, inside and out. So kind, so smart, so giving… You are perfect. And I love you, I love you, I love yo-”

Suddenly his words were interrupted by her lips as she started kissing him. Y/N didn’t want to keep listening anymore so she did the only thing he could, the thing she wanted to do the most since she saw him come out of the bathroom. 

Their hands flew to cup each other’s cheeks, keeping their faces as close as they could, feeling how their tears became one as they started to deepen the kiss. They rocked back and forward with the intensity of their energies colliding once again, it was everything they needed and more. Suddenly, Luke got up from the floor and brought Y/N along with her, pressing her against the wall as their lips never left each other.

“I love you” He breathed into her lips before kissing her again and again and again, already getting lost in the feeling of euphoria she brought to him “I love you”

She kept crying as their lips met, savoring every word, every praise that came from his mouth, trying hard to hold on to them as she felt her breath become short “I missed you” She cried into the kiss, pulling away to see his face. 

Luke’s eyes were blown wide as he stared at her, their lips were pink as they tried to catch their breaths. He knocked his forehead against hers before kissing it lightly “Please, forgive me” He begged, holding her tight against his chest. 

“Luke,” She whispered as she tugged on his shirt, making him look back at her “Kiss me” 

He looked at her softly, his baby blue eyes saying more than he ever could as he caressed her cheek one more time before leaning down and trapping her lips with his. He had no rush because there was no other place he’d rather be, no other person he’d rather spend time with. Only her. Only his Y/N. 

Her hands traveled tentatively under his shirt, softly caressing the skin of his back and his stomach as she parted her lips to grant him more access and control. Luke’s hand that was not cupping her cheek rounded around her waist, bringing her body closer to him with the need of feeling her, all of her. 

“Y/N…” He groaned, tilting his head back when he felt her kiss along his jaw and neck.

“Please…” She murmured against his skin, sucking and kissing on the spot that she knew would make him shiver. 

Luke pressed her against the wall with his body completely covering hers. He grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her feet from the ground as she locked her legs around his waist. “Please,” She begged again, closing her lips around the shell of his ear and slightly biting into it. She could feel him getting hard as her hips moved forward, her core pressing against his hardening cock. She moaned softly into his ear  “Please, Luke. Please” 

The movement of her hips was all Luke needed to lose himself to her, thrusting right back at her and moaning at the friction of her soaked panties against his clothed erection. Her sound became more breathy and he knew she was getting close just by the friction alone, having spent too much time without this feeling. 

“Y/N…” Luke groaned into her after a particularly hard trust “I-”

“I know” She breathed “I need it too,” 

Without a second thought, Luke turned both of them around, still holding Y/N by the back of her thighs as he placed them back into the bed. Now it was his turn to kiss along her face, her lips, her neck… everywhere she would give him access to and would leave her breathing his name. His hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, taking it off completely in one swift move and occupying his hands by touching her breasts, massaging them softly as his lips closed against one of her nipples, tongue circling around the hard pebble until they were nice, erect and wet from his kiss only to do it again with the other one. 

Y/N was a whimpering mess under him, her fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked on her sweet spot, kissing down her body until his lips found her wet panties. He kissed over her clothes bundle of nerves, making her moan and begged for more as he swiftly hooked his long fingers at either side of her hips and pulled them down, kissing along her thighs up and down and up again only to finish tongue deep into her hole, lapping at her arousal and moaning against her at the taste of her. He always found her exquisite. 

Stars were playing behind her eyelids as she felt one finger inside her while Luke’s lips closed against her clit, sucking it lightly as he inserted another finger per her request, thrusting then inside and out as she chanted his name like a prayer when her walls clenched against them. 

Luke licked her clean as her fingers played with his hair, relishing this intimate moment as a precious memory for the future. When he pushed himself up he noticed that there were a new set of tears rolling down her cheeks “Are you okay, love?” He asked, “Did I hurt you?” 

She shook his head, looking up at him with teary eyes “I love you” 

His eyes soften at her words, hands caressing the side of her face as he leaned in without thinking, kissing her tears away with such care, never wanting to see them again.

