#harbour. Like he wants you to dislike him

[mihotose]

L + evrart is that deep + its the politics game + there are characters in this game other than kim and harry 😇

[deathlooksgoodonyou-if]

It was the summer of 2010 when you found Jules Hawkins by the lake. But it didn't look like Jules Hawkins.

After all, how could it? Jules Hawkins was a god. And as you know, gods like Jules are unbreakable. If you knew anyone death couldn't touch, it was Jules. And yet, somehow it felt like you had never seen Jules look more like them than they did, that day, dead by the lake. Plump cherry lips, now parched and blue, dirt on their perfect knees, golden hair sticking to their forehead, exquisite clothes matted and muddied, skin, ghostly pale.

Even in death, even as Jules became a child of soil and dirt and ruin, Jules managed to look like art. How could this creature of beauty be anyone else but Jules Hawkins?

A string of murders follow the passing of Jules Hawkins and in the desperation of avoiding being tangled in the web of this cold blooded murderer, you end up right in the thick of it when you find out the killer may have set their eyes on you next.

Of course, you ended up in the killer's radar. You had always been a child of misfortune, after all.

• Customise your mc. Choose your appearance. Play as male, female, non-binary or trans; straight, gay or bisexual etc.

• Play as an emotionally scarred individual. Escape the hell you call your mind, alone or with the help of allies. Or succumb to the voices.

• Find your predator before your predator finds you. Or keep running. How far will you run? Do you even want to run?

• Befriend, antagonize, manipulate or romance fellow residents of Ravenwoods.

• Heavily character driven.

• The lake calls out to you. Will you listen?

JULIAN/NE "JULES" HAWKINS. [he/him or she/her] [semi ro]

You knew Jules in the way you wish you never did. Jules is embedded into your very bones. Jules is a part of you. You wish you could escape them.

Jules may be no more for the world but they are alive and breathing in your haywire brain and they are not very kind. Not that they ever were. But the Jules that haunts you, plagues you like a disease is ruthless with their words in a way the old Jules could never be. Not to you.

Description : Pale skin. Rosy tint to cheeks. High cheekbones. f!Long wheatish blonde curly hair with bangs. m!shoulder length curly wheatish blonde hair. Almond shaped brown eyes. Arched eyebrows. Long, thick lashes. Bow shaped lips. f!willowy frame. 5'11. m!broad back, narrow waist, long legs. 6'2.

CHAE WARREN. [he/him]

There are few you consider friend and Warren is one of them, alongside Sujin. He is revolution in a glass jar. A little rough around the edges, with bullet holes in his paper heart. Lately, the air becomes laced with awkwardness when its just the two of you around. You wish you weren't fairly perceptive. Perhaps that could have made you oblivious to the way Warren's adams apple bobs and his throat tightens when you are around, the way his fists clench when his tongue slips or the way he glances at you thinking you didn't notice.

Description : Sharp jaw. Medium complexion. Monolid chocolate brown eyes. Straight eyebrows. Thin pinkish lips. 5'7. Athletic figure. Short dyed dark red hair.

JESSICA HAWKINS. [she/her]

Jules' twin. You never bothered to acquaint yourself with her. She had always seemed too saintly and your mother had taught you well to stay away from that kind. Those who hide their tainted souls behind rosemary lies, platinum smiles and bright eyes stitched from sunshine. Beware of them, your mother had told you. But is that what she truly is doing? Spinning honeyed tales from saccharine lips?

You would never know. Unless you choose to. If it helps, Jules lips always quirked upwards and the crease in their brows mellowed whenever her name rolled off their tongue.

Description : Kind almond shaped brown eyes. Long, thick lashes. Bow shaped lips. Arched eyebrows. High cheekbones. Straight blonde hair, reaching her back. Pale skin. Willowy frame. 5'10.

DYLAN JEANE. [he/him]

Jules' boyfriend, Dylan. Well, ex boyfriend now. He seems to harbour a deep dislike for you. No matter how hard he denies it— the slight tensing of the muscles in his jaw always give it away.

You had always been curious about him. Jules and him were an odd pair. How could Dylan be what Jules desired? They were polar opposites. Jules was tidal waves and traditional typhoons. He is ruddy sunsets and roseate dawns. He is habit, he is routine, he is rigid, he is never changing. A sad strange kind of tragedy. Jules was anything but that. Jules was everything at once. Jules was never the same. Jules was uneven. Jules was hurricanes and tsunamis.

There is a natural downwards turn to his lips, his shoulders always a little hunched as if the burdens of life have dripped down from the ceiling and chosen to settle like dust upon his shoulders. You wonder what weighs him down so terribly. He talks as if every breath he takes from his lungs rattles him to the core. Perhaps it does. He seems to have taken Jules' death as hard as you, if not worse.

Description : Short slicked back midnight black hair. Heavy lidded hazel eyes. Slender built. Wears rimless rectangular glasses occassionally. Angular face. Sharp lips. Upwards eyebrows. Fair skin. 6'1.

AIDEN HAMILTON. [he/him]

The second child of the sleazy mayor. Boy of many faces. You don't trust him one ounce. For good reasons. It irks you to watch his eyes glimmer as if you are a specimen that intrigues him. You don't trust the myriad of unhealthy secrets he hides behind his charming gaze, the sly smile that tugs off the corner of his lips or the disarming lilt of voice as his salty tongue rolls off silken threads of honeysuckle lies frictionlessly. It comes to him as naturally as breathing. The impurity of his father's gold taints him, it runs in his veins and he embraces it willfully.

He is hiding skeletons in his closets and everybody knows that. What it is however, is a different story.

Will he let you in on a secret?

Description : Unruly brown wavy hair, in a middle part. Luscious lips, heavy lower lip, a small faint and old scar at the corner of his mouth. S-shaped eyebrows. Sea green hooded eyes. Tanned complexion. V-shaped jaw. Toned build. 6'4.

HEATHER HAMILTON. [she/her]

Eldest child of the mayor. You are not particularly friends but she is not a bad company to have around either. You like her. You have met in passing and she always has a quick smile reserved for you. You know she is a dreamer with a pomegranate heart. She has also somehow inherited her mother's love of parties. Hers tend to be a little more wild and carefree, though. Just like her.

Uncharacteristically, she is also fond of painting. Will you be her muse?

Description : Straight brown hair in a bob cut. Hooded brown eyes. Heart shaped lips. Soft arch eyebrows. Skinny frame. Tanned complexion. Dimples on both cheeks. 5'7.

MIA MORGAN. [she/her]

Mia Morgan is the kind of girl who will rip your heart out, eat it raw and call it love. With midnight eyes of catlike grace that could rival any godforsaken abyss and lips richer and darker than the blood running in your veins, she's the kind of girl that would skin you alive and chew on your fickle heart but then kiss your eyelids and tell you 'good night, baby' and you would like a lovesick dog spiral back to her, yearning for more.

Why? Because you are a fool? No. Because she was Mia Morgan and Mia Morgan was born for seduction and playing with the strings of childish hearts. A holy ruination. Destruction in its most, enchanting, enrapturing form.

Will you let her destroy you?

Description : Wispy bangs, short hush cut, black hair. Dark cat eyes. Beauty mark on upper lip. Soft jaw. Chubby cheeks. Crimson pouty lips. Fair complexion. Curvaceous figure. 5'2.

KIM SUJIN. [she/her]

She considers you a close friend, sharing every secret with you.

Description : Bronze skin, wide set brown eyes with gold flecks, button nose, freckles, curtain bangs, medium length chestnut brown hair. 5'3.

ARTHUR MORRIS. [he/him]

Aiden's friend. He's an asshole.

Description : Mahogany complexion, hollowed cheeks, has a stubble, ebony eyes, buzzcut, brawny. 6'1.

PARIS HILL. [he/him]

Local heartthrob. He looks handsome till he opens his mouth.

Description : Sunkissed complexion, wide lips, honey brown eyes, blonde hair in a fringe. Buff arms and broad back. Has an unhealthy obsession with shades. 5'10.

AUNT AUBURN MACKENZIE. [she/her]

She loves you dearly. There is nothing she wouldn't do for you.

Description : Brown hair, generally tied in a loose bun. Wrinkles near eyes and smiling lines around her mouth. Thin lips. Stout and a little hunched frame. Brown complexion. 5'1.

MOTHER. [she/her]

A woman with a twisted understanding of love. You haven't seen her in years and while you may have forgotten her face, her voice still rings crystal clear in your mind, like an old cassette on repeat.

FATHER. [he/him]

A man you knew but never quite understood. It is his face that stares back at you everytime you look in the mirror.

MAYOR JOHN HAMILTON. [he/him]

The mayor of Ravenwoods. It would serve you well to have him as an ally. Having strong connections has always proved to be useful.

Description : Beige skin. Hooked nose. Green eyes. Bushy brows. Short hair, close cropped. Smooth blonde hair. Plump frame. 5'8.

MEERA CHAUHAN HAMILTON. [she/her]

Wife of the mayor. She may be a little snobby but she means well. Most of the times. After all, who isn't a little selfish?

Description : Tanned complexion. Almond brown gold eyes. Brown hair wavy reaching her mid back. Slender frame. 5'10.

LAWRENCE HAWKINS. [he/him]

Father of the Hawkins siblings. You would rather not get involved with him.

Description : Pale skin. Blonde slicked back hair. Blue eyes. High cheek bones. Sharp jaw. Wears frameless rectangular glasses. 5'11.

AURORA HAWKINS. [she/her]

Mother of the Hawkins siblings. You would rather not get involved with her.

Description : Blonde hair, generally tied in a tight bun. Pale skin. Brown eyes. 5'9.

OFFICER RYAN DOUGLAS. [he/him]

He's a good man. He tries his best.

Description : Rosy complexion. Dark brown eyes. Short brown hair. Average build. 5'8.

DEMO. (DECEMBER OR SOONER!)

COG FORUM. (DECEMBER OR SOONER!)

EXCLUSIVE CONTENT. (TBD!)

FAQ.

> Rated 18+ for mature themes such as (heavy spoilers ahead!) explicit language, sexual themes, questionable behaviour, toxic relationships, murder, elitism, child abuse, domestic violence, insomnia, toxic relationships, manipulation, transphobia, racism, internalised transphobia and homophobia, death, childhood trauma, mild nudity, feelings of being watched, stalking, infidelity, hallucinations.

Reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for your interest! <3

[cazshmere]

Synastry Observations Pt.2

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🍊⭐️

🍊 Mars in the 12th house synastry has got to be one of the worst things 😭. It’s confusing and exhausting. The Mars person seems to harbour some sort of irrational animosity towards the house person in a very passive-aggressive way. The house person can sense this too, but they are unsure if they’re making it up or not. Also, it’s such a blockage; you could be really close to each other and know of each other, but the conversation WOULD TAKE AGES to start because neither the house person nor the Mars person wants to initiate conversation. It’s like there’s an invisible barrier between you guys 🥲

🍊 Venus in the 8th house/ in Scorpio’s first romantic relationship or situation always ends up hurting them. I’ve seen this countless times where their first experience with romance either ends in heartbreak, unrequited love, or just a missed opportunity. This heartbreak helps these individuals immensely transform, and they might prefer to isolate themselves from anything romance-related for a long period of time. Honestly I think this is a canon event for every Scorpio/8th house Venus that I’ve met, including me lmao and especially if there are Venus-Saturn hard aspects, dear lord, sending love to all my scorp/8th house placements fr🫶🏻🥲❤️‍🩹

🍊 Something I’ve observed with Libra placements, especially the moon, is that when they’re in a relationship, it becomes the focal point of their life. They might go as far as changing career paths to be closer to their partner, altering their style to match their partner’s preferences, or adjusting their personality to be more appealing to their partner (yes I’m sure most of us do this to some extent but it’s a bit excessive for these peeps😭). Their relationship becomes such a central part of their identity that if anything goes wrong, it can feel devastating for them. For instance, I have a friend who is a Libra moon, and she always refers to her partner as “my boyfriend” instead of his name, even though we all know him personally, like gurl come on he’s got a name haha😭

🍊 Moon in the 12th house synastry can equate to the house person opening up to the moon person or just feeling extremely vulnerable around them. They’d share things with the moon person that they dare not share with anyone else. This synastry could also mean staying up late in the night and throwing your sleep away just to talk to each other 🧿

🍊 12th house synastry could also have undertones of enemies-to-lovers (the lovers part only if you ever get together, that is) because there’s this energy where you don’t know why the other person acts hostile/passive-aggressive towards you, ignores you, or sends you mixed signals that makes you dislike them but at the same time, you can’t stop fantasizing/dreaming about them in all these romantic scenarios or them showing up in your dreams outta nowhere like??😭

🍊 7th/8th and even 10th (to some extent) house synastry could indicate that one of the two, either the house person or the planet person (mostly the house person), copies the other, be it mannerisms, clothes, slang, or even certain traits of the other’s personality 💀. It’s because they notice how much attention or admiration the planet person garners, so to obtain that same kind of attention and recognition the house person might try to emulate the planet person 🫤

🍊 7th house Mars synastry can be very annoying and tiresome (especially for the house person). The Mars person could be a bit too much for the house person. The Mars person could get very petty and passive-aggressive towards the house person for no reason (this could go vice versa too). Yes there is sexual attraction and y’all could motivate/support each other through stuff but at the same time it’s draining asf, a big no no for me when it comes to synastry 🥲

🍊 Moon square Saturn synastry can cause delays when it comes to emotional attachment between two people, but once these two finally connect, it’s ride or die typa relationship fr 🥺🫂

🍊 Moon/Mercury in the 1st/5th/9th house synastry is very exciting and fun-loving, with lots of playful teasing and bantering with each other 😋🥰

🍊Moon /Mercury in the 2nd/4th/8th/10th/12th house synastry makes both parties very sensitive to each other’s words because these houses reflect our self esteem/self worth, the deepest parts of ourselves, our core, our reputation etc. A little bit of critique can also be taken personally by either party. Even harmless jokes could be taken in the wrong way and arguments could occur (especially if there isn’t 3rd/5th/9th/11th house synastry or any easy aspects in the synastry chart)

🍊 When someone's planets fall in your 8th house, they intuitively sense your true and deep needs related to that planet. For example, if someone's Venus is in your 8th house, they will know how to love you in a way that makes you feel unconditionally loved and appreciated. If their Mercury is in your 8th house, they will understand how to communicate with you on a profound level, meeting your need for deep and meaningful conversation. If their Mars is in your 8th house, they will instinctively know how to meet your sexual needs and desires and please you in bed🖤❤️‍🔥

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner credits : @anitalenia <3

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Love to Hate You [1]

Pairing: royal secretary!San x female scholar!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: San prided himself on his knack for building easy connections with women, viewing himself as a trusted ally for the opposite gender. Thanks to his deep bonds with his mother and sister, he possessed keen insights into the female mindset. Never did he imagine facing the ire of a woman, until he encountered a resolute female scholar with a strong dislike towards men.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Moon Siwoo, you get over here this instant!" you commanded, hands planted firmly on your hips as you glared at your twelve-year-old brother, who grumbled and rubbed his eyes sleepily while trudging reluctantly toward you.

"But noona, it's too early!" he protested, his pout aimed at evoking your sympathy, but you merely shook your head in disapproval.

Your mother sighed beside you. "Please go easy on him," she implored, but you met her plea with a stern gaze. "And who went easy on me, mother? If you keep coddling him like this, he'll grow up to be just another one of those entitled brats who call themselves a man. Is that what you want?"

Defeated, she fell silent and retreated to prepare lunchboxes for you and your brother. The silence spoke volumes, conveying the weight of the elderly woman's guilt as she grappled with your palpable disdain for men. Ever since little Siwoo came into the world, you had made it your mission to ensure he wouldn't become one of those disappointing individuals who claim to be men.

Of course, your dislike wasn't unfounded.

Your late father, already lacking as a parent, succumbed to his drinking problem not long after your brother's birth, leaving you, the eldest, to shoulder the family's responsibilities. But that wasn't the worst of it; his demise was overshadowed by the circumstances of his death—a result of excessive drinking in a brothel, of all places. It was a fact that brought you little sorrow.

Throughout your childhood, he imposed expectations meant for a son onto you, driven by his own unfulfilled aspirations of becoming a respected scholar in Joseon society. However, his misguided attempts at moulding you into his image of success involved subjecting you to gruelling and excessive lessons from a young age. At that time, your mother held little sway and dared not challenge him. Consequently, there was no one to shield you from his demands.

The irony lay in his expectations for you to excel, despite setting a horrible example. He often cited stress as justification for indulging in alcohol, initially venturing out for brief outings with "friends" before progressively extending his absences. Eventually, his nights away grew longer until he would vanish entirely, only returning the following morning reeking of different women's perfumes each time.

Therefore, you would be lying if you said you didn't harbour resentment toward your father. Discovering his passing brought a sense of relief, even if it meant assuming a heavier burden on your young shoulders. Life had never been easy for you in the first place, and you gladly accepted the added responsibility of supporting your mother and younger brother without the presence of a tyrant dictating your actions at home.

Yet, just when you thought the worst was over, you bore witness to the struggles faced by women around you as you juggled odd jobs while pursuing your studies independently, preparing for the state examination—the initial step toward achieving the status of a scholar-official. During this period, you witnessed firsthand how women were often relegated to the roles of mere child-bearers and servants to men who offered little in return. It was almost funny how they depended on women for everything while simultaneously treating the female gender as inferior.

This realisation fueled your determination to become the first female scholar, not to uphold your useless father's legacy, but to advocate for the marginalised women who lacked influential advocates to champion their cause and facilitate change.

Over a decade has passed since those tumultuous times. Now that Siwoo had reached an appropriate age, you resolved to enrol him in school after years of personally tutoring him to impart basic knowledge and skills, aiming to cut costs. You had taught him enough to grasp reading and writing. With him now eligible to enter the foundational levels of education mandated for embarking on the path to becoming a scholar-official, you were resolute in instilling him with your aspirations.

"Too early, you say? Would you rather rise with the sun for school or face punishments then?" you challenged, lifting an eyebrow.

Amusement danced in your eyes as the child's gaze widened in fear, vigorously shaking his head. "No, please! I'll behave and go to school! Spare me from standing in the corner for hours again, noona!"

"Now, that's my good boy," you gentled your tone, tousling his hair affectionately and straightening his slightly dishevelled hanbok. "How many times have I reminded you to tie the ribbons neatly like this? The teachers will scold you if they're not done properly, and you wouldn't want to make a poor impression on your first day. You'll make mother and me proud, won't you?"

He grinned brightly, "Yes, noona!"

Watching from the sidelines, your mother's heart swelled with warmth. Despite your stern demeanour at times, she was aware you loved him more than anything, knowing you could never be overly harsh. You had a knack for striking the right balance, teaching valuable lessons while showing him care and affection. Even as her daughter, she sometimes felt there was much she could learn from you.

"Alright, here are your lunchboxes, kids. Make sure to finish them, okay?" she instructed, passing the bags to you, receiving a smile in return.

"Got it! Don't worry, mother!" he chirped, saluting playfully.

"Thank you, mother. You should rest well while this little monkey heads off to school. How's your back feeling? I can swing by the apothecary for more herbs if you need any," you offered.

She shook her head, gently patting your cheek. "I'm fine, dear. Don't spend money unnecessarily. Some rest will do. Now hurry along before you both end up late."

With an arm around Siwoo, you guided him alongside you after bidding farewell to your mother. Your next stop was dropping him off at the nearest school before heading to the palace yourself to borrow some books not readily available in the public library. Having already passed the first two preliminary examinations with flying colours, only the final one stood between you and the coveted title of scholar-official. You were determined to complete it all swiftly, eager to finally begin making tangible contributions for the women of Joseon.