“Luke…” She whispered, kissing his chin “Luke, make love to me” 

Blue eyes met Y/E/C, sharing all the love he had in them before leaning down again to trap her lips with his; tongues dancing together like it was the first time all over again where no other words were needed. 

Y/N helped him out of his shirt and shorts, pumping his cock in her hands as he moaned in her ear how good it felt before lining it up with her entrance, quiet gasps leaving each other’s mouths as they felt the familiar stretch when he bottomed out. 

Soft words and kisses were shared as Luke’s thrusts were slow and steady. It was silent, needy, passionate; it was everything they needed and more. Their hands explored the familiarity of their bodies, leaving faint marks as they enjoyed their shared pleasure.

“Please,” She begged against his lips, moaning as Luke started hitting her spot “Please, please, please, plea-” 

Her orgasm came over her like a wave and Luke was entranced with her face as it contorted in extasis, helping him reach his climax as he cum inside her, painting her walls as his thrusts became sloppy. 

They stayed like that for a while, kissing on top of each other as their bodies stayed connected in the most intimate way. But soon Luke had to get up, getting a wet cloth from the bathroom and cleaning her up, whispering sweet nothings to her as he did so. 

He climbed into the bed next to her, pulling her closer against his chest as his back rested against the headboard, drawing circles in the soft spot of her back and resting his chin on the top of her head. 

They must’ve fallen asleep after a while because when he opened his eyes again he felt Y/N crying into his chest.

“My love?” He asked, worry lacing his voice as he accommodated himself better so he could see her face. Y/N eyes were puffy and filled with tears as she struggled to contain a sob “What’s wrong?” 

Y/N sniffed, voice breaking as she asked “You love me?” 

Luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion “What a stupid question,” He said as he started playing with your hair “Of course I love you” 

“But what else?” 

Her question confused him, even more, when he saw pure heartbreak spread along her face. 

“What else what?” 

“You love me and what else?” She repeated her question. 

“What else is there?” 

Luke’s answer made her lips tremble as a new set of tears filled her eyes. His heart fell to his stomach with her reaction, not knowing what he did to make her this upset “Baby, what’s wrong? Is love not enough?” 

Y/N shook her head as she took a deep breath, trying to find enough voice and courage to say what she needed. 

“I’m not perfect, Luke” 

“I know,” He said, bringing his fingers to caress your cheek but you shook your head.

“No, you don’t know” She stated, tears rolling down her cheek “You still see me as something out of your reach, as something you don’t deserve because you hold me to such standards that is impossible for me to live up to your expectations. I will let you down, even without wanting to, I will. And- a-and I don’t think I’ll be able to stand that look in your eyes once I do. I can’t go through that again” 

She cried softly for a while, trying to find the right words to say.

“Luke, I need you to listen to me very carefully and really think about what I’m asking for here, okay, love?” She said after collecting herself just enough. He nodded as he gave her his undivided attention “Luke, I love you. More than anyone in the world, I love you. I thought I would never say those words again but I can’t deny my feelings for you nor do I want to. I love you. But I also love my life” 

Luke’s eyes were fixed on her as she spoke, nodding along to what she was saying. She took another deep breath before continuing. 

“A life that is filled with concerts, traveling and recordings and parties and interviews… A life that I chose to follow my dreams and make them come true. A life I am not going to give up because it’s mine and I truly love it. But in this life, there are some bumps in the road. There will always be people trying to bring me down, sending hate to me and the ones I love, spreading rumors all around where sometimes you won’t be able to distinguish fiction from reality. With people trying to get to me, by flirting or abusing their power with threats. But I keep going, I deal with all of that because that’s just the way it is. I will go to an interview that might get twisted, I might go and get flirted on by a random stranger that works for publicity. I might have rumors of me dating people I haven’t even met! All of that without my consent or knowledge. But I agreed to this when I agreed to follow my dreams and I can’t help it when it happens and most of the time I can’t say anything about it even if it hurts. 