As you reached the entrance of your alma mater, you handed your brother his bag. "Alright, the teachers are expecting you. Please remember to behave and keep in mind what I've taught you—always be respectful and avoid causing trouble for anyone. Stay attentive and don't hesitate to ask questions if you're unsure. You won't learn anything by staying silent," you reminded, smoothing down his hair.

He nodded earnestly. "I won't forget, noona."

You grinned, pinching his cheek gently. "Good, I'll be here to pick you up after school. Wait right here if I haven't arrived yet. And don't wander off with anyone, understood?"

He swatted your hand away, rubbing his cheek. "Yeah, yeah. How could I forget? You've been drilling that into me for a week now. Bye, noona."

"Goodbye, Siwoo," you murmured, watching him enter the school gates and noticing the familiar figure of one of your teachers, Master Lee, waiting to greet him. Meeting the kind elderly man's gaze, you bowed deeply in gratitude. He was one of the few genuinely good men you had encountered in your life. Back then, understanding the difficulties you faced with your father's strictness, he had always strived to ease your burdens at school. Being the lone girl in a predominantly male institution also made you susceptible to bullying, but in this teacher's presence, you found solace.

He had also played a crucial role in securing your brother's enrollment. While your own admission might have been facilitated by your father's connections, the same couldn't be said for Siwoo, lacking influential or affluent backing. It was your close relationship with Master Lee that ensured his placement in the school.

As the man gave you a reassuring nod before guiding your brother into the school, you lingered for a moment, watching them until they disappeared from sight. You couldn't shake off the constant worry for the kid. The fear of him being bullied once his classmates discovered he didn't have a father plagued your thoughts. Yet, deep down, you understood this was necessary for his growth. After all, you faced similar challenges alone during your own schooling years.

You pushed aside those concerns, reminding yourself that Master Lee would be there to look out for him. With a heavy heart, you reluctantly turned away, knowing that as his elder sister, there was only so much you could do. The rest was up to him.

He'll survive; stop worrying.

Walking away from the school, you reminded yourself of your own priorities for now. Your focus needed to be on studying and acing the final examination. With that thought in mind, you set off towards the palace, your mind already forming a mental list of all the books you would need from the royal library.

Each step brought a sense of determination, the weight of responsibility settling firmly on your shoulders. You couldn't afford to let yourself be consumed by worry for Siwoo, not when your own future depended on your success in the upcoming examination.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I will deliver the latest batch of minutes and reports to General Park to ensure he is kept informed by today," San stated in his customary professional manner before bowing deeply.

The King nodded, gesturing with his hand to dismiss the secretary. "Very well. Proceed. And do not detain him unnecessarily; I am sure he is eager to spend every moment with his wife," he remarked, chuckling softly into his fists, pleased by the transformation of his once stoic general into a loving and affectionate husband.

"Understood, Your Majesty," the younger man replied, stepping back to excuse himself from the throne room.

As he made his way to his office to retrieve the documents before heading to the general's estate, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. With a furrowed brow, his steps faltered and he scanned the surroundings, searching for the source. Finally, his gaze settled on what appeared to be the fourth prince, observing him intently from a nearby pavilion. Despite the surprise, San maintained a neutral expression, not wanting to appear impolite.

Meeting Prince Yeosang's eyes, he offered a deep bow in greeting. His Highness reciprocated the gesture with a nod but continued to watch as the royal secretary attempted to move away.

Does he... want something from me?

San let out a deep sigh, internally debating whether to approach the prince. He knew Yeosang wasn't particularly sociable and might find it difficult to initiate conversations, despite any desire he had to do so. Finally, he made up his mind and veered towards the pavilion where the fourth prince was seated.

With a respectful bow, the royal secretary pretended not to notice the small breath of relief that escaped Yeosang upon his arrival. "Good day, Your Highness. It's unusual to see you out. How have you been faring?" he asked politely, mindful of the prince's ongoing punishment, which restricted his access to most areas even within the palace.

Yeosang gestured towards the seat across from him. "As well as one can be, considering my limited movements. Please, Secretary Choi, take a seat, and let us have a chat."

Giving in to the prince's invitation, San settled down and accepted the offered cup of tea. "Thank you, Your Highness. What would you like to discuss?" he asked patiently, allowing Yeosang time to collect his thoughts. As the prince struggled to articulate himself, the royal secretary calmly finished his tea, maintaining an expectant gaze upon His Highness.

After what felt like an eternity, Yeosang cleared his throat before speaking, "H-how is she...?" San immediately understood whom he was referring to but chose to feign ignorance. "I don't think it would be right for me to make any assumptions. Whom do you mean by 'she,' my prince?" he inquired.

Flustered, the prince sighed, avoiding San's gaze as he replied, "Lady Park, the general's wife... I noticed General Park hasn't been attending assemblies for a while now, and I was just... you know, wondering if everything is alright with her or... them."

The royal secretary's demeanour softened at Yeosang's inquiry. Offering a warm smile, he reassured, "Your Highness, please do not worry. Things are more than fine over at the general's estate. I didn't think it'd be right for you to hear this from me, but it seems there's no avoiding it, especially given your current restriction from leaving the palace."

Yeosang's curiosity sparked further. "What news do you speak of? Please, tell me."

San hesitated briefly before disclosing the truth. "Lady Park is, um... well, she's expecting, my prince. That's why the general has taken time off from work to care for her."

The prince fell silent for a moment, processing the news, while the royal secretary observed the myriad of emotions crossing His Highness' face. Finally, Yeosang croaked out, "I suppose that means he's treating her well then, yes?"

San nodded reassuringly. "Yes, he is. Perhaps when His Majesty pardons your punishment, you could pay them a visit. I'm sure Lady Park would appreciate seeing you."

The prince nodded slowly. "That's good... and yes, I think I will."

After a brief pause, the secretary spoke again. "Well, if that's all, I should probably return to work, Your Highness."

Yeosang nodded in understanding. "O-oh yes, of course. Don't let me keep you any longer. Thank you, Secretary Choi."

With a polite nod, San took his leave, continuing on his way to his office. His mind couldn't help but wander, pondering whether the prince still held any feelings for the general's wife. Even if he did, the secretary reasoned, at least His Highness was gracious enough to accept and acknowledge that he didn't stand a chance.

As he walked, his steps faltered, and he did a double take when he noticed a figure he had long wanted to meet—the first of your kind. He had heard much about your impressive performance in the preliminary exams. You must be here to prepare for your final examination. Eager to make your acquaintance, he rushed over, only to be met with the last thing he had expected.

"I'm just trying to help, Scholar Moon," the royal secretary insisted, his arms emptying as the stack of books he was previously carrying was abruptly snatched away by the newly acquainted female scholar.

You scoffed in response, "I don't remember asking for your help, sir. I understand it must be quite intriguing to meet a female scholar for the first time. However, there's a reason I'm the first. I'm not your typical damsel in distress. I don't need saving. While you may be used to women swooning at your feet, rest assured, I won't be one of them."

San stood in stunned silence as he watched you storming off in a fit of anger, completely taken aback by your hostile response to his well-intentioned gesture.

He had stumbled upon you as you exited the royal library burdened with a stack of borrowed books, his innate helpfulness and gentlemanly nature immediately prompted him to offer assistance without hesitation. But rather than the customary grateful smile and expression of thanks he anticipated, he couldn't believe he was met with such an unexpected and vehement reaction.

Did I... do something wrong?

A court lady standing nearby widened her eyes in disbelief. "Did you seriously just say that? Do you even know who he is?"

You rolled your eyes dismissively. "Probably just a eunuch, why?" you retorted, waving off her concern. "I doubt any high-ranking officials would pay me any mind."

"Well, you're correct about that. He's not a high-ranking official, but he is someone close to the King. He's the royal secretary," she disclosed, causing your heart to nearly stop as you gaped at her.

He's the what?!

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you blinked rapidly before turning around, only to find him already gone. With a sigh, you faced the court lady again, wearing an expression as if you had done nothing wrong. "Okay, well, as you said, he isn't a high-ranking official. Just a mere secretary. What's he going to do about it? Run to the king like a spoiled little brat? It will be fine," you said, though it sounded more like you were convincing yourself than her.

Suppressing a chuckle behind her hand, she nodded in agreement. "Well, you're not wrong about being fine. Royal Secretary Choi is known to be one of the nicest people. I'm sure he will let it slide," she reassured you with a gentle smile.

Your brows furrowed sceptically. "One of the nicest people, huh? I know men like that; wolves in sheep's clothing. They'll treat you well, make you feel indebted, and then exploit you eventually."

She sighed in resignation, shaking her head in disbelief. "I know nothing I say now will change your mind, but with time, you'll see he isn't anything like that at all."

You replied with a wry smile, "With time? No, I hope I never run into him again. I have no interest in his character. Nevertheless, thank you for the insight. I'll remember to steer clear if I ever see him again. Good day, madam." With a polite bow, you bid her farewell and continued with your day.

As you made your way back to your educational institution to resume your studies, you couldn't help but scoff as you reflected on the encounter with that man and the favourable reputation he tried to cultivate in the palace. Being no stranger to such types, you recognised his type: those who exploited their charm and false kindness to manipulate others. They always seemed to get what they wanted, with people readily bending to their will. It was a trait you detested. This royal secretary appeared to be cut from the same cloth.

But if he thought you would succumb to his charm like the other court ladies and comply with his wishes, he was sorely mistaken. You hoped you wouldn't have to see him again.

Despite feeling a twinge of embarrassment for being less than polite to someone of his stature, you didn't regret your words. They were spoken with genuine conviction.

"Thank you, San. If that's all..." Seonghwa's voice trailed off as he caught sight of the troubled expression on the royal secretary's face. "Oh god, what is it?"

Shaking his head, the younger man replied, "It's nothing serious. I just had a really odd encounter earlier today, and I'm wondering if I did something wrong..."

"Really? You? Doing something wrong? That doesn't sound like Choi San to me. You can do no wrong," the general teased, finally managing to coax a smile out of the royal secretary.

San chuckled. "Well, you know how easily I usually connect with girls and women."

Seonghwa raised an amused brow. "Ah, girl problems? It must be the season of love. Yunho's confiding in my wife about his own love troubles as we speak."

The secretary's eyes widened, and he waved his hands to dismiss the suggestion. "What? L-love? It has nothing to do with that."

"Yeah, that's what they all say..." the general grinned knowingly.

"No, seriously. Have you heard of the famous Scholar Moon?" San asked, to which the older man nodded. "If you're referring to the first female scholar in Joseon, then yes. So, she's the protagonist of your love story, huh?"

Secretary Choi rolled his eyes. "I swear, sometimes I miss when you're all cold and brooding. Anyway, I met her for the first time earlier, just before coming here. I saw her emerging from the royal library, arms filled with books, and out of kindness, I offered to help. But instead of thanking me, she... snatched the books back and launched into a whole monologue about not being a damsel in distress and not needing my help. She seemed... quite angry with me."

The general pondered for a moment, "Hmm, interesting..." San anxiously waited to hear Seonghwa's thoughts on the situation, nervously biting his lip.

Finally, the older man spoke up, "Well, she is the first female scholar after all. Perhaps she's different from most women you know. And besides, if she didn't request your help and you intervened, it might come off as presumptuous. Or maybe she's just having a bad day, and you happened to be there. Or... well, I'm probably the last person you should be consulting on this. You're the expert when it comes to women, so if you can't understand her, how can I...?"

Observing the continued concern on the secretary's face, the general added, "You care too much, San. Remember, no matter how well you think you understand women, not everyone is the same. Don't be surprised if you can't get along with every woman on earth. If, as you said, it's not about love, then let it go. Why should one Scholar Moon upset the great Royal Secretary Choi?"

San took a moment to absorb General Park's words before nodding slowly. "You're right. Maybe I just have to accept it," he conceded. "I guess I'm so affected because this has never happened before."

Pushing himself up from his seat across from Seonghwa, the secretary bowed respectfully. "I've taken more of your time than I planned. I should probably get going." The older man nodded, rising to see his friend off.

As San reached the exit of the general's study, he paused. "Oh, wait, one last thing... I spoke with the fourth prince earlier," he mentioned, sensing a slight shift in Seonghwa's demeanour. "He mentioned not seeing you around the palace and was concerned about Lady Park. I... told him about her pregnancy. I hope you don't mind. He seemed relieved to hear she's doing well."

Seonghwa's expression softened. "Thank you, San. That's good to know. I appreciate it. He's... her friend, I'm sure she'd want His Highness to know." Giving San a pat on the shoulder, he said, "Off you go then. Have a safe trip back. I'll see you next week."

As the secretary made his way back to his family estate, he opted to forgo the carriage ride for the day, choosing instead to take a leisurely walk. He figured it would help clear his mind of the unnecessary thoughts that had been bothering him. Perhaps it was the people pleaser in him, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that the earlier incident had affected him more than he cared to admit. Even though he knew he hadn't done anything wrong, he couldn't help but replay the encounter in his mind, wondering what he could have done differently to elicit a more favourable reaction from you.

However, he reminded himself of General Park's words – not everyone was meant to get along, and that was okay. With that in mind, he tried to focus on the scenery around him, letting the gentle breeze and chirping birds distract him from his thoughts.

Just as he was about to walk past a school, he heard the unmistakable sound of a child crying. Curious, he turned toward the source of the sound and saw a young boy sobbing alone by the entrance of the school.

San looked around to see if anyone was responsible for the boy's distress or if the source of his tears could be identified, but there was no one nearby. Passersby continued on with their day, seemingly oblivious to the child's plight. Unable to ignore the situation, San slowly approached him before kneeling down beside him.

"Hi there, kid. Are you okay? What happened?" he asked gently.

The child sniffled, wiping his tears. "My sister told me not to talk to strangers. If you think I'll follow you, then forget it. I'm not like those other dumb kids," he replied with a pout.

Taken aback by the boy's response, the royal secretary blinked rapidly before reassuring him, "I... no, I'm not a bad person."

The boy snorted sceptically. "Yeah, that's what they all say. If you try anything, I'll scream for my teacher."

Huh, that attitude feels oddly familiar.

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, San shook his head. "I promise, I just wanted to check up on you and find out why you're crying. If you don't want me to bother you, I'll leave right now."

Just as he was about to walk away, the boy sighed and tugged on his sleeve. "W-wait... fine, just listen to me then," he relented.

San chuckled softly. "Go on, tell me what or who made you cry. Even if I might not be able to help you, you'll feel better after talking about it."

The child nodded, fiddling with his fingers nervously. "It's my first day of school and... it's stupid. My sister already warned me that it might happen, but still..." Fat tears rolled down his little cheeks as San wiped them away gently. "It's okay, you can tell me," he encouraged.

The boy continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "They bullied me because I don't have a father. He died not long after I was born, so it's just me, my mother, and my sister. But I don't get it! Why should I get bullied for something I can't control?"

Just as San lifted his hand to comfort the child, he was startled by the unexpected appearance of the last person he anticipated seeing so soon. "Hey! Don't you dare lay a hand on him!" you shouted, hurrying over.

Your protective instincts kicked in as you arrived to collect Siwoo from school, only to find him in tears with this unfamiliar man poised to touch him. At the sound of your voice, the royal secretary swiftly turned his head, and your eyes widened in shock at the sight before you. Just when you hoped never to encounter him again, fate had other plans. The world had never been kind to you, so perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised.

Are you freaking kidding me?

"S-scholar Moon! I swear, I was just trying to help..." San's words stumbled out, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself before responding, "It's fine, we're fine. I'm not even going to ask what you're doing here. I just... I apologise for my earlier behaviour in the palace if I offended you in any way. Thank you, Royal Secretary Choi, for your kindness, but we really don't need your help."

Your brother protested, "But, noona—"

You shot him a stern look. "We'll discuss this at home, Moon Siwoo."

As San stood there, his mind racing, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Not only were you the first female scholar, to achieve such a feat without the backing of a powerful father, but you also carried the burden of supporting your family on your shoulders. Could it be that your disdain for help stemmed from a distaste for pity? He couldn't fathom how difficult things must have been for a young lady like yourself.

It occurred to him that your independence might have forged a toughness within you, causing you to recoil at the mere thought of accepting assistance. But these were mere speculations. He knew his mind would not find peace until he uncovered the truth.

As you turned to leave with your brother, the royal secretary's voice halted your steps. "Wait, Scholar Moon! I swear, I came across your brother by chance; I didn't realise he was related to you. And I... I, too, apologise if I've offended you in any way. There must be a reason for your reaction, and if there's anything I could have handled better, please let me know. I understand that being a female scholar must not be easy."

You briefly closed your eyes, acknowledging his smooth words. Had it been someone else, they might have melted. But maintaining your resolve, you turned back to face him. "I appreciate the apology, Royal Secretary Choi. But please, don't overthink it. My reaction wasn't aimed solely at you; it would have been the same with any man. Now, if you'll excuse us, we must be on our way."

Wait, what does that mean?

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Sometimes I wonder what His Majesty sees in you. You can be so dense, it's astonishing," Haneul remarked, shaking her head in playful disbelief as she nudged San's head.

He whined, swatting her hand away. "What are you even doing here, noona? Is your husband okay with you always running away from home like this, huh?"

She smacked him lightly. "Is that any way to talk to your older sister? Besides, this is my home too. What's wrong with visiting once in a while? And let's not change the subject! She's already dealing with a tough life, and now she has to contend with self-absorbed men like you. It's clear she doesn't trust men. She grew up without a father, and even when he was around, who knows what he was like? And being a female scholar, imagine the prejudice she faces. Do you honestly think she's had positive experiences with men?"

"What? I'm not self-absorbed!" he protested, shooting her a glare.

Haneul nodded sarcastically. "Oh yeah, not at all. All you've been busy thinking about is what you did, what you could have done because everything revolves around you and your magical ability to charm all the women on this land. Finally, you meet someone immune to it, and of course, it couldn't possibly be because you're just a man, but rather, it has to be about you."

"W-well, if you put it that way..."

She rolled her eyes. "Just admit that I'm right and move on, you fool. Now that you know it's not about your actions; it's just her general distrust in men, you can sleep in peace tonight knowing you did nothing wrong. It's not you, it's her."

But the royal secretary found himself unable to sleep well that night. Understanding that it was men you hated only ignited a newfound determination in him.

I'll show her that not all men are the same.

Y'all, I'm sorry this took so long! I'm afraid updates will be slow after this because guess who is starting her full-time job tomorrow :) back to that Mon-Fri 8-5 corporate life, so I won't be able to write as frequently anymore💔 but I'll do my best to write whenever I can!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[jaythes1mp]

Just a quick question; does the batfamily like reader the same in their human form or just in the cat form?

Wonderful question, anon! I have mentioned it briefly in this ask before, but I’ll dive deeper into it for you.

All the boys harbour their own opinions regarding your two appearances.

To Dick, you remain his sweet and adorable little sibling, whether you're in your human form or your animal form. Your identity as his kitten stays constant, regardless of which body you inhabit.

For the eldest brother, your age, size, or form doesn't change his perception of you one bit. Regardless of the fact that you’re a grown ass adult, he'd still continue to baby talk and coo at you when you have a big sneeze or get food on your cheek. In his mind, you’re fundamentally a cat first and foremost, and your human qualities are secondary. He couldn’t care less about your human appearance, because he would always view you as his precious little kitten, his adorable and cherished younger sibling. Even when you're in human form, he’d still treat you as if you were a cat, completely disregarding your human aspect.

Bruce, however, has a vastly different opinion. In his eyes, you’re the perfect blend of both worlds. The feline body language and characteristics you exhibit are utterly endearing, no doubt, but your true essence rests in your human mind and soul, which is the fundamental part of you. He recognises the importance of both your animal and human forms, as they are both integral parts of who you really are. While your cat instincts may be captivating, it is your human mind that holds the most significance. He wouldn’t treat you like a mere pet, recognising the balance between your two forms. You were still his child, and that will always come first.