And when that happens I need to know that you will trust me. Because I cannot possibly ask you to leave your dreams to follow mine, meaning that we won’t be together all the time like we’re used to. And I need to know that you will trust me when I’m away from you”

Luke stayed quiet, his mind running a thousand miles per hour at her words. Could he trust her? When they were together on tour, and even at home in L.A, the rumors about Y/N were strong, so much so that he didn’t know if they were true or not. And even though he knew her, he still wasn’t sure. He doubted her, more times than not he did which ended up in him losing her until last night. He trusted her now, but…

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly, feeling like the weight of his shoulders was being lifted as he spoke “I don’t trust my mind, not when it’s about you. Not really. I trust you here, right now but I can’t promise that my insecurities won’t get in the way, changing that for the future. But I can try, I’ll do my best-”

“What if your best is not enough, Luke?” She asked, sucking the air out of both of them. 

“What?” He asked in return, voice small and soft. 

She sighed, blinking through the tears “What if- What if it’s not enough? You love me, but you don’t trust me. I love you, but I’m scared you’re going to run away every time you hear something about me that could tint the image of me you have in your mind. I’m scared of that Y/N because I’m not her and I might never be able to compete with her. I wish I could tell you that everything will change for the better, that love will be enough. But if we can’t see a future now…”

“There might not be a future at all” Luke finished for her. 

The truth hurt more than they could ever have imagined, but it was still the truth. Without trust, there is no love that could endure the passings of times, but they could try, couldn’t they? 

“What now?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

“Hold me?” 

Luke opened his arms and Y/N nested into them, setting her head upon his chest and letting his heartbeat be the melody of her heartbreak. “I love you” She whispered into his skin.

“I love you, too” 

“I might never stop loving you” 

“You don’t have to” 

She sighed “I know, that’s what scares me”

Luke nodded, even though she couldn't see him. He let his fingertips trace up and down her arms and back, serving as the only comfort he could give right now.

“Stay with me tonight?” She asked, tilting her head so she could look him in the eyes “Just one night the two of us where we can leave the world behind. Just us and for tonight that’s enough”

He smiled sadly “Morning will come eventually” 

“And what will happen to us in the morning?” 

Luke let out a sad sigh “I don’t know” 

.

.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @wiiildflowerrr @myloverboyash @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-ash​ @alltimesos @kingxnichole @givebuckyhisplumsnow @hufflehemm @wildflower98 @girl-toxxic

[butterflies-dragons]

do you know if anyone wrote meta about Jon and Littlefinger being foils? like both were raised in a paramount house next to the lord's children, forced out it in their teens thanks to a betrothal, started from the bottom and climbed to the top, wanted to be loved by catelyn. I'm not smart enough to figure out how LF's relationship w Sansa will be a foil to Jonsa by myself, do you know if someone wrote anything?

I wrote about it here and there:

Jon Snow and Petyr Baelish

Jon and Petyr were raised along with Tully girls (Sansa, Catelyn and Lysa).

Jon and Petyr loved redhead girls (Ygritte, Catelyn) that are described as half-fish (Ygritte’s swimming skills and Tully sigil).

Jon and Petyr lost their virginity with redhead girls (Ygritte, Lysa).

Being a legitimate Stark and inheriting Winterfell is Jon’s deepest desire, while Petyr conspired the fall of House Stark.

Jon and Petyr have Bael the Bard imagery around them. Bael the bard abducted the Rose of Winterfell, Rhaegar abducted Lyanna Stark (Jon’s mother), and Petyr abducted Sansa Stark. Bael and Rhaegar were harp players, while Petyr spread lies in his favor through songs (A harp can be as dangerous as a sword, in the right hands —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI).

Unlike Petyr’s forced kisses, Sansa associates “snow” with lover’s kisses (Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII).

Unlike Petyr, that has used the godswoods of the Red Keep and the Eyrie, to lie and trap Sansa, and is an awful replacement as a father figure for Sansa, Jon would never lie to Sansa in front of the old gods, like Ned taught him (Jon said, “My lord father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The old gods know when men are lying.” —A Clash of Kings - Jon II).

Littlefinger is grooming Sansa, forcing sexual advances on her, and those started during the snow castle scene. The symbolic image of a giant invading Winterfell also plays as an innuendo (“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII). Sansa defended herself with “a handful of snow” (Sansa […] grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII).

From: THE BLACK PRINCE WITH THE WHITE GUARDIAN - Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, the Tourney at Ashford Meadow and the songs about Florian and Jonquil.

* * *

3. Petyr Baelish

Littlefinger was never at Winterfell or the godswood, but he feels a deep hatred for the castle, he always dreamed of Winterfell as Catelyn’s dark and cold prison:

He walked along outside the walls. “I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Littlefinger is the cause of the War of the Five Kings that killed Sansa’s parents and older brother and separated her remaining siblings. The war also caused the fall of Winterfell that was, invaded, sacked and burned by the Greyjoys and Boltons.

But there is a connection between Littlefinger, Winterfell and the godswood. Littlefinger has involved Sansa in several murders, Joffrey’s and Lysa’s being the more important (Dontos and Marillion also suffered murder and mutilation). The King’s murder was planned in the Red Keep’s goodswood, and Lysa’s murder was a direct consequence of Petyr kissing Sansa in the Eyrie’s goodswood.

Now Littlefinger is grooming Sansa, forcing sexual advances on her, and those started during the snow castle scene. The symbolic image of a giant invading Winterfell also plays as an innuendo:  

“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?” “Yes,” Sansa admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

The ambitious men that pursed Winterfell through marrying Sansa, also had to take her maidenhead and conceive an heir, in order to consolidate their claim to the castle and the north. So “coming into the castle” also means having sex and making children.      

Littlefinger is too machiavellian, it seems he has used the godswoods not only to trap Sansa but also to reenact his children fantasy of being Catelyn’s love:

I saw you kissing in the snow. She’s just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. Why did you love her best? It was me, it was always meeee!“

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

But Sansa, like Catelyn, never wanted and will never wants Petyr Baelish as lover.  

Meanwhile at the Wall…

Jon Snow

Unlike Theon, Jon doesn’t feel rejected by the heart of Winterfell. Jon got a direwolf sent by the old gods that shares the weirwood’s coloring:

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Unlike Theon that invaded Winterfell and allowed the Ironmen to sack, pillage, kill and rape. And later let the Boltons into the castle to burn it. Jon wants to rebuild Winterfell:

They can’t be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell … grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones … how could Winterfell be gone?

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Jon wanted Winterfell, as much as he had ever wanted anything, but unlike Tyrion, Jon rejects the castle in favor of Sansa. And Jon would never forced himself on Sansa if she doesn’t want him as well.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

The wording of these two passages (“He wanted it” / “I want her”), the Winterfell references, and the guilt and angst for desiring something forbidden (“May the gods forgive me” / “I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is”), is way too similar to be a mere coincidence. Winterfell and Sansa are merged in the text.

Tyrion and Littlefinger sexually desire Sansa and used the same Winterfell reference as an innuendo:

"Come, wife, time to smash your portcullis. I want to play come-into-the-castle.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?” “Yes,” Sansa admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Both Tyrion and Littlefinger have giant imagery around them, both even talk to her about the Giant of Braavos, both wanted Sansa politically (Winterfell) and sexually (her body), and Sansa has been prophesied slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow (Winterfell reference). I think that Jon might help her to fulfil that prophecy.

Indeed, Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall and the Wall in the north:

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy. […] He had always had a yen to see the Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

But Sansa is “stronger within the walls of Winterfell” and Jon at the Wall is “the shield that guards the realms of men.”

Sansa also throws a handful of snow at Littlefinger’s face during the snow castle scene:

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they’d raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

A handful of snow… Wouldn’t be awesome if Jon Snow continue the Stark men tradition to beat Littlefinger out?