Ultimately, Bruce doesn't really care what body you take on, as long as you're spending time with him. When you're out in public, you're required to transform into your cat self, as to not cause any unnecessary suspicions or complications regarding your disappearance. But when you're both just chilling at home in the manor, he doesn't mind whether you're in one form or the other, as long as you're there with him. He won't push you to engage in conversations or force you to do anything you don't want to do, as long as you're just present by his side, he's content.

In stark contrast to the others, Jason has a strikingly distinct preference for your feline form, showing a notable lack of interest in you when you appear in human form. He tends to completely disregard your presence when you're in your human body, only offering you affection and attention exclusively when you're in your kitten body.

To Damian, your animal form holds a special place in his heart, a place he refuses to share with anyone else. It’s not that he dislikes your human form, far from it. But when he looks at you as an animal, all he can see is an innocent, untainted little creature that needs protecting. A creature that relies solely on him for safety and comfort. And that’s a feeling that he can’t help but relish in. Your cat form evokes a protective instinct in him that he rarely feels when you’re in your human form. But also, saying that, he does enjoy being able to talk to you, as you’re the only person that he trusts to never leave, to never feel disappointed. Because to you, he’s the only one on your side. He relishes in the fact that no matter which form your take on that you rely on him. That you need him.

Slightly out of sync with the others, Tim shows a marginal preference for your human form. He’s the only one who tends to pay more attention to you when you’re in your human body, but the margin is admittedly slim.

Tim enjoys being able to read you, relishing in his ability to decipher your emotions and engage in conversation with you when he needs a diversion from all the work. On that note, it's primarily about the control. He finds pleasure in being able to make you shift from one form to the other, keeping you drugged and pliant in his lap as a cat or asleep in human form on the couch next to him while he works.

Link to Chapter One, Link to Masterlist.

[satanghulu]

the horrors of econs [teaser]

✦ PAIRING: satan x f!reader ✦ SUMMARY: Okay, you didn’t mean to summon a demon nor did you mean to throw a book at him but hey, it’s not like you expected the literal embodiment of Wrath to apparate in your apartment! Now, if only he could go back to where he came from… ✦ WARNING: College AU, crack, mild mentions of violence ✦ WC: 1K

| MASTERLIST

══════════════════

You were going to kill Solomon.

It’s a well-known fact that that guy was shady but really? Was he trying to give you an express pass straight to Death’s doorstep or something? Maybe he had always harboured a secret dislike for you because why on earth did the Economic textbook he lent you summon a--demon?!

“Human. Are you done staring at me?” The man--no, demon? brushes off the dust on the back of his pants. Wait, were those cow prints you see? No, wait. What are those hideous things draped across his neck? And, what was with his disaster of a shirt? For a second, you thought you had teleported to an alternate Jojo Bizarre Adventure universe.

”Your outfit is ugly as hell.” You blurted out, hands delayed in flying up to cover your mouth when you realised the words had escaped from you. The man--no, demon turns with flashing eyes, his tail swishing dangerously behind him. Oh my god, were those spikes embedded in them? Suddenly, you regret ever opening your mouth. This is why people always tell you to keep your mouth shut when you are in a sleep-deprived state. You could feel sweat beading at the side of your temple as you slowly backed away, edging to the bedroom door.

“Are you courting death, little lamb?” He hissed, taking a step closer. You took furtive glances around the room, swallowing hard when you realised the only makeshift weapon you had was the Econs textbook that Solomon had lent you.

The demon’s eyes had narrowed into slits, breathing coming out hot and heavy as if he was poised to attack you at a moment’s notice. Your grip on the textbook tightened as he advanced nearer to you, now a couple of steps away.

“Answer me, human--” The demon mocked you again, arms stretching forward presumably to attack you as you--

You threw the textbook at him.

Thud!

The textbook bounced off his head with a loud thud as he just stared at you in disbelief. At least, you had managed to get a headshot – your only accomplishment in life alongside the stupidest thing you have ever done. And somehow, you had landed yourself in deeper trouble if the shaking with barely contained rage from the thing was any indication.

You silently sent a prayer to the deity above, hoping that whoever was watching you from above would grant you a peaceful death. Although you weren’t one to believe much in religion, this seemed like a good time to start. Maybe next, an angel would drop from the sky too.

“HAHAHAHA!”

The hands you had raised as a shield were being forcefully put down by the entity in front of you.

“HAHAHA, I didn’t know humans could be this interesting.” Oh. The shaking was from laughter, you noted dumbly. You stared blankly at him before taking another step back, trying to covertly loosen his grip around your wrist.

Great, it seemed like the “demon” was a maniac too.

After struggling in his grip for a good minute, you gave up the fight and waited for his laughter to die down. “HAHAHAHA. I never thought the day would come when I would get bested by a human. HAHAHA.” The entity in front of you kept mumbling to himself with a crazed look in his eyes. Honestly, you were getting kinda worried for him too. There’s no way getting smacked by a book is as funny as he made it sound. 

After another minute, his laughter finally subsided and his hold on you had loosened enough for you to wiggle out tentatively. The thing stared at you before his mouth curled into a grin with a glint in his eye.

“So human, tell me why you summoned a demon.”

Well, at least you got your answer to the burning question plaguing you. However, it was not something you wanted to hear at the moment. It wasn’t reassuring, one bit at all.

“I’m really interested to hear what you want. Tell me why a measly human like you summoned one of the seven Denizens of Hell.” Said demon asked, voice growly in a way that gave you butterflies in the stomach; but the butterflies were trying to tear its way out to escape.

It took you a few moments to register his statement. The seven Denizens of Hell? You weren’t familiar with the concept but it seems to indicate that the demon standing before you holds a high rank which could potentially spell more trouble for you.

“Uh.” You started. “I didn’t summon you, I think?” You dragged out your words hesitantly, holding out both hands in front of you defensively. Immediately, his face pinched into a frown as he studied your expression.

“You’re not lying.” He concluded after a second. “Though, something must have happened for me to be summoned.” He sighed, finally moving out of your personal space to scan around your room – which had been trashed from the black void that had opened up to teleport the demon.

As you quietly bemoaned the state of your living quarters, the demon strides towards the textbook lying innocently on the ground. “This is it.” He bent at the waist to lean down and studied the title of the book. “An Introduction to Economics: 1st Edition.” He said stonily.

“How did you know?” It was a curious sight to witness, a demon with actual horns completed with a barbed tail was standing in the middle of the wreckage of your room as if he belonged there. You could hardly believe it but sadly, no matter how many times you rubbed your eyes, the scene remained the same.

“I felt the magic radiating off it.” He answered simply. 

“Where did you get the book from?”

“My friend lent it to me because-- Oh fuck.” You suddenly froze, feeling the blood drain from your face. The demon stared at you inquisitively, prompting you to finish your sentence.

“I have an exam tomorrow.”

══════════════════

a/n ▸ teaser teaser!! im still writing the rest of it but i just really like the introductory part of this so i wanted to make a separate post. im also not sure if this would end up as a series or just a long fic so bear w me huehue

[masuchu]

“𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄” [GENSHIN MEN]

what puppy traits do your genshin boyfriends have? ‧₊˚

genre. fluff!! so fluffy it hurts

characters. kaeya, zhongli, wriothesley

love, masu. guys this was originally meant to have so many more characters TwT then i just made it all of my bf’s ugh can you blame me 😞 lmk if you want a pt. 2 !!

(凯亚) 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 ‧₊˚

We all know Kaeya has the attention span of a overexcited pup, so it’s not at all surprising that he ditches his paperwork and comes to bother you with licks, bites and love!

When you’re occupied, he pokes you for attention. When you’re mad, he nibbles on your neck to tame you. And when you’re being cute, he pounces on you and teases you about your adorable expressions.

Follows you around, but not like a lost puppy. No, more like a puppy on a mission. He has to be wherever you are, because how else is he going to entertain himself and bother you? Alone? Impossible!

He knows you love it, too. He’ll flirt with you and test your patience, saying in his delectable voice, “Oh, you hate me? Your heartbeat says otherwise~”

Lovestruck when you decide to return his irritating antics! Bite him back, fight fire with fire? Oh, his eyes burst out of their sockets! But beware, once he’s over his devoted haze, he doubles his teases. Triples, in some cases. What? You wouldn’t have fought back if you didn’t want to start a war!!

All in all, he really is a loveable little puppy. A hopelessly jarring one? Yes, but a loveable one all the same.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘:

“Hah! A puppy? Cute. However, I recall you mentioning last week just how much you love and adore puppies, am I wrong? Does that mean, perhaps, it is the same case for I? Ah, love, I’m truly flattered~”

(钟离) 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 ‧₊˚

A devoted puppy. Not so much a golden retriever, but more like a guide dog. Wants to assist you in all ways he can, admire you silently, and remain with you always.

He stays firmly, yet loosely at your side almost all the time. A hand gripped on your waist, the remnants of bites littered along your neck, his chin on your shoulder while you work.

How can he help it? He knows exactly what you need (at least he thinks he does), he must tend to you at all hours of the day. There have been countless occasions of him cancelling your appointments without permission, all for time with you.

It’s hard to resist him when his reasonings are so romantic! Sometimes you question wether he has some form of separation anxiety, but you have come to realise it is more of a separation dislike.

He aids you on what to buy at the market at Liyue Harbour, will not be offended when you choose something else. He will praise your taste in tea, and keep a loyal hand on your waist the entire walk home. 

He will tell you about the history of Liyue, how the age-old flowers resemble you. You smile. It sets him at ease. A tender pup, lives to make you happy.

A surprisingly clingy pup, too. Sometimes you wake up with arm weaved around your body like the finest linen, some days, his entire top half is pressed right onto your chest! His excuse is that he must have gotten cold in the night, but you know he adores holding you.

He is an irresistible puppy, it is hard to stay mad at him. His handsome face, his perfectly chosen words… ugh!

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘:

“Oh? I have never been compared to such an animal. I am… intrigued. Please, tell me what about me resembles the creature.”

(莱欧斯利) 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 ‧₊˚

Wriothesley swears that he is not a jealous, nor a particularly nervous or anxious lover. If so, why does he seem to inch closer to you and let out what seems to be a growl whenever a potential threat comes close you to you?

(What he deems to be a potential threat, anyways.)

He is such a cute, little guard dog! Hellbent on protecting you when it matters, and equally as persistent on keeping you all to himself when it is probably not that necessary!

He nibbles your skin on occasion, too. Gentle nips, flirtatious and teasing, and painstakingly canine! He does not shy away from admitting that he wants to mark you, either! Tells you plainly, and grins at your blush.

Having to spend almost all of his time at the Fortress of Meropide, it is often that a messenger is sent up above land to collect you under the pretences of ‘The Duke has a very important matter he would like to discuss with you.’ Yeah right.

You are met with the same cheeky grin when you waltz into his office; full of need, puppy-like excitement that he somehow manages to keep down, but slightly begging and desperate.

Like Zhongli, he is a tending puppy. He likes to watch your every, minuscule reaction to certain teas, his kisses, jokes he makes, etc. He makes countless mental notes, and always knows how to be a dutiful pup!

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘:

“A puppy, huh? I’ve been called many things, but that is certainly new for me. Though, I don’t hate the idea of being your guard dog, it gives me an excuse to have you with me at all times…”

2024 © masuchu , do not repost, reword, plagiarise, take inspiration, translate or share my work anywhere!

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

1 - Wolves of the Lone Stag

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

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: Slow Burn, Strained parent-child issues, mentions of minor character death, secret relationship, arranged marriage, injured/sick child mention, smut, p in v, slight dom/sub dynamics, loss of virginity

Notes: Reader is firstborn daughter of Stannis Baratheon, based off the show but will include direct book elements, slight canon divergence. First Chapter is really long due to set up, subsequent future chapters won't be quite such a massive read. Chapter Two Here.

Travelling along the Kingsroad was far longer and more tedious with this company. Normally you would spend only so much time on here from White Harbour, most of the journey done on sea. Yet now, there were far too many people and it’s leader insisting on treating the journey as it’s own adventure. By the time you reached Winterfell it would be a month on horseback and no one to entertain your morose demeanour. Though perhaps you had to consider that it wasn’t just the company of the others that was less then ideal.

You had the supposed misfortune of being the daughter to the less favoured of the three Baratheon brothers. Robert, King Robert to those in public company, was a more complicated man. A mix of a man who successfully kept the peace for over twenty years but also was as unhappy on the throne and was unafraid to show it. He did however, have enjoyment in wine, hunting, and did hold a jovial laughter that kept people around him.

Your other uncle, was much more agreeable. Renly was the youngest of them and was charismatic and well liked. He was naive, not really a man suited for leadership but he did the best with what he knew to do. Closer to your age, you often found yourself spending time with him and it was right now that you were annoyed he chose to stay back in Kings Landing. A month with the King, his own family and the entire royal brigade and not one of them knew how to get a smile from you.

That was a trait from your father no doubt. Stannis Baratheon was the middle child, and he was easily the most disliked. He was cold, distant, unemotional and seldom allowed laughter at his table. He took his job seriously, more seriously then the King did his sometimes. In his prime, he was a proven battle commander and he never lost that. Robert was a warrior and he was happiest as such, but Stannis had never stopped being a commander and whether it made him liked or not, it taught you to be who you were now.

A Lady of the House Baratheon, firstborn daughter to Stannis and heir of Dragonstone was your current position and you were taught to uphold that name. Often found with a flat expression, close to a scowl as you walked the capitol you found nothing to enjoy there. Not that Dragonstone was where you’d find happiness either. The only place that had never been your home was the one you felt it in.

You had turned eight when your father had begun sending you out. Brought up, he ensured you had a Lord’s education as well as what all girls were taught. If you were to take up the mantle after him, he wanted you to learn from those that would teach you to be like him. That was when he sent you to Winterfell for the first time. Not a friend of Lord Eddard of House Stark, but your father did respect him the most. Two men both stern with upholding honour and justice, always doing what is right and what is honourable rather then what they wanted.

You spent seven months in Winterfell, and it was the first time your mother and father hadn’t been there for your name day. At the time, it made you sad but you had long since gotten over it. Over more then a decade had passed since your first stay in the north and many name days had been spent there with no word from your family. Well, at least your parents. The only family member you spoke too and more fondly with then Renly, was your baby sister. Shireen Baratheon was not just the light of your life but your fathers too. Some used to say that you were the only one who could make Stannis smile but you were nothing compared to how he smiled at that little baby.

You were fine with her being the favourite, she was your favourite family member as well.

Not long after baby Shireen had beaten a bout of horrific illness, your father had been summoned to Kings Landing. The King telling him that he was of no use to the realm shut away on Dragonstone, and he was to come to the capitol and sit on the small council as Master of Ships. He had taken you with him, and thus your new home was the wretched city full of backstabbers and manipulators.

Back and forth you went from Kings Landing to Winterfell, each stay growing longer and each stay you grew closer to the Starks then you did anyone in the Red Keep. Lord Stark was the perfect example of a good leader, warden of the North and inspired nothing but loyalty amongst the northerners and made you as welcome as anyone in his home. You followed him around most days, learning from him, watching how he handled diplomacy and made his lessons your own.

It was that how you got to know his ward, Theon Greyjoy. A rambunctious lad who listened diligently in formality and was crass and brash outside of that. You knew he would hate Kings Landing but often found yourself at your fathers side wishing the smart ass was next to you, nudging you with his elbow every time you were too closed off for your own good. It was easy to forget that he was technically the Starks prisoner, he fit into their family, the north as well as you did.

Not quite a leader as you were being taught to be, but you were confident once he had the chance to prove himself, you’d expect great things from him. You’d gotten a raven from him while on the road, and in his usual style he spent some time making fun of you for having to be “shacked up with the lamest of the three”.

Right. The reasons your company headed to Winterfell. The King had one, you were being forced into another though. The news shocking you as Stannis told you of your new duty the night before you left was double. That he was leaving for Dragonstone and you were to return to Kings Landing with Lord Stark and serve as acting Master of Ships in his absence.

He wasn’t just dumping his responsibilities onto you with no explanation of his distant behaviour and secrecy, your father had also dumped a marriage onto you and told you that you were to marry and come back. As if he didn’t just dictate your entire life to be like his. “You will marry the Stark boy, and with or without him you are to return in my place.”

Trying to reason with him, “You’re expecting me to have, what? A night maybe two with my new husband and then leave for however long you decide?”

Not even the slightest change of expression, but there was a twinge of regret in his eyes that was soon covered up. “I didn’t decide this alone. My brother, our king, has decided it with no room for question. I’m sorry, but you’re a Baratheon. You’re my daughter. And sometimes our duty requires us to marry not for love, but for the good of the realm.”

You had spoken to your betrothed since the announcement, but had yet to see him in person. A major reason as to why you wished Renly had come with you. Have someone to ease your nerves on the months ride, instead you were entirely on your own lost in what you were losing.

After all, you received a raven from not just Robb after the announcement. And it was that second one, and the finality of it’s contents that shattered the still remaining rosy dreams you once felt as if you had a lifetime to indulge in. Who your betrothed was, wasn’t the upset in any way. It was the unavoidable conclusion of the love in your heart that simply wasn’t allowed to be.

As the party approached Winterfell, your heart begun to race.

The crisp cool air on your face that once relaxed you, only stoned it further into a solid expressionless pose. Reminding yourself that you weren’t just here as yourself, you were to represent your father and you wouldn’t do so by falling apart. You rode into the walls right up near the very front alongside your craven of a cousin. He represented the luxurious royal side of the family, and you the steadfast duty and justice.

The House guard stood all around the courtyard as well as many people who simply worked close by or wanted to just see the King. Riding into the main area, you refused to look. The Starks all stood with their closest men behind them but you looked nowhere but above the heads of everyone with a straight back atop of your horse.

The carriage which carried the Queen and the other two of her royal children filed in and revealed the King following suit. Your eyes forcing to stay nowhere but him, and it struck part of you that his deep scowl seemed to just be a trait that was shared amongst much of this family. As your party stayed atop their horses, you watched everyone near kneel down as Robert was assisted off his horse.

Watching him make a straight line towards the Starks, he stood in front of the kneeling Lord Stark beckoning him with his hand to stand. Everyone around them rising in toe as you watched the two old friends look stoically at one another. The quiet in the courtyard as everyone waited.

King Robert, it seemed, left posing the stoic formality of the Baratheons to you. Looking down at his friend’s frame and casually commenting, “You got fat.”

Two magnets, designed by the gods to be brought together your eyes met without any thought. His grey ones widened with a playful glint and a raise of the sides of his mouth as if to say, “He got fat?” You, broke just as easily. Quirking your eyebrows up slightly, trying and failing to cover a smirk as you flickered your eyes in gesture to the King, agreeing with his silence as you both instantly looked away from the other. Knowing neither would smother such a begging grin if you kept glancing at each other.

Robert greeting each member of the family, making polite chat with the Stark parents you climbed off your horse. Your head angled enough to see your cousin, Joffery, staring at the direction you just had with a smirk you would describe in private as slimy.

You weren’t the only one with a betrothal in mind for your King, but it was the other Stark which would suffer. Somehow whatever genes made the Baratheons so respected, had skipped Joffery in every single capacity. He was more Lannister then he was his father, and not even with the decency to be like the one lion which you could speak to without agitation.

You couldn’t say Sansa was the one you got along with the most, but watching the way the prince looked at her, you pitied what she couldn’t possibly know she was in store for.

“Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects.”

Cersei Lannister, the Queen, barley made an effort to toss any level of genuinity in her voice. “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.”

Her term of endearment sounding as fake to your Uncle as it did you, he ignored her and summoned Lord Stark anyways. The Queen glaring as they walked away, and directed it towards the youngest Stark daughter, Arya as she without any care of properness, asks where the “Imp” was. The Imp being the Queens younger brother, Tyrion.