I was always suspicious of Littlefinger helping Sansa build her snow castle, but since Petyr Baelish has giant imagery around him, it all makes sense after reading this passage:

She looked as if she thought he was making that up. “How could men build so high, with no giants to lift the stones?” In legend, Brandon the Builder had used giants to help raise Winterfell, but Jon did not want to confuse the issue. “Men can build a lot higher than this. In Oldtown there’s a tower taller than the Wall.” He could tell she did not believe him.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

Sansa will be certainly grateful if she can take advantage of any help Baelish could offer to rebuild Winterfell, but she will slay him anyway, as in the songs:

“If the tales be true, that’s not the first giant to end up with his head on Winterfell’s walls.” “Those are only stories,” she said, and left him there.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr’s forced kisses, Sansa associates “snow” with lover’s kisses:

Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr, that has used the godswoods of the Red Keep and the Eyrie, to lie and trap Sansa, and is an awful replacement as a father figure for Sansa, Jon would never lie to Sansa in front of the old gods, like Ned taught him:  

Jon said, “My lord father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The old gods know when men are lying.”

—A Clash of Kings - Jon II

As I said before, if Jon had accepted Stannis’s offer, he would have had Winterfell, but at an extremely high price: burning the weirwood tree, which, to him, would be sacrilege:

When Jon closed his eyes he saw the heart tree, with its pale limbs, red leaves, and solemn face. The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said … but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman’s hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Sansa feels empty like a godswood without gods, like a godswood without a weirwood tree, mostly because she lost Lady, but also because she feels like a lone wolf without its pack, and a body without its heart due to the extreme disillusionment she has suffered so far.

But Jon Snow has a direwolf that is a symbol of the weirwood tree, Jon himself is a symbol of the weirwood tree. And Sansa has become a symbol of Winterfell and the godswood, but she feels empty without her wolf. Then Ghost might complete Sansa’s empty godswood, and Jon might fill Sansa’s heart again. And together they could be a pack. And together they could rebuild their home. Please play North by Sleeping at Last here.  

So…

…One would have to wonder why GRRM is always comparing and contrasting Sansa’s suitors with her bastard half brother Jon Snow? What is the reason for that? Does that mean that something romantic will happen between Sansa and Jon in the future? Is that just a mere coincidence? If the same thing (Sansa’s suitor being compared and contrasted with Jon Snow) happened three times, can we really call it a mere coincidence? One would have to wonder… Why?    

From:  i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) - Jon Snow, Sansa Stark & Winterfell. An exploration.

[protgo]

{ cis man, he/him } ❝ my heart that’s more human than i, more exact than life. ❞ huh, who’s CHARLIE ROWE? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually ALBUS POTTER. he is a 23 year old HALF-BLOOD wizard who is an AUROR. he is a SLYTHERIN alum and the child of HARRY POTTER and GINNY WEASLEY. he is known for being ALOOF, RELENTLESS, SARCASTIC, DEFENSIVE, and DISTRUSTING but also AMBITIOUS, LOYAL, CARING, FORGIVING, and COMPASSIONATE, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song BRAVADO BY LORDE and A COLLECTION OF MUGS WITH ONLY THE LAST BIT OF COFFEE REMAINING; THE SHARP DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PURITY AND GOODNESS; RELIABLE RESCUE FROM SOMEONE THAT SWORE THEY WOULDN’T HESITATE TO LEAVE YOU BEHIND; A WATCHFUL EYE LINGERING AT THE SIDELINES; A SURPRISINGLY WARM HUG. i hear he is aligned with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him.

BASICS

name:  albus s. potter

nickname: goes by al almost exclusively

age: twenty-three

sexual / romantic orientation: homosexual homoromantic

former house: slytherin

affiliation: auror department, potter-weasley family, order of the phoenix

occupation: auror

family: lily luna potter (sister, younger), james sirius potter (brother, older), ginny weasley (mother), harry potter (father) + a truly incredible amount of cousins, uncles, etc.