Were you to be honest, as you unpacked some of your things from your horse you could only think of one place he would go. And he certainly would not find such a place inside the castle walls. Seeing the Queens twin brother, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard to “go and find the little beast.” Holding another smirk back, you heard footsteps approaching.

Not the ones you normally would expect, he wouldn’t come to you here. Not now, not in front of the royal family, all these people, and certainly not after learning you’ve come here to marry. Instead, the voice that spoke behind you was the only other person you’d care to see, calling your name.

Robb Stark, Lord Eddard Stark’s eldest true born son stood tall behind you. His northern accent deep and thick, and drenched in a soothing warmth that always felt comforting yet unfitting of the cold he lived around. Turning to face him, you could still see the trailing remnants of the Queen and her children in the distance.

Play your part, your fathers voice told you. With a slight nod of your head and a smile you clearly amused Robb with such a proper curtsy. “My lord.”

A raise of his eyebrows, he had less care of hiding such a smirk. “Is that how we are playing it, my lady?”

You had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling, but still failed somewhat. Robbs smirk growing more playfully smug as he watched you lose your static composure. “I don’t know what you mean, my Lord. I am here with the royal company, we are nothing if not with our courtesies at all times.”

Dropping the act, Robb rolled his eyes and stepped closer. “Well if you’re people have a problem with it, they will just have to get over it.” Pulling you into a hug, you felt part of your racing heart and screaming nerves settle a bit.

You’ve known Robb since that first visit when you were eight. No matter what you were both being shoved into, he wasn’t anything near a stranger. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest as your face was snuggle tugged into the deep browns of his cloaks fur. Soft as anything, they helped sooth your heart more and he seemed to hold you for as long as it did his as well. His voice low in your ear this time, “We’ll talk in private.”

Pulling away with a deep inhale, you nodded. Face falling back into a stoic composure. It sometimes took you a little bit to drop the harsh demeanour you lived with once you got to Winterfell, but with this company in toe you felt bad that the Starks weren’t going to really get you in any relaxed form. Nodding at Robb you fell quiet, but he was happy to take up the mantle with enough volume for those around to be satisfied with. “Let me help bring your things up, my lady.”

In the corner of your eye as Robb slung the heavier of your bags over his shoulder and you insisting on carrying at least the lighter one, you caught sight of his mother. Lady Catelyn Stark, originally born to House Tully, was something of a complicated relationship for you. You admired her in countless ways, and you saw her more as a mother then you did your own for many years growing up. But there was no mistaking the slight rift that was caused by the only other member of the family you were closer too then her eldest son.

That one though, was nowhere to be seen. You both knew full well that such a meeting was going to have to happen in private, and you hoped you would find time to sneak away from the feast tonight to get it. You two had to talk, you needed to talk to him before you marry or your resolve might crumble.

She watched you and Robb politely walk through the court towards the main doors. Describing their home as a castle felt odd after living in both Dragonstone and Kings Landing. The Starks castle in Winterfell was home in your heart, not a fancy collection of stonework designed to impress. Robb had written that the news came as surprise to all of them, that Lady Catelyn had tried to protest saying that the King shouldn’t just force this on you.

Her husband had to remind her, that they married of duty and look where they are now. You hoped that your companionship with Robb’s brother had not soured her opinion of you being capable of being a good wife. Robb didn’t have your heart the way he did, but he would be the one to keep it from now on and you hoped Lady Catelyn wouldn’t hold it against you.

Falling in love with Robb was not the impossible, in fact he could make that quite easy.

Making small talk of the trip here as you and Robb passed a numerous amount of servers and maids scurrying about the halls, you were thankful for how well you knew him. That the tensity in his stature would only relax the second the door would shut and you both would drop this growing painful act.

Your room was in a corridor away from the main family, closer to where Theon stayed. Many times the main four of you would stay in either his or your room to drink, laugh and get into trouble all without the keen ears of the Stark parents. Your room in Winterfell was a place that you could stop being the daughter and first born heir of Lord Stannis Baratheon, and just be you.

The room had been freshly cleaned, new sheets draped on the bed frame as well as a cozy fur begging you to plop down onto it with a sigh and a nap to boot. Robb dropped your bag down by the window, holding his hand to take the one in your hands to join it. Turning to you, he watched as you let out a shaking sigh.

Your face dropping, finally free to shine in a tinge of shame and exhaustion as you sat down on the edge of the bed, your palms flat on your thighs. Opening your mouth to speak, he cut you off with a sharp edge. “Don’t apologize.” Your brows narrowed in question, but Robb paced over to lean against the wall across from you. His arms crossed casually in front of his chest as he looked into your eyes. “You were about to say sorry for all of this, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Head dropping, you bit your tongue more and nodded. Hands clasping together in a fidget before returning to rest flat on your thighs. His eyes shined blue, and out of the sunlight his hair looked far closer to a Stark brown then it did a Tully Red, if your heart didn’t weigh a thousand pounds you might have spent more time admiring him. “I just,” Sighing again you looked away, unable to cope with the unblinking seriousness in his eyes. “I only found out before you did. I don’t want you thinking I asked for this, or am trying to force you into this.”

Robbs sigh wasn’t defeated, but annoyed. You hadn’t the courage to look again yet. Your name slipping from his tongue with a seriousness. “No one here thinks that.” Glancing up at him, you felt your resolve slip even more. “No one.”

Not that Robb would have any reason to suspect it, but you were desperately hoping that one person in particular didn’t think that out of everyone. Robb took a few steps forward, hoping to beckon you to look up at him, but instead chose to sit down next to you. Enough space between you to not be intrusive. Your voice was small, quiet like a whisper and you knew this was not the words of a proud lady, but just a girl. “He hadn’t even brought up marriage in years. Not since..”

You faded off, both of you know what you were going to say but luckily Robb knew that reliving it would not make you feel any better. He leaned closer to you without breaking your personal space. “Your father has talked to you about marriage more then he has me, at least. In some ways you’re more prepared for this then I am.”

Laughing out, you didn’t turn to see the soft smile on his lips at the sound. “Oh I doubt that. You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my parents. Between them, and being around the King and Queen’s marriage? It it weren’t for yours I’d assume every married couple is bitter and unloving to the point of near contempt.”

A breathy laugh leaving him, you were thankful once more that at least your husband to be was someone whom you didn’t have to hold you thoughts around. Robb leaned back on the bed, his palms outstretched to rest against the furs and look at you partially from the back and side. “We could get separate beds if it makes you feel better.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at the mocking in his tone. Quick to turn around with the intention of snarking back he took you by surprise. Lurching forward to wrap his hands around your waist and drag you back with him, both of you laying now back against the bed as he respectfully moved his hands from you. His eyes shined with laughter however, and it loosened yours enough to laugh out loud.

Playful words sat at the tip of your tongue, but what came out was far from it. “It feels like he’s planning something,” turning to look at Robb’s profile against the light coming from the window. “My father. He and Lord Arryn have been doing something in secret, and he kept me away from it on purpose. Both of them seemed to be worried about something, and then...”

“Then he died.” Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and a long time friend of both the King Robert and Lord Stark had passed from a fever that took him in one night.

You nodded. Glancing up to the ceiling as your hands rested along your stomach. “He was fine one day, and then he just...not even a day later was when my father called me to his office. Told me everything, about coming here, about your father, then just..ended the conversation with this.” Your eyes narrowed as you recalled the sternness of his rasp.

“You’re to marry the Stark boy then return here in my place. I won’t have any more questions on the matter.”

Robb was lost in thoughts of his own, tone light yet distant when he spoke up. “He wants my father to be Hand of the King. He hasn’t even been in Kings Landing since the war.”

You understood why. Not just the horrors inflicted on Lord Starks father and brother, but it was a den of vipers all wanting you to play a game that a man like him would want no part in. None of the Starks belonged there, too good for a disgusting place the capitol was. Sighing yourself, you shrugged. “He’ll hate being there as much as my father does, as much as I do. At least I’m the Kings niece I’m supposed to belong there.”

Robb turned onto his side and you followed suit. Your dress hardly made for proper warmth like his attire was, but the Queen insisted that you dress properly to impress your to be husband. As if the man in question hadn’t seen you covered in dirt, mud, bruises and knocked you into the dirt countless times over the years. You didn’t feel like yourself anywhere but here, and yet with the royals all here you still didn’t feel like yourself.

Just a plaything meant to look pretty and play the part. For once, you felt like a normal highborn lady you supposed. Born and bred to be a wife that's born to breed. You were looking at Robb, and yet you reminded yourself with a lurch of your heart to push back the other face in your mind.

Later you told yourself.

Robb’s voice was low, soft, and with an affection that at the very least, wasn’t unusual for him. “You haven’t belonged there in a long time.”

Your tone dropped quieter then his. “Where do I belong then?”

To his credit, it wasn’t with himself that he said. “Here. You belong here.”

By nightfall you still hadn’t seen him. You’d seen many of the others. Arya being the first, practically running past Robb into your room and leaping into a hug with zero sense of formality. You knelt down somewhat to meet her with a loud laugh. With a zillion questions about if you’re staying, did you know, does this make you her sister, you were blissfully reminded of the only other girl who held your heart like that.

Shireen wasn’t a trouble maker like Arya had a tendency to be, but they had a similar spirit. She felt as much like your sister as the one back on Dragonstone was by birth. Sansa had to call her away, annoyed as ever and with a fluster as she addressed you. The paintings of a crush all over her face from the blonde haired fowl faced cousin, and you wished it was any other boy Sansa was to be promised too.

Well, as Robin Arryn briefly popped into your mind you laughed to yourself. Maybe not any of other boy. Starling the handmaiden attending to your dress as you shook your head in apology. You could dress yourself easily for a normal night in the North, but alas the Queen insisted that you impress your husband to be. As if he wasn’t someone you had known for over a decade as one of your very closest friends.

You did however, stop them fervently as they reached for your hair. The Queen could dress and paint you up like a doll and you wouldn’t really fuss at the treatment, but you would rather cross the wall and throw yourself into a frozen lake before you’d let any of those southern up-dos go anywhere near your hair. If judging by the look you got from the Queen during the feast, she wasn’t pleased in any way, but then again she rarely was ever pleased by anything.

Sat next to Robb during the feast, you were thankful that he and the other guys at the table treated you like they always did. To a degree, it was a bit off putting by your much more distant attitude but judging by the glances you made to the Queen they gathered enough that you were more on guard. The hall was filled to the brim with people, ale, music and laughter.

Off in the distance you could see King Robert laughing with a group of men, and his hands happily exploring a woman who was most certainly not his wife. Most didn’t care, and the ones who did never would say anything. He was King he could do what he wanted. Lady Catelyn much to your sympathy was stuck up at the main table sat next to the Queen herself and struggling to find any conversation that didn’t make the woman utterly miserable.

“Out of all the Northerns, you get stuck with this one?” Theons voice rang out, a lightness in his eyes and ale in his veins. You leaned your elbow on the table and pointed at him with a playful raise of your eyebrows.

“At least this one’s pretty, Greyjoy.”

Laughter from all around the table, and even finally sneaking one from yourself. Theon would sometimes flirt with you, but never in a serious manner. It almost was a game. He would start with a flirtatious comment and it quickly spun into who could jokingly insult the other more after you deny him with a snarky remark first. “Aye, but you’d get some nice experience with me.”

Robb tossing a ripped piece of bread at him with a half hearted protest of his own experience, but you leaned back in your seat bringing your mug to your lips. “What experience is that, exactly? Paying women to pretend to moan for you isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my wedding night.”

Pushing it back down, if you joked about it you didn’t have to think about the reality. With no experience of your own, you weren’t immune to the whispers of girls and women of their nights with pain and blood. At least you would get one single thing right come time for that part of the wedding. You almost didn’t though, and the longer you kept trying to not think about it, the more you felt yourself looking for someone you knew wasn’t there.

You had to talk to him, but the first day in Winterfell was just far too busy for it thus far.

Opportunity luckily, arrived in the form of Arya being unable to behave. You and Robb had been joking and laughing about something when the sight of food flinging from another side of the room caught your eyes. The food in question splatting directly onto Sansa’s face as she yelled out indigently.

The quickness of Arya smiling and going back to pretend as if she didn’t do anything got a laugh out of you, but also drew the attention of Lady Catelyn. Gesturing to Robb over, his face fell more serious as he brushed a hand over your lower back as he stood up. Grabbing Arya around the sides and hoisting her up. “Time for bed.”

Glancing around the room, Lady Catelyns eyes elsewhere, as was the Queens. Lord Stark talking to who you recognized as his brother Benjen and now Robb gone you took the opportunity you really shouldn’t have. Standing up, you made your way slowly to the entrance, downing the last of the ale before slinking out unseen.

Or rather, unseen by all but the watchful eyes of a golden Lion.

Alone for once, you allowed yourself to be annoyed. The chill of the air hit you with a sting as you were entirely undressed for the cold of the night. Not even graced with a seat at a lower table, no he was put out here as if his existence was so offensive to anyone but her. His birth wasn’t his fault, and as much as you admired and liked her?

It never failed to chip away at something angering in you, how Lady Catelyn treated Jon Snow.

You heard his voice before you saw him, but it the second voice that took you by surprise. “Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though.”

Lord Tyrion Lannister in your sights slowly walked up to Jon, who was faced away from you. There was a bluntness in his words but also a sympathy in his eyes. Leaning back against a stone wall, you watched in quiet.

“Lord Eddard Stark is my father.”

And yet, just as so many liked to remind him, Lord Tyrions words were those that many have said in response. “And Lady Stark is not your mother. Making you, a bastard.”

Watching him with narrowed eyes, you held back any defence in your blood. Likely he was the only Lannister which you didn’t entirely distrust towards him. Jon Snow had more then enough people ensuring him he would never be like his brothers and sisters.

Your arms crossed over your chest, and breathe visible in the cold you listened to the man tell him wear what he is like armour. Jon, however, did not seem to be in such a mood. His voice was low, a thick northern accent that came out more like an entrancing rasp then Robb’s warm soothing one. It also, was lined with that of a temper you knew the older Jon got, the more he struggled with. “What the hell do you know about being a bastard?”

Fingertips itching to reach out, but you stayed put. Listening to Lord Tyrion’s final comments before departing to whatever plans he had for the night. “All dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes.”

Jon wasn’t heartless, nor stupid. Somewhere inside him, you knew he sympathized with the Lannister but being shut out of a feast in the cold, on top of what you knew was looming? Jon had little room left to care about simmering that temper.

Lord Tyrion caught your eye as he passed, a tilt of his head and question in his eye you simply looked flat and unblinking. He wouldn’t say anything, but that didn’t mean he didn’t store his curiosity about your sudden watchful appearance for later.

Slowly approaching, you called out only once the sound of doors closing behind you left the courtyard in silence from the muffled party behind you. “Think he’s dead yet?”

Spinning to face you at the sound of your voice, you hated how unable you were to quell your heart looking at him. Walking towards him, you saw Jon put the sword away entirely before circling around to meet you halfway. It took less then second for both of you to glance around, watch for the no eyes any could see before he closed the rest of the gap.

Scooping you up into his arms, almost spinning you in place as you both held the other tightly. “I missed you.” Your voice muffled in this luscious dark curls, he put you down gently on your feet. His hands on your upper arms still before glancing up. Changing his mind, he turned. Pulling you along with him with a hand on your lower back.

Jon was the only man who could silently drag you away into a dark corner in the dead of night and you wouldn’t question him in any way, shape or form. Neither of you said anything, but out of everyone Jon was the one person who you didn’t need it with. Both of you were always on the air of more quiet, and it was never more appreciated then alone with the other, never worried about having to fill the air with talking to be comfortable.

Once you had reached far enough away, Jon led you into a small building, mostly empty save for some storage and one lit lantern. Door closed, he turned to face you once more with silence. His eyes begging to say too much, but neither of you could handle it in that second. Once more you found the others arms. This time, the desperation was felt both ways.

Both of you letting your eyes shut, and your hands rest freely and yet far to intimate to be platonic as you stood together. It was minutes before he pulled back. One hand resting on your waist and the other back on your upper arm. He watched as your hands wrung together, afraid to touch him. You hated how gently he always said your name, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes.

One of you had to say something, and you ripped the bandage off first. “You’re really joining them?”

His nod was confident, and it broke your heart that much more. “The St-”

Shaking your head you felt your eyes sting, you hated feeling this way. “Don’t give me that.” Your fingers twitched wanting to reach out, and he caught the movement. “Don’t tell me what you think everyone else wants to hear.”

Was his response a diversion from the truth, or an answer you didn’t know for sure. “You’re marrying Robb.” Like no other, Jon could tell right away that you bit your tongue in anxiety. The hand on your arm moving up to gently trace over the side of your jaw until he felt you relax under the touch. “I’m not mad at you. Neither of you really had a say in it.”

Ever so slowly, you hesitantly left your hands drift forward until the very tips of your fingers rested against his stomach. Much like earlier with Robb, were you not wracked with too much in your head, you might have paused to enjoy the feeling of how sturdy and firm his muscles had grown. Instead you let your head hang, knowing he wanted you to look at him. “And you feel like The Night’s Watch is the only place you belong?”

Were you anyone else, Jon would have pulled away in frustration. But his time with you was limited, and his hands always ached to touch you when you were near. “It is now.” Head rising up to look at him, your brows narrowed. “You’ll marry him, go back to Kings Landing with my father and sisters, and leave me what? Here with the brother who gets the one thing that used to be mine, and his mother who hates me?”

Something rushed up, and an anger almost yelled out instead of reason. “Jon, I’m not trying to leave you behind.”

He sighed, jaw clenching as his hand on your waist held you a slight tighter. “No. You’re doing your duty, and I’m doing mine.”

For a while you both just stood there, looking at the other. In your heart, you felt stolen from, but your mind reasoned for the best. Just as the silence between you was too much, Jon slowly leaned in.

Your back pressed against the wall and he having moved to crowd you against it, his head dipping down enough as you exhaled shakily. The nerves in you, always managing to make him smirk. But just as you felt the others breath on your faces, a door in the distance opened. Music and laughter and the sounds of a group making drunken rackets paused Jons movement.

If it were any normal day, you’d just say not here.

But you and Jon knew better, in a few days, he would stand in the godswood and watch you marry his brother. And soon after that he would join a group that cut your love off from him for life. You couldn’t kiss now, and not ever again.

It didn’t stop either of you from seeing the other after the night was over. But with the royal company here, with you and Robb spending more time together, you only had time to see each other in the secrets of the dark. What made that much harder though, was how little suddenly anyone looked forward to a wedding.

Bran had climbed the walls and towers thousands of times with a firm grip. And yet, while climbing the one tower which no one use in decades, Bran somehow fell so far to the ground, no one yet knew if he would wake up.

And amongst all that, the Queen insisted, “We still have a wedding to put on.”

The entire family was on edge. Maester Luwin has monitored him closely, and Lady Catelyn even closer having not left his side. You didn’t blame her one bit. It was before anyone else was really awake when you went to go see her.

Slowly peeking in, asking if it was alright you come in for a moment and you were thrown back over ten years ago. Looking at your own mother, Selyse, and how broken and lost she was as Maester Cressen warned her to prepare herself for Shireen to be sent away for good.

Walking by her side, you sat gently on the bed beside Bran. It was cruel. Only a boy of ten, and with the softest, most adorable little face you’d ever seen and yet he lay in bed broken in too many ways. If he woke, he’d never walk again. You thought to yourself, maybe if you were to be a proper northern, you should start praying to the Old Gods. Because it certainly seemed like praying to the Seven had done nothing. It left your baby sister disfigured for life, and so far they seem to have left Bran a cripple should they even allow him to wake.

Laying on the other side was his yet unnamed Direwolf. Hardly more then puppies when you first arrived, you had been shocked to see how they had grown. Sitting asleep by his masters side though, you hoped he would bring little Bran any comfort.

Lady Catelyn was silent beside you, working away on something you hadn’t quite understood. You didn’t ask, you weren’t a mother and you didn’t want her to have to explain her grief to you. Your hand gently ran over Brans wrist, your thumb feeling his pulse weak but still beating if you pressed firm enough. “My sister had greyscale as a baby.”

You felt her look up at you, but your eyes were trained on the adorable boy soon to be your brother. “My father bought her a doll from a merchant, and next thing we knew it was spreading fast over the side of her face. She was just a baby she didn’t even understand what was happening to her, but we all did.”

You felt your eyes sting, but forced them back with a harsh swallow. “I’ve never heard my mother cry like that. She lost four boys in the womb, and yet that was the most I’ve ever seen her cry. And my father?” You stumbled. Voice coming out harsh, and cracked slightly from the pressure to appear steady. “People used to say the only thing that he would ever smile for is me, but they don’t understand. They didn’t see the desperation in his eyes, how far and hard he searched to bring people to Dragonstone just for a chance to save her life. And none of them saw the tears in his eyes when he was finally allowed to hold her again.”

Reaching up with your other hand you ran your hand over the side of Brans face, brushing some hair to the side. “I’m sorry. Me and Robb both tried telling them to put it off, but the Queen insisted that a wedding might do everyone some good.” She tried saying your name, but you interrupted her. “It’s okay if you don’t come. If I were a mother, I don’t think I’d leave him either.”

Looking back at her, there were tears in her eyes and a soft smile that broke your heart. Your relationship with her was always complicated, but in this moment, all you saw was what no one had given to your mother when it was Shireen.

Leaning over to her, you hugged her tightly. The pain in her heart evident in how both weak yet tightly she hugged back. Pressing a kiss to her forehead you spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Passing by the busy servants and suspiciously watchful Queen you paid no mind to the preparations that were to be for you tomorrow. At first it had felt like you and Robb were to be wed for some unknown plot of your fathers, but now it felt like a distraction.

Don’t look at the broken boy in bed, look at the happy couple. For their own pain, you had to hand it to the three of them. Lord Stark, Robb, and Jon truly what Starks were made of. Strong willed, and keeping calm acting as a pillar for the much younger and more worried siblings. Arya clearly a big influence on her direwolf Nymeria, as the wolf was agitated and struggled to sit still the past days. On multiple occasions, you found the wolf almost trying to rile up her own siblings to varying success.

Her and little Rickons direwolf Shaggydog had the most energy. As if getting out their tension by chasing and play fighting. Sansa’s Lady was truly an apt name. Stuck by her side and was poise and put together, only getting in the way to provide any comfort to the redhead in what Sansa thought were moments no one was looking.

Grey Wind was as strong headed as Robb. Their mother gone, he had taken up the mantle of leader of the pack and seemed to be a calming presence for the others. Much like how Robb’s confidence in ensuring his siblings Bran would be alright, provided such comfort to them. The more time you spend with Robb during the day, the more used to Grey Wind you got.

He grew larger then the others, a gorgeous mix of greys and browns in his colour and the more comfortable with a new closeness which Robb grew with you over the past few days, the easier it was for Grey Wind to come to your side when not with his own master. Lord Stark had joked that they seemed to sense you were about to become a wolf yourself.

It was the final direwolf however that you enjoyed the most. Pure white with striking red eyes, Ghost was smaller then the rest but quick and silent. He made very little noise if ever, but was always aware of his surroundings. Keeping out of the way without sacrificing his watchful canine eyes from their view, and listened to his master better then any of them.

Jon and Ghost it seemed, were one in the same. From the same family, but not truly one of the pack as the others were. While the others followed their master like an animal companion, Ghost and Jon were almost like friends instead. Certainly he took Jons feelings around people seriously, considering that as you sat out in the godswood while the moon set itself up in the night sky, you were suddenly almost thrown off balance.

Looking down, the small white direwolf had leaped into your lap. Leaning up to give your cheek a lick before settling in. You scratched at his back, “I don’t know what you’re asking for, but I’m getting up in about ten seconds.”

“Maybe he just likes how soft you are.” Looking up, you utterly failed to fight back both the fluster in your eyes and the embarrassed smile that you tried to hide, turning away from him.

Jon’s curls looked more wild and free again, growing out quickly from the clean cut given before your arrival. The wilder look suited him better. His cloak around his shoulders had a bright closer to white fur around him that you knew first hand was warm and comforting. Coming to sit next to you, he reached over and ran his fingers over Ghosts ear, making him shake his head with a barley audible huff at being disturbed. You both laughed gently, were it not a wolf in your lap, a commoner would mistaken you both for that of a couple with their newborn.

You were to be married tomorrow, and in two days you and Jon would part ways for what could be life for all you knew. Two days, but tonight was your last. Tomorrow you would be Lady Stark, wife of Lord Robb Stark, and there was no room in that duty for another or fairness in your heart.

Leaning against his shoulder, you knew in the eyes of the old gods there was no judgment as you rested your head there. His arm coming to pull you into his side as he looked down to you, your own trained on Ghost.

More then once you and Jon had almost kissed, it would be too easy. To fall into it again. You didn’t fall into it the first time, it was just a bond that always existed. The last time you had ever kissed, was when you came close to giving him something else.

The opportunity was right there, and no one would have been there to stop you, but neither of you were people who could so easily push past the honour you were raised with. Deep down in his mind, Jon knew you could never just marry someone like him, not for who you were. He just didn’t expect to come to the finality of it all, only months after almost having you.

Not that he told it to you, but there was a smugness in Jon that said that at least if he had one thing over Robb, or two, was that he was your first kiss. Knew what your lips tasted like, and knew what a cruelly addicted sight your bare body looked like. Though, not if he asked you, you’d say that wasn’t a perk.

Reminding Jon that he was muscle and you weren’t. Only receiving a dark, undoubtedly lustful look as he muttered that your softness is exactly what he dreams about before kissing you, having pushed you back into the furs of his own bed.

A far off moment, sitting together now, cuddled with his cloak around you against the Weirwood tree for the last time. “We never had a chance did we?” Pulling back, Jon tried looking at you with a slight question in his narrowed brows, but you just continued to run your fingers gently over the slumbering Ghost. “I mean, being with you is easy. It’s always been easy, but being together?”

Resting his chin on the top of your head, he breathed in deeply. “No. No we never had a chance.”

The truth didn’t make it hurt any less. But you weren’t children anymore. You would marry Robb, return to Kings Landing and serve on the small council at the Hand of the Kings Side, in place of your own lord father and Jon would become a man of the Night’s Watch.

In what world did those two things have a chance at crossing over?

Turning your head, you rested further into his neck and his warmth was unyieldingly comforting. “You know right? Even if I don’t say it?”

Jon had enough, moving to pull your face up to look at him by your chin. “I know. And you do too.”

Your heart skipping a beat you smiled partially, “You know it’d be a whole lot easier not to kiss you if you weren’t so handsome.”

Smirking, Jon pulled you closer. Your back more pressed against his chest as he wrapped the edges of his cloak around your front, hiding the blissfully unaware Ghost from the cold air. “Oh I’m handsome, am I?”

Rolling your eyes, you relaxed in his touch. “I’m not blind, Snow. It’s an unfair thing about you Stark men, you, Robb and your father, all way too handsome for your own good.” You had always done that. Included Jon when referring to the Starks without question. It was something that only his youngest siblings would still do, and that's just because they weren’t yet mature enough to truly understand why he was treated different.

You were though. You knew why, but you and him were always the closest even before the messy feelings of early teenage hood started to take place, and since then you were only more steady in that belief. He was a Snow, but his blood a Stark. And no matter what he called himself, he would always have the blood and integrity of his father. “Should I be worried? Marrying my brother, and running off to Kings Landing with my apparently handsome father?”

Pinching your sides, you tried elbowing him but Jon was far stronger and held you still with a laugh, your voice high and defensive. “I didn’t mean- sorry next time I’ll call your family ugly, alright?” With a pause, it slipped out before you could stop it. “Jealousy another Stark trait I should be worried about?”

You could feel the smirk still plastered across Jons face in his voice at your ear, “When the girl looks like you, any man with half a brain would be jealous of letting you go.”

It was far later then you should’ve been awake, but peeling yourselves apart for the last time was too difficult. It was quiet for a while, nothing but the quiet hums of the woods to pass the silence. His voice rasped in your ear, a small shiver down your spine at its closeness. “Where’d we meet?” He chuckled at your blatant confused face. “If we had a chance, in another life where’d we meet?”

“Are we not still us?”

You enjoyed hearing him so light and casual, it felt like I’d been months long amount of days since you’d seen such casualness. “No, well I mean I’m still me and you’re still you. But we’re not highborns, no titles or duties. Just two people somewhere in the kingdom, where’d we meet?”

Eyes squinting in thought, you considered something that was the opposite of the horrible paranoia of Kings Landing, and far from the darkness of Dragonstone. “I hear Highgarden is beautiful in the summer.”

Jon nodded against your head, “Alright. So you’re a bar maid in Highgarden, and I-”

Laughing loudly you tried pulling away, “Excuse me, why am I a barmaid? Isn’t this a fantasy?”

With such a tone of seriousness you felt light at how easily it came to him, as if it was something he’s thought of before. “Yes, and if you’re a bar maid it means I have an excuse to pull this pretty little bar maid in Highgarden down onto my lap as she passes by.”

“That’s aggressive of you.”

“Maybe this particular bar maid makes me aggressive.”

Back and forth you went, what is job was, how you’d fall in love, if you stayed in Highgarden or travelled the realm elsewhere. How many kids you’d have to which you certainly had protests as to how easily Jon kept raising the number each time he mentioned it. By the time you had planned out a new life, it was late enough that you needed to go back.

You needed some sleep, and Jon wasn’t the only brother who you wanted to talk to before this was all over.

Ghost lept out of your lap and shook his fur out on the ground as you both watched him with a fond smile. Looking back at him, you held onto his wrists and he your waist. This time, neither moved in or even tempted the idea of a kiss.

Raising a hand to cup the side of your cheek, he ran a thumb over the soft skin. “Don’t look for me in the ceremony.” Before you had a chance to spiral, he leaned down to meet your eyes more level. “I’ll be there, but don’t look for me. You’re going to be Robb’s now, and I want you to be okay with accepting that.”

Nodding, he made you promise out loud. “I promise.”

He nodded once. “You’ll be each others tomorrow, and I’ll be at the wall. I want you two to be there for each other, no matter what. Besides, it’ll be easy.” You tilted your head. “Robb’s easy to fall in love with, and I think it’s impossible not to fall at least a little in love with you.”

The hug you shared wasn’t the last before you departed, but it was the last one just for you.

He sent you off first, not wanting you to linger with him on your mind. Jon needed you to be okay with being Robb’s, and he himself, needed to just get through these next few days. He had an entire life at the wall to grieve about you.

The handmaiden was quite mad at how you ignored her. Something about the Seven, not seeing the bride but you went towards Robbs anyways. You were to be married at the Weirwood under the eyes of the old gods, it didn’t matter what the Seven wanted anymore.

Not quite dressed up, Theon looked you up and down as he opened the door. “Didn’t think you were that much of a bore.” You pushed him out the way with a roll of your eyes, he laughed as he closed the door behind him. You were glad that the northerners weren’t so dramatic.

With his mother tucked away with Bran, he escaped what would’ve been her insistence of shaving and another trim. His facial hair growing thick and his curls much more Tully Red in the daylight. “I want to ask you a favour.”

Nodding once, he said anything. Taking a step to you as you sighed out shakily, hands ringing together, he said your name as he came into your space. Looking up at him, you sighed out again. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Taken back, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. “That’s not a favour.”

Somewhat flustered, you pulled away. Sitting down on his bed, unable suddenly to send away the thoughts of the very next time you’ll be in this room. “I- I don’t want you thinking I don’t want this, or you, but we didn’t plan this, or talk about it before it happened, and now we’re here and,”

Robb knelt down to your level, not yet touching you in your panic, but speaking slow and in a low, comforting tone until the edge fell from your lips. His steady energy slightly bringing you down a little bit as you tried again. “My parents are miserable together.” Your hands started to wring together in front of you, “They barley tolerate each other, I’ve never seen any love between them. And same with my Uncle. He and the Queen basically hate each other I’m shocked they could stand each other long enough to have three kids together.”

His brows narrowed as you put it all together. “Everyone I know whose married for duty, married because they had to...I think your parents are the only ones I know who ended up happy, who actually love each other.”

Robb leaned in slightly, “Are you worried you’ll never love-”

Shaking your head you felt the anxiety in your chest boil up like never before. “Robb, look at me. I’m Stannis Baratheons child, daughter of the supposed most miserable man in Westeros in the most loveless marriage, are you sure you’re okay with marrying me?”

There it was. The first true hint of insecurity that you’ve allowed yourself to be honest with since you had been told of this arrangement. Two out of three Baratheon Lords were in miserable marriages, and when you looked at Robb, you hated the idea that you were forcing him into just another of that cycle.

The girl in you wanted to cry at losing one love, and the woman in you hated yourself for possibly dragging another into something he’d come to hate. You’ve known Robb for as long as you’ve known Jon, and you watched him grow into the man he is now. Both of you could do great things together according to Lord Stark, but what if you were too much like your father to ever inspire love?

Robb stood up, sitting down next to you as he turned his body close. Your name falling easily from his lips. “You’re not your father. No- look at me. You are not him, you’re not any of them. I’ve known you since you were eight. You’re stubborn, and strong willed and always willing to do what duty asks but that isn’t all of you. I’ve also seen you laugh, get into trouble with me more times then I can count, you care about my little sisters and my brothers like their yours too. My father already sees you like your his own, and despite everything, I know my mother does too.”

Running a hand over your hair, he watched tension in your shoulders deflate ever so slightly. “I’m not worried about marrying you, because I know what I’m getting myself into. And no one can tell me to be happy about it, but I am anyways.”

Gently you raised your hand, enough to slightly lay over the arm Robb had flat on the bed, your thumb finding this pulse, unlike little Brans, his was steady and strong. “You shouldn’t be. You get told your marrying me, and then the day after I get dragged back to Kings Landing with half your family for who knows how long.”

Your heart raced, as Robb twisted his arm, holding your wrist the same way you were his. An easy, charming, boyish smile on his lips. “And we’ll have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

Deep in your mind, you wished Robb would make this harder. You wished he wasn’t so easy to be charmed by, but you knew him too well to trick yourself into thinking he wasn’t being genuine or honest. “So about that favour...”

Narrowing his eyes, there was a flush in your cheeks that you hated was making him smirk. “What about it?”

You sheepishly tried pulling away, but he yanked you closed by is hold on your wrist. Looking down anywhere but his face you felt like a little girl again, only that time you didn’t have to be the one to ask for it, Jon kissed you before you knew what was happening.

Robb though? Oh Robb knew exactly what you were trying to ask, but was almost sadistically enjoying the process of making you say it out loud to him. You flushed more at what other implications this potential side of him would bring. “I, okay I’m not some innocent flower.”

He raised his eyebrows and you smiled indigently, “I mean, I’m still- I haven’t- shut up.” Robb was flat out laughing at that point but let you fail at getting this out with composure. “I know you’ve been with women before, physically..”

“Does that bother you?”

Shaking your head no, it was no lie. You may have to get used to the idea of being married to him, but again, you weren’t blind. You had eyes, you knew exactly what women saw in Robb Stark. “What I’m trying to say, I’ve kissed someone before but not you.”

Much more serious, Robb clearly did know what you were asking, but watched with his gorgeous comforting blue eyes intensely as you whispered. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in front of all of them.” His family, the royals, all those you didn’t know, the old gods, and even Jon. A first kiss in front of him felt too personal, to intimate.

Moving close, you felt his breathe on your skin. “Do you want me to kiss you? Here?”

The room slipped away though, Robb’s voice was so warm and so was he. The hand on your wrist moved to rest at your waist while the other hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. His lips would brush against yours if either spoke, but he waited for a single nod before kissing you.

His kiss was different. Soft, but coaxing. Like he knew what was holding you back, and just let you fall into it on your own. It was simple and gentle at first, but as soon as you let out a tiny sigh, something in Robb slipped for a moment. Kissing you again, harder this time. His hands tighter and his kiss a little deeper.

Leaning into his front, your hand found the back of his neck and into his curls, and your other against his chest as if they always knew what to do. It wasn’t until you let out what might just have been a small moan, Robb close to pulling you into his lap did he pull away. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and running his hand once more over your hair.

“Can you live with that? For the rest of your life?”

Robb smiled softly at the very new venerability in you. Pressing one more kiss to your cheek, he knew you didn’t mean only having a kiss. But was he happy with such a kiss was your question. “Wait until tonight, I’ll tell what about you I’ve been fantasizing about living with.”

The grin on Robbs face as he pulled away wasn’t the charming boyish one earlier. No, this one was far more that of who he was really, a wolf. A wolf who looked you up and down and made you realize that Robb Stark just might not be as dashing and honourable as he’s led you to believe.

A thought that should’ve made you nervous, but as you walked back to your room, ready to let the girls doll you up and argue about not touching your hair, you started to think that maybe that wolfish grin, actually excited you.

Just when you thought you were going to die of a heart attack, your to be lord father gave you a reason to have a whole new panic. The ceremony was more fancy then any of you involved wanted, not the Starks nor you, but your own father insisted on marrying you off with the royals in toe.

He wasn’t here. Your mother neither. Both of them, Lady Catelyn and Selyse were either sickly or caring for the sick and weren’t here, but Ned Stark was. He was here, and your own father wasn’t. Stannis was not a consistently comforting father, but part of you felt hurt that he wasn’t here to see his oldest daughter, his own heir, marry for the first time.

Instead, the man who had seen you raised half your life here, the one who would be your father by marriage once this was done was the one who approached you. Looking out into the distant woods as you clearly struggled to hold your nerves back. “I didn’t think this was the thing that’d worry you so much.”

Spinning around, Lord Stark reached out to steady you with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I just...this is a lot..was it this nerve wracking when you married Catelyn?”

Not pushing you towards the woods, he stood beside you an arm around your shoulder as he rubbed your upper arm gently. “Terrifying. I’d rather face a thousand armed men then get married in front of all those people. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted someone as delightful as the Queen at mine either.” You huffed a single laugh out and swallowed the rest. “And I know I certainly wouldn’t want the person I love watch me marry someone else.”

Blood in your veins froze, your heart stopped and nothing but nausea flowed up your lungs. “I-”

He wasn’t even angry, or disappointed. He chuckled with a fondness. “I’ve seen you spend half your life here, sweet girl. Watched you grow up alongside my own sons, and I’ve watched Jon be in love with you since the first day you ever arrived.” If you cried, you’d mess up the annoying amount of makeup they insisted on, but you felt a sob in your chest. “You made him happy, and he made you happy. For a time, a long time I thought that was enough. But I also know for a fact that Jon never saw marrying you as an option. He always was painfully aware of who you were.”

You felt the stinging, and you stood still in his hold. Forcing deep breaths to push away the panic.

“There’s a good number of things I regret about how I raised him. It doesn’t feel good knowing that he’s always felt inferior to Robb and now the woman he loves is marrying him too. If I could do it again, would I even be better. Force Roberts hand harder, be more honest with Cat, let him just be a Stark and there’d be nothing in his way for you. But I didn’t do that, nor do I know if I ever should’ve.”

Looking down, your arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t want you to assume I’m just thinking of Jon while I’m with Robb, it’s not that. I’ve known Robb for just as long, and we’ve always been just as close, save for, you know.” His hand was soothing like a true fathers comfort running up and down what he could reach of your arm.

“Here’s whats going to happen. I’m going to walk you out there to my son, you’ll kneel together before the Weirwood and pray and when you rise you’ll be a Stark. Part of you will always be a Baratheon, but you’ll also be our family now. And no matter what, wolves always protect those in their pack. I’m not going to assume the worst of you, because I know you better then that. You and Robb will be good for each other, and just because losing Jon hurts doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re not willing to love Robb.”