PHYSICAL

hair: brown

eyes: hazel

height: 5′10

notable characteristics: he doesn’t quite possess usual weasley levels of freckles but there are enough to be noticed, poor vision therefore always wearing glasses

PERSONALITY

al is very much a healthy mix of both his parents! he isn’t boisterous or particularly loud, but he is incredibly determined and relentless in the pursuit of what he’s decided he wants. growing up with the last name he did came with a lot, both the good and the bad, and al adjusted to it as best he could. he found it hard to really let people in growing up as he always doubted whether it was about him or about either of his parents, really, and wasn’t interested in being a keyhole view into the lives of either of them. he’s polite, for the most part, but more on the quiet and private side of things to most.

being close to him, on the other hand, is a different and funny thing. he’s tetchy, and finnicky, and you get an honest view of him if nothing else. the version most people get may be easier to deal with than the truth, but there’s also less heart. al’s very loving, intensely reliable, steady, and solid. he’s fiercely opinionated and sharp, a whopping total of maybe three people have ever been able to change his mind once he’s made a decision. his humor may be a bit on the dryer side, but it’s definitely there.

he is ... protective. of his family, of himself, of his heart. he really doesn’t let a lot of people truly in and it’s always been good that he has a huge family, so there’s a big package deal of people there, but outside of that he’s always been more of a few close friends than large group type of person. he’s also very trustworthy! no one has ever managed to pry a secret out of him nor will they ever! he really wears his feelings on his face, in terms of being surprisingly expressive as long as he’s not on the job.

HEADCANONS / BIO

his patronus is a wolf, his wand is s 12½ inches, made of holly with dragon heartstring core, and unbending flexibility

al is a sweet boy!! however, he has issues forming close relationships at times (platonic or romantic) because of a lot of worry surrounding his name and the weight being a potter holds in the wizarding world and his inability to ever really know someone’s intentions. he has a marshmallow heart and it’s easier to protect it than to heal it.

magic did not come easy to him!! he comes from two very powerful bloodlines, but it was just … harder for him to control and pick up. he’s a very skilled wizard in later adolescence and adulthood only because he would’ve dropped off the face of the planet before being the potter kid that couldn’t do magic right. as such, he practiced all the time when he was younger, and practice makes perfect.

al also has some issues accepting help. not in small mundane things, but on larger scales he’s very testy about anyone suggesting he can’t do something or that he’s weak, in any way. he feels like he has spent … a lot of time proving himself! too much to not be taken seriously!

the pressure al feels in his life is not …. at all from his parents. the most pressure he feels from them is to be a good brother, but that’s not in a bad way !! it’s in a you’re all family and family takes care of each other way! it’s the rest of the world’s expectations that he feels a lot, and that’s not anyone’s fault!

al is gay!! he’s not new in town!! he holds a lot of fear that people only like him because of the family he comes from!! he’s sort of known for a while, but when he really formally came to terms with it he was fourteen and it was difficult because keeping quiet about it to his family, specifically, was a bad feeling. the thought of making an announcement also made him want to puke. ultimately, he tells his brother and sister first. he tells his parents next. everyone else just had to find out on their own. 

up until al was about fifteen he felt very .. directionless, by way of career and his life after hogwarts. he didn’t know if he was really built for anything, or what would make him happy, but he wanted to do something that felt meaningful and challenging and worthy of respect, which is how he settled on auror. i do kind of believe most people that knew him thought it was a fleeting idea he’d move on from, because he really is ... disposition wise, a lot softer than i think the typical ideal-auror is. al is very stubborn, though. he’s always felt like he had something to prove, and he was never willing to fail. he made up his mind and now however many years later, he is in fact quite good at what he does!

al does not like quidditch. in terms of skill he’s really fine at it he’s just never been a fan, he didn’t have a particularly high amount of school spirit for it when he was younger either. he will participant in family games because he’s a good sport, but otherwise he doesn’t play. 

i think al understands the well intention behind it, but he really doesn’t like when anyone he doesn’t know well mentions his dad to him. condolences, apologies, pity looks, they all really grind his gears. he doesn’t like to talk about his grief, either, but he’s big on family. al’s never felt unloved in his home, he’s never had any unreasonable issue with his family, he misses harry in a strong way he doesn’t know how to word, so he just ... doesn’t.