Looking up at him you frustratingly wipe at the tears, and he pulled you into a hug. One that you hadn’t felt in a very long time. It had been too long since you felt the hug, the love of a real father. Muttering into your hair, you could feel the same smirk that you could always sense on both brothers. “Besides, I can tell you for certain, having one night with your spouse before being dragged halfway across the country will do wonders for your heart.”

You laughed a lot at that one. Pulling away he looked you over, gently wiping away the rest of the tears on your cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You have a wolf waiting for you.”

If you were being honest, it was a blur. There were so many people, and most of them you’d never want present at your wedding in any lifetime. The golden hair of the Lannisters mocked you, the bored and judgmental sneer of your cousin annoyed you, and the silent watching of an Uncle who you barley knew anymore, but you were thankful that this wasn’t in a sept.

The crowd silent, no words spoken by anyone except you and Robb. He looked tall and fierce, curls shining more red in the peeking sun through the leaves, eyes bright and blue like the sea as he looked at nothing and no one but you. The fur around his shoulders making him look large like the wolf he was said to be, and soon it too would be yours.

Whatever small words you exchanged, you heard none of it but the blood in your veins. Thankful when Robb took your hand and knelt down with you, facing away from the crowd. The Seven was what you were raised to pray too, but you were a wolf now. And the wolves answered to the Old Gods.

A fate you were perhaps always meant to have, feeling much more heard in your silence of the Weirwood then you ever did in a sept. Eyes open, looking up the carved face at the same time, the crowd was silent, Robb grabbing both your hands to stand as he kept your eyes.

Draping the very fur he wore over your shoulders, he gently pulled you in with two fingers under your chin. This kiss was far softer and fairer then the one you shared in private, but this was also all your anxiety could handle. And Robb knew it.

Were it a more jovial occasion, it was tradition for a northern groom to carry the bride to the feast but Lord Stark had the sense to give you two a moment alone and King Robert was more then happy to direct the crowd to where the wine and food sat.

Your heart racing, Robb gently held your waist with his forehead pressed to yours. Eyes both shut as your hands rested on his chest. You left tomorrow, so all you had was now and tonight.

It’s what he demanded of you, and what he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt Jon Snow a great deal to watch you marry his brother, and not once did he ever see the transfixing beauty in your eyes.

You didn’t look at him once, and Jon couldn’t get to the wall fast enough.

Truth be told, the first big laugh you had was at the sheer idea of your father here. Meals with him, there was no laughter or rambunctious behaviour. Just silence, diplomacy, and the mind numbing dings and clogs of Patchface. No joy in a meal under Stannis’s watch, except for the fool himself. Patchface there who was only lucky enough to be in a job, because gods help her, for whatever reason the fool made Shireen laugh.

You couldn’t imagine your father here. The drinking, the laughter, the never ending line of food, talk, and fun. Truth be told, you and Robb spent little time there. You glanced nervously at him more then once, and in your bubble of privacy he would rest a hand on your thigh firmly and a whisper in your ear to at least eat something.

Arya tried many times to come and talk to you, but Sansa yelled at her each time. Telling her to leave the two of you alone, the three of you girls would be in Kings Landing together anyways.

King Robert, on now one too many drinks made an innocuous comment about beds, or sex, or something vaguely incoherent and you and Robb looked to the other. You wide eyed and nervous, but there was something in his that settled it. Leaning to your ear, his voice felt like a rumble. “Normally I’m for tradition, but I’ll be damned if I let this lot see any of you like that.”

One of the men in the crowd had seen you like that, but with the way Robb looked at you, for once, Jon hadn’t crossed your mind. Too much nerves, too much wine, and a fat load of worry about being in a mans bed proper for the first time.

By the time the crowd noticed, Ned just chuckled at Roberts comments about the bride and groom slipping away before a gods honest tradition. “I told Cat I wasn’t going to let their be a bedding ceremony because I didn’t want to hurt someone on our wedding night.” Shrugging one shoulder, he grinned almost proud. “Glad to know my son’s the same.”

The worries of what was to come, ended up being broken slightly by the fact that as soon as Robb opened his door, Grey wind was sat in the middle of the bed. Large body splayed out like it was already bed time. Rising his head up at the sound of the door, you ended up bursting into laughter at Robb having to tell him twice to go.

Shutting it behind the growing direwolf, Robb shook his head something snarky on his tongue that died as he looked to you. Draped in his furs, furs that made you look far smaller and the gentle almost innocent look as you stepped around his room. You’d been in here countless times, slept in here countless times, but never like this.

Trying desperately to hold back your nerves, you looked out the open window focusing on steadying your heart. But the warmth of Robb enveloped your back as he reached over you, closing the windows and sealing you both alone. The crackling of a fire almost enough to hide the shaky breathe as Robb gently ran his hands down your arms.

Resting both on your waist, Robb wrapped one around your stomach, pulling you into his chest. He didn’t let you ruminate on the worry, dipping his head to level his mouth with your ear. “If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me.” Freezing in his arms, he spoke almost quieter but it raged so close to your ear. “We don’t have to do anything, but you need to be honest with me about it.”

You felt light on your feet. You’ve never heard this tone from Robb before, never so intimate in your ear and the deep rumblings of his voice felt as if something strong inside was being held back. The act itself scared you, it always had. But another part of you wondered if you should be fearful of the young wolf behind you, or if that fear excited you.

The arm around your stomach rose up, tilting your head to turn slightly to the side, enough that part of him was within your sight as he murmured your name. “I know you’ve never done this before, is it just that, that scares you or is it me?”

Shaking your head fervently, you startled him. “No, no it’s not you. It’s just- I should know what to expect by now but,” Taking a deep breathe you shut your eyes. “The girls in Kings Landing all talk about men and their first time like it’s painful, violent.”

Robb chuckled deeply, vibrating through his chest into your back and down between your legs. It was a dark laugh, and you felt overwhelmed at how little you really considered what he might be like. “It’s only painful if the man is a worthless, brute who thinks getting off is better then getting their lady off.”

Was your chest heaving with you hard you felt yourself breathing, your eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted you felt more waves between your legs and having it all be because of Robb was more then enough to leave you speechless. Reading your body like a book, Robb leaned down more, brushing his lips against your neck. Grinning at the sigh you unknowingly let out.

Turning slightly more you could see him a bit better. “Will it hurt?”

Smiling like a predator, he pulled you closer to him. “Only if you want it to.” Laughing at your breathless expression, asking why some women would want it to hurt. He moved a hand to your hip and pressed his lips closer to your jaw. “Don’t worry. If you want it, we’ll get there. Tonight’s not about that though.”

Suddenly pulling away he yanked his cloak enough that it slipped from your shoulders and pooled onto the ground. Turning you in his arms, Robb gripped the sides of your dress tightly in his fists before pulling it up and off you. The fact that you let him do that, not telling him how little you had on underneath might have been a dangerous idea.

Usually such a dress was worn with layers underneath, and yet, all that remained on you was that which covered your most lower regions. Your softness, plush skin, and tits all on display. Holding your hips, Robb closed his eyes breathing deep for a moment. “For a girl whose never done this before, this is awfully naughty of you.”

Indeed was the charming boy no longer here, but a man, a wolf looking at his mate like prey.

Swallowing the pounding in your heart, you reached up to Robb, slowly pulling layers up and off of him for yourself. His hands were much more confident then yours were currently, but he stood still watching and letting you undress him at your own pace.

Staring was impolite, and yet Robb didn’t mind as you looked at his chest now totally free. Just as your fingers reached for his pants he snatched your hands. Raising them in the air as you gasped in surprise.

“This is about you. Lay down for me.”

Watching you with dark eyes, you couldn’t ignore how intensely he looked you up and down as you lay back on the top of his bed. Your palms bracing you up before being tossed back down as Robb suddenly climbed up the bed and over top of you. A hand on each side of your head as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Do you trust me?”

Without even considering it, you answered the raw truth. “Always.”

One hand reached up, grabbing your jaw roughly as he pulled your lips back to his. This time he kissed you nothing like before. His kiss was rough, demanding and deep. Guiding your every move and commanding that you obey. He tugged your hip with his other hand up to press into his own and as you gasped, he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Lightheaded, you surrendered to his touch. As if all will of your own bled out onto the bed leaving nothing but Robb to command you as he pleases, and yet the idea didn’t scare you the way it was described by others. Your hands reached up and grasped his waist, a small sound leaving your mouth into his.

Switching between tasting you with his tongue and biting at your lips it, Robb let go of your jaw and ran it behind your head and grasped your hair tightly. Pressing his body down firmly, his hips naturally rutted into yours. He smirked as you gasped.

The rougher he kissed you, the more your hands moved on their own. Reaching behind his neck and wrapping around it to sink into his hair he ground his hips into you harder. A gentle moan leaving you, Robb left your lips, running the same ferocity down your neck. His lips and teeth no doubt leaving marks that a proper lady should be ashamed of.

He didn’t quite stop, kissing down your neck more until he reached your breasts. Grinning at how hard you were breathing, he stopped that right in it’s tracks as his hands cupped your chest. A needy cry left your lips, turning to a longer moan as Robb ran this thumbs over your nipples. Just as one hand grasped one, did he lower his mouth to bite at the other.

Pleasure shooting through you, your back arched into his body and limbs felt like they seized from the pleasure. His teeth switching between a gentle nibble and a harsher bite just to pull a gasp from you, he played you like an instrument. Getting every sound from your pretty lips that made his cock that much harder.

Pulling away, he hovered over you looking down at the almost in awe expression. You weren’t used to such a side to this man, and he seemed to reveal in your innocence over it. Leaning back more, you followed the sight of his dark eyes, parted lips and down his chest to where he hands slowly pulled at his pants.

Swallowing hard, he tilted your head up his a hand firmly at your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me.” Not letting you look down as he stripped himself bare. “Good girl, keep them on me and only me.” Slowly moving down the bed he pulled your hips to, grabbing your underwear and pulling them down.

The coolness of outside did nothing to take away how warm and wet you were between your legs, and Robb forced you to stay on his face. Making you look at his eyes, greedily pushing your knees apart and expression turning dark as he stared at you. A slightly whimper leaving you, he leaned back over you, one hand running over your thigh, first on the outside, then inside, and slowly upwards.

Just as he reached you, Robb bit at your bottom lip. Using the chance to slip his tongue inside you just as he ran his hand over you. Cupping you entirely and already he smirked into the kiss at how soaked you were. Lips brushing yours as he pulled back enough to speak, his fingers gently running back and forth across your soaked slit. “Good girls don’t get this wet, do they?”

Shaking your head no, all you could do was hear his voice. Eye slipping closed as your legs shook and a coil within you twisted at such an easy touch. Robb continued. “No, good girls are sweet and innocent. This doesn’t feel very innocent to me.” Two fingers now soaked danced up and ran across your clit.

Jumping at the shock of pleasure, you grasped him by the shoulders with a whine. “It’s all for you-”

Stammering the words out as Robb now rubbed tight circles against your clit. Your muscles tensing and his own hips refusing to let you close them you had to just take it. His other fingers still soaking up whatever you drenched him with. “I know it is. You ready for me to open you up? Make you cum before you take me?”

You’d say yes to pretty much anything Robb asked of you right now. Nodding, you leaned up to kiss him, making him smile into your lips as he slipped two soaked fingers deep inside to his knuckles. You gasped so loudly, were the windows not closed no doubt the outside world would’ve heard you. Sinking them deep in one go, you writhed in his touch.

Robb slowly slid them out and back, the wetness between you making the sound obscene, but it was the only music Robb could stand to hear. He never picked up the pace, but he did, right as you tensed in his touch? Stopped rubbing at your clit, and slit a third finger down to sink inside you with the others.

You cried his name and he kissed down your neck as he slowly pumped them inside of you. Clenching around his fingers he bit your skin harder trying to force his cock to shut up. Screaming at him like a howling wolf to just take you already.

Pulling back from your lips he looked you in the eye, feeling you clench around him as your sounds grew higher. Something burned hot inside of you as the other twisted and turned so tightly. One free hand, Robb ran over your lips, and something sweet inside you, pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers as he did so.

In return? He ran his thumb roughly over your clit as pumped his fingers slow and deep into you as you came around them. You moaned his name, but muffled it as Robb gently sunk two fingers into your mouth at the same time. One hand grasped his wrist, and yet even as you came something inside you obeyed like you were a submitting prey.

Robb almost snarled at how well you sucked on his fingers, and how he wished you two had more time then tonight. He couldn’t stop the thought of how beautiful you would look on your knees before him, obediently sucking on his cock with his hand guiding you up and down his length tight in your hair.

Pulling out of you Robb pulled your body up to press against his bare one and kissed you full of tongue and a greedy desperation. A desperation you yearned for back. It was a strained rasp of your own in his ear that had him shudder. “Please, Robb. Please fuck me.”

It didn’t even occur to you to try and be sweet or innocent about it. You could feel his cock pressing against you between your still shaking legs and you felt lightheaded at how thick it felt against you. Kissing your ear, he murmured much more gentle, “Are you sure?” As you nodded he bit your earlobe and hissed into it. “Out loud.”

Nodding again, your hands wrapped around his neck as you kissed him. “I’m sure, I want you.”

Kneeling up on the bed, Robb ran his hand gently down the side of your body. His dark eyes soft for just a little while longer, as you felt something in your chest at him. Pulling your hips more up into his lap you think you understood why he kept his eyes on you.

His chest led down to coarse, rough hair surrounding a long, thick cock that you wondered if it would even fully fit in your hand. Your chest heaved as you stared, and he slipped into a deeper tone. “It’s not polite to stare.”

Slipping a hand behind your head, Robb kept you looking down, watching as he ran the tip of his cock over your entrance, up brushing against your clit and back down. Barley sliding in each time until you begged his name once more. This time Robb watched your eyes, as he kept your head looking down to watch him slide his cock inside you.

He was thick, and the stretch itself stung in a way that made you gasp but not a pain that you had feared from it. No, the deeper he sunk the more you soaked his cock. Only halfway in, Robb tugged your hair to look up at him before he in a much more punishing thrust, bottomed out.

His face snarled at how tight, how warm and soaking wet you cunt was and he pulled you right back into an equally as rough kiss. He didn’t go fast, but part of him reasoned to go more gentle, and yet?

Your cries, your begs of his name as each slow, rough fuck had your arching your back into his body all the more. Each pound of his cock inside of you slapped loudly in a way that had him grip your hips so tight, you could already feel the bruises.

Sweat built up on both your bodies and you ran your hand through his own increasingly damp curls, scratching his scalp with your nails that had him fuck into you harder each time. For all his talk, little thoughts came to his mind as Robb fucked you.

Like something of an animal took over and all he could think of was how much he wanted to fuck you more, harder, faster, fill you until his cum spilled out of you and then fill you more. You cried out, nails scratching down his back without even realizing you were doing so, but muffling each sound as you bit into the meat of his shoulder. Robb, fucked you harder and struggled to stay slow.

You clenched tightly, enough that he had to pound into your cunt roughly just to sink as deep as he could inside and pulling away enough he could see tears at the side of your eyes but you rather then begging for mercy, begged for more as you kissed him.

His hands held your knees, pushing as wide as possible as Robb lost composure. Fucking you faster and just as one hand moved to rub at your clit you came around him. Robb leaving your other knee to press his hand against your mouth at how little you could contain your cries.

Fucking into you once, twice, five more times he pushed inside as deep as he could sink and filled you with him. His cum warm and thick, it felt like there was so much more of it then a normal man would have but you let Robb pull you into another kiss, this one rough and sloppy as he filled you with his cum as his tongue did your mouth.

Never leaving, his hands eventually turned soothing, his kiss softer and his voice not commanding but assuring. Telling you how good you did, how perfect you were. Holding you in his arms and him yours, it was just the two of you in that moment and nothing more.

It was only when you started to laugh, did Robb laugh. Yanking you into his chest as he flopped onto his back with you on top of him. Kissing you gently as he ran a hand over your hair. “Aye, a man could get used to this.”

He should’ve let you rest, but he took you once more that night. This time, far less able to hold back how fast and greedy he wanted to be about fucking you. The only downside, was how exhausted the night made you.

Slipping into a deep sleep, that only meant morning would come quicker. And too quick it did.

That morning, you both stayed in bed as long as you could. Robbs back against the wall and you against his chest, far less worried about the lack of clothes either of you still had. “You were born for this, Robb. It’s not in you to fail.”

Kissing the side of your head, things were feeling a bit easier, a bit more normal between you even in such an intimate manner. “Everyone says that right up until they fail.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned. Leaving his grasp to gently face him, your body in his lap. Hands on his chest, your eyes often trailed over him. He didn’t question your gaze, you had to get used to him as much as he was getting used to you. It was still new, no matter how much a decade and a half of friendship had formed the foundation.

No joke was in your face though. “I’m serious, Robb. Even if you don’t believe in yourself?” Shrugging one shoulder you smiled softly, “I’m your wife now, so I’ll just do all the believing for you.”

Squeezing your hip, he rolled his own eyes. “And let you do all the work? We’re a team, remember?”

Saying goodbye to Robb however, was easier then what waited for you outside.

Packing up your hose, you heard the two of them in the distance. “My mother?”

“She was very kind.” You tensed slightly, hoping no one noticed but you very much doubted kind was the genuine word Jon should be using. He didn’t deserve her ire, not now, not ever.

“Next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.”

“It was always my colour.”

Your eyes closed, trying to tune their goodbye out. You had no right to invade their privacy.

Part of you hoped he would ignore you. You wouldn’t have to handle this and you could ignore it, but Jon knew you way better then that. You’d hate yourself if you left it at this. Reaching over you, Jon pulled part of your things up and secured it without even saying a word. Looking up, he was closer then you thought.

Looking at each other, the responsible thing would be to nod, shake hands, say a cordial goodbye. But Jon stood with his bright eyes, a grey so deep they looked black at times and you wanted to cry. You felt pathetic for being hardly able to hold back such a display of emotions, but the love that Jon had looked at you with for so many years was as strong as it always was.

You had no doubt that you looked just the same.

Jon pulled you into a hug, one too tight and too emotional for the company around and yet neither of you cared. Neither of you knew if this would be the last time, and both of you resented the world for forcing that as a possibility. His hand held you to him from the back of your head as you sunk your face partway into his neck and the other into the fur around him. “I miss you.”

“I miss you.”

Already, even in the others arms, the grieving already begun. Pulling back, you held at his shoulders and he shamelessly cupped the side of your cheeks. “Think I could get to the wall before they catch me, if I kiss you now?”

You burst into a laugh, one bordering too close on a cry. But you tilted your head. “Now or never, Snow.”

The kiss was pressed to your cheek, slow and unrushed before hugging you once more. For too many years you and Jon ignored the inevitability of having to separate like this, and it sat deep and uncomfortable in your stomach to do so. Like leaving the other behind would be a mistake in the long run, but you couldn’t understand why your soul screamed at you to not make it. You knelt down, kissing Ghost on the forehead as he licked at your cheek, whispering to him. “Protect him, no matter what you hear me? Next time I see him, you better make sure he’s as healthy as you are now.”

Seeing the other Starks approaching, you two looked at the other one last time so close you could feel the other. You took off with the company as they all headed out to the Kingsroad, giving enough space for Lord Stark to speak to his son alone before they too parted ways.

You couldn’t hear what they talked about, but you knew Jon Snow better then anyone to guess. As his father turned to leave, you and Jon looked from the distance at the other once more. You said nothing and neither did he. His life was up north now, and yours is both by Lord Stark’s side and your future with your husband. A future you wanted, and one Jon didn’t want to get in the way of. But as you both rode off in opposite directions, that sinking feeling in your gut just screamed louder, the further away you both got.

Neither of you having any idea, what horrors would bring you two back to one another.

[alluratron]

Thoughts on Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru is a character with nuance.

With the release of JJK chapter 236, many people are shocked, confused and outraged at his characterisation at the end of his run in the manga. There are claims of character assassination, of blatant disregard for everything he has done so far, of telling instead of showing. The portrayal of Gojo as someone whose primary motivation was strength has left multitudes of fans reeling.

Nanami states that Gojo’s reason for wielding jujutsu was not his own survival, nor the protection of others, but rather in pursuit of wanton satisfaction. Gojo does not deny this and neither can we. After all, in chapter 233 it was stated by the narrator that as the possibility of defeat crossed Gojo’s mind, an intense feeling of satisfaction bubbled up in him as well. The truth is, Gojo loves jujutsu. He loves his own strength. He loves to use it, to show it off, to flex. He revels in his own power.

Gojo enjoys being The Strongest.

However, he doesn’t enjoy being The Strongest, alone.

The contradiction in Gojo is that, much like Sukuna, he sees himself as More Than. They are beyond humans, beyond curses, beyond anything of this world. They exist in a realm of their own. Make no mistake, Gojo harbours great affection for those around him. He says as much in 236 (みんな大好きさ寂しくはなかった - I really liked everyone and I wasn’t lonely). But he also admits that there was a separation between himself and other other living creatures. This phrasing is crucial. Gojo is effectively admitting here that from his perspective, other humans are as different from him as any other creature of this world. He doesn’t even really consider them to be the same species. This is further reinforced through his analogy of flowers. He states that you can admire a flower and make it bloom, but you don’t wish to be understood by it. Gojo cares for those around him and he cultivated his students to help them blossom, to achieve their potential, but they were flowers to him. They were inferior beings, incapable of understanding his superior existence, and so why should he open himself up to them? Shoko mentally chastises him for this in chapter 220, pointing out that she was right there alongside him even with the loss of Geto, that all his talk of being alone was idiotic because she was there and he could’ve relied on her. But he didn’t because in his mind, Shoko, like everyone else, is inferior and incapable of understanding him. To him, it is pointless to try.

But where Gojo differs significantly from Sukuna, is that Gojo desperately wants to be understood.

Gojo is so painfully human in that way. Perhaps he wouldn’t be, had he never known Geto. But he did know him, and for those 3 years, Gojo knew companionship. He felt understood by Geto because Geto, being equally The Strongest, was capable of understanding Gojo, in Gojo’s own mind. When Geto defected, he called Gojo arrogant in his own strength for saying killing all non-sorcerers would be impossible for Geto and attempting the impossible was pointless, when such a task would not be impossible for Gojo himself. He asks of Gojo, “are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”. This exchange, unfortunately causes Gojo to misunderstand Geto’s reason for defecting, or at least to oversimplify it. Gojo’s takeaway is that the issue was in Geto’s inability to keep pace with him. This would further solidify his belief that he exists apart from all of humanity. Yet he could not make peace with that. He mourned Geto’s departure and disliked his newfound loneliness (which, mind you, was only the case because of that very belief that only an equal in strength can understand him).

This would drive Gojo to seek out Megumi, something he could have done at any point in the year since Toji’s death but had no motivation to do. The words he says to Megumi are crucial - “強くなってよ。僕に置いていかれないくらい” or “Get strong. Enough to not be left behind by me.” From this, two things are clear. First, that Gojo has no intention of slowing down. Second, that Gojo wants Megumi to be on his level. He’s essentially seeking out another Geto, one that he won’t lose to their own inability to keep up with him. He’s not willing to come down from his superhuman level to connect with the average - as previously said, Gojo revels in his own strength - but rather he wants others to ascend to his level. Gege stated in the fanbook that the reason Gojo went to find Megumi was because he’s seeking talented people, and the reason he helps problem children like Yuta and Yuji is because they’re strong so he doesn’t care about the other details. There is no mention of righteousness or kindness in his actions here. Now, the fanbook is secondary material so I will always err on the side of the main text taking precedence. But since the main text does not give us any explanation from Gojo as to his true reason for saving Yuta and Yuji, and Gege’s explanation in the fanbook on Gojo’s recruit of Megumi aligns with what we see in the manga, it’s likely that his interest in Yuta and Yuji is indeed purely due to their strength potential, at least at first. He does grow fond of them as people, and he wants them to enjoy their youth. But ultimately, his reason for raising them remains that, selfishly, he doesn’t want to be alone at the top.

His idea of “resetting the crappy jujutsu world” is making it so that life as a jujutsu sorcerer is as fun for everyone as it is for him, or at least as he imagines it would be if his youth hadn’t been interrupted by Geto’s spiral. Being a jujutsu sorcerer is Gojo’s job, but he doesn’t resent it at all. Because unlike all the other sorcerers who are here because they have no choice, or because they feel a sense of responsibility to protect the defenceless, or because they fear being killed by curses and using jujutsu as a retired sorcerer is illegal (looking at you, Kusakabe), Gojo is here because jujutsu is fun. He doesn’t feel that inherent drive to protect the defenceless (he actually finds that part of it kind of exhausting) and he doesn’t feel that fear because no curse could remotely threaten him, so he just gets to enjoy jujutsu for what it is. Gojo wants the same for his students. He wants them to enjoy the experience of life as a jujutsu sorcerer, without fear, and without suffering and being forced to question what the hell they’re even doing this for. If they can be as strong as him, there is nothing to worry about - nobody dies, nobody gets left alone, nobody falls behind. It’s an idyllic picture for Gojo.

There seems to be a misconception that 326 suggests that Gojo’s only reason for training the students was to eventually fight them at their best. That is not the case. Gojo’s love of fighting and Gojo’s desire for an equal are two separate things that only got amalgamated in Sukuna. After all, Gojo never sought to fight Geto. We know they scuffled sometimes, but it’s not like Gojo was constantly trying to instigate a death match. His desire for an equal is, on its own, simply a desire to be understood, something he does not believe is possible by a weaker being. He longs for companionship but won’t let himself find it in people he views as inferior. Regardless of having an equal, Gojo still loves his own strength. He loves toying with opponents, and showing off, and brutal violence. The more challenging the opponent/situation, the further he gets to stretch his limbs.

Fighting Sukuna presented Gojo with an opportunity to satisfy both of these things.

Does Gojo have anything against Sukuna or the way he lives his life? Not really. There isn’t an ideological opposition at play here like there is between Yuji and Sukuna, they just happen to be allied with parties who are in conflict. And, with them both being the jujutsu-loving, strength merchants that they are, they’re genuinely excited at the prospect of fighting each other. Gojo does want and plan to save Megumi, sure, but in any case that requires defeating Sukuna. He wasn’t bluffing when he said he’d worry about that later - fighting Sukuna genuinely takes priority, both strategically and selfishly.

In terms of the fight, Gojo has a blast. He gets to go all out like he’s never gone all out before. He’s pushed to invent things on the spot or legitimately just die. He doesn’t even have to toy with his opponent to keep the fight going, he’s sprinting from start to finish and is giddy with it. This is possibly the most fun he’s ever had.

In terms of the emotion, Gojo has been desperately trying to find someone as strong as him because (he believes) only they can understand him. It’s to the point that he has spent the past decade trying to basically build-a-bear some equals. Suddenly, he’s presented with one, fully formed, requiring no additional shaping on his part. It’s believable that he would be excited to take that chance of being understood, being seen wholly, by the only person alive in the world at this moment that he believes capable of wrapping their mind around him, since they’re both so far above every other living being.

And so Gojo fights Sukuna and pours everything he is into it. He pushes his body to its physical limits, he uses every jujutsu ability he’s ever learned, he comes up with new ideas on the spot, he throws out multiple max output attacks. Everything we have ever been told that Gojo is capable of doing gets put on show in this fight. He does all this because he wants Sukuna to see him in his entirety, because nobody else ever has. If he tried to unleash all of this on anybody else, it would kill them before he could even get a quarter of the way through.

See, on the one hand, Gojo’s self imposed isolation is born of his own arrogance but on the other hand, he’s also right in a way; because jujutsu is a part of the makeup of Gojo Satoru - its something he enjoys and it will always be a part of him. Yet he does not fight with allies because in doing so, he would be forced to limit himself. Like Yuta acknowledges in 235, if they were on the battlefield Gojo would have been unable to perform that AoE purple blast without harming them too. He must choose between being alone when doing jujutsu, or restricting himself in this thing that he loves. This feeds into the notion that they can’t understand him - he literally has to contain himself so as not to be too much for them.

He’s not too much for Sukuna, though.

Against Sukuna, Gojo gets to exist in his entirety, unrestrained, and for that he is appreciative. But we also see Gojo’s kindness, or rather empathy. He personally was satisfied by the fight - he was able to be seen wholly. He could simply have a “fuck you, got mine” mentality about it, but we see that he actually feels sorry to Sukuna for not being able to take everything Sukuna is the way Sukuna was for him. Sukuna could not afford to go all out if it meant dying to the other sorcerers as soon as the fight with Gojo ended. I believe this is why he looked less impressive throughout the whole fight - a Gojo giving it his all puts on more of a display than a Sukuna sticking to a pre-determined plan and doing minimal improvisation. But even though Sukuna didn’t let himself go all out, he still won. This would lead Gojo to believe (and it’s not an illogical conclusion) that if Sukuna had been going all out, Gojo wouldn’t be able to take it all. Gojo feels bad about it because he was unable to be for Sukuna what Sukuna was for him, he feels bad that Sukuna will seemingly never experience that same satisfaction (because, of course, if it’s not Gojo himself giving him that, he thinks nobody else can). This isn’t Gojo feeling bad about himself for being weaker, it is genuine empathy for Sukuna because Sukuna is someone that Gojo does actually perceive as the same species as him, not someone he necessarily considers evil or an enemy.

It’s not as bad as he thinks, though, because Sukuna did take immense enjoyment in this fight. It’s true that he wasn’t pushed to the point of having to give everything here, but he was still pushed further than ever before. Many people have confused “he wasn’t going all out” for “he wasn’t even trying” and that’s such a dichotomous way of looking at things - zero or one hundred. Sukuna was absolutely trying in this fight. For the first time in a thousand years, he actually felt the nervousness of possibly losing, because Gojo’s final purple could have killed him. It’s only because it was an AoE attack and not directly aimed at Sukuna that he survived, and visibly in the worst condition of his life. And after slicing Gojo, he praises him (“you were magnificent” is crazy levels of acknowledgment from Sukuna!) and admits that he will never forget him for as long as he lives. This is coming from the guy that called Gojo ordinary and unenlightened just 6 chapters prior. Gojo moved him, this much is undeniable. And Gojo’s smile in his final moment suggests that he heard Sukuna. In the end, he knows that he did reach him in some way.

(Brief side note: Gojo never says he would definitely have lost to Sukuna even without the ten shadows. What he actually says is simply that he’s unsure as to if he would’ve won. And that’s because he, unlike much of the fandom, recognises that Sukuna’s skill and genius understanding of CE and jujutsu mean that without the ten shadows, he would’ve approached the fight very differently, especially those domain clashes, during which it’s clearly stated that Sukuna refrained from using his CT or even domain amplification too much so that the ten shadows could continue adapting in the background. Take out that element and of course Sukuna has more resources freed up to put into fighting Gojo actively.)

So this is the nuance of Gojo’s character. He’s selfish, yet capable of true empathy. He cares deeply, despite his unfathomable arrogance. His motivations are questionable, without being malicious. He sees himself as beyond human, yet at his core is painfully so. He’s not a hero, nor even really a “good” person. But he influenced those around him in ways they will carry forever.

[cursedonyx]

So I had a little realisation about our favourite freckled heathen and his unending cheer and charm.

I think we can all agree that part of Sebastian’s allure is that he is so resolutely cheerful, especially in the first half of the game. He’s upbeat, charming, cheeky and extroverted, always smiling and willing to help. He loses the duelling match against you in DADA with more grace than a 15–16-year-old should reasonably have (especially considering Ominis is absolutely steaming in the background because Hecat almost made him fall over) and he’s willing to take the fall for you in the library, being cheerful with you again the next time you meet.

Sure, he has his moments, like when Solomon yells at him. But instead of engaging in an all-out brawl or screaming match, he removes himself from the situation and asks for a moment alone, presumably to calm down. A very mature thing to do.

It’s only when the relic (and likely Slytherin’s book as well) corrupts him that we see him be more on edge, snappier, more prone to temper.

Sebastian’s constant cheer and charm would lead a lot of people to think that he’s unbreakable, that he could be run over by a rampaging hippogriff and he’d just dust himself off and carry on with a smile and a laugh. And he probably would.

The thing is, that kind of constant cheer is likely down to his highly abusive childhood.

Hear me out.

We know that his parents died before he and Anne got their magic, which, according to canon, is usually around seven years old. So they would have been six or younger when their parents died, but for some reason, I think of it as being about five. Old enough to have precious memories of their parents, but still very young and impressionable.

We all know that Solomon never wanted to take the Sallow twins on, and harbours some insane resentment to the situation they’re in: an ex-Auror now living alone and essentially working as a farmer (he can be seen tilling the fields in Feldcroft) suddenly lumbered with two very small children who have just suffered massive emotional trauma, and he’s not equipped to deal with that. So he takes it out on Sebastian, who resembles the brother he presumably strongly disliked.

Whilst Anne is said to have been the most mischievous one out of her, Sebastian and Ominis, I think Sebastian is the most emotional. He likely would have been prone to let his feelings show, especially as a child, but Solomon wouldn’t have wanted to or been able to deal with that.

The thing is, resolutely tough, cheerful people have often been taught from a very young age that their negative emotions aren’t important. That their feelings are a nuisance. That they will be punished for expressing them, whether that’s through physical correction, emotional manipulation, or the removal of affection/attention. I fully expect that the grieving young Sebastian will have been told by Solomon to shut up and sit down and stop snivelling, or to behave, or to act like a man because he didn’t want to deal with it.

Sebastian will have learned to hide his negative emotions, supressing them in favour of trying to be happy to keep Solomon happy; a far preferable situation for him than antagonising the angry man who’s been angry since his parents died. It's possible Sebastian tried to be strong for Anne as well, who I expect would have withdrawn a lot, and as he loves her so much, he would want his twin to be happy, so he was happy for the both of them and did his best to cheer her up.

Being cheerful is safe. Being cheerful is a kind of protective blanket. Because if he lets himself feel all the hurt and the scary and the bad, he won't know how to handle it, so he doesn't. He just keeps smiling.

Sebastian will have unintentionally learned from a young age, or been deliberately trained to hide or mask his negative emotions at all costs, because the price for displaying them has always been serious consequences. But because he bottles it all up, when he breaks, he breaks hard. When his last-ditch attempt to save Anne with the relic fails, he breaks. Every bit of strength he had is gone, and he's left scrambling in an unfamiliar overload of pain and panic.

And when he has some time to think it through, the effects of the relic wearing off, he's truly remorseful for everything and eternally grateful that you're still his friend. Even before then, when you have to decide whether or not to turn him in, he tells you he's glad he met you, trying to fall back on those last threads of positivity that have held him up before.

That poor lad needs as much love and therapy as our lil blind bestie does.

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part three

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; after beckendorf does some research with silena, luke finally knows how to ask you out (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 2642

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos, alcohol, smoking

➻ so i immediately got hit with a ton of uni work lols (so mean for first week??) so this took a little longer than expected sorries!!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

While you were being tormented by the two boys Camp Half-Blood (or maybe your mom?) kept sending your way, Charles was following Silena around like a lost puppy, noting down whatever she could find about you in your limited personal space in the Aphrodite cabin. After several minutes of nothing promising, he was starting to feel hopeless.

“She’s not a…” Beckendorf trailed off, looking for more delicate phrasing.

“Girl in Red fan? No. I found a picture of Heath Ledger under her bunk once so I’m pretty sure she’s not harbouring any queer feelings.”

“So that’s the kind of guy she likes? Pretty guys?”

“I don’t know,” Silena said impetuously, “All I’ve ever heard her say is that she’d die before dating a guy that smokes.” Beckendorf cringed. That was an issue. Silena continued mindlessly, digging through your drawers and belongings. She pulled out your reading list, planner and a sticky note of things you were going to do when you left after summer. Finally, Silena let out a devious giggle as she dug through your top drawer. She didn’t let Beckendorf wonder for long, as she pulled out a pretty pair of lacy black underwear.

It wasn’t the most scandalous piece of lingerie sitting in that cabin — not by far, but Beckendorf still blushed like the teenage boy he was, almost too afraid to look at the scrap of fabric.

“And, uh, what does that tell us?” He asked, eyes anywhere but the cloth.

“She wants to have sex someday, that’s what,” She said it as if it were obvious, and Beckendorf wished a hole would open up and swallow him down. He really didn’t want to be talking about your sexual desire right now.

“She might just like the colour?” He mumbled, hand running over his hair in an effort to ground him.

“You don’t buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it.” Beckendorf felt kind of guilty, he figured he probably wasn’t who you had in mind when buying black lingerie, and it was starting to feel like a serious invasion of privacy. That was only heightened when Silena pointedly avoided telling him which area was hers, saying it was ‘private’. He rationalised his actions by praying to the Gods the plan would work and everyone would get a happy ever after.

Still, Percy and Beckendorf took this research to Luke in his semi-secret spot behind the training arena, where he could drink and smoke without being worried about being caught by the younger kids or Chiron. He didn’t look exactly happy to see them, but Beckendorf thought he might just be warming up to them.

“So, what’ve you got for me?” He asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Insights into a very complicated girl,” Percy said, dislike of you obvious.

“Just one question,” Beckendorf asked “Should you be drinking if you don’t have a liver?” One of his new brothers had told him the rumour that Luke had sold his liver on the black market during his quest for a pack of cigarettes and a ticket back to camp.

“She hates smokers!” Percy interrupted, hopefully before Luke could process what Beckendorf had said, and very successfully redirected his focus as Beckendorf grabbed the lit cigarette out of his hand, snuffing it out on the dirt.

“So I’m a… non-smoker now?” Luke spat the words, sounding almost disgusted with himself.

“Just for now,” Beckendorf assured him. “And one more problem — Silena said that she likes ‘pretty guys’.” A tense silence fell upon them and Charles wished that sometimes he would think before he spoke. Luke’s gaze on him was heavy and intimidating, and if Percy wasn’t there with him Beckendorf probably would have cowered and escaped.

“Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?” Luke asked, and if he had to say, Beckendorf thought his attitude right now definitely wasn’t helping his case. He and Percy shared a quick look before reassuring Luke that he absolutely was a pretty guy, they just had limited experience in deciding those labels. Satisfied, Luke glanced at the list Beckendorf handed him of all of your interests and engagements. He frowned, and both the younger boys exchanged uneasy eye contact.

“So what, I’m supposed to buy her noodles and books and sit around listening to some shitty girl power band?” He asked, dread and boredom evident in his eyes.

“Have you ever been to Club Skunk? Her favourite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Beckendorf provided, disheartened by the quick shake of Luke’s head.

“I cannot be seen at Club Skunk.”

“But she’s gonna be there! She’s got tickets!” He protested, and Percy put a subtle hand on his arm.

“Dude, everyone you know is here. No one’s gonna see you at Club Skunk and think you’re less of a man or whatever. I’ll tell everyone you’re off in the woods smoking weed or something.” Luke looked at them for a long moment, seemingly considering the offer. Finally he agreed, and Beckendorf thought it may have just been to get them to go away, but he was happy enough.

Luke, having gotten over the humiliation it would be to go to Club Skunk, was more than interested at the new piece of information he’d just learned. He thought he was the only one who snuck out of camp, and he wondered how often you did it. Reasonably frequently, he guessed, since you were going to all the trouble to see a band that probably played around the state constantly. You just kept on surprising him, and though it was all a bit of an effort on his part, he had started to enjoy getting to know the parts of you that you kept hidden behind the icy exterior.

You, on the other hand, were getting really weirded out. You might’ve just been paranoid, but you were sure that the new Hephaestus kid who was friends with Percy kept staring at you. Even Percy glanced at you more than once during dinner, something you didn’t think had ever happened before — and you were not looking for attention from the camp’s golden boy, no matter how many times he’d probably saved your life by extension of his quests. Those two, coupled with Luke, whose attentions had inexplicably been focused on you for the last week, made you feel a bit like an animal on display; violently uncomfortable. As you left the meal you shot Beckendorf a nasty glare, somewhat satisfied when he jumped and averted his eyes. You shook your head in a physical attempt to clear the burdens of your thoughts. Soon you wouldn’t have to worry about any of the campers or the stupidity that flowed around the grounds.

About twenty minutes after the campfire started and the rest of the camp were safely together, you began the trek up to the Hamptons — the closest city with a venue. You waited anxiously for the bus to pick you up outside the camp lines, looking over your shoulder to ensure no one had caught you. If your adventures got around camp then Silena would absolutely tell your father as payback for being the reason she can’t date, and that was a whole new set of issues you really didn’t care to deal with. Luke, standing in the shadows watching, felt almost bad for spying on you. Almost.

You could feel your shoulders relax as you got further and further away from camp, the judgement and expectations of people you didn’t even like far behind you for the night. You’d been looking forward to this show since you got tickets with your friends during the school term, and you were determined to make it worth the pain of summer. And it really, really was. Your whole friend group had made it, making it a long awaited reunion, and the band was one you’d been following for years. You danced with all your energy, gleefully shouting lyrics and laughing loudly when you got them terribly wrong.

Luke watched this from his seat at the bar, entranced in your private bubble amongst the chaos. You were smiling — a rare sight at all at camp — but this was one he didn’t think he’d ever seen in all his years of knowing you. It wasn’t filled with pride like the ones you tried to conceal when you got a new record on the climbing wall or you finally beat Clarisse in a training match, nor was it the satisfied smirk you had when you put an egotistical camper in their place or beat up jerks like Ethan. Your smile was alight with joy; relaxed and wholehearted happiness that spread through the room and seemed infectious to anyone who passed you.

It was at that moment that Luke truly understood how you were a daughter of Aphrodite. The way the lights reflected off your hair and your eyes, the easy way you moved your body to the music, everything about you suddenly seemed perfect, and he wondered how he’d never noticed it before. Your appearance hadn’t changed drastically; your hair was loose instead of the practical up-do needed for camp, you wore a tight fitted crop top instead of the camp shirt and you might’ve had some glitter smeared around your eyes. All inconspicuous, ordinary things, yet you seemed like a brand new person. Luke decided he liked this version of you, and if this whole plan failed, at least he’d gotten a glimpse into your real world and behind the facade you hid with at camp.

He was ripped from his thoughts when he saw you make a drinking gesture to your friend, heading towards him unwittingly. He turned in his seat hurriedly, trying to act cool and unaware. You spotted him almost immediately, persona switching up as disgust crept back under your skin.

“If you’re going to ask me out again, could you just get it over with now so I can get back to enjoying my night?” You sighed, grabbing the water bottles from the bartender.

“Would you mind? You’re kind of ruining this for me.” Luke gestured around, hoping his acting chops were as good as he needed. You ignored it either way.

“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke,” You noted, curiosity getting the better of you.

“I quit. Apparently they’re bad for you.” You raised an eyebrow, almost too surprised to come up with a quip.

“You did?” You hated how genuine it sounded and turned to go, sensing him get up to follow you.

“You know, I was watching you out there before,” He yelled over the music, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy.” In possibly the worst timing in history, the song ended and the entire club was treated to Luke’s compliment. You both flushed red, and you were unable to contain a small giggle — wildly uncharacteristic for you. Luke, to his credit, only had a mildly sheepish grin on his face, and continued to follow you across the dance floor. “Come to the Apollo party with me.” You couldn’t believe him! Here you were, miles from camp and he was still asking you out. Though, you couldn’t deny that he wasn’t quite as infuriating as you originally thought.

“You never give up, do you?” You gave a good natured sigh, ducking under someone’s arm to get to your friends.

“Was that a yes?”

“No.”

“Was it a no?”

“No!” You let out another laugh which floated over the crowd and straight to Luke. He couldn’t contain his own grin.

“I’ll pick you up at 9:30!” He yelled back. You gave no indication of having heard him apart from a momentary glance, and he couldn’t tell if the smile was directed at him or just a byproduct of your situation. He took it either way.

Having gone to the effort of sneaking away from camp, Luke decided to stay for the remainder of the concert and grudgingly decided the band wasn’t that bad. Not his style, sure, but he could kind of see why you liked them. Besides, these drinks were easier to get than the contraband ones he had to smuggle into camp.

Tired from a night on your feet dancing and feeling your pleasant buzz slipping away, you were less than charmed seeing Luke waiting for your bus. It made sense, obviously you were going the same place, but you didn’t want him to ruin your great night by pestering you about a date.

“What are you doing here?” You asked bluntly, eagerly sitting on the misshapen little bench.

“Getting home?” He trailed off, unsure of what you were looking for. “Besides, we’re a long way from camp and it’s late. Didn’t feel right leaving you here alone.” You hated that you thought it was sweet.

“Do you not think I can take care of myself?” You picked a fight instead, unwilling to be genuine with him. Luke wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.

“I have complete faith in you,” He laughed, “I’m making sure you don’t kill whoever bothers you.” You let out a snort of a laugh accidentally. You tried to recover,

“It’ll be you if you’re not careful.” Somehow Luke didn’t believe you.

Surprisingly, the trip was almost pleasant. Luke had already gotten what he wanted from the night and the next phase of his plan was shaping up, so he knew bringing up your impending date would only sour your mood. Instead, when he plonked himself down in the seat next to you on the bus, you talked about mundane, silly things. He asked about the friends you were with and let you talk about your life in New York, waving you off when you started to feel guilty since he was at camp all year.

“There’s this really cool record store, we go there all the time. They have this huge bulletin board on one wall where these tiny little bands put up posters for random gigs with, like, fifty people there — it’s so sick, like the 90s I guess. Maybe —” You cut yourself off but Luke knew where you were going. Maybe I could show you. You would deny it if he brought it up, but he couldn’t contain his smile either way.

You were surprised that you had so much to talk about, briefly wondering why you’d never been friends with him before, but the conversation continued all the way to the camp border, where you both knew the risk of sneaking back in meant your night together was over. Once you got into camp there’d be people all around; campers should be in bed but counsellors often patrolled for a while, and many of the non-demigod folks around camp could be up and about well into the early hours of the morning.

“So, um, I’ll see you around?” His sudden shyness was unexpectedly charming, and you found yourself giving Luke a smile — a real one that made his heart flutter embarrassingly.

“Bye, Luke.” You held eye contact for a fraction longer than necessary before disappearing into the shadows. Luke watched you go, not quite starstruck but close to it. A rustle of the trees behind him spurred him into action, but the image of you on the dance floor played on repeat behind his eyes as he lay in his bunk.

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & BRINGING YOU TO THEIR FAVOURITE CAFE

characters. xiao zhongli diluc kaeya childe neuvillette x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. hehehe... | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

xiao's favourite cafe is a quaint teahouse tucked away in the mountains of liyue – no doubt introduced to him by zhongli. no one knows him there, and he knows no one there; it's perfect for him to be able to sit down and enjoy his cup of tea in solitude, with no one needing or wanting to talk to him. he nods to the owner in quiet reverence, still holding your hand as he leads you to his favourite spot.

zhongli

zhongli's favourite cafe is the same teahouse he introduced xiao to – except that he prefers to be more friendly with the owners and customers. zhongli engages in quiet conversations with the aunties and the uncles, and often brings them gifts (using childe's money) from liyue harbour. he's definitely one of their favourites among the rest of the regulars.

diluc

diluc's favourite cafe is somewhere near the ragnvindr manor – somewhere he can tuck himself away in a quiet corner, so that he can get his paperwork done in peace. since he's a regular, the owners often supply him with his much-needed coffee, whenever he looks as if he needs it more than usual. when he brings you in, the owner sneaks two coffees on the house, and winks at him.

kaeya

kaeya's favourite cafe is a late-night one right next to his favourite bar – so that he can sober up after a night of drinks. he doesn't actually drink the coffee there, of course, but a refresher is always handy when he's dehydrated and slumping in your arms. he seems to be a regular, and the short cat-eared girl who mans the counter sighs as she places a berry drink on the table.

childe

childe's favourite cafe is a bustling one in the heart of the city – no one there knows him as the harbinger, but rather, the son, and the brother of tonia and teucer. he always sends the warmest smile to the front of house, tugging on your hand and leading you to the back of the cafe where it's quieter – and has charging ports. the best part of the cafe, in his opinion.

neuvillette

neuvillette's favourite cafe is a quaint one in the outskirts of fontaine. when he first explored the shop, he was incredibly embarrassed to let the front of house know that they got his order wrong – instead choosing to drink what was given to him. he disliked it so much that he became confident asking for a remake of his drink. when he brings you in, he offers you his top choices and recommendations, and smiles when you say that you love it.

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reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!

[pajarinwrites]

Brother's Best Friend | TEASER

seungcheol x reader

There was something to be said for the consistency of the Yoons. For one, you and your brother always reliably wanted to skip the same songs on the radio, you disliked the same vegetables, you liked the same clothes. On his first day of school, Jeonghan had to wear a cast because he fell of the swings. A few years down the line, you tripped down the stairs and had to wear a cast for your first day of school.

But the thing that really drove it home for you, the instance that made you understand how very similar you are to your older brother on nearly every level, was the day you walked into his new apartment in a swanky part of the city. The apartment he could only afford because his best friend let himself be convinced to live with a roommate again, after having enjoyed his first few years in blissful solitude after university.

He’s a good friend, that much you know about the elusive man called Cheollie. The one who’s been in every single one of Jeonghan’s stories since his first day of university. But when the front door opens and you’re greeted by a stranger with a) marvellous eyebrows b) beautiful warm eyes and c) no shirt, you can’t help but hope that this, in some lucky twist of fate, is not him. Because if this is your brother’s best friend, the one you’ll have to spend all summer in close quarters with for your internship, you’re going to be so done for. But experience tells you that the man your brother harboured an unrequited crush on for the first few years of their friendship is likely to designate you to the same fate. After all, the two of you have always been consistent in your preferences.

[sigmas-split-hair]

I see a lot of people in the Bungou Stray Dogs fandom having a lack of interest in Kunikida because of his unexplained backstory and I think it highlights a problem within the fanbase.

Now, Bungou Stray dogs is a show about people finding their “light” in many ways, moving on from the past and finding a reason to live. With Kunikida, the handling of this subject is a bit more subtle than with the other characters.

It’s obvious that something happened in his past, either by the Azure King or with his students making him obsessed with his ideals.

But we don’t need to know what in order for him to be well written.

Trauma doesn’t inherently make a character great. Using trauma as a way to “improve a character” is cheap and bad writing, outside of being kinda problematic.

Bungou Stray Dogs is great at avoiding this. Characters like for an instance Atsushi, Dazai and Kyouka are interesting not directly because of their trauma, but because of their healing journey and the show’s exploration of how they were affected by their trauma.

We see Kunikida value his ideals over his own life, saying that they die if his comrades die but live on when he dies. This is an interesting characterisation, and is also detached from his trauma, in the sense that it explores his character without outright mentioning his backstory.

This is not me saying that I don’t want Kunikida’s backstory. Hell I think it would be super interesting: but the interesting part would be connecting his behaviour to his past, and while it would explain him it wouldn’t improve him.

Look at Dazai’s time in the pm. Was it interesting and characterising? Yes. Did we need to know why he was in the pm in the first place for this? No. The fandom can be curious all they want, but that doesn’t make his backstory obligatory. We know that he was in a dark place and caught Mori’s interest. We don’t need more information in order to understand his character unless it’s relevant for the plot.

I’m tired of seeing people outright saying “they need to give him a backstory”, or that there’s nothing more to him than the surface (ideals, hitting Dazai, next Armed Detective Agency boss). Of course, there’s no problem with being curious about Kunikida or disliking him. Hate any character you want, but have reasoning a notch deeper than “he doesn’t have trauma”.

TLDR; stop treating character as if they’re “dull” because of lack of visible trauma. That is looking at characters from surface level, neglecting the other, very current and very present traits harboured than them. A character is more than their past, which we don’t need to know in order to try and understand them and in order for them to be interesting

[maisiestyle]

"Ned Stark's Precious Little Girl"

Arya is a mix of both her parents. But as her story unfolds, with every new chapter and book, Arya has moved beyond her parents and into a far more dynamic character.

Ned was a role model to Arya, she loved him more than almost anyone (she loves Jon most of all). She holds on to Ned's memory now more than any of his children.

Ned is stubborn, quick to anger, loyal to a fault, and deeply devoted to his family to the point where he sacrificed his honor and died for his children.

Both Arya & Ned had a dislike for Southern culture. Which is double odd considering Ned was fostered in the South: That was never truly his place. Whereas Cat and Sansa are very much creatures made for the South.

Treatment of the smallfolk and not judging those lower than their station... That says a lot about their character, something Ned, Lyanna, Arya & Jon have all shown in the books.

Arya & Ned are similar but different as well. Where Ned was lacking, his ability to not see the truth in the lies around him - Arya has developed beyond that point. Ned was too slow and unyielding until it was too late and he died. Cat was to heedless, prideful, and emotional - that cost her life. At the beginning Arya was a mix of both her parents BUT her journey so far has made her grow and develop where her parents had not. By Book 5, Arya is extremely artful and considerate, patient and willing to face the truth in all its ugliness, adaptable and fluid like water - a changeling. That's how she'll survive where her parents did not.

While Sansa is learning how to flirt, organise a glorified party and remain passive and isolated.

Arya lives out in the open, has escaped death and captivity by her own wits, travelled all over Westeros leaving her memory imprinted on the people she met along the way, and her unyielding desire to never be helpless again which brought her to Braavos. The Sealord of Braavos stood up to a King and his dragons and won - all he did was whisper the "faceless men" and King's Landing yielded - that is true power. Arya will return to Westeros having grown in many ways. But like her father and mother, her family will always be her guiding light.

I love how the Northmen constantly connect Arya to Ned and want to fight for them both:

When White Harbour (a place Arya has visited twice with Ned) hears of "Arya Stark" marrying Ramsay.

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity…and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.” - (Davos, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

As "Arya" suffers in Winterfell, they connect her to Ned:

"The bride weeps," Lady Dustin said, as they made their way down, step by careful step. "Our little Lady Arya." ... What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." ...

"Lady Arya's sobs do us more harm than all of Lord Stannis's swords and spears.

~*~

The northmen want to fight for Arya:

“Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya’s home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? […] Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton…but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. - (Reek, A Dance with Dragons)

[…]

Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son’s shoulder for support. “We’ll take [Winterfell] for Ned and for his daughter.” - (The Sacrifice, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." - (Dance with Dragons)

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

From prejudice to love

Hii, I hope you like this one-shot of Carlos, since he announced his move to Williams I thought I would write about him, I hope you enjoy it :)

As Oscar's older sister, you've attended multiple events throughout his career, but this is the first time you've gone to a formal F1 event since you've been busy with work. The glamour of the gala, the mingling of celebrities and racers, seemed like a perfect escape.

"Oh look, Lando is over there. Let's go and say hi," Oscar points out, conveniently omitting who Lando is talking to—Carlos Sainz. You've never talked to Carlos and weren't planning on it, having had enough of his clashes with Oscar on the track. The way he blamed your brother afterwards made you harbour a deep aversion toward him.

"Hey guys," Oscar says, introducing you both into their conversation. "Hey, Y/N, I didn't know Osc was bringing you tonight," Lando says, noticing you. You've met a few times since Oscar joined McLaren.

"Yeah, well, someone had to substitute for Lily since she's in Australia," you joke.

Carlos makes his presence known with a slight cough. "Ah, Carlos, this is my sister Y/N," Oscar introduces.

Carlos's eyes roam your body, and for a moment, an emotion you can't decipher crosses his eyes. "Hi, nice to meet you," Carlos says.

"Likewise," you answer, trying to ignore your preconceived opinion of him.

As the boys start talking animatedly about F1, your gaze goes back to Carlos. Surprisingly, he is already looking at you. Not being one to back down, you hold his gaze. An unknown emotion courses through both of you, a mixture of desire and hostility.

"Well, I'll leave you boys to have fun. I'm going to look around," you say, excusing yourself from the conversation to explore the party.

However, your alone time quickly ends when a man corners you. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Tom, and what's a lovely lady like you doing here all alone?" the man says.

"I'm not alone, so if you don't mind, I'd like to go back to my friends," you insist.

"Hold on," he says, grabbing you. "I know a place where you and I could have some fun."

"I'm not interested," you say firmly. But the man only tightens his grip, dread coursing through you as you realize you can't escape him.

"She told you to leave her alone," a strong voice demands from behind you. You recognize it as Carlos's.

"We were just having some fun," the man lies.

"I won't repeat myself. Leave or you're leaving in a police car," Carlos threatens. The man's hold on you loosens enough for you to break free from his grip.

"Cariño, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Carlos asks, scanning you for any possible injury.

Still shaken by the encounter, you manage a shaky smile. "I'll be fine. I can't thank you enough," you say, feeling your opinion of him shift. Maybe you had been too quick to judge his character.

"You don't need to thank me," Carlos says softly, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. What an excuse of a man."

You catch sight of your brother signaling for you to come over. "I have to go. Please don't tell my brother about this. He will only worry," you plead with Carlos.

"I promise I'll keep it a secret on one condition," Carlos says, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Suspicion rises within you. "What could you possibly want from me?"

"A date," Carlos replies, his request taking you by surprise.

You look at him, the tension between you palpable. His eyes hold sincerity, and the protectiveness he showed moments ago lingers in your mind. Memories of your initial dislike due to his quarrel with your brother while racing seem distant now, almost irrelevant.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. "Alright, a date it is."

Carlos's face breaks into a relieved and hopeful smile. "Perfect. How about tomorrow evening? There's a beautiful little restaurant by the lake."

Your heart flutters at his suggestion. "Tomorrow sounds lovely," you agree, feeling a warmth spread through you.

The next evening arrives quickly. Carlos picks you up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. He opens the car door with a gentlemanly gesture, and you can't help but feel charmed by his actions.

At the restaurant, the ambiance is magical. Fairy lights twinkle in the trees, and the sound of the lake lapping gently at the shore creates a serene backdrop. You both find a table with a perfect view of the sunset, the sky ablaze with hues of orange and pink.

As the evening progresses, you find yourselves laughing and sharing stories. The initial tension between you dissolves into a comfortable and genuine connection. Carlos tells you about his passion for racing, his dreams, and his admiration for your brother despite their occasional clashes on the track.

"I've always respected your brother," Carlos admits. "And I respect you even more for standing by him."

Touched by his words, you reach across the table and take his hand. "I think I misjudged you, Carlos. I'm glad we're here tonight."

Carlos smiles, his eyes locking with yours. "Me too. I've actually had a crush on you since I saw you with him around the paddock. I just didn't know how to tell you."

Your heart swells with emotion. "Well, I'm glad you finally did."

As the night deepens, Carlos walks you back to your hotel. The stars twinkle above, and the cool night air carries a sense of promise. Standing on your doorstep, you hesitate, feeling the weight of the moment.

"Thank you for tonight," you say softly.

Carlos steps closer, his gaze intense and filled with affection. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips brushing gently against yours in a tender kiss. The world seems to melt away, leaving just the two of you in a perfect, timeless moment.

Pulling back, Carlos whispers, "I can't wait for our next date."

Smiling, you reply, "Neither can I."